Horace, creator; Conington, John, 1825-1869, editor

  • Is distant. Now the walk, the game,
  • The whisper'd talk at sunset held,
  • Each in its hour, prefer their claim.
  • Sweet too the laugh, whose feign'd alarm
  • The hiding-place of beauty tells,
  • The token, ravish'd from the arm
  • Or finger, that but ill rebels.
  • Grandson of Atlas, wise of tongue,
  • O Mercury, whose wit could tame
  • Man's savage youth by power of song
  • And plastic game!
  • Thee sing I, herald of the sky,
  • Who gav'st the lyre its music sweet,
  • Hiding whate'er might please thine eye
  • In frolic cheat.
  • See, threatening thee, poor guileless child,
  • Apollo claims, in angry tone,