Updated: Oct 27, 2021
The young bloods come round less often now,
Pelting your shutters and making a row
And robbing your beauty sleep. Now the door
Clings lovingly close to the jamb-though, before,
It used to move on its hinge pretty fast.
Those were the days-and they're almost past-
When lovers stood out all night long crying,
"Lydia, wake up! Save me! I'm dying!"
Soon your time's coming to be turned down
And to feel the scorn of the men about town-
A cheap hag haunting alley places
O moonless nights when the wind from Thrace is
Rising and raging, and so is the fire
In your raddled loins, the brute desire
That drives the mothers of horses mad.
You'll be lonely then and complain how sad
That the gay young boys enjoy the sheen
Of ivy best or the darker green
Of myrtle: dry old leaves they send
As a gift to the east wind, winter's friend.
Horace, his full name in latin is - Quintus Horatius Flaccus. A lyricist poet, born December 65 BC in Venusian, Italy. His greatest works were “Epistles”, “Ars poetica”, “Roman Odes”, “Epodes”, “Satires”, “Secular Hymn" and “Odes”. All centered on love, philosophy, poetry, friendship and satire. His work very much impressed Virgil (Latin-Publius Vergilius Maro, Virgil in English, an ancient Roman poet of the Augustan period.), who introduced him to the great patron Maecenas( in latin -Gaius Cilnius Maecenas, an advisor and companion to Augustus) back in 38 BC. From then on Horace had no financial worries; he lived freely among the leading poets and fellow statesmen of Rome during his time; his work was also admired by Augustus. Horace passed away Nov. 27, 8 BC, in Rome, Italy.