Lauriger Horatius

Translated by John Addington Symonds

LAUREL-CROWNED Horatius,
True, how true thy saying!
Swift as wind flies over us
Time, devouring, slaying.
Where are, oh! those goblets full
Of wine honey-laden,
Strifes and loves and bountiful
Lips of ruddy maiden?

Grows the young grape tenderly,
And the maid is growing;
But the thirsty poet, see,
Years on him are snowing!
What ’s the use on hoary curls
Of the bays undying,
If we may not kiss the girls,
Drink while time ’s a-flying?