Our planets sure with concord strangeAre blended. You by Jove's blest powerWere snatch'd from out the baleful rangeOf Saturn, and the evil hourWas stay'd, when rapturous benches fullThree times the auspicious thunder peal'd;Me the curst trunk, that smote my skull,Had slain; but Faunus, strong to shieldThe friends of Mercury, check'd the blowIn mid descent. Be sure to payThe victims and the fane you owe;Your bard a humbler lamb will slay.

Carven ivory have I noneNo golden cornice in my dwelling shines;Pillars choice of Libyan stoneUpbear no architrave from Attic mines;'Twas not mine to enter inTo Attalus' broad realms, an unknown heir,Nor for me fair clients spinLaconian purples for their patron's wear.