Odes 4.13 (Gladstone): Audivere, Lyce

Lyce! me the gods have heard,
Made thee beldam at my word.
Still a beauty, thou dost think,
Saucy still for sport and drink.

Though with creaking voice thou woo,
Cupid lags: hath work to do
With young Chia's blooming cheeks,
And her mouth that music speaks.

Obstinate he passes by
Oaks dried up: he shuns thee; why?
For he cannot wrinkles bear,
Blackening teeth, and whitening hair.

Coan purples, gems that blaze,
Will not bring thee back the days
Writ in annals known but past,
Of the time that fled so fast.

Beauty, colour, gesture's grace,
All are gone. Not this the face,
Not the passion-breather, she
Once that stole myself from me.

After Cinara, thou wert great,
Form and charm. But Cinara, Fate
Quickly took, and left us thee
Grey and worn facsimile,

Old as a decrepit crow,
That warm youths might see thee so,
Scourging thee with laughter's lash,
Once a flambeau; now an ash.