Odes 1.11 (Gladstone): Tu Ne Quaesieris

Oh ask thou not, 'tis sin to know,
what time to me, to thee
The gods allot: Chaldean tricks
eschew, Leuconoe.

How better far to face our fate;
be other winters yet
Ordained for us by Jove, or this
the last, now sternly set

To weary out by fronting rocks
the angry Tuscan main.
True wisdom learn. Decant the wine.
Far-reaching schemes restrain.

Our span is brief. The niggard hour,
in chatting, ebbs away;
Trust nothing for to-morrow's sun:
make harvest of to-day.