TO LYDE.
Horace
What can I do better on the festal day of Neptune? Quickly produce,
Lyde, the hoarded Caecuban, and make an attack upon wisdom, ever on her
guard. You perceive the noontide is on its decline; and yet, as if the
fleeting day stood still, you delay to bring out of the store-house the
loitering cask, [that bears its date] from the consul Bibulus. We will
sing by turns, Neptune, and the green locks of the Nereids; you, shall
chant, on your wreathed lyre, Latona and the darts of the nimble
Cynthia; at the conclusion of your song, she also [shall be celebrated],
who with her yoked swans visits Gnidos, and the shining Cyclades, and
Paphos: the night also shall be celebrated in a suitable lay.
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