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.

Ye immortal gods! where in the world are we?
[Lat., O dii immortales! ubinam gentium sumus?]

Ye immortal gods! where in the world are we?
[Lat., O dii immortales! ubinam gentium sumus?]

With ravish'd ears
The monarch hears,
Assumes the god,
Affects to nod,
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With ravish'd ears
The monarch hears,
Assumes the god,
Affects to nod,
And seems to shake the spheres.

Nature's self's thy Ganymede.

Nature's self's thy Ganymede.

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.

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

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.

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

And that dismal cry rose slowly
And sank slowly through the air,
Full of spirit's melancholy
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And that dismal cry rose slowly
And sank slowly through the air,
Full of spirit's melancholy
And eternity's despair!
And they heart the words it said--
Pan is dead! great Pan is dead!
Pan, Pan is dead!