English poem
Odes From Horace. - To Leuconoe. Book The First, Ode The Eleventh.
by Anna Seward
LEUCONOE, cease presumptuous to inquire Of grave Diviner, if successive years Onward shall roll, ere yet the funeral pyre, For thee and me, the hand of Friendship rears! Ah rather meet, with gay and vacant brow, Whatever youth, and time, health, love, and fate allow; If many winters on the naked trees Drop in our sight the paly wreaths of frost, Or this for us the last, that from the seas Hurls the loud flood on the resounding coast.— Short since thou know'st the longest vital line, Nurse the near hope, and pour the rosy wine. E'en while we speak our swiftly-passing Youth Stretches its wing to cold Oblivion's shore; Then shall the Future terrify, or sooth, Whose secrets no vain foresight can explore? The Morrow's faithless promise disavow, And seize, thy only boast, the GOLDEN NOW.
More by Anna Seward
- Odes From Horace. - To [1]Thaliarchus. Book The First, Ode The Ninth.
- Odes From Horace. - To Apollo. Book The First, Ode The Thirty-First.
- Odes From Horace. - To Barine. Book The Second, Ode The Eighth.
- Odes From Horace. - To His Attendant. Book The First, Ode The Thirty-Eighth.
- Odes From Horace. - To Licinius Murena[1]. Book The Second, Ode The Tenth.
- Odes From Horace. - To Liguria. Book The Fourth, Ode The Tenth.
- Odes From Horace. - To Lyce, On Her Refusing To Admit His Visits. Book The Third, Ode The Tenth.
- Odes From Horace. - To Lydia. Book The First, Ode The Eighth.