GetPassage urn:cts:latinLit:phi0893.phi001.perseus-eng2:1.23.1-1.23.12 urn:cts:latinLit:phi0893.phi001.perseus-eng2:1.23.1-1.23.12
You fly me, Chloe, as o'er trackless hillsA young fawn runs her timorous dam to find,Whom empty terror thrillsOf woods and whispering wind.Whether 'tis Spring's first shiver, faintly heardThrough the light leaves, or lizards in the brakeThe rustling thorns have stirr'd,Her heart, her knees, they quake.Yet I, who chase you, no grim lion am,No tiger fell, to crush you in my gripe:Come, learn to leave your dam.For lover's kisses ripe.