Ninth Ode Of The Third Book Of Horace
Horace.
While I was your beloved one,
And while no other youth threw his fond arms around
Your white neck so easily,
Than the King of the world I was far happier.
Lydia..
While you loved not another one,
While you did not prefer Chloë to Lydia,
I then thought myself happier
Than the mother of Rome, great Rhea Silvia.
Horace..
Thracian Chloë now governs me,
She can merrily sing, playing the cithara;
I'd not scruple to die for her,
If the Implacable spared Chloë, the auburn haired.
Lydia.
I now love and am loved again,
By my Calaà¯s, son of the old Ornytus;
Twice I'd die for him willingly,
If the terrible fates spared but my Calaà¯s.
Horace.
What if love should return again,
And unite us by ties more indissoluble?
What if Chloë were cast away,
And the long-closed door open to Lydia?
Lydia.
My love's brighter than any star;
You, too, lighter than cork, tossed on the waves of the Hadriatic so terrible;
Still I'd live but with thee, and I could die with thee.
James Clerk Maxwell
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