Select poems of Edward Hovel Thurlow Lord Thurlow |
I. |
II. |
III. |
IV. |
V. |
VI. |
VII. |
VIII. |
IX. |
X. |
XI. |
XII. |
XIII. |
XIV. |
XV. |
XVI. |
XVII. |
XVIII. |
XIX. |
XIX. |
XX. |
XXI. |
XXII. |
XXIII. |
XXIV. |
XXV. |
XXVI. |
XXVII. | ODE XXVII.
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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 | ||
40
ODE XXVII.
[The son of Jove, when Bacchus kind]
The son of Jove, when Bacchus kind,
Who gently soothes the troubled mind,
When he into my soul doth flow,
Who did the purple wine bestow,
He teaches me to dance, and sing,
More happy than the Lydian king.
Who gently soothes the troubled mind,
When he into my soul doth flow,
Who did the purple wine bestow,
He teaches me to dance, and sing,
More happy than the Lydian king.
I, who my time in cups employ,
Possess a soft and graceful joy,
For Venus, daughter of the sea,
With song and timbrel charmeth me,
She smiles upon me, like the Spring,
A beauteous girl, too, she doth bring—
Again I burn to dance, and sing,
More happy than the Lydian king.
Possess a soft and graceful joy,
For Venus, daughter of the sea,
With song and timbrel charmeth me,
She smiles upon me, like the Spring,
A beauteous girl, too, she doth bring—
Again I burn to dance, and sing,
More happy than the Lydian king.
Select poems of Edward Hovel Thurlow | ||