Odes 3.8 (Gladstone): Martiis Coelebs

March's Kalends, single life:
Flowers, and fragrant censer; why?
These, you think, are all at strife;
Coals, too, on the grass-plot lie.'

Thou, in either tongue adept,
See my goat, to Bacchus vowed,
For the tree, that on me swept,
Nearly gave me to my shroud.

Year by year this day shall burst
Th' amphor's seal, and taste the juice,
Under Consul Tullus first
Seasoned in the smoke for use.

Quaff, Maecenas, cups a score,
Burn the torches till the day,
Rescued Flaccus finds the store:
Wrath and uproar, off! away!

Banish thou thy cares for Rome:
Dacian Cotiso is lost;
Mad with woful broils at home,
Medes their Median swords have crossed.

Bondsman new and ancient foe,
Late, Cantabria wears the chain;
Scythia, with unbended bow,
Thinks to cede her ancient plain.

Thou, no longer charged with power,
Though the State-ship somewhat heave,
Care but little. Of the hour
Crop the sweets, the bitters leave.