AD XANTHIAM PHOCEUM
Horace: Book II, Ode 4.
_"Ne sit ancillae tibi amor pudori."_
Nay, Xanthias, feel unashamed
That she you love is but a servant.
Remember, lovers far more famed
Were just as fervent.
Achilles loved the pretty slave
Briseis for her fair complexion;
And to Tecmessa Ajax gave
His young affection.
Why, Agamemnon at the height
Of feasting, triumph, and anointment,
Left everything to keep, one night,
A small appointment.
And are you sure the girl you love--
This maid on whom you have your heart set
Is lowly--that she is not of
The Roman smart set?
A maiden modest as is she,
So full of sweetness and forbearance,
Must be all right; her folks must be
Delightful parents.
Her arms and face I can commend,
And, as the writer of a poem,
I fain would compliment, old friend,
The limbs below 'em.
Nay, be not jealous. Stop your fears.
My tendencies are far from sporty.
Besides, the number of my years
Is over forty.
