Horace Ode 1.23

You avoid me like a fawn, Chloe, seeking her frightened mother in trackless mountains not without empty fear of the breezes and woods. For whether the arrival of spring bristled with shifting leaves or the green lizards parted the bramble, she trembles both in heart and knees. But no harsh tiger of Gaetulian lion do I follow to break you: cease finally following (your) mother, (you are) ready for a man.