In Other Words//Good-by, My Lover, Good-by
“Good-by, My Lover, Good-by!”
AD PYRRHAM
Horace: Book I, Ode 5.
“Quis multa gracilis te puer in rosa—”
Horace: Book I, Ode 5.
“Quis multa gracilis te puer in rosa—”
O pretty Pyrrha, false as fair,For whom dost thou do up thy hair,Thy crown of gold, thy shining tresses?What gracile youth gives thee caresses?
Alas! How often shall he findThe faithlessness of womankind!As who should say, in utter wonder,“How fair it was! Who thought of thunder?”
Ah—wretched they that think thee fair,Enmeshed in thy seductive snare!I vow, by Neptune, ne’er to woo theeAgain, for I am jerry to thee.