TO QUINTIUS HIRPINUS

To Scythian and Cantabrian plots,

Pay them no heed, O Quintius!

So long as we

From care are free,

Vexations cannot cinch us.

Unwrinkled youth and grace, forsooth,

Speed hand in hand together;

The songs we sing

In time of spring

Are hushed in wintry weather.

Why, even flow'rs change with the hours,

And the moon has divers phases;

And shall the mind

Be racked to find

A clew to Fortune's mazes?

Nay;‘ neath this tree let you and me

Woo Bacchus to caress us;

We're old,‘ t is true,

But still we two

Are thoroughbreds, God bless us!

While the wine gets cool in yonder pool,

Let's spruce up nice and tidy;

Who knows, old boy,

But we may decoy

The fair but furtive Lyde?

She can execute on her ivory lute

Sonatas full of passion,

And she bangs her hair

( Which is passing fair )

In the good old Spartan fashion.