CRAVING IPSITHILLA'S LAST FAVOURSILL love my Ipsithilla sweetest,My desires and my Wit the meetest,So bid me join thy nap o' noon!Then (after bidding) add the boonUndraw thy threshold-bolt none dare,Lest thou be led afar to fare;Nay bide at home, for us prepareNine-fold continuous love-delights.But aught do thou to hurry things,For dinner-full I lie aback,And gown and tunic through I crack.

ON THE VIBENNII-BATH-THIEVESOH, best of robbers who in Baths delight, Vibennius, sire and son, the Ingle hight,(For that the father's hand be fouler oneAnd with his anus greedier is the Son)Why not to banishment and evil hoursHaste ye, when all the parent's plundering powersAre public knowledge, nor canst gain a CentSon! by the vending of thy pilèd vent.

HYMN TO DIANADiana's faith inbred we bearYouths whole of heart and maidens fair,Let boys no blemishes impair, And girls of Dian sing!O great Latonian progeny,Of greatest Jove descendancy,Whom mother bare 'neath olive-tree, Deep in the Delian dell;That of the mountains reign thou QueenAnd forest ranges ever green,And coppices by man unseen, And rivers resonant.Thou art Lucína, Juno hightBy mothers lien in painful plight,Thou puissant Trivia and the Light Bastard, yclept the Lune.Thou goddess with thy monthly stage,The yearly march doth mete and guageAn d rustic peasant's messuage, Dost brim with best o' crops,Be hailed by whatso name of grace, Please thee and olden Romulus' race, Thy wonted favour deign embrace, And save with choicest aid.

AN INVITATION TO POET CECILIUSNow to that tender bard, my Comrade fair,(Cecilius) say I, " Paper go, declare,Verona must we make and bid to NewComum's town-walls and Larian Shores adieu;"For I determined certain fancies heAccept from mutual friend to him and me.Wherefore he will, if wise, devour the way,Though the blonde damsel thousand times essayRecall his going and with arms a-neckA-winding would e'er seek his course to check;A girl who (if the truth be truly told)Dies of a hopeless passion uncontroul'd;For since the doings of the Díndymus-dame,By himself storied, she hath read, a flameWasting her inmost marrow-core hath burned. I pardon thee, than Sapphic Muse more learn'd,Damsel : for truly sung in sweetest laysWas by Cecilius Magna Mater's praise.

ON "THE ANNALS "—A SO-CALLED POEM OF VOLUSIUSVolusius' Annals, paper scum-bewrayed!Fulfil that promise erst my damsel made;Who vowed to Holy Venus and her son,Cupid, should I return to her anonAnd cease to brandish iamb-lines accurst,The writ selected erst of bards the worstShe to the limping Godhead would devoteWith slowly-burning wood of illest note.