ODE LXVIII.
Reading edition
Now Neptune's month our sky deforms, The angry night-cloud teems with storms; And savage winds, infuriate driven, Fly howling in the face of heaven! Now, now, my friends, the gathering gloom With roseate rays of wine illume: And while our wreaths of parsley spread Their fadeless foliage round our head, Let's hymn the almighty power of wine, And shed libations on his shrine!