For sharp-nib'd greeding neb to nip,Were she who my desire withstoodTo seek some pet of merry mood,As crumb o' comfort for her grief,Methinks her burning lowe's relief:Could I, as plays she, play with thee,That mind might win from misery free!To me t'were grateful (as they say), Gold codling was to fleet-foot May,Whose long-bound zone it loosed for aye.
ON THE DEATH OF LESBIA'S SPARROW
Weep every Venus, and all Cupids wail, And men whose gentler spirits still prevail. Dead is the Sparrow of my girl, the joy, Sparrow, my sweeting's most delicious toy, Whom loved she dearer than her very eyes;For he was honeyed-pet and anywiseKnew her, as even she her mother knew;Ne'er from her bosom's harbourage he flewBut 'round her hopping here, there, everywhere,Piped he to none but her his lady fair.Now must he wander o'er the darkling wayThither, whence life-return the Fates denay.But ah! beshrew you, evil Shadows low'ringIn Orcus ever loveliest things devouring:Who bore so pretty a Sparrow fro' her ta'en.(Oh hapless birdie and Oh deed of bane!)Now by your wanton work my girl appearsWith turgid eyelids tinted rose by tears.ON HIS PINNACE
Yonder Pinnace ye (my guests!) beholdSaith she was erstwhile fleetest-fleet of crafts,Nor could by swiftness of aught plank that swims,Be she outstripped, whether paddle plied,Or fared she scudding under canvas-sail.Eke she defieth threat'ning Adrian shore,Dare not denay her, insular Cyclades,And noble Rhodos and ferocious Thrace,Propontis too and blustering Pontic bight.Where she (my Pinnace now) in times before,Was leafy woodling on Cytórean ChineFor ever loquent lisping with her leaves.Pontic Amastris! Box-tree-clad Cytórus!Cognisant were ye, and you weet full well(So saith my Pinnace) how from earliest ageUpon your highmost-spiring peak she stood,How in your waters first her sculls were dipt,And thence thro' many and many an important straitShe bore her owner whether left or right,Where breezes bade her fare, or Jupiter deigned At once propitious strike the sail full square;Nor to the sea-shore gods was aught of vowBy her deemed needful, when from Ocean's bourneExtreme she voyaged for this limpid lake.Yet were such things whilome: now she retiredIn quiet age devotes herself to thee(0 twin-born Castor) twain with Castor's twin.TO LESBIA, (OF LESBOS-CLODIA?)Love we (my Lesbia!) and live we our day,While all stern sayings crabbed sages say,At one doit's value let us price and prize!The Suns can westward sink again to riseBut we, extinguished once our tiny light,Perforce shall slumber through one lasting night!Kiss me a thousand times, then hundred more,Then thousand others, then a new five-score,Still other thousand other hundred store.Last when the sums to many thousands grow,The tale let's trouble till no more we know,