The man, my friend, whose conscious heart br With virtue's sacred ardour glows, br Nor taints with death the envenom'd dart, br Nor needs the guard of Moorish bows: br br Though Scythia's icy cliffs he treads, br Or horrid Afric's faithless sands; br Or where the fam'd Hydaspes spreads br His liquid wealth o'er barbarous lands. br br For while by Chloe's image charm'd, br Too far in Sabine woods I stray'd; br Me singing, careless and unarm'd, br A grisly wolf surprised, and fled. br br No savage more portentous stain'd br Apulia's spacious wilds with gore; br None fiercer Juba's thirsty land, br Dire nurse of raging lions, bore. br br Place me where no soft summer gale br Among the quivering branches sighs; br Where clouds condensed for ever veil br With horrid gloom the frowning skies; br br Place me beneath the burning line, br A clime denied to human race; br I'll sing of Cloe's charms divine, br Her heavenly voice, and beauteous face.