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

  • What, Albius! why this passionate despair
  • For cruel Glycera? why melt your voice
  • In dolorous strains, because the perjured fair
  • Has made a younger choice?
  • See, narrow-brow'd Lycoris, how she glows
  • For Cyrus! Cyrus turns away his head
  • To Pholoe's frown; but sooner gentle roes
  • Apulian wolves shall wed,
  • Than Pholoe to so mean a conqueror strike:
  • So Venus wills it; 'neath her brazen yoke
  • She loves to couple forms and minds unlike,
  • All for a heartless joke.
  • For me sweet Love had forged a milder spell;
  • But Myrtale still kept me her fond slave,
  • More stormy she than the tempestuous swell
  • That crests Calabria's wave.