GetPassage urn:cts:latinLit:phi1103.phi001.lascivaroma-eng1:49.3-50.4 urn:cts:latinLit:phi1103.phi001.lascivaroma-eng1:49.3-50.4

Nor dew (believe me!) 'twas nor hoary frost,But whatso gusheth of its own accordWhen I bethink me of a pathic god.

Thou, who art 'customed to view around the walls of our templeVerse of a strain jocose rather than modest and chaste,Cease to be hurt by the song obscene, for verily ne'er wasWont our mentule to wear eyebrow up-drawn in surprise.