Book 4 — Book IV. Ode X. To Ligurinus, a beauteous Youth.

'Tis true, thou yet art fair, my Ligurine, No down as yet environs cheek or chin: But when those hairs which now do flow, shall fall, And when thy rosy cheeks turn wan and pale: When in thy glass another Ligurine thou Shalt spy, and scarce thy bearded self shall know; Then thou (despis'd) shalt sing this piteous song; Why am I old? or why was ever young?