Odes

Horace

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

They, as she-lions bullocks rend,

Tear each her victim: I, less hard

Than these, will slay you not, poor friend,

Nor hold in ward:

Me let my sire in fetters lay

For mercy to my husband shown:

Me let him ship far hence away,

To climes unknown.

Go; speed your flight o'er land and wave,

While Night and Venus shield you; go

Be blest: and on my tomb engrave

This tale of woe.”