Classic Poem

Let others sing the praise of famous Rhodes
Or Mytilene, or th'Ephesian pride,
Or chant the walls of Corinth in their odes,
Wash'd by a different sea on either side,
Or Thebes for Bacchus, Delphi justly fam'd
For Phoebus, or Thessalian Tempe's vale;
Some make the feast of Pallas, nymph umblam'd,
The theme of one uninterrupted tale,
And run all lengths to wear an olive crown —
Many for Juno, with poetic zeal,
Argus so apt for cavalry renown,
And, rich Mycenae, boast thy public weal.
With me nor patient Sparta, nor the plains
Of high-manur'd Larissa e'er cou'd take,
As where Albunea's tinkling fount remains,
Or Anio roaring down into the lake.
And old Tiburnus' grove for ever green,
Where flow'ring orchards give a strong perfume,
Where marshal'd trees upon the stream are seen,
And in the waggling waters wave their bloom.
As the white south at times serenes the skies,
Nor are his gath'ring show'rs for ever rife;
So thou, O Plancus, 'gainst thy cares be wise,
With mellow wine dismiss the toils of life,
Whether the camp, with shining standards gay,
Detain you ready for the hour of fight,
Or in your native Tibur you shall stay,
And in the dense embow'ring shades delight.
When Teucer by his father was oppress'd,
And driv'n away from Salamis he fled,
He thus his weeping company address'd,
As, wet with wine, the poplar bound his head.
" Sped on by fortune, kinder than my sire,
O my co-mates, we'll go where'er she please;
Despair of nothing and to all aspire —
By Teucer's guidance Teucer's auspices.
For Phoebus has of certainty foretold,
That in a land to us advent'rers new,
Fair Salamis a doubtful name shall hold.
O brave companions, O my faithful few!
Ye that with me have harder things endur'd,
Than all the evils which ye now sustain,
This day your grief and care with wine be cur'd,
To-morrow sends us to the depth again."