Classic Poem

Tibullus, do not grieve too much,
Nor in soft elegies complain,
That Glycera's caprice is such,
And such her insolent disdain,
That she your junior shou'd prefer,
Who looks more amiable to her.

For Cyrus fair Lycoria burns,
So charming with her little face,
But he the fondling damsel spurns
For squeamish Pholoe's coy embrace;
But sooner shall the goats be join'd
To wolves of fierce Appulian kind,

Than Pholoe with a filthy rake
Commit adult'ry, heinous sin.
Such mischief Venus loves to make,
Who forms and tempers not akin
Pairs with her cruel brazen yoke,
And acts barbarity in joke.

O'er me too in an evil hour
Had servile Myrtale the sway,
A nymph of more tyrannic pow'r
Than Adria in Calabria's bay,
Tho' at that time a fairer maid
And gentler did my heart invade.