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diff --git a/old/64170-0.txt b/old/64170-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index af0967e..0000000 --- a/old/64170-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,1297 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of Gay gods and merry mortals, by Robert J. -Shores - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: Gay gods and merry mortals - some excursions in verse - -Author: Robert J. Shores - -Release Date: December 29, 2020 [eBook #64170] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -Produced by: Charlene Taylor, Susan Carr and the Online Distributed - Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was - produced from images generously made available by The Internet - Archive/American Libraries.) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GAY GODS AND MERRY MORTALS *** - - - - - GAY GODS - _and_ - MERRY MORTALS - - - - - GAY GODS AND - MERRY MORTALS - - SOME EXCURSIONS IN VERSE - - BY ROBERT J. SHORES - - [Illustration: (Colophon)] - - BROADWAY PUBLISHING CO. - - NEW YORK - 1910 - - - - - COPYRIGHT, 1910, - - BY - - ROBERT J. SHORES - - - - - TITLES AND PAGES - - - Proem 7 - - Actæon 8 - - Adonis 10 - - Proserpina 13 - - Anaxarete 16 - - Penelope 18 - - Sappho 20 - - Syrinx 22 - - Tithonus 24 - - Ariadne 27 - - Io 29 - - Dido 32 - - Daphne 37 - - - - - Gay Gods and Merry Mortals - - - PROEM. - - - _Some ancient tales of Pagan days - The author of this book relates - Explaining how in divers ways - The gods displayed their human traits; - And how they oft in other years - Set human beings by the ears._ - - _Belike these rhymes recall to you - The jingles of the poet Saxe; - The poet here is Saxon, too, - And so must needs relate his facts - In such a way that they are clear - And suited to the Saxon ear._ - - _Some anecdotes which Homer told - You’ll miss in this; but reader, pray - Consider, what was good of old - Would never pass the mails to-day. - And hence this history belated - Has been--well, slightly expurgated._ - - - - - ACTÆON. - - _“He saw her charming, but he saw not half - The charms her downcast modesty concealed.”_ - - --Thomson. - - - Actæon, with the winding horn, - Pursued the Chase in ardent youth - And what he wore when he was born; - (And little else, to tell the truth, - For in those days of which I speak - They just changed sandals once a week!) - And as he wandered from the path, - Chanced on Diana in her bath. - - All trembling, like a startled fawn, - Upstarted then the Goddess chaste, - Sprang from the pool the bank upon - And donned her crescent in great haste, - (For, to her credit be it said, - She _did_ wear something on her head,) - Then, the conventions satisfied - Gazed on Actæon, haughty-eyed. - - Actæon tumbled in a trice - That he had got himself in Dutch, - But thought if quite polite and nice - She would not mind the thing so much. - So the poor fool in this fond hope - Said, “Tell me, did you use Pear’s Soap?” - Diana, vexed to hear the gag, - Forthwith made Actæon a stag. - - The Moral is, if you should chance - Upon a lady in the nude, - Remember this sad circumstance, - For she’ll get even if you’re rude; - And conversation, if uncouth, - May cost you dear in naked truth! - - - - - ADONIS. - - - Dan Cupid with a broken shaft - Had bent his grand-dad, Jove, quite double, - And then, to cap the climax, laughed; - And so he found himself in trouble; - Up on that august lap was yanked - And thoroughly and soundly spanked, - Till Cupid saddened, sobered, sore, - Wished that his wings had sprouted lower. - - Dan Cupid then in rage and grief - Straightway set out to find his mother, - Who stitched upon her evening leaf, - (She swore she didn’t have another, - Or, if she had, she still would swear - She had none that was fit to wear.) - And so the naughty youngster found her - With leaves and sewing girls around her. - - When Venus heard her infant’s wail, - In apprehension she besought him - To tell her all his angry tale; - Then to her breast she, breathless, caught him. - And, as his tear-stained face she kissed, - Upon an arrow scratched her wrist. - So in her veins in this strange fashion - Was introduced the germ of passion. - - Indignant at the godlet’s tale, - She hastened to protest to Zeus, - Her lovely cheek with anger pale, - She was prepared to raise the