Ah per te Orazio prèdica al vento!
Del patrio carcere non sei contento,
La chiave abomini grata a i pudichi,
Agogni a l¿aere de¿ luoghi aprichi.
E dove, o misero, dove n¿andrai.
Dove un ricovero trovar potrai,
O de¿ miei giovini lustri diletto,
O mio carissimo tenue libretto?
Join thousands of book lovers
Sign up to our newsletter and receive discounts and inspiration for your next reading experience.
By signing up, you agree to our Privacy Policy.You can, at any time, unsubscribe from our newsletters.