Explore "Horace to His Lute" by Eugene Field on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
If ever in the sylvan shade / A song immortal we have made, / Come now, O lute, I pri' thee come -- / Inspire a song of Latium.
A Lesbian first thy glories proved -- / In arms and in repose he loved / To sweep thy dulcet strings and raise / His voice in Love's and Liber's praise; / The Muses, too, and him who clings / To Mother Venus' apron-strings, / And Lycus beautiful, he sung / In those old days when you were young.
O shell, that art the ornament / Of Phoebus, bringing sweet content / To Jove, and soothing troubles all -- / Come and requite me, when I call!