POETRY.
A ROMAN " ROUND-ROBIN."
(" HIS FRIENDS " TO Q. HORATIUS FLACC118.>
"Ileac decies repetita [non] placebit."--Ims Poarica.
FLACCUS, you write us charming songs : No bard we know possesses In such perfection what belongs To brief and bright addresses ; No man can say that Life is short it• With mien so little fretful ; No man to Virtue's paths exhort In phrases less regretful ; Or touch with more serene distress.
On Fortune's ways erratic ; And then delightfully digress From Alp to Adriatic : All this is well, no doubt, and tends Barbarian minds to soften ;
But, Quintus—we, we are your friends—
Why tell us this so often ?
Why feign to spread a cheerful feast, And then thrust in our face These barren scraps (to say the least) Of Stoic common-place?
Recount, and welcome, your pursuits Sing Lyde's loosened hair ; Sing drums and Berycynthian flutes ; Sing parsley-wreaths ; but spare,— Ah, spare to tell, what none deny, That fairest things decay ; That Time and Gold have wings to fly ;: That all must Fate obey !
Or bid us dine—on this day week—
And pour us—if you can— From inmost bin, as velvet sleek, Your cherished Ctecuban ;- Of that we fear not overplus; But your didactic ' tap ' (Forgive us !) grows monotonous ;