The Way of a Virgin/front matter

Cloe! Like a fawn she flees,
Trembling, timid mother-seeking,
Far among the trackless hills;
Starting back from bush and breeze,
When the new-born spring is speaking
To green leaves in little trills.
Oh, how shake her heart, her knees!
Run! A lizard sets a-creaking
That big bush! I bring no ills;
I don't follow you to seize,
Like some cruel tigress, reeking
Rage; no lion I that kills
In Gætulia, hot to tease
Out your life! So quit your meeking
By your mother! Trust your thrills!
Come and learn my mysteries!

HORACE, I., xxiii.

Two Hundred and fifty Copies of this Work have been
Printed on Antique Paper for Private Circulation
Only among Members of the Brovan Society,
and Twenty-five for the Editors. None of
these Copies is for Sale. The Society
Pledges itself Never to Reprint
nor to Re-issue in any form.
Of the Brovan Society's
Issue, this Copy
is Number:
177