III. Listen to the Muse's lyre IV. Vulcan hear your glorious task V. Sculptor, wouldst thou glad my soul 59 61 63 65 67 76 XVI. Thou, whose soft and rosy hues XVII. And now with all thy pencil's truth XX. One day the Muses twin'd the hands XXI. Observe when mother earth is dry XXII. The Phrygian rock, that braves the storm XXIII. I often wish this languid lyre. XXIV. To all that breathe the air of heaven XXV. Once in each revolving year XXVI. Thy harp may sing of Troy's alarms XXVII. We read the flying courser's name XXVIII. As, by his Lemnian forge's flame XXIX. Yes- loving is a painful thrill XXX. 'Twas in a mocking dream of night XXXVII. 'Twas night, and many a circling bowl XXXIX. How I love the festive boy . XL. I know that Heaven hath sent me here XLI. When Spring adorns the dewy scene XLV. Within this goblet, rich and deep L. When wine I quaff, before my eyes LIII. When I behold the festive train LIV. Methinks, the pictur'd bull we see . LV. While we invoke the wreathed spring LVI. He, who instructs the youthful crew LVII. Whose was the artist hand that spread LVIII. When Gold, as fleet as zephyr's pinion LIX. Ripen'd by the solar beam LX. Awake to life, my sleeping shell LXI. Youth's endearing charms are fled LXII. Fill me, boy, as deep a draught LXV. Like some wanton filly sporting LXVI. To thee, the Queen of nymphs divine LXXV. Spirit of Love, whose locks unroll'd Cupid, whose lamp has lent the ray Let me resign this wretched breath I know thou lov'st a brimming measure I fear that love disturbs my rest |