Odes 3.7 (Gladstone): Quid Fles, Asterie

Why these tears, Asterie?
Earliest breeze of spring
Him, with Thynian wares to see,
Him, the youth, unmatched in truth,
Back to thee will bring,

Gyges. Him wild Goat-stars vexed,
Far as Oricum
Drove him blustering Notus next:
Sleepless nights, and cold that bites,
All his limbs benumb.

Then from one, his hostess pale,
Couched in subtle tone
Tempts his ear a crafty tale:
'Chloe sighs, and Chloe dies,
Dies for thee alone.'

Tells how nigh, through guilty dame
(Silly Proetos won
Cruel plot of blood to frame),
Slander's breath had done to death
Chaste Bellerophon.

Tells of Peleus, how he fled
From Hippolyte,
Nearly numbered with the dead:
All that leads to passion's deeds,
Many an artful plea.

Deafer than Icarian seas,
He doth nothing care.
Thou, lest young Enipeus please,
Please too much, so near to touch
And to view, beware.

Though along the Martian course
None like him can ride,
None can wheel the fiery horse,
Nor can swim to match with him
Down the Tiber's tide,

Nightly shut thy door; nor gaze
When the pipes are shrill:
He will scold thy prudish ways;
Scorn to hear, and persevere
Hard, and harder still.