A Poetical Translation of the works of Horace With the Original Text, and Critical Notes collected from his best Latin and French Commentators. By the Revd Mr. Philip Francis...The third edition |
 | I. |
|
 | 1. |
| 2. |
| 3. |
| 4. |
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
| XII. |
| XIII. |
| XIV. |
| XV. |
|
|
| II. |
 | A Poetical Translation of the works of Horace |  |
259
Ode IX. A Dialogue between Horace and Lydia.
Horace.While I was pleasing to your Arms,
Nor any Youth, of happier Charms,
Thy snowy Bosom blissful prest,
Not Persia's King like me was blest.
Lydia.
While for no other Fair you burn'd,
Nor Lydia was for Chloe scorn'd,
What Maid was then so blest as thine?
Not Ilia's Fame could equal mine.
Horace.
Me Chloe now possesses whole,
Her Voice, her Lyre command my Soul;
For whom I'll gladly die, to save
Her dearer Beauties from the Grave.
261
My Heart young Calaïs inspires,
Whose Bosom glows with mutual Fires,
For whom I twice would die with Joy,
If Death would spare the charming Boy.
Horace.
Yet what if Love, whose Bands we broke,
Again should tame us to the Yoke;
Should I shake off bright Chloe's Chain,
And take my Lydia home again?—
Lydia.
Though he exceed in Beauty far
The rising Lustre of a Star;
Though light as Cork thy Fancy strays,
Thy Passions wild as angry Seas,
When vex'd with Storms; yet gladly I
With thee would live, with thee would die.
| A Poetical Translation of the works of Horace | |