Classic Poem

Pride of our Muses, who in deathless strain
Dost prove the tricks of frenzied foemen vain,
And make the wiles of Hannibal to yield
To gallant Scipio on Zama's field,
Prithee, dear Silius, banish for a while
These tasks severe, and on my verses smile.
When mad December with her dice-box rattles,
Forget thy tale of sieges and of battles,
And in these days of mirth and mischief choose
The merry triflings of my sportive Muse.
So gay Catullus once, O noble friend,
To mighty Maro did his ‘Sparrow’ send.