Hor. WHILE no more welcome arms could twine
Around thy snowy neck than mine,
Thy smile, thy heart while I possessed,
Not Persia's monarch lived as blessed.
Lyd. While thou didst feed no rival flame,
Nor Lydia after Chloe came,
Oh then thy Lydia's echoing name
Excelled ev'n Ilia's Roman fame.
Hor. Me now Threician Chloe sways,
Skilled in soft lyre and softer lays;
My forfeit life I'll freely give
So she, my better life, may live.
Lyd. The son of Ornytus inspires
My burning breast with mutual fires;
I'll face two several deaths with joy
So Fate but spare my Thracian boy.
Hor. What if our ancient love awoke,
And bound us with its golden yoke?
If auburn Chloe I resign
And Lydia once again be mine?
Lyd. Though fairer than the stars is he,
Thou rougher than the Adrian sea
And fickle as light cork, yet I
With thee would live, with thee would die.
Gladstone.
Prior's 'echo' of this poem is well known:
'SO when I am weary of wandering all day,
To thee, my delight, in the evening I come;
No matter what beauties I saw in my way,
They were but my visits, but thou art my home.
Then finish, dear Cloe, this pastoral war,
And let us, like Horace and Lydia, agree;
For thou art a girl as much brighter than her
As he was a poet sublimer than me.'