Ianthe’s Question
‘DO you remember me? or are you proud?’
Lightly advancing thro’ her star-trimm’d crowd,
Ianthe said, and look’d into my eyes.
‘A yes, a yes to both: for Memory
Where you but once have been must ever be,
And at your voice Pride from his throne must rise.’
On Catullus
TELL me not what too well I know
About the bard of Sirmio.
Yes, in Thalia’s son
Such stains there are—as when a Grace
Sprinkles another’s laughing face
With nectar, and runs on.
Dirce
STAND close around, ye Stygian set,
With Dirce in one boat convey’d!
Or Charon, seeing, may forget
That he is old and she a shade.