HORACE "T is now the Thracian Chloe whose accomplishments inthrall me, So sweet in modulations, such a mistress of the lyre. In truth the fates, however terrible, could not appall me; If they would spare her, sweet my soul, I gladly would expire. LYDIA And now the son of Ornytus, young Calais, inflames me With mutual, restless passion and an all-consuming fire; And if the fates, however dread, would spare the youth who claims me, Not only once would I face death, but gladly twice expire. HORACE What if our early love returns to prove we were mistaken And bind with brazen yoke the twain, to part, ah! nevermore? What if the charming Chloe of the golden locks be shaken And slighted Lydia again glide through the open door? LYDIA Though he is fairer than the star that shines so far above you, Thou lighter than a cork, more stormy than the Adrian Sea, Still should I long to live with you, to live for you and love you, And cheerfully see death's approach if thou wert near to me. THE ROASTING OF LYDIA No more your needed rest at night TO GLYCERA No longer you may hear them cry, Grown old and faded, you bewail While round your home the Thracian gale What furious thoughts will fill your breast, In calm, reposeful English). Learn this, and hold your carping tongue: In ivy green and myrtle young, And not content to dedicate, TO GLYCERA THE cruel mother of the Loves, And other Powers offended, Have stirred my heart, where newly roves "T is Glycera, to boldness prone, Whose radiant beauty fires me; While fairer than the Parian stone Her dazzling face inspires me. 387 And on from Cyprus Venus speeds, The Scythian lays, the Parthian meeds, Here, boys, bring turf and vervain too; And ere our sacrifice is through TO LYDIA I WHEN, Lydia, you (once fond and true, But now grown cold and supercilious) Praise Telly's charms of neck and arms— Well, by the dog! it makes me bilious! Then with despite my cheeks wax white, My doddering brain gets weak and giddy, My eyes o'erflow with tears which show That passion melts my vitals, Liddy! Deny, false jade, your escapade, And, lo! your wounded shoulders show it! No manly spark left such a mark— Leastwise he surely was no poet! With savage buss did Telephus Abrade your lips, so plump and mellow; As you would save what Venus gave, I charge you shun that awkward fellow! And now I say thrice happy they That call on Hymen to requite 'em; For, though love cools, the wedded fools Must cleave till death doth disunite 'em. TO LYDIA TO LYDIA II WHEN praising Telephus you sing Soft down my cheek the tear-drop flows, And fiercely swells with laboring bile. Perchance yon silly, passionate youth, Be warned; he cannot faithful prove, Where Venus's own nectar lies. Whom golden links unbroken bind, TO QUINTIUS HIRPINUS To Scythian and Cantabrian plots, So long as we From care are free, Vexations cannot cinch us. 389 Unwrinkled youth and grace, forsooth, The songs we sing In time of spring Are hushed in wintry weather. Why, even flow'rs change with the hours And the moon has divers phases And shall the mind Be racked to find A clew to Fortune's mazes? Nay; 'neath this tree let you and me Woo Bacchus to caress us; We're old, 't is true, But still we two Are thoroughbreds, God bless us! While the wine gets cool in yonder pool, But we may decoy The fair but furtive Lyde? She can execute on her ivory lute Sonatas full of passion, And she bangs her hair In the good old Spartan fashion. WINE, WOMEN, AND SONG O VARUS mine, Plant thou the vine Within this kindly soil of Tibur; Nor spiritual, knows The man who's a discreet imbiber. |