Excerpt from Nineteen Odes of Horace

Od. III. II.

I Pray thee, Mercury - since by thee
Inspired Amphion's song moved stones -
And thee, O Shell, whose psaltery
Can sound forth Music's seven tones -
Not tuneful once, nor sweet, but now
Welcome to fane and rich man's board -
Prompt me a strain, whose charm shall bow
Lyde's proud ears my suit toward:
Who, as a filly three years old
In the wide fields, frolics, and fears
A touch, a maiden pure, for bold
Wooer as yet too young in years.
Thou can'st draw tigers after thee,
And woods, the torrent's rush can'st stay,
Before thy music's witchery
The vast Hall's warder-hound gave way -
Aye, Cerberus, tho' his frightful head
Is girt with snakes a hundred strong,
Tho' foul his breath, and slime, like shed
Gore, dribbles from his triple tongue.
Nay e'en Ixion, forced to smile,
And Tityos, laughed against the grain,
The urn stood empty for a while,
While Danaids heard thy soothing strain.
Let Lyde hear what sin disgraced
Those virgins: what their well-known fate:
How all the water runs to waste
From the urn's bottom: how, tho' late,

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