ODE XVII.— AN INVITATION TO HOROCE'S VILLA AD
TYNDARIDEM

Oft for the hill where ranges
My Sabine flock,
Swift-footed Faun exchanges
Arcadia's rock,
And, tempering summer's ray, forbids
Untoward rain to harm my kids.

And there in happy vagrance,
Roams the she-goat,
Lured by marital fragrance,
Through dells remote;
Of each wild herb and shrub partakes,
Nor fears the coil of lurking snakes.

No prowling wolves alarm her;
Safe from their gripe
While Faun, immortal charmer!
Attunes his pipe,
And down the vale and o'er the hills
Ustica's every echo fills.

The Gods, their bard caressing,
With kindness treat:
They've fill'd my house with blessing—
My country-seat,
Where Plenty voids her loaded horn,
Fair Tyndaris, pray come adorn!

From Sirius in the zenith,
From summer's giare,
Come, where the valley screeneth,
Come, warble there
Songs of the hero, for whose love
Penelopé and Circe strove.

Nor shall the cup be wanting,
So harmless then,
To grace that hour enchanting
In shady glen.
Nor shall the juice our calm disturb,
Nor aught our sweet emotions curb?

Fear not, my fair one! Cyrus
Shall noi intrude,
Nor worry thee desirous
Of solitude,
Nor rend thy innocent robe, nor tear
The gariand from thy flowing hair.