Not now dull beasts, but luckless maids engage
His enmity; brave men are brave no more;
Youth's strength he wastes, and drives fond, foolish age
To blush and sigh at scornful beauty's door.
Love-lured, the virgin, guarded and discreet,
Slips by the night-watch at her lover's call,
Feels the dark path-way with her trembling feet,
And gropes with out-spread hands along the wall.
Oh! wretched are the wights this god would harm!
But blest as gods whom Love with smiles will sway!
Come, boy divine! and these dear revels charm--
But fling thy burning brands, far, far away!
Sing to this god, sweet shepherds! Ask aloud
Your flocks' good health; then each, discreetly mute,
His love's!--Nay, scream her name! Yon madcap crowd
Screams louder, to its wry-necked Phrygian flute.
On with the sport! Night's chariot appears:
The stars, her children, follow through the sky:
Dark Sleep comes soon, on wings no mortal hears,
With strange, dim dreams that know not where they fly.
ELEGY THE SECOND
A BIRTHDAY WISH
Burn incense now! and round our altars fair
With cheerful vows or sacred silence stand!
To-day Cerinthus' birth our rites declare,
With perfumes from the blest Arabian land.
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