ODE XXX.

TO VENUS.


O Venus, queen of Gnidus and Paphos, neglect your favorite Cyprus, and
transport yourself into the beautiful temple of Glycera, who is invoking
you with abundance of frankincense. Let your glowing son hasten along
with you, and the Graces with their zones loosed, and the Nymphs, and
Youth possessed of little charm without you and Mercury.

* * * * *



ODE XXXI.

TO APOLLO.


What does the poet beg from Phoebus on the dedication of his temple?
What does he pray for, while he pours from the flagon the first
libation? Not the rich crops of fertile Sardinia: not the goodly flocks
of scorched Calabria: not gold, or Indian ivory: not those countries,
which the still river Liris eats away with its silent streams. Let those
to whom fortune has given the Calenian vineyards, prune them with a
hooked knife; and let the wealthy merchant drink out of golden cups the
wines procured by his Syrian merchandize, favored by the gods
themselves, inasmuch as without loss he visits three or four times a