The odes, epodes and Carmen Seculare of Horace (1719) | ||
ODE XVIII. To Faunus.
God of the Woods, who loves to chace
The Naïds, nimble as the Wind,
Along my Fields propitious pass,
And to my tender Flocks be kind;
The Naïds, nimble as the Wind,
Along my Fields propitious pass,
And to my tender Flocks be kind;
Then every Year a wanton Kid,
With Bowls of Love-inspiring Wine,
Shall to your Sylvan God-head bleed,
Whilst fragrant Smoak perfumes the Shrine.
With Bowls of Love-inspiring Wine,
Shall to your Sylvan God-head bleed,
Whilst fragrant Smoak perfumes the Shrine.
Soon as December cools the Plains,
My Cattle on soft Herbage browze;
Nor Toil nor Care fatigues the Swains;
The Bullocks from the Team are loose:
My Cattle on soft Herbage browze;
Nor Toil nor Care fatigues the Swains;
The Bullocks from the Team are loose:
No rav'ning Wolves the Lambkins fright;
The Leaves lye scatter'd through the Wood;
The Rusticks in the Dance delight,
And beat the Ground they lately plow'd.
The Leaves lye scatter'd through the Wood;
The Rusticks in the Dance delight,
And beat the Ground they lately plow'd.
The odes, epodes and Carmen Seculare of Horace (1719) | ||