deuce. - But as Olympus’ mount drew near, - She spied Adonis chasing deer. - And in a moment from her head - All thoughts of wrath and Cupid fled. - - Straightway she hitched her gentle team - Of doves, and left her carriage standing, - For this fair youth to her doth seem - A hero, comely and commanding-- - Although in fact and eke in truth - He was a simple country youth; - And so it happened that the Queen - Of Beauty found him shy and green - - Now, Venus, veteran at the game - Of flirting, would not be denied; - As goddesses can feel no shame, - She soon was anchored to his side; - Do what he would, he could not shake her, - Go where he would, he had to take her; - Until one morn upon the plain - She found the fair Adonis slain. - - This story should a warning be - To maidens bold who wish to woo, - For if you seek your lover, he - Most certainly will not seek you; - All men may love, but just the same - They would be hunters--not the game. - Adonis, so the story saith, - Was really simply boared to death! - - - - - PROSERPINA. - - “_Forth reaching to the fruit, she pluk’d, she eat; - Earth felt the wound, and Nature from her seat - Sighing through all her works gave signs of woe - That all was lost._” - - --Milton. - - - On Aetna’s isle Dis Pluto drove - His devil-wagon one fine day, - And passing through fair Enna’s grove - Beheld Proserpina at play; - He asked, “Will you not take a ride?” - “You’re very kind,” the maid replied, - And stepped into his turn-out swell; - And that was how she went to hell. - - For Pluto, whipping up his team, - Sped on toward Tartarus in mirth, - And when opposed by Cyane’s stream, - He took a short-cut through the earth. - Nor paused, nor drew his rein before - He heard Cerberus’ welcome roar, - And sniffed the smell of singeing soul - By which he knew he’d reached his goal. - - Ceres, Proserpina’s mamma, - Was almost crazed with grief and fear; - (As to Proserpina’s papa, - His name I never chanced to hear), - She cursed for all that she was worth - The crops and fruits of Mother Earth; - “You’ll bear no fruit,” she told the Ground, - “Until my Prossie has been found!” - - Jove, who beheld the farmer’s need, - And saw the season’s crops all fail, - Said, “This is Cereous, indeed, - That fellow Dis should be in jail!” - “I think,” said Juno, “’twere as well-- - It does no good to give him hell;” - And so it might have been decreed - But for one small pomegranate seed. - - In Hades Ceres’ daughter sweet - Was offered luscious bread and jam, - But she was much too cross to eat - And even scorned the deviled ham; - Until at last she made a slip - And swallowed a pomegranate pip; - Now, they who eat in hell--alack! - To earth may never more come back. - - The Moral is--don’t take a chance - Joy-riding with a strange chauffeur, - Remember this sad circumstance - Or you will get in trouble sure. - If you _must_ go--don’t go alone, - The devil hates a chaperone. - So mind the pips and look alive-- - Dis Pluto often goes to drive! - - - - - ANAXARETE. - - - In Cyprus dwelt Anaxarete, - A maiden famous for her beauty, - With disposition far from sweet, - Who looked on flirting as a duty. - ’Tis said she scarcely would despise - At slaves and such to roll her eyes, - ’Till most the men of Cyprus were - In love, or half in love with her. - - Young Iphis was a worthy lad - And born of parents poor but proud; - He was a credit to his dad, - Until one day while in a crowd - He chanced a college chum to meet - Out walking with Anaxarete; - And when she rolled her lovely eyes - Poor Iphis gasped in glad surprise. - - One glance, and Iphis was her slave, - All other interests he forgot; - Forgot to eat, forgot to shave, - And wrote in rhyme a deal of rot - To prove his heart was at the feet - Of stony-cold Anaxarete; - Who met his protests and his tears - With cutting jests and crushing sneers. - - For Ana, as do all coquettes, - So soon grew aweary of his wooing, - And Iphis took to cigarettes, - But still she answered “Nothing doing!” - And added--insult ne’er forgotten! - She thought his poetry was rotten; - And finally to fix his place - She slammed the door in Iphis’ face. - - When Iphis saw that all was past, - And knew that he could call no more, - He took a rope and made it fast - And hanged himself before her door. - And, when his funeral passed her place, - She thought to mock his pallid face; - But