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

  • Ah Lyce! though your drink were Tanais,
  • Your husband some rude savage, you would weep
  • To leave me shivering, on a night like this,
  • Where storms their watches keep.
  • Hark! how your door is creaking! how the grove
  • In your fair courtyard, while the wild winds blow,
  • Wails in accord! with what transparence Jove
  • Is glazing the driven snow!
  • Cease that proud temper: Venus loves it not:
  • The rope may break, the wheel may backward turn:
  • Begetting you, no Tuscan sire begot
  • Penelope the stern.
  • O, though no gift, no “prevalence of prayer,”
  • Nor lovers' paleness deep as violet,
  • Nor husband, smit with a Pierian fair,
  • Move you, have pity yet!
  • O harder e'en than toughest heart of oak,
  • Deafer than uncharm'd snake to suppliant moans!
  • This side, I warn you, will not always brook
  • Rain-water and cold stones.