Horace: Book II, Elegy 8 <br /> <br />"Eripitur nobis iam pridem cara puella---" <br /> <br /> <br />While she I loved is being torn <br />From arms that held her many years, <br />Dost thou regard me, friend, with scorn, <br />Or seek to check my tears? <br /> <br />Bitter the hatred for a jilt, <br />And hot the hates of Eros are; <br />My hatred, slay me as thou wilt, <br />For thee'd be gentler far. <br /> <br />Can I endure that she recline <br />Upon another's arm? Shall they <br />No longer call that lady "mine" <br />Who "mine" was yesterday? <br /> <br />For Love is fleeting as the hours. <br />The town of Thebes is draped with moss, <br />And Ilium's well-known topless towers <br />Are now a total loss. <br /> <br />Fell Thebes and Troy; and in the grave <br />Have fallen lords of high degree. <br />What songs I sang! What gifts I gave! <br />. . . . She never fell for me.<br /><br />Franklin P. Adams<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-lament-2/
