Classic Poem

Loveliest of hills, Lucretilis!
No fairer slopes the eyes behold
When Faunus leaves his mount for this,
To lay a spell on wood and wold.

He guards my goats from covert ills,
From summer's sun and winter's gale,
And while enchantment holds the hills
They graze within a sacred pale.

The snake is moveless in the grass,
The wolf is dormant in his den,
The she-goats with the young ones pass
Unharmed through every brake and fen.

The gods, sweet Tyndaris, hold me dear,
Pleased with my muse and piety,
For Peace has made a dwelling here,
And Plenty's horn is spilled for me.

Come, fly the dogstar's baleful ray,
And hither wing, a while to dwell.
Here, in this cool and hidden way,
Of love and lovers we will tell.

On Teian strings thou'lt sing to me
The ancient tale of Him and Her —
Of Circe and Penelope,
Heartsick for one adventurer.

The product of a virtuous vine
Shall stay us 'neath the poplar's shade;
So innocent my Lesbian wine,
All men may quaff it unafraid.

The brawling son of Semele
Shall not embroil himself with Mars:
My wine breeds nought but amity,
There's not a scowl in twenty jars.

Thou speak'st of Cyrus? Heed him not,
Nor fear that he may do thee harm.
Come! All the joys the gods allot
Await thee at my Sabine farm.