id	author	title	date	pages	extension	mime	words	sentences	flesch	summary	cache	txt
horace-works_101		horace-works_101			.txt	text/plain	204	15	86	ODES IV. ODE XIII. The gods have heard my prayers, O Lyce; Lyce, the gods have heard my prayers, you are become an old woman, and yet you would fain seem a beauty; and you wanton and drink in an audacious manner; and when drunk, solicit tardy Cupid, with a quivering voice. He basks in the charming cheeks of the blooming Chia, who is a proficient on the lyre. Now neither Coan purples nor sparkling jewels restore those years, which winged time has inserted in the public annals. Whither is your beauty gone? or whither your bloom? Whither your graceful deportment? Happy next to Cynara, and distinguished for an aspect of graceful ways: but the fates granted a few years only to Cynara, intending to preserve for a long time Lyce, to rival in years the aged raven: that the fervid young fellows might see, not without excessive laughter, that torch,[ which once so brightly scorched,] reduced to ashes.	./cache/horace-works_101.txt	./txt/horace-works_101.txt