Odes 2.17 (Gladstone): Cur Me Querelis

Why tease me with complaints? Yes, why?
'Tis not the gods' nor my design
That thou, Maecenas, first should die,
O crown and prop of all that 's mine.

If early death take half my soul,
To follow should the rest be loth?
Half life is neither dear, nor whole;
The self-same day shall end us both.

My vow is not an idle vow;
Lead on; we breathe a common breath;
As sworn companions I and thou
Will tread the road that ends in death.

Chimaera, with her fiery blast,
Nor Gyas and his hundred hands
Shall daunt me, for the lot is cast
By Justice and my Fate's commands.

Let Libra, or let Scorpio,
My birth-hour's mightier portent, reign,
Or Capricorn in splendour glow,
The tyrant of the Western main.

Our stars are kin in wondrous ways.
From rebel Saturn thou wert freed,
And Fate, when Jove's ascendant rays
Bade Time's quick wings abate their speed.

The theatre thrice clapped you then;
My head that falling tree had broke,
But Faunus, guard of Mercury's men,
With strong right arm threw off the stroke.

Remember then to offer, thou,
The victims, and the votive fane.
My humbler station will allow
To quit my dues with lambkin slain.