Odes From Horace. - To Liguria. Book The Fourth, Ode The Tenth.

O thou! exulting in the charms,         Nature, with lavish bounty, showers,      When youth no more thy spirit warms,      And stealing age thy pride alarms,         For fleeting graces, and for waning powers;      When all the shining locks, that now         Adown those ivory shoulders bound,      With deaden'd colour shade thy brow,      And fall as from th' autumnal bough         Leaves, that rude winds have scatter'd on the ground;      And on that cheek the tints, that shame         May's orient light and Summer's rose,      Dim as yon taper's sullen flame,      Shall, in a dusky red, proclaim         That not one hue in wonted lustre glows;      When wrinkles o'er LIGURIA's face         Their daily strengthening furrows lead;      When faithful mirrors cease to place      In her charm'd sight each blooming grace,         And will no more her heart's proud triumph feed;      Then the chang'd Maid, with secret shame,         Shall thus the past, and present chide;      O! why, amid the loud acclaim,      That gave my rising charms to Fame,         Swell'd this coy bosom with disdainful pride?      Or why, since now the wish to yield         Steals pensive thro' each melting vein,      The ice dissolv'd, that scorn congeal'd,      And every tender thought reveal'd,         Why, vanish'd BEAUTY, com'st not thou again?