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XIII. | ODE XIII. To
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The odes, epodes and Carmen Seculare of Horace (1719) | ||
ODE XIII. To Lydia.
While
Telephus's blooming Charms
My Lydia praises to the Skie,
His rosie Neck, and waxen Arms,
With Spleen I burst, with Passion die.
My Lydia praises to the Skie,
His rosie Neck, and waxen Arms,
With Spleen I burst, with Passion die.
'Tis then I rave, look pale, and pine:
Then gentle Tears exhaling prove
The secret Fire that lurks within,
The secret wasting Fires of Love.
Then gentle Tears exhaling prove
The secret Fire that lurks within,
The secret wasting Fires of Love.
With Jealousie I rave and burn,
To see you show your livid Scars:
Your Lips with biting Kisses torn,
In Revels and nocturnal Wars.
To see you show your livid Scars:
Your Lips with biting Kisses torn,
In Revels and nocturnal Wars.
15
Believe me, Lydia, charming Maid,
You'll never find those Lovers true,
Who could your balmy Lips invade,
Where Love distills his sweetest Dew.
You'll never find those Lovers true,
Who could your balmy Lips invade,
Where Love distills his sweetest Dew.
Thrice happy they, whose Hearts are ty'd
In Love's mysterious Knot so close,
No Strife, no Quarrels e'er divide,
And only Death fell Death can loose.
In Love's mysterious Knot so close,
No Strife, no Quarrels e'er divide,
And only Death fell Death can loose.
The odes, epodes and Carmen Seculare of Horace (1719) | ||