 | Miscellaneous poems |  |
112
HORACE, B. 1. Ode 13.
By the Same.
Sabina
flies me like a Fawn,
Whose tender Dam has wildly stray'd,
So trips the Fields, bounds o'er the Lawn,
Of ev'ry Breath of Air afraid,
Still urging on, by Fear yet fleeter made.
Whose tender Dam has wildly stray'd,
So trips the Fields, bounds o'er the Lawn,
Of ev'ry Breath of Air afraid,
Still urging on, by Fear yet fleeter made.
If Zephyrs whisper thro' the Trees,
Of the soft Springs refreshing Gale,
She quakes amid the fanning Breeze;
Her tim'rous Doubts so far prevail,
That her Knees tremble, and her Face turns pale.
Of the soft Springs refreshing Gale,
She quakes amid the fanning Breeze;
Her tim'rous Doubts so far prevail,
That her Knees tremble, and her Face turns pale.
Fear not, I'm none of Africk's Brood,
Ho Hungry Tyger chasing Prey,
No Lyon panting after Blood;
I seek thee for delightful Play;
Thou'rt ripe for Man, thy Rattles fling away.
Ho Hungry Tyger chasing Prey,
No Lyon panting after Blood;
I seek thee for delightful Play;
Thou'rt ripe for Man, thy Rattles fling away.
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