Odes 1.19 (Gladstone): Mater Saeva Cupidinum

The tyrant mother of the Cupids twain,
The son of Theban Semele,
And random senses, all agree
To snare my soul in quitted loves again;
I burn for Glycera, gleaming white,
Than Parian marble purer bright:
Her fro ward charm inflames me too,
And face, ah! perilous to view.

In me, not Cyprus now, all Venus lies:
Of aught but her I may not sing,
May not for Scythian touch the string,
Or Parthian, boldest when his charger flies.--
Bring me fresh turf, then, servants mine,
Bring boughs, bring bowl of last year's wine,
And frankincense; nor all in vain;
She will relent, the Victim slain.