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

  • When guilt goes forth, let lapwings shrill,
  • And dogs and foxes great with young,
  • And wolves from far Lanuvian hill,
  • Give clamorous tongue:
  • Across the roadway dart the snake,
  • Frightening, like arrow loosed from string,
  • The horses. I, for friendship's sake,
  • Watching each wing,
  • Ere to his haunt, the stagnant marsh,
  • The harbinger of tempest flies,
  • Will call the raven, croaking harsh,
  • From eastern skies.
  • Farewell!—and wheresoe'er you go,
  • My Galatea, think of me:
  • Let lefthand pie and roving crow
  • Still leave you free.
  • But mark with what a front of fear
  • Orion lowers. Ah! well I know
  • How Hadria glooms, how falsely clear
  • The west-winds blow.