To MÆCENAS. Epod. IX.
He feels that Joy beforehand which he should have (triumph prepar'd) for CÆSAR'S conquest of M. Anthony and Cleopatra.
When shall I Drink with thee, MÆCENAS blest
(CÆSAR full Conqueror in fine)
Under thy lofty'st Roof, reserv'd for Feast,
Cæcubian grape? JOVE'S will divine?
Chanting mixt verse to th' Harp and Pipe (the first
Dorick, last barbarous) as late
We drank, when that Neptunian Chief, Sea-curst,
Fled since Ships burn'd, compell'd by Fate.
Threatning to Rome those Bonds he did unty
(Friend once) from false Sicilian Slaves;
Roman, which those unborn will sure deny,
Mad Vassal turn'd to Female, raves.
Brings logs for Trench, nor does joyn'd service shun
With wrinkled Eunuches Ægypt-bred.
Amongst whose Flags, whose warlike Tents the Sun
Beholds base courtly Bridal bed.
'Gainst him the French, two thousand Horse, stout band
Advanc'd proclaiming CÆSAR'S right;
Whilst in th' Antonian Port, more o'th' left hand,
Lodg'd swiftest Barks for eager flight.
O Triumph, thou those Golden Chariots, thou
Th' Oxen unslain dost yet defer;
Nor didst thou from Jugurthine war, with Brow
Palm-wreath'd, like valiant Captain bear.
Nor th' African, although on Carthage-heap
Virtue his Sepulcher did raise;
Our conquer'd Foe by Sea and Land (more cheap)
His Purple by for Sables lays.
Or he's dispos'd for Creet through adverse Wind,
Whom hundred Cities Tow'rs adorn;
For Lybian sands with northern blast inclin'd,
Or stray'd through doubtful Seas is born.
Bring hither, Boy, Gobblets more large, advance
With Chios grape, with Lesbian vine;
Or fluid Qualms good to prevent (if chance)
Pour forth to us Cæcubian wine:
It pleases me in sweeter Juice my cares
To drown, those doubts of CÆSAR'S grand Affairs.
