Diana by night doth illumine her bower
Where oft we are sheltered from day's angry glare
We know in what caverns the wolf flies to cower
We follow the boar to his dark, wooded lair
Oh, this is the pleasure that princes might envy
For health and for manhood the chief of delights
'Mid echoes replying, when daylight is dying
To rest and the winecup our labor invites
No comments:
Post a Comment