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

  • Ixion too and Tityos smooth'd
  • Their rugged brows: the urn stood dry
  • One hour, while Danaus' maids were sooth'd
  • With minstrelsy.
  • Let Lyde hear those maidens' guilt,
  • Their famous doom, the ceaseless drain
  • Of outpour'd water, ever spilt,
  • And all the pain
  • Reserved for sinners, e'en when dead:
  • Those impious hands, (could crime do more?)
  • Those impious hands had hearts to shed
  • Their bridegrooms' gore!
  • One only, true to Hymen's flame,
  • Was traitress to her sire forsworn:
  • That splendid falsehood lights her name
  • Through times unborn.
  • “Wake!” to her youthful spouse she cried,
  • “Wake! or you yet may sleep too well:
  • Fly—from the father of your bride,
  • Her sisters fell: