in a Grecian jar, when you dear Maecenas,
flower of knighthood,
received the theatre’s applause, so your native
river-banks, and, also, the Vatican Hill,
together returned that praise again, to you,
in playful echoes.
Then, drink Caecubum, and the juice of the grape
crushed in Campania’s presses, my cups are
unmixed with what grows on Falernian vines,
or Formian hills.
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