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Two goddesses now must Cyprus adore;
The Muses are ten, and the Graces are four;
Stella's wit read more
Two goddesses now must Cyprus adore;
The Muses are ten, and the Graces are four;
Stella's wit is so charming, so sweet her fair face,
She shines a new Venus, a Muse, and a Grace.
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
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.
Creator Venus, genial power of love,
The bliss of men below, and gods above!
Beneath the sliding read more
Creator Venus, genial power of love,
The bliss of men below, and gods above!
Beneath the sliding sun thou runn'st thy race,
Dost fairest shine, and best become thy place;
For thee the winds their eastern blasts forbear,
Thy mouth reveals the spring, and opens all the year;
Thee, goddess, thee, the storms of winter fly,
Earth smiles with flowers renewing, laughs the sky.
With ravish'd ears
The monarch hears,
Assumes the god,
Affects to nod,
read more
With ravish'd ears
The monarch hears,
Assumes the god,
Affects to nod,
And seems to shake the spheres.
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?
Nature's self's thy Ganymede.
Nature's self's thy Ganymede.
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.
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.