Venus, leaning from her throne, - Had seen, and turned the maid to stone. - - At Salamis, her statue still - Points to the Moral of this tale-- - That any maid who flirts to kill - Is really quite beyond the pale. - And as for lovers; let me say - If she is bored, just go away; - No gentleman, and this I know, - Will hang about when he’s _de trop_! - - - - - PENELOPE. - - “_Good-nature and good-sense must ever join; - To err is human, to forgive, divine._” - - --Pope. - - - Penelope, a Spartan maid, - The brave Ulysses wooed and wed, - She in a modest blush arrayed, - He with a crown upon his head. - Two hearts that beat as one--no tear - Bedimmed their bliss for one whole year; - At Ithaca they dwelt in peace-- - Not Ithaca, New York--but Greece. - - Alas! Scarce had been born their boy, - An infant very fair and bright, - When came a horrid war in Troy - And papa had to go and fight. - He left Penelope in tears-- - He went and stayed for years and years; - And while away, I am afraid, - He sometimes wooed another maid. - - In many lands he dwelt as guest - Of ladies of exceeding beauty; - Ulysses, it must be confessed, - In flirting quite forgot his duty. - He flirted here, he flirted there, - In fact he flirted everywhere-- - With Calypso, Nausicaa, Circe-- - And he a man of family--Mercy! - - Penelope, dissolved in tears, - Bewailed her spouse--the faithless Turk! - And stood off suitors twenty years - By doing endless fancy work. - By day she made her stitches right, - But pulled them out again by night, - Until her husband, tired of larks, - Came home and slew that bunch of sparks. - - The husband, even though he err - And lead abroad a lively life, - Dislikes, when he comes back to her, - To find that others woo his wife. - Ulysses lacked in morals--true, - But she had quite enough for two-- - May Eros grant a wife to me - As patient as Penelope! - - - - - SAPPHO. - - - Sappho was pretty all agree, - Some say that she was stately, - You cannot prove it, though, by me-- - I haven’t seen her lately. - In fact, I do not now recall - I ever saw the girl at all. - So we must take Dame Rumor’s word - That Sappho was, indeed, a bird. - - Now, Sappho in her younger years, - Was wooed by men a-plenty, - And setting suitors by the ears - Amused her much at twenty. - She swore she’d not, at twenty-five, - Accept the nicest man alive, - And laughed to scorn the ardent Greek - Who sought to kiss her damask cheek. - - But Sappho finds as years roll on, - As oft a maid discovers, - That when a maiden’s youth is gone, - Gone also are her lovers. - No suitor hangs about her door - To wait her coming as of yore; - And what is worse than all above-- - Just at this stage she falls in love. - - Just what she does, if tales are truth, - (Fie on that rascal Cupid!) - Is to select a verdant youth, - A handsome boy, but stupid! - She tries her best to win his heart - With all her once unfailing art, - But finds--ah, Eros! think of that! - That Phaon thinks her old and fat. - - Poor Sappho keenly feels the shame - Of love quite unrequited, - And though she knows herself to blame, - She feels her life is blighted. - And so when some one tells her if - She will jump off a handy cliff - ’Twill cure her of her love and dumps-- - She rushes out--ah! ah--she jumps! - - Ah, reader, let us pause right here - To drop a tiny, briny tear; - Alas! Alack! Oh, woeful sight-- - It cured her of her love, all right! - Fair maidens, heed this circumstance-- - Don’t jump off cliffs--jump at your chance! - - - - - SYRINX. - - “_Poor nymph--poor Pan--how he did weep to find - Naught but a lovely sighing of the wind - Along the reedy stream; a half-heard strain, - Full of sweet desolation, balmy pain._” - - --Keats. - - - In Greece there dwelt in days gone by - A maiden huntress, passing fair, - Who lived beneath the open sky - And dearly loved the open air. - Although it really seems a shame - To call a lady such a name, - This lovely nymph was called, methinks, - S-y-r-i-n-x, Syrinx. - - Syrinx, while following the Chase, - Was seen one day by ardent Pan, - A god of most repulsive face, - A sort of burlesque on a man. - If we can trust what ancients wrote, - Poor Pan was really half a goat-- - Not like the Peter Pan to-day - The Misses Chase and Adams play. - - When Pan began swift to pursue, - The maiden in her terror fled, - (I cannot blame her much, can