From Horace: Book I: Ode Viii Poem by Peter John Allan

Speak, Lydia, speak, by all the powers above,
Why wilt thou haste to kill with too much love?
Why hates young Sybaris the sunny plain?
Why shuns the youth the once-loved warrior train?
And why neglect the Gallic steed to rein?
Why dreads he now the yellow Tiber's flood?
The healthy oil, as though 'twere viper's blood?
Why not, as heretofore, his arms expose-
His lusty arms, well used to cope with foes?
And once again hear plaudits loud resound,
At dart or discus hurl'd beyond the bound;
Why, like Achilles doth he lurk conceal'd,
Who shunn'd the manly dress and Trojan field?