Classic Poem

O oft to last extremity with me
Reduced when Brutus led our ranks to war,
Who to thy native rights and gods hath thee
Restored, and to Italian sky once more,

Pompeius, of my comrades chief, with whom
Oft to carouse I broke the lagging hours
Of day, my sleek locks glistening with perfume
Of Syrian nard and garlanded with flowers?

With thee I saw Philippi's headlong flight
And flung ingloriously my shield away,
When Valour broke, and they who ere the fight
Uttered brave threats prostrate and humbled lay.

I through the foe by Mercury swift to save
Was carried trembling in thick mist concealed;
Thee backward in that boiling surf the wave
Recoiling dragged, again to take the field.

With sacrificial feast then pay thy vows
To Jove, and weary with the long campaign
Repose thy limbs beneath my laurel boughs,
Nor spare the wine-jars kept for thee to drain.

Fill high the polished bowls with Massic wine,
Sad memories to efface; unguents prepare
To pour from ample shells. Who'll haste to twine
Fresh parsley wreaths or myrtle for our hair?

Whom for our president will Venus choose?
In revels for Edonians not unmeet
Will I engage. My madness to excuse
A lost friend found I count for reason sweet.