The First Book Of The Odes Of Horace (Chap. 38) lyrics

by

Quintus Horatius Flaccus


Ode XXXVIII

To His Servant

Boy, I detest the pomp of the Persians; chaplets, which are woven with the rind of the linden, displease me; give up the search for the place where the latter rose abides. It is my particular desire that you make no laborious addition to the plain myrtle; for myrtle is neither unbecoming you a servant, nor me, while I quaff under this mantling vine.
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