Poetry Archives

HORACE

When you were mine in auld lang syne,
  And when none else your charms might ogle,
       I’ll not deny,
       Fair nymph, that I
  Was happier than a Persian mogul.

LYDIA

Before she came—that rival flame!—
  (Was ever female creature sillier?)
       In those good times,
       Bepraised in rhymes,
  I was more famed than Mother Ilia!

HORACE

Chloe of Thrace! With what a grace
  Does she at song or harp employ her!
I’d gladly die
       If only I
  Might live forever to enjoy her!

LYDIA

My Sybaris so noble is
  That, by the gods! I love him madly—
       That I might save
       Him from the grave
  I’d give my life, and give it gladly!

HORACE

What if ma belle from favor fell,
  And I made up my mind to shake her,
       Would Lydia, then,
       Come back again
  And to her quondam flame betake her?

LYDIA

My other beau should surely go,
  And you alone should find me gracious;
       For no one slings
       Such odes and things
  As does the lauriger Horatius!