Horat. Ode IX. Lib. III — Ad Lydiam

Hor.
Whilst I was acceptable unto thee,
And that no other youthful Arm might cling
About thy snowy Neck, than mine more free,
More blest I flourisht than the Persian King.

Lyd.
And, for no other Womans Beauty, when
Thou sigh'dst; and when thy Chloe did not come
Before thy Lydia, thy Lydia then
Flourisht more fam'd than Ilia of Rome.

Hor.
Now Thracian Chloe is my only Dear,
Skill'd on the Harp, and skilful in an Air!
For whom to die I not at all should fear,
If gentle Fate my Soul in her would spare.

Lyd.
The Son of Ornithus the Thurine, me
With equal violence of heat doth move:
for whom, with all my Heart, I twice would die,
So Fate would spare the gentle Boy, my Love.

Hor.
What if our Friendship should renew,
And link our Loves in a more lasting Chain?
Yellow-hair'd Chloe, should I slight for you,
Should my access to thee be free again?

Lyd.
Though than a glorious Star He is more bright,
And thou than is the Adriatick Sea
More raging, and than spungy Cork more light,
Yet should I love to live and die with thee.