 | The Works of Mr. Henry Needler |  |
Horace. Book I. Ode VIII.
To LYDIA.
Say, Lydia, by the Gods I beg you, Say,Why you by Love's bewitching Arts betray
Young Sybaris? Why seek you to destroy
His Virtue by the soft Unmanly Joy?
Why does he now the dusty Circus shun,
No longer patient of the scorching Sun?
2
To curb the Gallic Steed with foamy Rein?
To swim in Tyber's yellow Flood forbear,
And more than Vipers Blood, the Wrestler's Ointment fear?
Why, from the Quoit or Dart's successful Fling,
Wins he no Praises from the shouting Ring?
Why, like Achilles, when the Grecian Band
Prepar'd to sail for Troy's unhappy Strand,
Skulks he at home, neglectful of his Fame,
Dissolv'd in Sloth and Love's inglorious Flame?
| The Works of Mr. Henry Needler | |