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C.D. Warner, et al., comp. The Library of the World’s Best Literature.
An Anthology in Thirty Volumes. 1917.

To Quintus Dellius

By Horace (65–8 B.C.)

Paraphrase from ‘Echoes from the Sabine Farm,’ by Eugene and Roswell Martin Field

BE tranquil, Dellius, I pray;

For though you pine your life away

With dull complaining breath,

Or speed with song and wine each day,

Still, still, your doom is death.

Where the white poplar and the pine

In glorious arching shade combine,

And the brook singing goes,

Bid them bring store of nard and wine

And garlands of the rose.

Let’s live while chance and youth obtain:

Soon shall you quit this fair domain

Kissed by the Tiber’s gold,

And all your earthly pride and gain

Some heedless heir shall hold.

One ghostly boat shall sometime bear

From scenes of mirthfulness or care

Each fated human soul,—

Shall waft and leave its burden where

The waves of Lethe roll.

So come, I prithee, Dellius mine;

Let’s sing our songs and drink our wine

In that sequestered nook

Where the white poplar and the pine

Stand listening to the brook.