Speak, Lydia, speak, by all the powers above, <br />Why wilt thou haste to kill with too much love? <br />Why hates young Sybaris the sunny plain? <br />Why shuns the youth the once-loved warrior train? <br />And why neglect the Gallic steed to rein? <br />Why dreads he now the yellow Tiber's flood? <br />The healthy oil, as though 'twere viper's blood? <br />Why not, as heretofore, his arms expose- <br />His lusty arms, well used to cope with foes? <br />And once again hear plaudits loud resound, <br />At dart or discus hurl'd beyond the bound; <br />Why, like Achilles doth he lurk conceal'd, <br />Who shunn'd the manly dress and Trojan field?<br /><br />Peter John Allan<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/from-horace-book-i-ode-viii/
