HORACE, Book IV. Ode 1. Ad VENEREM

Once more the Queen of Love invades my Breast, Late, with long Ease, and peaceful Pleasures blest; Spare, spare the Wretch, that still has been thy Slave, And let my former Service have The Merit to protect me to the Grave. Much am I chang'd from what I once have been, When under CYNARA good and fair, With Joy I did thy Fetters wear, Blest in the gentle Sway of an indulgent Queen.

Stiff and unequal to the Labour now, With Pain my Neck beneath thy Yoak I bow. Why dost thou urge me still to bear? Oh! why Dost thou not much rather fly To youthful Breasts, to Mirth and Gaiety? Go, bid thy Swans their glossy Wings expand, And swiftly thro' the yielding Air To SYLVIA Thee their Goddess bear, Worthy to be Thy Slave, and fit for thy Command.

Noble, and graceful, witty, gay, and young, Joy in his Heart, Love on his charming Tongue. Skill'd in a thousand soft prevailing Arts, With wondrous Force the Youth imparts Thy Pow'r to unexperienc'd Virgins Hearts. Far shall he stretch the Bounds of thy Command, And if thou shalt his Wishes bless, Beyond his Rivals with Success, In Gold and Marble shall thy Statues stand.

Beneath the Sacred Shade of Odel's Wood, Or on the Banks of Ouse's gentle Flood, With od'rous Beams a Temple he shall raise, For ever sacred to thy Praise, Till the fair Stream, and Wood, and Love it self decays. There while rich Incense on Thy Altar burns, Thy Votaries, the Nymphs and Swains, In melting soft harmonious Strains, Mixt with the softer Flutes, shall tell their Flames by turns.

As Love and Beauty with the Light are born, So with the Day thy Honours shall return; Some lovely Youth, pair'd with a blushing Maid, A Troop of either Sex shall lead, And twice the Salian Measures round thy Altar tread. Thus with an equal Empire o'er the Light, The Queen of Love, and God of Wit, Together rise, together sit, But Goddess do thou stay, and bless alone the Night.

There mayst thou reign, while I forget to love: No more false Beauty shall my Passion move; Nor shall my fond, believing Heart be led, By mutual Vows and Oaths betray'd, To hope for Truth from the protesting Maid. With Love the sprightly Joys of Wine are sled; The Roses too shall wither now, That us'd to shade and crown my Brow, And round my chearful Temples fragrant Odours shed.

But tell me, CYNTHIA, say, bewitching Fair, What mean these Sighs? Why steals this falling Tear? And when my strugling Thoughts for Passage strove, Why did my Tongue refuse to move? Tell me, can this be any thing but Love? Still with the Night my Dreams my Griefs renew, Still she is present to my Eyes, And still in vain, I, as she flies, O'er Woods, and Plains, and Seas, the scornful Maid persue.