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Mitte civiles super urbe curas.
Diffidet armis :
Cedere campis :
PROSE INTERPRETATION. the city of Rome. The forces of the Dacian Cotisan are routed"; the Mede is at variance with himself in grievous civil armaments; the Cantabrian, that old enemy on the Spanish coast, is reduced to servitude, conquered at last by a long-protracted war; now the Scythians are meditating to quit the field, Ceafe each political conceit,
Nor Rome let all your cares engage;
Domestic warfare wage :
Though by now steps this wreath was won ;
The field of battle fhun:
But as a private friend, repute ; Leave things that are severe and four For pleasures of the present hour,
Wine; converse, harp, and lute.
PROSE INTERPRETATION. with their bows relaxed. Careless as a private citizen, spare to be too wary, left the people fail in any matter; and, joyous, snatch at the gifts of the present hour, and forbear matters of austerity.
Ho. DONEC gratus eram tibi,
Nec quisquam potior brachia candidæ
beatior. Ly. Donec non aliâ magis
Arfifti, neque erat Lydia post Chloen.
Romanâ vigui clarior Ilia.
Dulces docta modos, & citharæ fciens :
Si parcent animæ fata superftti:
· Thurini Calais filius Ornithi
quo bis patiar mori,
HOR.--So long as I was acceptable to you, nor did any other young fellow more of your choice throw his arms over your white neck, I throve more happy than the fovereign of the Persians.-LYD.-So long as you did not burn more for another, nor was Lydia poltponed to Chloe, I, Lydia, of much reputation, throve in more eminence than the Roman llia. Hor,—The Thracian Chloe now rules me, skilled
It is a Dialogue concerning their former loves, with a pro
posal for renewing them.
Ho. Whilst my growing flame
my growing flame you nourishid, Spotless of a rival's touch, Clasp'd within your arms I fourishid,
Not the Persian king so much.
And with Chloe was inflam'd,
Of the Roman race, was nam’d. 5. Me indeed that Thracian beauty,
Sweet musician, holds her Nave;
Death, ev'n death itself to brave.
Courts and kisses him to spare —
I ten thousand times would bear.
in sweet measures, and learned upon the lyre, for whom I would not fear to die, if the fates would spare that sur. viving spirit.-LYD.-Calais, the son of the Thurian Orni. thus, scorches me with a mutual torch, for whom I would endure twice to die, if the fates would spare the surviving
Ho. Quid fi prisca redit Venus ?
Diductosque jugo cogit aheneo ?
Rejectæque patet janua Lydiæ ?
Ille est, tu levior cortice, & improbo
Tecum vivere amem, tecum obeam libens.
boy.-HoR.What if our old love return, and unite us, severed as we are, with a brazen yoke ? If the yellow-hair'd Chloe be shook off, and my door open again to the rejected