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Poem	HORACE When you were mine in auld lang syne, And when none else your charms might ogle, I'll not deny, Fair nymph, that I Was happier than a Persian mogul. LYDIA Before she came--that rival flame!-- (Was ever female creature sillier?) In those good times, Bepraised in rhymes, I was more famed than Mother Ilia! HORACE Chloe of Thrace! With what a grace Does she at song or harp employ her! I'd gladly die If only I Might live forever to enjoy her! LYDIA My Sybaris so noble is That, by the gods! I love him madly-- That I might save Him from the grave I'd give my life, and give it gladly! HORACE What if ma belle from favor fell, And I made up my mind to shake her, Would Lydia, then, Come back again And to her quondam flame betake her? LYDIA My other beau should surely go, And you alone should find me gracious; For no one slings Such odes and things As does the lauriger Horatius!
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