Whether he traverse Libyan shoals,Or Caucasus, forlorn and horrent,Or lands where far Hydaspes rollsHis fabled torrent.A wolf, while roaming trouble-freeIn Sabine wood, as fancy led me,Unarm'd I sang my Lalage,Beheld, and fled me.Dire monster! in her broad oak woodsFierce Daunia fosters none such other,Nor Juba's land, of lion broodsThe thirsty mother.Place me where on the ice-bound plainNo tree is cheer'd by summer breezes,Where Jove descends in sleety rainOr sullen freezes;Place me where none can live for heat,'Neath Phoebus' very chariot plant me,That smile so sweet, that voice so sweet,Shall still enchant me.