Select poems of Edward Hovel Thurlow Lord Thurlow |
I. |
II. |
III. |
IV. |
V. |
VI. | ODE VI.
|
VII. |
VIII. |
IX. |
X. |
XI. |
XII. |
XIII. |
XIV. |
XV. |
XVI. |
XVII. |
XVIII. |
XIX. |
XIX. |
XX. |
XXI. |
XXII. |
XXIII. |
XXIV. |
XXV. |
XXVI. |
XXVII. |
XXVIII. |
XXX. |
XXXI. |
XXXII. |
XXXIII. |
XXXIV. |
XXXV. |
XXXVI. |
XXXVII. |
XXXVIII. |
XXXIX. |
XL. |
XLI. |
XLII. |
XLIII. |
XLIV. |
XLV. |
XLVI. |
XLVII. |
XLVIII. |
XLIX. |
L. |
LI. |
LII. |
LIII. |
LIV. |
LV. |
Select poems of Edward Hovel Thurlow | ||
9
ODE VI.
[Fitting well our rosy wreath]
Fitting well our rosy wreath,
(Let the roses gently breathe
Around our temples;) we will smile,
And our genius here beguile.
Pour the wine; and, in the dance,
Let a maiden soft advance,
Shaking too her spear on high;
Crown'd with ivy wantonly,
Let her to our joy repair:
And a boy, of golden hair,
Breathing sweetness from his mouth,
Shall assuage our ears' sad drowth,
Pouring to the chorded shell
A voice, to melt the soul of Hell.
(Let the roses gently breathe
Around our temples;) we will smile,
And our genius here beguile.
Pour the wine; and, in the dance,
Let a maiden soft advance,
Shaking too her spear on high;
Crown'd with ivy wantonly,
Let her to our joy repair:
And a boy, of golden hair,
Breathing sweetness from his mouth,
Shall assuage our ears' sad drowth,
Pouring to the chorded shell
A voice, to melt the soul of Hell.
He, at last, hath found his home:
Love, the gold-hair'd Love, is come:
And, with him, Lyæus fair:
And, with him, too, doth repair
Venus, to rejoice our age,
And, with soft and gentle rage,
In our revel to engage.
Love, the gold-hair'd Love, is come:
10
And, with him, too, doth repair
Venus, to rejoice our age,
And, with soft and gentle rage,
In our revel to engage.
Select poems of Edward Hovel Thurlow | ||