Odes 2.8 (Martin): Ulla Si Juris

If e'er, in vengeance for thy faithlessness,
Heaven had but made thy charms one charm the less,
Blacken'd one tooth, or tarnish'd one bright nail,
Then I, Barine, might believe thy tale.
But soon as thou hast laid all kinds of vows
And plighted oaths on those perfidious brows,
Thy beauty heightens into rarer dyes,
And all our young men haunt thy steps with feverish eyes.

It profits thee, fair mischief, thus to spurn
The deep vows plighted by thy mother's um,
By all the silent stars that gem the night,
And by the gods, whom death may never blight.
Venus herself doth smile to hear thee swear,
Smile the sweet nymphs beneath their sunny hair;
And Cupid, unrelenting boy, doth smile.
Pointing on gory stone his burning shafts the while.

To thee our youth's best flower in homage kneels.
New slaves bend daily at thy chariot-wheels;
And they, who oft have sworn to haunt no more
Thy fatal home, still linger as before.
Mothers all dread thee for their boys, and old
Fond fathers fear thy havoc with their gold;
The bane art thou of every new-made bride,
Lest thy soft air should waft her husband from her side.