Odes 2.9 (Martin): Non Semper Imbres

Not always from the clouds are rains
Descending on the oozy plains,
Not always o'er the Caspian deep
Do gusts of angry tempest sweep,
Nor month on month, the long year through,
Dear Valgius, valued friend and true,
Is frost's benumbing mantle round
The high lands of Armenia wound;
Not always groan Garganus' oaks
Before the northwind's furious strokes,
Nor is the ash-tree always seen
Stript of its garniture of green;
Yet thou alway in strains forlorn
Thy Mystes dead dost fondly mourn,
Lamenting still at Hesper's rise,
And when the rapid sun he flies.

Remember, friend, that sage old man,
Whose years were thrice our common span,
Did not through all their lengthened tale
His loved Antilochus bewail:
Nor did his parents, lonely left,
Of their still budding; darling reft,
Nor Phrygian sisters evermore
The slaughtered Troilus deplore.

Forbear, then, longer to complain,
Renounce this enervating strain,
And rather let us, thou and I,
Combine to sing in measures high
The trophies newly won by great
Augustus Caesar for the state;
Niphates' icy peak, the proud
Euphrates, added to the crowd
Of nations, that confess our power,
A humbler river from this hour,
And the Gelonians forced to rein
Their steeds within a bounded plain.