 |
 |
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
| XII. |
| XIII. |
| XIV. |
| XV. |
| XVI. |
| XVII. |
 | The odes, epodes and Carmen Seculare of Horace (1719) |  |
ODE XXVII.
With Cups for gentler Sports design'd
Let Salvages engage,
Our Bacchus is to Peace inclin'd,
And not to brutish Rage.
Let Salvages engage,
Our Bacchus is to Peace inclin'd,
And not to brutish Rage.
Who can rough Arms, and Battels bear,
With Wine, and drinking Joys?
Then let each Toper keep his Chair,
And cease this horrid Noise.
With Wine, and drinking Joys?
Then let each Toper keep his Chair,
And cease this horrid Noise.
If you would have me take my Glass,
Let yonder Youth impart
His present Pains, and name the Lass
That now inflames his Heart.
Let yonder Youth impart
His present Pains, and name the Lass
That now inflames his Heart.
26
If he denies me my Request,
This Moment I am gone:
Whatever Nymph disturbs his Rest,
He need not blush to own.
This Moment I am gone:
Whatever Nymph disturbs his Rest,
He need not blush to own.
Come tell it softly in my Ear:
The Secret's safe with me.—
Alas, then do you doat on her?
How wretched must you be!
The Secret's safe with me.—
Alas, then do you doat on her?
How wretched must you be!
No winged Force, no heav'nly Pow'r,
No God nor Magick Art,
When such a Monster would devour,
Can save your bleeding Heart.
No God nor Magick Art,
When such a Monster would devour,
Can save your bleeding Heart.
| The odes, epodes and Carmen Seculare of Horace (1719) | |