Each year, thou know'st, a kid must dieFor thee; nor lacks the wine's full streamTo Venus' mate, the bowl; and highThe altars steam.Sure as December's Nones appear,All o'er the grass the cattle play;The village, with the lazy steer,Keeps holyday.Wolves rove among the fearless sheep;The woods for thee their foliage strow;The delver loves on earth to leap,His ancient foe.What the time from InachusTo Codrus, who in patriot battle fell,Who were sprung from Aeacus,And how men fought at Ilion,—this you tell.What the wines of Chios cost,Who with due heat our water can allay,What the hour, and who the hostTo give us house-room,—this you will not say