POETRY

 1. D  11. A  21. A  31. B
 2. B  12. C  22. C  32. C
 3. C  13. B  23. A  33. C
 4. C  14. A  24. B  34. C
 5. B  15. B  25. D  35. C
 6. D  16. A  26. D  36. A
 7. A  17. A  27. A  37. A
 8. D  18. D  28. D  38. B
 9. C  19. C  29. B  39. B
 10. D  20. B 30. D   40. C

 

A Sad Love Song

The firl, dear to us (me) now for a long time, is snatched away: and do you, friend, forbid me to pur forth my tears? No hatreds are bitter except those of love: Kill me myself, I will be a gentler enemy. Am I able to look at her placed in the embrace of another? Nor will she be said (to be) mine who recently was said (to be) mine? All things change; certainly loves change: you are conquered or you conquer, this is the cycle in love. Often great leaders, great tyrants have fallen, and Thebes had stood and lofty Troy was. What great gifts I gave or (and) what sort of songs I wrote! She, however, hard as iron, never said, "I love".