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.