Say, sire of insects, mighty Sol, (A fly upon the chariot-pole Cries out) What blue-bottle alive Did ever with such fury drive? Tell Beelzebub, great Father, tell,...
When hungry wolves had trespass'd on the fold, And the robb'd shepherd his sad story told, "Call in Alcides," said a crafty priest, "Give him one half and he'll secure the rest."...
The Sceptics think 'twas long ago Since gods came down incognito To see who were their friends or foes, And how our actions fell or rose; That since they gave things their beginning,...
Celia and I the other Day Walk'd o'er the Sand-Hills to the Sea: The setting Sun adorn'd the Coast, His Beams entire, his Fierceness lost: And, on the Surface of the Deep, The Winds lay only not asleep:...
Two mice, dear boy, of genteel fashion, And, what is more, good education, Frolic and gay, in infant years Equally shared their parents' cares. The sire of these two babes (poor creature)...
Her time with equal prudence Silvia shares, First writes her billet-doux, then says her prayers, Her mass and toilette, vespers, and the play; Thus God and Ashtaroth divide the day:...
The circling months begin this day To run their yearly ring, And long-breathed time, which ne'er will stay, Refits his wings and shoots away, It round again to bring. Who feels the force of female eyes...
Be it right or wrong, these men among On women do complayne; Affyrmynge this, how that it is A labour spent in vaine To love them wele; for never a dele...
Prometheus, forming Mr. Day, Carved something like a man in clay: The mortal's work might well miscarry; He that does heaven and earth control Has only power to form a soul;...
Lysander talks extremely well; On any subject let him dwell His tropes and figures will content ye He should possess to all degrees The art of talk; he practises Full fourteen hours in four-and-twenty.
What nymph should I admire or trust, But Chloe beauteous, Chloe just? What nymph should I desire to see, But her who leaves the plain for me? To whom should I compose the lay,...
Hah! how the laurel, great Apollo's tree, And all the cavern shakes! Far off, far off, The man that is unhallow'd: for the god, The god approaches. Hark! he knocks; the gates...
While with labour assiduous due pleasure I mix, And in one day atone for the business of six, In a little Dutch chaise, on a Saturday night, On my left hand my Horace, a W* on my right...