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

  • She weans men's lips; for him she keeps
  • The crown, the purple, and the bays,
  • Who dares to look on treasure-heaps
  • With unblench'd gaze.
  • An equal mind, when storms o'ercloud,
  • Maintain, nor 'neath a brighter sky
  • Let pleasure make your heart too proud,
  • O Dellius, Dellius! sure te die,
  • Whether in gloom you spend each year,
  • Or through long holydays at ease
  • In grassy nook your spirit cheer
  • With old Falernian vintages,
  • Where poplar pale, and pine-tree high
  • Their hospitable shadows spread
  • Entwined, and panting waters try
  • To hurry down their zigzag bed.
  • Bring wine and scents, and roses' bloom,
  • Too brief, alas! to that sweet place;
  • While life, and fortune, and the loom
  • Of the Three Sisters yield you grace.