Odes 3.21 (Gladstone): O Nate Mecum

With Manlius Consul came to life
Both I and thou: and, bring me jest,
Or spleen, or madding wars, or strife,
Or, kindlier far, a dreamless rest,

Call how thou wilt thy Massic wine,
'T is good to draw, this best of days:
Out with thee, then! Corvinus mine
For draughts, no longer fiery, prays.

Though in Socratic thought he dips,
He 's not the man to leave thee fixed:
They say old Cato's virtuous lips
Drew warmth from wine, and wine unmixed.

Thou prickest on the dullard sense,
Yet gently: thou the wise man's soul,
And counsel wrapt in reticence
Revealest through the jovial bowl.

In drooping minds thou plantest hope,
The poor equipp'st with horns of might;
Thou lendest them a strength to cope
With thrones of kings, or soldiers fight.

Bacchus, and Venus if she will,
And Graces, now with zones undone,
And lights, thy lawful season fill,
Till stars are quenched in morning sun.