We pray, an' haply irk it not when prayed,Show us where shadowed hidest thou in shade!Thee throughout Campus Minor sought we all,Thee in the Circus, thee in each bookstall,Thee in Almighty Jove's fane consecrate.Nor less in promenade titled from The Great(Friend!) I accosted each and every quean,But mostly madams showing mien serene,For thee I pestered all with many pleas—"Give me Came n us, wanton baggages!" Till answered certain one a-baring breasts"Lo, 'twixt these rosy paps he haply rests!"But now to find thee were Herculean feat.Not if I feigned me that guard of Crete,Not if with Pegasèan wing I sped,Or Ladas I or Perseus plumiped,Or Rhesus borne in swifty car snow-white:Add the twain foot-bewing'd and fast of flight,And of the cursive' winds require the blow:All these (Camérius!) couldst on me bestow.