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.

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?

Though men determine, the gods doo dispose: and oft times many
things fall out betweene the cup and the read more

Though men determine, the gods doo dispose: and oft times many
things fall out betweene the cup and the lip.

The confounding of all right and wrong, in wild fury, has averted
from us the gracious favor of the read more

The confounding of all right and wrong, in wild fury, has averted
from us the gracious favor of the gods.
[Lat., Omnia fanda, nefanda, malo permista furore,
Justificam nobis mentem avertere deorum.]

Therefore, if the gods are immortal and eternal, what need is there of the other sex, when they themselves do read more

Therefore, if the gods are immortal and eternal, what need is there of the other sex, when they themselves do not require succession, since they are always about to exist?rn

Yet verily these issues lie on the lap of the gods.

Yet verily these issues lie on the lap of the gods.

The Graces, three erewhile, are three no more;
A fourth is come with perfume sprinkled o'er.
'Tis read more

The Graces, three erewhile, are three no more;
A fourth is come with perfume sprinkled o'er.
'Tis Berenice blest and fair; were she
Away the Graces would no Graces be.

There's a one-eyed yellow idol to the north of Khatmandu,
There's a little marble cross below the town,
read more

There's a one-eyed yellow idol to the north of Khatmandu,
There's a little marble cross below the town,
There's a broken-hearted woman tends the grave of Mad Carew,
And the yellow god forever gazes down.

Speak of the gods as they are.

Speak of the gods as they are.