Odes 4.12 (Gladstone): Jam Veris Comites

See, Spring's companions, Thracian gales,
Now warm the billows, fill the sails:
The soil is soft; the rivers flow
Unburdened by the winter snow.

The swallow builds; and puts to shame
Still sorrowing, the Cecropian name;
She, that for Itys sadly sings,
She scourged the barbarous lusts of kings.

Beside his full-fed sheep, the swain
In tender grass, indites the strain,
And charms the god, that loves to see
The dusky hills of Arcady.

Client of nobles, Virgil mine!
Say, if thou lov'st Calenian wine
This thirsty season? Then, with nard
Come buy it as a fit reward.

A tiny box of nard will buy
From the Sulpician granary
A cask, the liberal nurse of hope,
And meet with bitter care to cope.

How like you this? Be quick, and bring
Thy bargained share of offering;
Would I could give thee drink for nought,
As wealth in lordly dwellings ought.

Quick! ere the lurid death-fire's day,
Drive thou the lust of gain away!
Thy wisdom with unwisdom grace:
'Tis well to rave, in time and place.