Classic Poem

Septimius, who would venture at my side
To Gades and the untamed Cantabrian's land,
And savage Syrtes where aye beats the tide
On Moorish sand,

Be Tibur, Argive colony, for me
The home where I may rest to toil no more,
When weary in old age of road and sea,
Weary of war.

If that hard fates deny, me let them bring
Where sheep hide-coated by Galesus play,
The country that Phalantus, Spartan king,
Of yore did sway.

Of all earth's corners that allures me most,
Which with Hymettian-flavoured honey flows,
Where fine as green Venafrum e'er can boast
The olive grows,

Where spring prolonged and temperate winter blasts
Jove grants, and Aulon, with boon Bacchus high
In favour, on Falernian vintage casts
No envious eye.

There blissful heights to you and me extend
Safe shelter; there shall you, last office dear,
On the warm ashes of your poet friend
Let fall a tear.