And conquests gain'd by foreign beauties scorn.How wilt thou blush, with other charms to please,And cry, "How fairer were my locks than these !"By heav'ns, to heart she takes her head's disgrace,She weeps, and covers with her hands her face.She weeps, as in her lap her locks she views;What woman would not weep, such locks to lose!Ah, that they still did on her shoulders flow,Ah, that they now, where once they grew, did grow!Take courage, fair Corinna, never fear,Thou shalt not long these borrow'd tresses wear:Time for your beauty shall this loss repairAnd you again shall charm with native hair.

Poem 15, in which the poet boasts his work will outlive him, is not here translated.

Poem 1, in which the poet introduces his second book, is not here translated.

Poem 2, addressed to Bagoe, is not here translated.

Elegy III: To a Eunuch, who had the keeping of his mistressHow hard's my hap, to have my fair consign'dTo one, who is imperfect in his kind;To one, who ne'er can have the pow'r to proveAs woman, or as man, the mutual joys of love!Who practis'd first on boys the cutting steel,Deserv'd himself the fatal wound to feel.Couldst thou be capable of Cupid's fires,