Select poems of Edward Hovel Thurlow | ||
20
ODE XIII.
[These men say, that Attys cryed]
These men say, that Attys cryed
In the clefts and mountains wide
To mild Cybele, raging mad
For that he did what she forbade.
In the clefts and mountains wide
To mild Cybele, raging mad
For that he did what she forbade.
And these again, that by the brink
Of Claros, they who stoop and drink,
(Claros divinely deep and clear,
To Daphne-bearing Phœbus dear,)
The wave, that giveth prophecy,
Struck with madness raging cry.
Of Claros, they who stoop and drink,
(Claros divinely deep and clear,
To Daphne-bearing Phœbus dear,)
The wave, that giveth prophecy,
Struck with madness raging cry.
But I, with like and happier fate,
With graceful Bacchus saturate,
Aye, and with flowing flowery oil,
The grateful earth's most lovely spoil;
And with a female friend, whose love
Doth place me Deities above;
(For why should madness be forbade?)
I will, I will, I say, be mad.
With graceful Bacchus saturate,
Aye, and with flowing flowery oil,
The grateful earth's most lovely spoil;
And with a female friend, whose love
Doth place me Deities above;
(For why should madness be forbade?)
I will, I will, I say, be mad.
Select poems of Edward Hovel Thurlow | ||