Nor wi' the dresses doft your barèd nipples encounter,Ere shall yon onyx-vase pour me libations glad,Onyx yours, ye that seek only rights of virtuous bed-rite.But who yieldeth herself unto advowtry impure,Ah! may her loathed gifts in light dust uselessly soak,For of unworthy sprite never a gift I desire.Rather, 0 new-mated brides, be concord aye your companion,Ever let constant love dwell in the dwellings of you. Yet when thou sightest, 0 Queen, the Constellations, I pray thee,Every festal day Venus the Goddess appease;Nor of thy unguent-gifts allow myself to be lacking,Nay, do thou rather add largeliest increase to boons. Would but the stars down fall! Could I of my Queen be the hair-lock,Neighbour to Hydrochois e'en let Oarion shine.