Classic Poem

Go now, my Muse, and take this screed
For learned Plinius to read:
It is not wise nor yet discreet
But still it has a spice of wit.
Short is the way; just climb the height
Across Suburra till you sight
Spray-sprinkled Orpheus 'mid the throng
Of beasts enraptured with his song,
And by his side the eagle bold
That bore the boy to Jove of old,
And so to Pedo's modest home,
Its frieze bird graven, you will come.

But do not with strong liquor flown
Knock at a time that's not your own.
His days to study he must give,
Composing speeches that shall live
With Tully's best, to please the ears
And win a verdict from the Peers.
More safe 'twill be to go a-calling
If lamps are lit and night is falling.
That is your hour, when reigns the rose,
When brows are wet, and Bacchus flows;
For when the Wine-god wildly rages
Stern Catos well may read my pages.