Odes 1.29 (Gladstone): Icci, Beatis

Arabian gold now suits thy mood,
Friend Iccius. Thou wilt freely bleed
Sabaean kings, not yet subdued,
And bind in chains that dreadful Mede.

What virgin, with her lover killed,
Wilt have for slave? What perfumed boy,
His father's bow once deftly skilled
And Seric arrows to employ?

And surely none will now deny
That downward streams may upward glide
Upon the mountains; or defy
Old Tiber to reverse his tide;

When thou, how changed! for mailed coat,
Surrendering all thy gathered store,
Wilt give the books Panaetius wrote
And rolls of Academic lore.