you?) - And ran ’till she was almost dead; - But friendly spirits in a stream - Had heard and understood her scream, - And they had changed her in a wink - To reeds upon the river’s brink. - - The god, though thwarted in his scheme - To win the nymph, was not dismayed. - He plucked the reeds beside the stream - And from them a “Syrinx” he made. - The shepherd’s pipes--so came to man - The music of the Pipes o’ Pan. - - The Moral? There is none; you see - Pan was, as poets all agree, - A most _immoral_ deity! - - - - - TITHONUS. - - - Tithonus, royal prince of Troy, - All mortal maidens’ beauty scorning, - Chose for his love, presumptuous boy! - Aurora, goddess of the morning. - To her he wrote his royal rhymes, - For her he saved his royal dimes; - So well, indeed, he played his part, - He won at last the goddess’ heart. - - Aurora, wise as gods must be, - Was well aware that all men perish, - And knowing this she bent the knee, - (What won’t we do for those we cherish!) - And thus she prayed to Jove on high: - “Oh, _please_ don’t let Tithonus die!” - And this, the whole of her endeavor-- - That Tithy, dear, might live forever. - - Now, Jove, although a deity, - Was very fond of mortal ladies, - And more than once, he, even he, - Had grieved to see them go to Hades. - “I quite agree with you,” he said, - “Tithonus would be dull if dead. - So be content, I, even I, - Decree Tithonus shall not die!” - - Aurora, full of love and joy, - Laughed out in Pluto’s face of gloom, - And hastened off to tell her boy - That she had saved him from the tomb. - But, ah, how foolish to forget - One other evil to be met! - ’Tis sad to say, but must be told, - She quite forgot he might grow old. - - Grow old he did, as most men do, - Grew gray and bald and round of tummy; - Grew deaf, grew cross and crabbed, too; - Grew bent and wrinkled like a mummy. - “Oh, Gee! Oh, Fudge! My Sakes! Good Lands! - What’s this I’ve got upon my hands?” - Aurora cried, nor gave a hang - Who heard her use such vulgar slang. - - “Alas!” she cried, “is it decreed-- - And it is even right and proper? - That I forever more should feed - A foolish, mulish old grasshopper?” - Tithonus hopped--for, you must know - That what a goddess says is _so_! - Tithonus, stricken but resigned, - Hopped out of sight and out of mind. - - The Moral is--that age and youth - Have aye been illy yoked together, - For love cannot survive, in truth, - A prolonged spell of wintry weather. - So, when you hear your lady sigh: - “Alas! My Love will _never_ die!” - Just heed Aurora’s hint, I say, - And hope no more--but hop away! - - - - - ARIADNE. - - “_Fool, not to know that love endures no tie, - And Jove but laughs at lover’s perjury._” - - --Dryden. - - - The Minotaur, a horrid beast - Which made its food of maidens fair - And handsome youths, to say the least - Had given Athens quite a scare. - Since Athens sent each year to Crete - A batch of folks for him to eat; - ’Till on King Minos Athens soured, - For no one likes to be devoured. - - Just as the folks of Athens had - Prepared to risk their all in war, - Young Theseus, to the King, his dad, - Proffered his services and swore - That he would go to Crete and slay - The Minotaur without delay; - And so with helmet-box and grip - He started on the fateful trip. - - Now, Minos had a daughter fair, - Who was humane as well as Cretan, - And all in all, she did not care - To see the handsome stranger eaten. - So she resolved that she would aid - Young Theseus in his escapade, - Although she knew her royal dad - Would certainly be hopping mad. - - The Minotaur, King Minos kept - Within a sort of mystic maze, - And in those corridors, unswept, - A man might wander, lost, for days. - And Ariadne’s scheme, in fine, - Was just to take a ball of twine - And let the youth unroll the thing - And so be guided by the string. - - All went as planned--oh, lucky star! - The sword of Theseus soon was wet, - And slaughtered was the Minotaur; - The king had lost his gruesome pet. - The lovers fled the monarch’s wrath - But even on the homeward path - The hero, bored to hear her weep, - On Noxas left her fast asleep. - - The Moral is--you should not string - Young men, unless you know them well; - For love is an uncertain thing - And strange young men, however swell, - If loosely tied and quickly bored, - Will quit you of their own accord. - - - - - Io. - - - Io