Classic Poem

ODEIX.

VERSIO PROUTICA .

See how the winter blanches
Soracté's giant brow!
Hear how the forest-branches
Groan for the weight of snow!
While the fix'd ice impanels
Rivers within their channels.

Out with the frost! expel her!
Pile up the fuel-block,
And from thy hoary cellar
Produce a Sabine crock:
O Thaliarck! remember
It count a fourth December.

Give to the gods the guidance
Of earth's arrangements. List!
The blasts at their high biddance
From the vex'd deep desist,
Nor mid the cypress riot;
And the old elms are quiet.

Enjoy, without foreboding,
Life as the moments run;
Away with Care corroding,
Youth of my soul! nor shun
Love, for whose smile thou'rt suited;
And 'mid the dancers foot it.

While youth's hour lasts, beguile it;
Follow the field, the camp,
Each manly sport, till twilight
Brings on the vesper-lamp;
Then let thy loved one lisp her
Fond feelings in a whisper.

Or in a nook hide furtive,
Till by her laugh betrayed,
And drawn, with struggle sportive,
Forth from her ambuscade;
Bracelet or ring th' offender
In forfeit sweet surrender!