Odes 3.15 (Gladstone): Uxor Pauperis Ibyci

Wife of Ibycus the poor,
Play thy knavish tricks no more
All thy plots new scandal make,
Thou art near thy funeral wake.

Cease to sport with girls at all,
Cast not o'er the stars a pall.
What may fit for Pholoe,
Need not, Chloris, fit with thee,

She a Thyad's part espouses,
Whom the beaten timbrel rouses;
Dwellings of the youth she storms.
To her passion she conforms,
And, by love for Nothus bid,
Capers like a wanton kid.

Not for thee the cittern's pose;
Spin the wool Luceria grows,
Nor aspire to crimson rose;
Nor, old crone! when at thine ease,
Drain the wine-casks to the lees.