Odes of Horace - Ode 4.10

ODE X. BOOK IV .

C HLOE , my most tender care,
Always coy, and always fair,
Should unwish'd-for languor spread
O'er that beauteous white and red;
Should these locks that sweetly play
Down these shoulders, fall away,
And that lovely bloom, that glows
Fairer than the fairest rose,
Should it fade — and leave thy face
Spoil'd of every killing grace;
Should your glass the charge betray,
Thus, my fair, you'd weeping say —
" Cruel gods! does beauty fade?
Now warm desires my breast invade;
And why, while blooming youth did glow,
Was this heart as cold as snow? "