Raise high the roof-beam, carpenters. Like Ares comes the bridegroom, taller far than a tall man.
Death is an evil; the gods have so judged; had it been good, they would die.
I took my lyre and said: come now, my heavenly tortoise shell: become a speaking instrument.
Although only breath, words which I command are immortal.
The moon is setand the Pleiades; Middle ofthe night, time passes by,I lie alone.
Would Jove appoint some flower to reign, in matchless beauty on the plain, the Rose (mankind will all agree). The Rose the queen of flowers should be.