Time, never wand'ring from his annual round, Bids Zephyr breathe the Spring, and thaw the ground; Bleak Winter flies, new verdure clothes the plain, And earth assumes her transient youth again....
As yet a stranger to the gentle fires That Amathusia's smiling Queen[2] inspires, Not seldom I derided Cupid's darts, And scorn'd his claim to rule all human hearts....
Who sent the Author a poetical epistle, in which he requested that his verses, if not so good as usual, might be excused on account of the many feasts to which his friends invited him, and which would not allow him leisure to f...
I should have deem'd it once an effort vain To sweeten more sweet Maro's matchless strain, But from that error now behold me free, Since I received him as a gift from thee.