Odes 4.11 (Gladstone): Est Mihi Nonum

I have a cask of Alban wine,
Phyllis, that counts its years at nine,
And parsley in my garden-grounds
For garlands. Ivy too abounds

To deck thy shining tresses. Gleams
Mine house with plate. Mine altar seems,
While Vervain chaste around it lies,
To crave its lamb for sacrifice.

All hands are busy. Boy and girl,
They run, they jostle. See the curl
From tips of quivering flame arise,
And dusky smoke affront the skies.

But know what cause our feasting moves:
'T is April: April Venus loves:
We meet to celebrate the Ides:
That day the sacred month divides.

I hold this day of passing worth,
Aye, worthy as my day of birth,
For, let its earliest ray appear,
Maecenas counts another year.

Thou courtest Telephus: he 's caught:
No prize of yours, dismiss the thought;
Caught by a damsel rich and bold,
And skilled in willing chains to hold.

Mark, Phaethon was scorched by flame,
Ambition's towering hopes to tame.
Winged Pegasus who scorned to bear
An earthly rider in the air,

Bids thee observe thy proper scope.
Esteem as crime unlawful hope.
Shun ill-assorted bonds. And now.
Since last of all my loves art thou,

For woman warms me never more,
Come hither; con my measures o'er:
Thy lovely voice its part will play,
And charm all gloomy care away.