Classic Poem

He who, 'twas told but now, O folk of Rome,
Like Hercules went at price of death to gain
The laurel, Caesar comes victorious home
From shore of Spain.

Let her whose husband is her sole delight
Come forth to offer to just gods their dues;
The great chief's sister too, and, fillet-dight,
As suppliants use,

Mothers of maidens, and of youths at last
Safe back from war. You, boys and brides new-wed,
See that no words of evil omen past
Your lips be sped.

This day, for me a feast indeed, black cares
Shall banish. I will fear nor civic fray
Nor murder, o'er the world while Caesar bears
Imperial sway.

Go, boy, fetch perfume, wreaths, and a wine-jar,
If one be left, the Marsian war that knew,
And Spartacus' raids under some lucky star
Slipped safely through.

And bid sweet-voiced Neaera haste to tie
In knot her tresses myrrh-bedewed. Your quest
To hinder if that hateful porter try,
To quit were best.

Minds keen for strife and brawls grow tame with eld
And whitening locks. My youth's hot blood would ne'er
Have brooked his insolence when Plancus held
The consul's chair.