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Eugene Field - Horace To His Lute
Work rating: Low

If ever in the sylvan shade
  A song immortal we have made,
  Come now, O lute, I pri` thee come--
  Inspire a song of Latium.

  A Lesbian first thy glories proved--
  In arms and in repose he loved
  To sweep thy dulcet strings and raise
  His voice in Love`s and Liber`s praise;
  The Muses, too, and him who clings
  To Mother Venus` apron-strings,
  And Lycus beautiful, he sung
  In those old days when you were young.

  O shell, that art the ornament
  Of Phoebus, bringing sweet content
  To Jove, and soothing troubles all--
  Come and requite me, when I call!
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