BOOK III. ODE IX. _Horace and Lydia.

_Hor._ While I was lovely in thine eye, And while no soft embrace but mine Encircled thy fair ivory neck, I did the Persian King outshine.

_Lyd._ While Horace was an honest lad, And Chloe less than Lydia lov'd, Lydia was then a matchless Lass, And in a sphere 'bove Ilia mov'd.

_Hor._ But Chloe now has vanquish'd me, That lute and voice who could deny? 10 Methinks might I but save her life, I could myself even dare to die.

_Lyd._ Young Calais is my gallant, He burns me with his flaming eye; To save the pretty villain's life, Twice over I could dare to die. _Hor._ But say I Lydia lov'd again, And would new-braze Love's broken chain? Say I should turn my Chloe off, And take poor Lydia home again? 20

_Lyd._ Why then though he a fixèd star. Thou lighter than a cork shouldst be, Mad, and unquiet as the sea, Yet would I live, and die with thee.