"Safe in the shelter of thy garden-bower,
"Priapus, from the harm of suns or snows,
"With beard all shag, and hair that wildly flows,—
"O say! o'er beauteous youth whence comes thy power?
"Naked thou frontest wintry nights and days,
"Naked, no less, to Sirius' burning rays."

So did my song implore the rustic son
Of Bacchus, by his moon-shaped sickle known.

"Comply with beauty's lightest wish," said he,
"Complying love leads best to victory.
"Nor let a furious 'No' thy bosom pain;
"Beauty but slowly can endure a chain.
"Slow Time the rage of lions will o'er-sway,
"And bid them fawn on man. Rough rocks and rude
"In gentle streams Time smoothly wears away;
"And on the vine-clad hills by sunshine wooed,
"The purpling grapes feel Time's secure control;
"In Time, the skies themselves new stars unroll.
"Fear not great oaths! Love's broken oaths are borne
"Unharmed of heaven o'er every wind and wave.
"Jove is most mild; and he himself hath sworn
"There is no force in vows which lovers rave.
"Falsely by Dian's arrows boldly swear!
"And perjure thee by chaste Minerva's hair!

"Be a prompt wooer, if thou wouldst be wise:
"Time is in flight, and never backward flies.
"How swiftly fades the bloom, the vernal green!
"How swift yon poplar dims its silver sheen!
"Spurning the goal th' Olympian courser flies,
"Then yields to Time his strength, his victories;
"And oft I see sad, fading youth deplore
"Each hour it lost, each pleasure it forbore.
"Serpents each spring look young once more; harsh Heaven
"To beauteous youth has one brief season given.
"With never-fading youth stern Fate endows
"Phoebus and Bacchus only, and allows
"Full-clustering ringlets on their lovely brows.

"Keep at thy loved one's side, though hour by hour
"The path runs on; though Summer's parching star
"Burn all the fields, or blackest tempests lower,
"Or monitory rainbows threaten far.
"If he would hasten o'er the purple sea,
"Thyself the helmsman or the oarsman be.
"Endure, unmurmuring, each unwelcome toil,
"Nor fear thy unaccustomed hands to spoil.
"If to the hills he goes with huntsman's snare,
"Let thine own back the nets and burden bear.
"Swords would he have? Fence lightly when you meet;
"Expose thy body and compel defeat.
"He will be gracious then, and will not spurn
"Caresses to receive, resist, return.
"He will protest, relent, and half-conspire,
"And later, all unasked, thy love desire.

"But nay! In these vile times thy skill is vain.
"Beauty and youth are sold for golden gain.
"May he who first taught love to sell and buy,
"In grave accurst, with all his riches lie!

"O beauteous youth, how will ye dare to slight
"The Muse, to whom Pierian streams belong?
"Will ye not smile on poets, and delight,
"More than all golden gifts, in gift of song?
"Did not some song empurple Nisus' hair,
"And bid young Pelops' ivory shoulder glow?
"That youth the Muses praise, is he not fair,
"Long as the stars shall shine or waters flow ?

"But he who scorns the Muse, and will for gain
"Surrender his base heart,—let his foul cries
"Pursue the Corybants' infuriate train,
"Through all the cities of the Phrygian plain,—
"Unmanned forever, in foul Phrygian guise!
"But Venus blesses lovers who endear
"Love's quest alone by flattery, by fear,
"By supplication, plaint, and piteous tear."

Such song the god of gardens bade me sing
For Titius; but his fond wife would fling
Such counsel to the winds: "Beware," she cried,
"Trust not fair youth too far. For each one's pride
"Offers alluring charms: one loves to ride
"A gallant horse, and rein him firmly in;
"One cleaves the calm wave with white shoulder bare;
"One is all courage, and for this looks fair;
"And one's pure, blushing cheeks thy praises win."

Let him obey her! But my precepts wise
Are meant for all whom youthful beauty's eyes
Turn from in scorn. Let each his glory boast!
Mine is, that lovers, when despairing most,
My clients should be called. For them my door
Stands hospitably open evermore.
Philosopher to Venus I shall be,
And throngs of studious youth will learn of me.

Alas! alas! How love has been my bane!
My cunning fails, and all my arts are vain.
Have mercy, fair one, lest my pupils all
Mock me, who point a path in which I fall!