Classic Poem

SET BY MONSIEUR GALLIARD .

RECIT .

Beneath a verdant laurel's ample shade,
His lyre to mournful numbers strung,
Horace, immortal bard, supinely laid,
To Venus thus address'd the song:
Ten thousand little loves around,
Listening, dwelt on every sound.

ARIET .

Potent Venus, bid thy son
Sound no more his dire alarms.
Youth on silent wings is flown:
Graver years come rolling on.
Spare my age, unfit for arms:
Safe and humble let me rest,
From all amorous care releas'd.
Potent Venus, bid thy son
Sound no more his dire alarms.

RECIT .

Yet, Venus, why do I each morn prepare
The fragrant wreath for Cloe's hair?
Why do I all day lament and sigh,
Unless the beauteous maid be nigh?
And why all night pursue her in my dreams,
Through flowery meads and crystal streams?

RECIT .

Thus sung the bard; and thus the goddess spoke:
Submissive bow to Love's imperious yoke:
Every state, and every age
Shall own my rule, and fear my rage:
Compell'd by me, thy Muse shall prove,
That all the world was born to love.

ARIET .

Bid thy destin'd lyre discover
Soft desire and gentle pain:
Often praise, and always love her:
Through her ear, her heart obtain
Verse shall please, and sighs shall move her,
Cupid does with Phaebus reign.