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Achilles Tatius amorous Anacreon ancients Anthologia Antipater arms Athenaeus Aulus Gellius Bacchus bard Barnes Bathyllus beauty bliss bloom blushing bosom bowers bowl breast breath brim brow Catullus charms Cupid dance dart death Degen divine dream drink edition elegant epigram epithalamium epithet Eurypyle eyes fancy feel fire flame flowers fragment Gail garland girl glow goblet golden grace grove hair heart Horace hymn imitated infant kiss languid lines lips Longepierre lov’d lyre Madame Dacier maid Maximus Tyrius mistress Monsieur Muses nectar numbers nymph o'er original Philostratus Plato poem poet poet’s Polycrates quaff quoted rose rosy Sappho says Scaliger shade shed sigh sing sleep smile song soul sung sweet swell tear tears of wine Teian tell thee Theocritus thine thou thought translation trembling Twas twine Vatican Venus vermil verses virgin Vossius wanton warm weeping wild wine wing youth
Page 188 - Rose, thou art the sweetest flower That ever drank the amber shower; Rose, thou art the fondest child Of dimpled Spring, the wood-nymph wild. Even the Gods, who walk the sky, Are amorous of thy scented sigh.
Page 192 - But, look, the morn in russet mantle clad, Walks o'er the dew of yon high eastern hill.
Page 63 - Behold this mirror with a sigh; The locks upon thy brow are few, And, like the rest, they're withering too ! " Whether decline has thinned my hair, I'm sure I neither know nor care ; But this I know, and this I feel, As onward to the tomb I steal, That still as death approaches nearer. The joys of life are sweeter, dearer ; And had I but an hour to live, That little hour to bliss I'd giw ! ODE VIII.
Page 159 - Whatever buds, whatever blows, For thee it buds, for thee it grows. Nor yet art thou the peasant's fear ; To him thy friendly notes are dear ; For thou art mild as matin dew, And still, when summer's flowery hue Begins to paint the bloomy plain, We hear thy sweet prophetic strain ; Thy sweet, prophetic strain we hear, And bless the notes, and thee revere ! The Muses love thy shrilly tone; Apollo calls thee all his own ; 'Twas he who gave that voice to thee, 'Tis he who tunes thy minstrelsy.
Page 281 - Odi et amo. Quare id faciam, fortasse requiris. Nescio, sed fieri sentio et excrucior.
Page 233 - Caeli, Lesbia nostra, Lesbia illa, Illa Lesbia, quam Catullus unam Plus quam se atque suos amavit omnes, Nunc in quadriviis et angiportis Glubit magnanimi Remi nepotes.
Page 218 - Jove would give the leafy bowers A queen for all their world of flowers, The rose would be the choice of Jove, And blush, the queen of every grove.
Page 194 - While virgin Graces, warm with May, Fling roses o'er her dewy way. The murmuring billows of the deep Have languished into silent sleep ; And mark ! the flitting sea-birds lave Their plumes in the reflecting wave ; While cranes from hoary winter fly To flutter in a kinder sky.