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Chloë Shies Away

After Horace, Odes, 1, 23

You shun me, Chloë, like a fawn who’s searching
in the trackless mountains for her trembling mother,
startled by the noises of the forest and the winds.

She’s no need to be afraid. It’s only spring approaching, fluttering the leaves,

or bright green lizards pushing back the brambles;
yet her heart is thumping and her knees are shaky.

Why? I’m not a savage tiger or a lion out of Africa.

I’ve no desire to hunt you down and crush you.
Listen now; stop following your mother; you’re ready for a man.

Horace, Odes, 1, 23

Vitas hinnuleo me similis, Chloë,
quaerenti pavidam montibus aviis
  matrem non sine vano
    aurarum silvae metu.

nam seu mobilibus veris inhorruit
adventus foliis, seu virides rubum
  dimovere lacertae
    et corde et genibus tremit.

atqui non ego te tigris ut aspera
Gaetulusve leo frangere persequor:
  tandem desine matrem
    tempestiva sequi viro.