Ode 1.33

Lest, Albius, too sad the memory be
Of Glycera's unkindness, and thou mourn
In piteous elegies asking why from thee
A younger lover wins her heart forsworn,

Bethink thee how Lycoris, low-browed fair,
For Cyrus pines; Cyrus turns off to woo
Disdainful Pholoe; but she-goats will pair
With Daunian wolves ere Pholoe untrue

To plighted faith a graceless tempter find.
'Tis Venus' pleasure thus in cruel joke
Full many a couple both in form and mind
Ill-matched to harness to her brazen yoke.

Even I, when gentler love was offered, slave
To a freedwoman hugged the chain I wore;
Though stormier Myrtale than Hadria's wave
That hollows out the curved Calabrian shore.
Translation: 
Language: 
Author of original: 
Horace
Rate this poem: 

Reviews

No reviews yet.