Parerga/From Horace

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FROM HORACE.

"Me nec fœmina &c."

Me no longer the witcheryOf the beautiful face soft in its radiance,Or the rapturous ecstasyOf the credulous heart's mutual confidence,Or the wine in its ruddiness,Or the flowery wreath's odorous coronalFills with th' usual happiness:—Cold my heart has become, dull and insensible.
But why, why, alas! Lovely one,Steals th' unconscious tear heavily over me?Why thus silently droops my tongue,In the midst of discourse, eloquent formerly?Night, the mother of dark-wingèdDreams, gives thee to my sight. Fondly I follow thee,O'er the plains and the ocean led.Why, O Beautiful one! wilt thou not pity me?
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