Classic Poem

Brisk Faunus oft Lyceus flies,
And to Lucretilis applies,
And there defends, in situation sweet,
My goats from showery winds, and from the burning heat.
Secure without another ward,
The wives of their unsavoury lord,
At large on thyme and arbute shrubs are fed,
Nor do their kids fierce wolves or lurking adders dread.
But more especial is their peace,
If you the imprison'd notes release,
And those sweet strains, O Tyndaris, you play,
Ustica's sloping groupe of marble piles repay.
The Gods protect, the Gods espouse
My lyric muse, and faithful vows,
Here you shall fully taste, a welcome guest,
The horn of rural honours heap'd for thee and prest.
Here in a valley's close retreat
You shall avoid the dog-star's heat,
And here shall harp upon the Teian string,
Penelope and Circe vying for the king.
Here shaded, innocent and light,
You shall partake the Lesbian white,
Nor to your bow'r shall Mars himself betake,
Nor Semele's Thyoneus his disturbance make.
And, though suspected to be here,
You shall not ruffian Cyrus fear,
Lest his rude hands should not your sex forbear,
But pull your chaplet off, and the poor night-gown tear.