Say, Bacchus, why so placid? What can there be
In commune held by Pallas and by thee?
read more

Say, Bacchus, why so placid? What can there be
In commune held by Pallas and by thee?
Her pleasure is in darts and battles; thine
In joyous feasts and draughts of rosy wine.

Shakes his ambroisal curls, and gives the nod,
The stamp of fate, and sanction of the god.

Shakes his ambroisal curls, and gives the nod,
The stamp of fate, and sanction of the god.

I, Phoebus, sang those songs that gained so much renown
I, Phoebus, sang them; Homer only wrote them down.

I, Phoebus, sang those songs that gained so much renown
I, Phoebus, sang them; Homer only wrote them down.

Either Zeus came to earth to shew his form to thee,
Phidias, or thou to heaven hast gone the read more

Either Zeus came to earth to shew his form to thee,
Phidias, or thou to heaven hast gone the god to see.

Cupid is a casuist, a mystic, and a cabalist,--
Can your lurking thought surprise,
And interpret your read more

Cupid is a casuist, a mystic, and a cabalist,--
Can your lurking thought surprise,
And interpret your device,
. . . .
All things wait for and divine him,--
How shall I dare to malign him?

Who hearkens to the gods, the gods give ear.

Who hearkens to the gods, the gods give ear.

When the gods wish to punish us, they answer our prayers.

When the gods wish to punish us, they answer our prayers.

The son of Saturn gave
The nod with his dark brows. The ambrosial curls
Upon the Sovereign read more

The son of Saturn gave
The nod with his dark brows. The ambrosial curls
Upon the Sovereign One's immortal head
Were shaken, and with them the mighty mount,
Olympus trembled.

War is the father of us all, King of all. Some it makes gods, some it makes men, some it read more

War is the father of us all, King of all. Some it makes gods, some it makes men, some it makes slaves, some free.