a chastity reserved from any other man by a steadfast security; and it, is forbidden to sin, or the reward is death.  O if there be any one willing to remove our impious slaughters, and civil rage; if he be desirous to be written father of the state, on statues [erected to him], let him dare to curb insuperable licentiousness, and be eminent to posterity; since we (O injustice!) detest virtue while living, but invidiously seek for her after she is taken out of our view.  To what purpose are our woeful complaints, if sin is not cut off with punishment?  Of what efficacy are empty laws, without morals; if neither that part of the world which is shut in by fervent heats, nor that side which borders upon Boreas, and snows hardened upon the ground, keep off the merchant; [and] the expert sailors get the better of the horrible seas?  Poverty, a great reproach, impels us both to do and to suffer any thing, and deserts the path of difficult virtue.  Let us, then, cast our gems and precious stones and useless gold, the cause of extreme evil, either into the Capitol, whither the acclamations and crowd of applauding [citizens] call us, or into the adjoining ocean.  If we are truly penitent for our enormities, the very elements of depraved lust are to be erased, and the minds of too soft a mold should be formed by severer studies.  The noble youth knows not how to keep his seat on horseback and is afraid to go a hunting, more skilled to play (if you choose it) with the Grecian trochus, or dice, prohibited by law; while the father’s perjured faith can deceive his partner and friend, and he hastens to get money for an unworthy heir.  In a word, iniquitous wealth increases, yet something is ever wanting to the incomplete fortune.

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ODE XXV.

To Bacchus.

A dithyrambic.

Whither, O Bacchus, art thou hurrying me, replete with your influence?  Into what groves, into what recesses am I driven, actuated with uncommon spirit?  In what caverns, meditating the immortal honor of illustrious Caesar, shall I be heard enrolling him among the stars and the council of Jove?  I will utter something extraordinary, new, hitherto unsung by any other voice.  Thus the sleepless Bacchanal is struck with enthusiasm, casting her eyes upon Hebrus, and Thrace bleached with snow, and Rhodope traversed by the feet of barbarians.  How am I delighted in my rambles, to admire the rocks and the desert grove!  O lord of the Naiads and the Bacchanalian women, who are able with their hands to overthrow lofty ash-trees; nothing little, nothing low, nothing mortal will I sing.  Charming is the hazard, O Bacchus, to accompany the god, who binds his temples with the verdant vine-leaf.

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ODE XXVI.

To Venus.