Odes 1.8 (Gladstone): Lydia, Dic Per Omnes

By all the gods I charge thee, Lydia, say
Wherefore so fast through loving slay
Thy Sybaris? Patient once of dust and sun
The open field now see him shun.

A trooper, with his peers he doth not ride,
His Gallic steed he doth not guide
With dogtooth bit. Why dreads he now to brave,
Unclad, the Tiber's golden wave?

Why worse than viper's gore the oil eschews?
Why bear his arms no livid bruise
Of curling? He, once so famed, full often, past
The mark his quoit or dart to cast,

Sculks, as in Troy's sad close, so legends run,
The seaborn Thetis hid her son,
Lest manhood's garb should urge him forth, to slay
The Lycian bands, before his day.