Untrained a yoke-mate's toil with even gait
To match, thy heifer brooks not yet the share
To draw with neck submissive, nor the weight
Of the rude bull's impetuous love to bear.

Ne'er from the pasture do her thoughts take flight.
Now would she in cool water-brooks allay
The sultry heat, now holds it more delight
In the wet osier beds with calves to play.

Give o'er thy craving for the grape that yet
Is green and crude. Full soon in brilliant hues
Arrayed will autumn come, and streaks of jet
Will through the clusters of thy vine diffuse.

Soon to thy side she'll cling. Her age, that now
Breeds shyness, moving on will Lalage
With all the years it takes from thee endow.
Soon a wife's boldness will she show to thee,

And win a love from rivalry secure
Of Pholoe, coy fugitive, or e'en
Of Chloris whose fair shoulder beams as pure
As through the night the moon-lit billow seen,

Or Cnidian Gyges, whom wert thou to place
In bevy of young maids, thy guests to try,
His loosely flowing locks and girlish face
Would strangely baffle keenest wit and eye.