isa-normaladvance-1909-00111

Description:	THE NORMAL ADVANCE111When a tree fell on me with a blowWhich almost sent me down below,I pledged to Liber, god of wine,A snow-white goat and dinner fine,Which should this day commemorateAs saving me from an awful fate.And since with each revolving yearThis day makes life to me more dear,Ill open a cask of ripened wineWhich dates from Consul Tullus time.Stay, Maecenas, till the long night passesAnd drink to your friend a hundred glasses,Put controversy and wrath asideAnd enjoy yourself by his willing side.Relieve your mind of civil cares:Our host the Dacians band ensnares And the Medes at home become unquietAs they take up arms in civil riot.And our foe upon the shores of Spain,Subdued, now serves in the Roman chain,And the Scythians with laxened bowGive up the field to a greater foe.Let public worries all be past,Become yourself a man at last,Take gladly the gifts which the present bringsAnd forget the harder, severer things.—Lorena Reiley.Ill, 9.Donee gratus eram tibiSo long as I was dear to you,Nor other favored in your sightHis arms flung round your neck so white,Such happiness a king neer knew.So long as I still held my place,And for Chloe your heart was not aflame,I. Lydia, surpassed in fame,Ilia, mother of the Roman race.Now to Chloe my heart I give,So skilled in song and speeches sweet.For her death even would I meet,If only fate would let her live.Now, I my loving heart do giveTo Calais, the Thurians son.For him two deaths Id meet, not one,If only fate would let him live.What if my former love returnAnd in my heart once more abide,And Chloe banish from my side,And I for Lydia yearn?Even if that youth have beauty bright,And a horrid temper you possess,With you alone, I must confess,To live, to die, would be delight.—Ruth Ralston.Ill, 13.O fons Bandusiae splendidior vitroO fount, whose waters far surpassThe glistening face of clearest glass,To thee the cup adorned with flowersTo-morrow pure libation pours.A kid whose budding horns foretellA head that shall be armed full well,Yet meditates his blows in vain:His blood shall thy cool ripples stain.When Caniculus sends his rayTo bring dire thirst to all the day,You a reviving coolness yieldTo sheep and oxen in the field.You, too, shall be a famous spring,While of the oak in verse I sing,Whose shades thy hollow rocks surroundFrom where thy prattling waters bound.—Helen Wright.
Source:	http://indstate.contentdm.oclc.org/cdm/ref/collection/isuarchive/id/34141
Collection:	Indiana State University Archives

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