TO MAECENAS.

When, O happy Maecenas, shall I, overjoyed at Caesar's being victorious,

drink with you under the stately dome (for so it pleases Jove) the

Caecuban reserved for festal entertainments, while the lyre plays a

tune, accompanied with flutes, that in the Doric, these in the Phrygian

measure? As lately, when the Neptunian admiral, driven from the sea,

and his navy burned, fled, after having menaced those chains to Rome,

which, like a friend, he had taken off from perfidious slaves. The Roman

soldiers (alas! ye, our posterity, will deny the fact), enslaved to a

woman, carry palisadoes and arms, and can be subservient to haggard

eunuchs; and among the military standards, oh shame! the sun beholds an

[Egyptian] canopy. Indignant at this the Gauls turned two thousand of

their cavalry, proclaiming Caesar; and the ships of the hostile navy,

going off to the left, lie by in port. Hail, god of triumph! Dost thou

delay the golden chariots and untouched heifers? Hail, god of triumph!

You neither brought back a general equal [to Caesar] from the Jugurthine

war; nor from the African [war, him], whose valor raised him a monument

over Carthage. Our enemy, overthrown both by land and sea, has changed

his purple vestments for mourning. He either seeks Crete, famous for her

hundred cities, ready to sail with unfavorable winds; or the Syrtes,

harassed by the south; or else is driven by the uncertain sea. Bring

hither, boy, larger bowls, and the Chian or Lesbian wine; or, what may

correct this rising qualm of mine, fill me out the Caecuban. It is my

pleasure to dissipate care and anxiety for Caesar's danger with

delicious wine.

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