F, Quinctius, thou wouldst have me owe My very eyes to thee,
Or aught, if aught, friend, thou dost know That dearer still may be ;
Then rob me not of her, I pray,
Whom dearer than my eyes,
Or aught that dearer is than they,
I dote upon and prize.
HEN her husband is by,
Lesbia clamours that I
Am a monster, nor fit to come near her, Whereat her poor spouse
Rubs his flourishing brows,
And chuckles with pleasure to hear her.
Why, cannot you see,
You blockhead, if she, Forgetting, were silent about me,
The chances were then
Many hundreds to ten,
You'd have reason no longer to doubt me?
But her expletives tell,
She remembers too well,
And, what a more serious case is,
That she's dying with pique,
Which in railing she'll wreak,
Till I shut up her mouth with embraces.
HENEVER Arrius wish'd to name
"Commodious," out "Chommodious" came;
And when of his intrigues he blabb'd,
With his "hintrigues" our ears he stabb'd,
And thought, moreover, he display'd
A rare refinement, when he made
His h's thus at random fall
With emphasis most guttural.
So spoke his mother, I'll be bound,
His uncle so his h's ground,
His grandam so the vowels tried,
And grandsire on the mother's side.
To Syria Arrius was despatch'd,
And then our ears a respite snatch'd.
"Twas quite a comfort and delight
To hear such words pronounced aright,
With no alarm lest they should grate
With the redundant aspirate :
When suddenly came news one day,
Which smote the city with dismay,
That the Ionian seas a change
Had undergone most sad and strange,
For, since by Arrius cross'd, the wild
"Hionian Hocean" they were styled.
ALVUS, if those now silent in the tomb
US,
Can feel the touch of pleasure in our tears,
For those we loved, who perished in their bloom,
And the departed friends of former years;
Oh, then, full surely thy Quinctilia's woe,
For the untimely fate that bade ye part,
Will fade before the bliss she feels to know,
How very dear she is unto thy heart!
HE kiss I stole, when thou and I,
Dear girl, were romping in the glade,
Did nectar in its sweets outvie,
But oh! how dear for it I paid!
The caitiff on the cross can know
Not half the agonies I felt,
When thou wert deaf to all my woe,
As at thy feet in tears I knelt.
I saw thee wipe-oh, death to bear!—
The lip in scorn which mine had press'd,
As though the dew which linger'd there
Were venom of the deadliest.
My peace is gone! For oh, that kiss
Torments me day and night; and all
Its sweetness and ambrosial bliss
Are turned to bitterness and gall.
I can't forget, nor thou forgive,
And so, the wretchedest of men,
I vow I'll never, while I live,
No, never steal a kiss again!
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