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February 19, 2006
Quis Multa Gracilis
Quis Multa Gracilis, from Book One, Ode 5 by Horace.
What slender youth, besprinkled with perfume, Courts you on roses in some grotto's shade? Fair Pyrrha, say, for whom Your yellow hair you braid, So trim, so simple! Ah! how oft shall he Lament that faith can fail, that gods can change, Viewing the rough black sea With eyes to tempests strange, Who now is basking in your golden smile, And dreams of you still fancy-free, still kind, Poor fool, nor knows the guile Of the deceitful wind! Woe to the eyes you dazzle without cloud Untried! For me, they show in yonder fane My dripping garments, vow'd To Him who curbs the main.
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Posted on February 19, 2006 04:45 PM by Love P74.
Filed in Love Poems under love poems.
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