The Odes and Epodon of Horace, In Five Books Translated into English by J. H. [i.e. John Harington] |
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 | The Odes and Epodon of Horace, In Five Books |  |
To LYDIA. Ode XXV.
He insults over her, that growing Old, she was justly despised by her Lovers.
The scornful Youth less rapping play
At Windows now, nor e're the Day
Wake thee; thy constant Door may feet
Lov'd Threshold still;
At Windows now, nor e're the Day
Wake thee; thy constant Door may feet
Lov'd Threshold still;
Which did before smooth Hinges press
So oft; thou hearst now less and less,
Thy Servant pend with waking brow
Sleep'st, Lydia, Thou?
So oft; thou hearst now less and less,
Thy Servant pend with waking brow
Sleep'st, Lydia, Thou?
Youth past, thy Self must weeping moan
For thy hard-hearted Loves (alone)
I'th' dismal Port, Winds blustring found;
Night darksome round.
For thy hard-hearted Loves (alone)
I'th' dismal Port, Winds blustring found;
Night darksome round.
When such hot raging Lust (forlorn!)
As th' Horse's Minion fires, shall burn
Thy Liver, till proves ulcerous;
Complainest thus.
As th' Horse's Minion fires, shall burn
Thy Liver, till proves ulcerous;
Complainest thus.
| The Odes and Epodon of Horace, In Five Books | |