I rose, lit up my lamp, and straight
Undid the fastenings of the gate;
And there indeed a boy I spied,
With bow and quiver by his side.
Wings too he wore—a strange attire!
My guest I seated near the fire,
And while the blazing fagots shine,
I chafed his little hands in mine.
His dank and dripping locks I wrung,
That down his shoulders loosely hung.
Soon as his cheeks began to glow,
"Come now," he cries, "let's try this bow
For much I fear, this rainy night,
The wet and damp have spoil'd it quite."
That instant twang'd the sounding string,
Loud as the whizzing gadfly's wing:
Too truly aim'd, the fatal dart
My bosom pierced with painful smart.[1]
Up sprung the boy with laughing eyes,
And, "Wish me joy, mine host," he cries.
"My bow is sound in ev'ry part;
Thou'lt find the arrow in thy heart."
ODE IV.—ON HIMSELF.
On this flowery couch reclining,
Thick with leaves of myrtle strew'd,[2]
Every graver care resigning,
I will drink in joyous mood.
- ↑ In the original it is "pierced through the middle of my liver." The ancients, as may be proved by numerous passages, considered the liver to be the seat of the affections; and it is reasonable to suppose that the sympathy existing between this organ and the brain was as well known to them as it is to physicians in the present day.
- ↑ Madame Dacier observes that the ancients were fond of reposing on leaves of fragrant herbs and flowers, which afforded them a soft and pleasant couch, and at the same time re-
