Classic Poem

Con o'er his books that time shall not destroy,
His songs well worthy Rome; but, as ye read,
Deem not Pieria was his only joy,
That Bacchus' garland was his only meed,
Virgilian fire had touched him not, until
His golden tongue had earned a Tully's fame;
The forum looks with awe upon him still
And grateful clients still revere his name.
He ruled as consul through the wondrous year,
That year made holy by a world made free;
These tasks well wrought, the Muses held him dear
And now upon their mountain dwelleth he.