Q. H. Flaccus
Dellius, that car which, night and day,
Lightnings and thunders arm and scourge--
Tumultuous down the Appian Way--
Be slow to urge.

Though reckless Lydia bid thee fly,
And Telephus o'ertaking jeer,
Nay, sit and strongly occupy
The lower gear.

They call, the road consenting, "Haste!"--
Such as delight in dust collected--
Until arrives (I too have raced! )
The unexpected.

What ox not doomed to die alone,
Or inauspicious hound, may bring
Thee 'twixt two kisses to the throne
Of Hades' King,

I cannot tell; the Furies send
No warning ere their bolts arrive.
'Tis best to reach our chosen end
Late but alive.