Of Rhodes renowned, or Mytilene's isle,
Or Ephesus, or Isthmian Corinth's towers,
By Bacchus Thebes, by Phoebus Delphi raised
To glory, or Thessalian Tempe's bowers,

Others the praise may sing; nor want enow
Of such as with incessant care delight
Set odes in honour of their only theme,
The city of maiden Pallas to indite,

And wreathe with olive, hackneyed ornament,
Their brows; while store of Juno's votaries tell
The fame of Argos, land of mettled steeds,
And on Mycenae's royal treasure dwell.

Me hardy Sparta or rich Larissa's plain
Charms not as charm Albunea's echoing dome,
Sheer plunging Anio, and Tiburnus' grove
And orchards wet with tumbling rivulets' foam.

As oft, a clearing breeze, the South wind sweeps
The clouds from lowering heaven, nor with rain,
For ever teems, so, Plancus, wise betime
Do thou to sorrow and the toil and pain

Of life with mellow wine a limit set,
While quartered now in martial camp arrayed
With glittering ensigns, or when back once more
Beneath thy Tibur's deep embowering shade.

'Tis told of Teucer, that on eve to part
From Salamis and sire for exile bound
Nathless he moistened with Lyaean juice
His temples, and with wreath of poplar crowned,

While thus to his dejected friends he spoke
With cheering words, ‘Lead wheresoe'er she will
Fortune more kind forsooth than parent's breast,
Brethren and comrades mine, we'll follow still.

‘'Neath Teucer's leadership and Teucer's star
Let none despair; for from Apollo came
The promise sure, that on new soil shall rise
A Salamis to dispute this island's name.

‘Stout hearts, that many a time ere now with me
Have worse mishap endured, with wine allay
Your cares to-night; to-morrow yet again
Over the boundless sea we'll sail away.’