and Jove were holding hands - One day beside a sylvan stream - And drawing hearts upon the sands-- - Epitome of Love’s young dream! - Fair Io murmured, “On my life, - Why took you Juno for your wife? - The ox-eyed Juno! In good sooth - Peroxide would be nearer truth!” - - “Tut-tut!” said Jove, “you should not speak - So slightingly of my good spouse; - She has been busy all this week - Up on Olympus cleaning house. - And while she sweeps, I’ve naught to do - But stay here making love to you!” - “She would do well,” the maid replies, - “To sweep the dust from out her eyes.” - - Alas for Io! Juno heard - Her idle words within the hour; - Some gossip of a bee or bird - Repeated them from flower to flower, - Until ’twas whispered by the leaves - At Juno’s threshold--“Jove deceives!” - “Deceived again?” she cried in rage; - To see what happened, turn the page. - - Or, if the printer can find room - To print another line on this, - I’ll state that Juno heard a boom - Of thunder--which is when gods kiss. - And hurried angrily to where - She thought to find the erring pair; - But reaching there she saw, I vow, - No maiden, but a heifer cow! - - For Jove, grown wise in other years - In which he got his just deserts, - Was ever pricking up his ears - To hear the swish of Juno’s skirts. - So, when he heard her on his trail, - He made his hat a milking pail - And changed poor Io, trembling now, - Into the semblance of a cow. - - But Juno was not quite a fool - And saw at once her husband’s trick, - And, though appearing calm and cool, - Resolved to make that heifer sick. - “A lovely cow!” cried she. “Divine! - I cannot rest ’till it is mine!” - Jove cleared his throat and smoothed his vest - But had to grant his wife’s request. - - Alas for Io! Juno sent - A gad-fly which beset her sore, - And drove her--which was the intent-- - From sea to sea and shore to shore. - To Egypt and the Barbadoes, - Perhaps to Iowa--who knows? - The gad-fly followed where she went - And stung her to his heart’s content. - - And so it happens, even now, - Although she vainly tries to grab it, - The gad-fly stings the gentle cow-- - He keeps it up from force of habit. - - - - - DIDO. - - “_Up, then, Melpomene! the mournfulest Muse of Nine, - Such cause of mourning never hadst afore; - Up, grislie ghostes! and up, my rufull rhyme!_” - - --Spenser. - - - “On such a night,” as Shakespeare once remarked, - On such a night as lovers love to spoon, - Aeneas in his cockleshell embarked - And left poor Dido weeping ’neath the moon; - A palm-leaf in her hand, as Shakespeare said, - The crown of ancient Carthage on her head; - ’Twas thus Aeneas jilted the fair dame - And put the chivalry of Greece to shame. - - Fair Dido, to go back a little way, - Had fled the vengeance of her brother’s ire, - Who slew her wealthy husband one fine day - And chased his widowed sister out of Tyre; - Pygmalion was the name he bore at court, - Though Dido always called him “Pyg” for short; - Methinks the greedy nature of the youth - Made Dido’s nickname fit him well in truth. - - Arriving, then, on Afric’s sunny shore - With some few friends who followed in her train, - She built herself some houses and a store, - Laid out a street and called it Lover’s Lane. - And since the town was hers, none could gainsay - Her right to royal rule and social sway; - And so it is quite easy to be seen - How, when Aeneas came, he found her queen. - - Aeneas and some refugees from Troy - Were wandering about uncharted seas; - Aeneas had a cold--unlucky boy! - (’Twould wring your heart to hear his mournful sneeze!) - In fact, they all were troubled as to nose, - Clad as they were in lightest marching clothes; - So when they came at last to Dido’s land, - They were a sick and sorry-looking band. - - “Not unacquainted with distress,” she said, - “I’ve learned to succor all the down and out;” - Straightway she had them all tucked into bed, - And caused her heralds in the street to shout: - “Queen Dido seeks a sovereign cure for chills, - Bring mustard plasters, poultices and pills; - The victor she’ll reward and make his name - A synonym for fortune and for fame.” - - As always, when incentive is supplied, - Some pharmacist got busy on the spot, - Made little pills with quinine stuffed inside; - She made him rich, but famous he is not. - We take them now, but who is there can tell - The doctor who