When, Lydia, you (once fond and true, But now grown cold and supercilious) Praise Telly's charms of neck and arms-- Well, by the dog! it makes me bilious!
M'cenas, thou of royalty's descent, Both my protector and dear ornament, Among humanity's conditions are Those who take pleasure in the flying car, Whirling Olympian dust, as on they roll,...
Lofty and enduring is the monument I've reared: Come, tempests, with your bitterness assailing; And thou, corrosive blasts of time, by all things mortal feared, Thy buffets and thy rage are unavailing! ...
What perfumed, posie-dizened sirrah, With smiles for diet, Clasps you, O fair but faithless Pyrrha, On the quiet? For whom do you bind up your tresses, As spun-gold yellow,--...
What dainty boy with sweet perfumes bedewed Has lavished kisses, Pyrrha, in the cave? For whom amid the roses, many-hued, Do you bind back your tresses' yellow wave? ...
Come, dear old friend, and with us twain To calm Digentian groves repair; The turtle coos his sweet refrain And posies are a-blooming there; And there the romping Sabine girls...
O mother Venus, quit, I pray, Your violent assailing! The arts, forsooth, that fired my youth At last are unavailing; My blood runs cold, I'm getting old, And all my powers are failing. ...
A sorry life, forsooth, these wretched girls are undergoing, Restrained from draughts of pleasant wine, from loving favors showing, For fear an uncle's tongue a reprimand will be bestowing! ...
Come, Phyllis, I've a cask of wine That fairly reeks with precious juices, And in your tresses you shall twine The loveliest flowers this vale produces.
Sweet Phyllis, I have here a jar of old and precious wine, The years which mark its coming from the Alban hills are nine, And in the garden parsley, too, for wreathing garlands fair,...
Pompey, what fortune gives you back To the friends and the gods who love you? Once more you stand in your native land, With your native sky above you. Ah, side by side, in years agone,...
O Postumus, my Postumus, the years are gliding past, And piety will never check the wrinkles coming fast, The ravages of time old age's swift advance has made,...
Be tranquil, Dellius, I pray; For though you pine your life away With dull complaining breath, Or speed with song and wine each day, Still, still your doom is death. ...
I see you, Maister Bawsy-brown, Through yonder lattice creepin'; You come for cream and to gar me dream, But you dinna find me sleepin'. The moonbeam, that upon the floor Wi' crickets ben a-jinkin',...
O fountain of Bandusia! Whence crystal waters flow, With garlands gay and wine I'll pay The sacrifice I owe; A sportive kid with budding horns I have, whose crimson blood...