Classic Poem

Horace . While to thee no other name was nearer,
 Ere a rival youth aspired to fling
Round thy snow-white neck embraces dearer,
 I lived richer than a king.

Lydia . Ere a new flame to thy false heart beckoned,
 When the elder passion seemed divine,
Nor was Lydia yet to Chloë second,
 Roman Ilia's glory paled to mine.

Horace . Now lute-learnèd, skilled in measures tender,
 Thracian Chloë doth my heart enslave,
Life for her I dread not to surrender,
 If the Fates my other soul will save.

Lydia . Child of Thurian Ornytus I cherish;
 Mutual flames to me doth Calaïs bear.
Twice for him will I consent to perish,
 If the Fates my darling boy will spare.

Horace . What if yet the ancient love returning,
 Reunite in brazen yoke us twain,
If this door, the gold-haired Chloë spurning,
 Welcome cast-off Lydia once again?

Lydia . He is fairer than a star in heaven,
 Thou more fierce than Adria's restive sea,
Light as cork—yet, oh, since choice is given,
 Let me live and love and die with thee!