#ode 1.29

Iccī, beātīs nunc Arabum invidēs

gāzīs et acrem mīlitiam parās

nōn ante dēvictīs Sabaeae

rēgibus horribilīque Mēdō

nectis catēnās? quae tibi virginum

sponsō necātō barbara serviet?

puer quis ex aulā capillīs

ad cyathum statuētur unctīs,

doctus sagittās tendere Sēricās

arcū paternō? quis neget arduīs

prōnōs relābī posse rīvōs

montibus et Tiberim revertī,

cum tū coēmptōs undique nōbilis

librōs Panāetī Sōcraticam et domum

mūtāre lōrīcīs Hibērīs,

pollicitus meliōra, tendis?

Iccius, are you now jealous of the rich treasures of the Arab?

and are you training for an aggressive military action

and for the kings of Sheba, previously unconquered,

and for the horrible Mede,

are you tying chains? Which female barbarian of virgins

will be a slave to you, having killed her boyfriend?

What young boy, out of a palace,

will be stationed at the wine ladle with his hair scented with oil

having been taught to shoot Seric arrows

on his father’s bow? Who would deny that

down-flowing streams are be able to glide back up

to the steep mountains, and the Tiber to be reversed,

when you, after promising better things, are hellbent

on exchanging the books of famous Paneitius,

having be bought from every place,