STROPHE .

(Iambic.)

Some Thyme from yonder mountain-top,
Ere Phaebus' ray has drank the dew,
While yet the sacred ashes glow
On this green turf-built Altar strew.

(Trochaic.)

Humid Parsley's flexile leaf,
And the Vervain's rougher flower,
Virgin Honey in the comb,
Myrrh from Moselay's rich bower.

ANTIST .

(Iamb.)

And bring the Flagon, closely seal'd,
Seal'd on my Chloe's natal day: —
Bring too the verdant Myrtle-branch,
And here the suppliant Fillet lay.

Other victims but offend
Cypria, tender blue-ey'd Dame:
Soft! — a present-Deity
Gently fans the rising flame

EPODE .

Fetch the Lyre, Boy, that hangs on yond ash,
Attune each his silver-tongued shell,
Sweep the strings with one wildly rude crash,
Till Echo come rous'd from her cell.

Now ye that teach the Arcadian reed to sigh
More sweetly modulate your melting strains,
Till the soft notes mellifluously
Die along the listening plains.

Venus propitious hears my vows,
For me she leaves her fav'rite Isle:
With her own rosy Wreath she decks my brows,
And lends my Chloe's lips her own ambrosial Smile.