Odes 1.27 (Gladstone): Natis In Usum

The goblets, born for ends of joy,
Let Thracians for their frays employ
We spurn the savage use; and more,
Our Bacchus ne'er shall reek with gore.

With wine and lights would rudely jar
The flash of Median scimitar.
Have done, I pray, with impious noise,
And on your elbows rest, my boys!

This strong Falernian must I drink?
What does Megilla's brother think?
He, Fortune's child; what was his wound,
What arrow bore him to the ground?

Ha! change your mind? No other price
I take. Whatever flame 's astir,
Thy flame has no debasing vice;
If erring, yet you nobly err,

Nor need to blush. Come, be not coy,
Trust me for silence. Ah! poor boy,
Ah! worthy of a nobler toil..
What whirlpool did around thee boil.

Thessalian poisons who can cure?
God, witch, or wizard, none is sure:
From this Chimera, shaped in three,
Scarce Pegasus could bring you free.