The presumptuous son of Iapetus, by an impious fraud, brought down fire into the world.  After fire was stolen from the celestial mansions, consumption and a new train of fevers settled upon the earth, and the slow approaching necessity of death, which, till now, was remote, accelerated its pace.  Daedalus essayed the empty air with wings not permitted to man.  The labor of Hercules broke through Acheron.  There is nothing too arduous for mortals to attempt.  We aim at heaven itself in our folly; neither do we suffer, by our wickedness, Jupiter to lay aside his revengeful thunderbolts.

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ODE IV.

To Sextius.

Severe winter is melted away beneath the agreeable change of spring and the western breeze; and engines haul down the dry ships.  And neither does the cattle any longer delight in the stalls, nor the ploughman in the fireside; nor are the meadows whitened by hoary frosts.  Now Cytherean Venus leads off the dance by moonlight; and the comely Graces, in conjunction with the Nymphs, shake the ground with alternate feet; while glowing Vulcan kindles the laborious forges of the Cyclops.  Now it is fitting to encircle the shining head either with verdant myrtle, or with such flowers as the relaxed earth produces.  Now likewise it is fitting to sacrifice to Faunus in the shady groves, whether he demand a lamb, or be more pleased with a kid.  Pale death knocks at the cottages of the poor, and the palaces of kings, with an impartial foot.  O happy Sextius!  The short sum total of life forbids us to form remote expectations.  Presently shall darkness, and the unreal ghosts, and the shadowy mansion of Pluto oppress you; where, when you shall have once arrived, you shall neither decide the dominion of the bottle by dice, nor shall you admire the tender Lycidas, with whom now all the youth is inflamed, and for whom ere long the maidens will grow warm.

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ODE V.

To pyrrha.

What dainty youth, bedewed with liquid perfumes, caresses you, Pyrrha, beneath the pleasant grot, amid a profusion of roses?  For whom do you bind your golden hair, plain in your neatness?  Alas! how often shall he deplore your perfidy, and the altered gods; and through inexperience be amazed at the seas, rough with blackening storms who now credulous enjoys you all precious, and, ignorant of the faithless gale, hopes you will be always disengaged, always amiable!  Wretched are those, to whom thou untried seemest fair?  The sacred wall [of Neptune’s temple] demonstrates, by a votive tablet, that I have consecrated my dropping garments to the powerful god of the sea.

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ODE VI.

To Agrippa.