Stretch'd out for something far more sweet than sleep.Others from ruin fly, to mine I run,To be by women pleasingly undone,Longing for two, since undestroy'd by one.Still let my slender limbs for love suffice;I want no nerves, but want the bulky size.My limbs, tho' lean are not in vain display'd;From me no female ever rose a maid.Oft have I, when a luscious night was spent,Saluted morn, nor cloy'd nor impotent.Happy, who gasps in love his latest breath;Give me, ye gods, so softly sweet a death !Let the rough warriors grapple on the plain,And with their blood immortal honour gain;Let the vile miser plough for wealth the deep,And, shipwrek'd in the unfatbom'd waters, sleepMay Venus grant me but my last desire,In the full height of rapture to expire.Perhaps some friend, with kindly dew supplied,Weeping will say, "As Ovid liv'd, he died."