 | Poems and Songs |  |
EPODE XV.
To his Sweet-heart Neæra.
It was a lovely melancholy night;The Moon, and every Star shone bright;
When thou didst swear thou would'st to me be true,
And do as I would have thee do:
False Woman! round my neck thy arms did twine,
Inseparable as the Elm, and Vine:
Then didst thou swear thy passion should endure
To me alone sincere and pure,
Till Sheep and Wolves should quit their enmity,
And not a Wave disturb the Sea.
Treacherous Neæra! I have been too kind,
But Flaccus can draw off thou'lt find;
He can that face (as thou do'st him) forswear,
And find (it may be) one as fair:
And let me tell thee, when my fury's mov'd,
I hate devoutly, as I lov'd.
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That proudly do'st my drudgery,
Didst thou abound in numerous Flocks, and Land,
Wer't heir to all Pactolus Sand;
Though in thy brain thou bor'st Pythagoras,
And carriedst Nereus in thy face,
She'd pick another up, and shab thee off,
And then 'twill be my turn to laugh.
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