Odes 3.10 (Gladstone): Extremum Tanain

Hadst thou a savage mate, a home upon
The farthest banks of Don,
Yet wouldst thou weep, nor leave me pining sore
To shiver at thy door.

Thou heard'st the creaking gate, the moaning trees
Between the palaces;
Saw'st how, in clear-cold air of Jove, the snows
To icy coating froze.

Away with pride; lest Venus turn to curse,
And rope with wheel reverse:
No prude thy father gendered; meant not thee
To play Penelope.

Though neither gift, nor force of prayer, can mend thee,
Nor lover's paleness bend thee,
Nor that Greek girl that holds thy spouse her slave,
Yet still thy suppliants save.

Spare me! though cruel as the Moorish snake,
And hard as oaks to break,
For flesh and blood will bear no more the strain,
Nor soak in floods of rain.