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To Live Merrily, and to Trust to Good Verses
Wild I am now with heat;
O Bacchus ! cool thy rays! Or frantic I shall eat
Thy thyrse, and bite the bays.
Round, round, the roof does run ;
And being ravished thus, Come, I will drink a tun
To my Propertius.
Now, to Tibullus, next,
This flood I drink to thee : But stay ; I see a text,
That this presents to me.
Behold, Tibullus lies
Here burnt, whose small return Of ashes, scarce suffice
To fill a little urn.
Trust to good verses then ;
They only will aspire, When pyramids, as men,
Are lost i' th' funeral fire.
And when all bodies meet
In Lethe to be drown'd ; Then only numbers sweet
With endless life are crowned. |
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81 |
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