AD POMPEIUM VARUM. SÆPE mecum tempus in ultimum Quis te redonavit Quiritem Diis patriis, Italoque cælo, Pompei, meorum prime fodalium? Cum quo morantem fæpe diem mero Fregi, coronatus nitentes Malobathro Syrio capillos. Tecum Philippos & celerem fugam Ergo obligatam redde Jovi dapem : PROSE INTERPRETATION Ooften reduced to the last extremity in my company, Brutus being general of the war, who has re-instated thee a Roman citizen to thy native Gods and an Italian fky, Pompey, thou chief of my fellows, with whom I have frequently broke in upon the lingering day with wine, wearing a chaplet upon my hair, fhining with Syrian effence! With thee did I experience the overthrow at Philippi, and the hafty flight thereupon, my fhield being left behind in no laudable manner; when. TO POMPEIUS VARUS. Whofe return to his native country be congratulates. When Brutus led the van-what pow'r on high In rapid flight, when valour's heart was broke, And threat'ning heroes fell beneath the hoftile ftroke. But me Mercurius, much difmay'd, Quick thro' the midmoft foe convey'd In a thick cloud-Thou wert ingulph'd again In ftruggling tides of war upon the fwelt'ring plain. Wherefore to Jove the feaft be paid, And let your weary limbs be laid, • At Philippi. PROSE INTERPRETATION. when valour was broken, and heroes, big with threats, touched the filthy earth with their chin. But nimble Mercury conveyed me, in a panick as I was, with a thick mift through the midmoft enemy; thee the reforbent floods of fight bore back again into the action. Wherefore restore to Jupiter the bounden facrifice; and repofe your fide, harrafs'd with long fervice, under my laurel; and fpare not those casks that were M 3 deftined Depone fub lauru mea: neċ Ciboria exple: funde capacibus Curatve myrto? quem Venus arbitrum Dulce mihi furere eft amico. PROSE INTERPRETATION. deftined for you. Fill up the varnished bowls with Maffic, that makes us forget our care: pour out the perfumes from large fhells. Who takes care to haften the chaplets of dewy pa fley or myrtle? Whom shall Venus declare as toast-master? I will rave not a jot more in my fenfes than the priests of Bacchus. 'Tis fweet for me to be frantic on the reception of my friend. ODE 1 After long warfare, underneath my bay ; Nor spare the casks I deftin'd for this joyful day. And in oblivious Maffic fwim, And from large fhells the fragrant unguents pour. -Who runs to parsley beds, or to the myrtle bow'r, For cooling crowns? who throws the most To take the chair and give the toaft? I will the Bacchanalian priests outdo'Tis fweet to lofe one's wits at this dear interview. O DE VIII. IN JULIAM BARINEN. Non eft cur Barini juranti credatur, quum ex perjuriis pulchrior exoriatur. ULLA fi juris tibi pejerati ̈ Pæna, Barine, nocuiffet unquam : Crederem, fed tu fimul obligâfti Expedit matris cineres opertos Signa cum cœlo, gelidâque divos Ridet hoc (inquam) Venus ipfa, rident Cote cruentâ. PROSE INTERPRETATION. O Barine, if any penalty for your violated oath had ever done you the leaft hurt; if you had been more unhandsome by a black tooth, or a fingle nail, I should believe in the powers of vengeance: But you, as foon as you have bound your perjured head with vows, fhine out much more fair than ever, and come forth the public concern of our youth. It is expe dient |