GetPassage urn:cts:latinLit:phi1103.phi001.lascivaroma-eng1:85.5-85.17 urn:cts:latinLit:phi1103.phi001.lascivaroma-eng1:85.5-85.17

My sluggard prickle raised his senile head.Art pleased (Priapus!) under leafy treeWont with vine-tendrils sacred sconce to wreatheAnd seat thee ruddy with thy ruddled yard?But, O Triphallus, oft with freshest flowersArtlessly garlanded thy brow we crownedAnd with loud shouting often drove from theeWhat agèd Raven or what agile 'DawWould peck thy holy face with horny beak.Farewell, Priapus! naught to thee owe IFarewell, forsaker damn'd of private parts!Pale with neglect amid the fields shalt heWhere savage bandog shall bepiss thee or