first served mankind so well? - But let us haste--this yarn, beyond all doubt, - Grows dull apace, and slow, and long-drawn-out. - - To cut it short; she loved him; he loved her; - He stuck around; she made him quite at home; - The two were quite domestic I infer - Until Aeneas took a boat for Rome. - Rome wasn’t there--but what cared he for that? - ’Most any town will do to dodge a flat; - Aeneas felt that he could love that spot, - Where’er it be--so be Dido was not. - - Dido, deserted, built a funeral pyre, - On which she mounted with a wicked knife; - She bade a servant set the thing afire, - And with the dagger put an end to life. - So perished Dido; died, oh died for love! - So Dido died, as I have said above, - Sweet Dido, loveliest lady of the land, - On such a night--a palm-leaf in her hand! - - The Moral? This is not a moral tale. - What do we learn from it? Well, I should say - We learn that merry widows sometimes fail, - And cutting didoes doesn’t always pay. - - - - - DAPHNE. - - - Fair Daphne was a modest miss, - A convert of the “Kiss Not” fad, - Who swore no man should know her kiss, - Unless it be her dear old dad. - E’en as a tot it caused her grief - To play at “Drop the handkerchief”; - She called each youthful suitor, “Brute!” - Who offered her a chaste salute. - - In vain her father bade her wed, - In vain he urged, in vain entreated; - She only shook her pretty head, - And all his arguments defeated. - “Talk not of men,” she said. “To me, - Diana’s priestess I would be, - And range the woods, heart-free, foot-loose, - To kill the chipmunk and the moose.” - - “Ah, well!” he sighed (It is a shame, - And rather mars this graceful verse, - I cannot rhyme his beastly name), - “Ah, well! Perhaps you might do worse. - I longed for grand-sons, but”--a sigh-- - “The cost of living sure is high; - I’m tired of fish and long for liver!” - Her pa, Peneus, was a river. - - And so it happened, Daphne did - Devote her days unto the Chase; - Whenever she saw a man, she hid; - Nor would she show her pretty face - To any man except her father; - A modest little maiden? Rather! - So modest she--she would not flirt - Her dainty little hunting skirt! - - Though best-laid plans of mice and men - May go astray; no mouse, no man, - Can hope to bring the wit in play - That e’en the dullest godling can. - For gods beat human folks all hollow-- - Especially the god Apollo; - Apollo, who was far from stupid, - Had heard of Daphne from Dan Cupid, - And he resolved that he would see - How true young Cupid’s tale might be. - - He laid in wait and spied the maid, - Who tripped along the woodland path, - In haste and somewhat disarrayed, - Intent upon her evening bath, - Not dreaming that a soul was near, - Until upon her startled ear - There broke a single love-lorn sigh, - Which warned her that the god was nigh. - - Then like a startled fawn she fled, - The grass scarce bending ’neath her feet, - Her hair out-streaming from her head, - Her face as pale as any sheet. - And as she fled the god pursued, - (A most ungentle act, and rude!) - And gained, and gained, and gained so fast, - She thought her breath must fail at last! - - “Help! Help!” she cried. “Peneus, aid - Your daughter--save, oh, save me now! - So weary and so sore afraid!” - And in a moment on her brow - Some tiny twigs began to grow, - Her feet took root--for, you must know, - Her father, by divine decree, - Transformed his daughter to a tree! - - “Ah!” sighed Apollo, “what is this? - My tree! You can’t escape me now!” - Upon her trunk he pressed a kiss-- - Poor Daphne blushed in every bough; - “You have,” said he, “a lovely limb;” - (Say, honest, I’m ashamed of him!) - How sad to see a perfect lady - Become a character so shady! - - The Moral is--be careful how - You dress when you go out to swim; - Poor Daphne might be hunting now, - Instead of wearing trunks for him! - - - - - [Illustration] - - HERE ENDETH - - [Illustration] - - THIS LITTLE BOOK - - [Illustration] - - OF - - [Illustration] - - PAGAN POEMS - - [Illustration] - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GAY GODS AND MERRY MORTALS *** - -***** This file should be named 64170-0.txt or 64170-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - https://www.gutenberg.org/6/4/1/7/64170/ - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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