“So the protective shadows might be yours, and your head not be harmed by sun or snow, Priapus, what skill of yours captivates lovely lads? For sure, you’ve no shining beard, or well-groomed hair: naked you fulfil your role in the cold of cloudy winter, naked too in the dry time of the . . .
The True Life
Let other men gather bright gold to themselves and own many acres of well-ploughed soil, let endless worry trouble them, with enemies nearby, and the peals of the war-trumpets driving away sleep: let my moderate means lead me to a quiet life, as long as my fireside glows with endless flame. If . . .
Cynthia: from beyond the grave
There are Spirits, of a kind: death does not end it all, and the pale ghost escapes the ruined pyre. For Cynthia, lately buried beside the roadway’s murmur, seemed to lean above my couch, when sleep was denied me after love’s interment, and I grieved at the cold kingdom of my bed. The same hair she . . .
His Mistress’ Fury
Our quarrel by lamplight last night was sweet to me and all those insults from your furious tongue, when frenzied with drinking you pushed the table back, and threw full glasses at me, with angry hand. Truly bold, attack my hair, you, and mark my face with your lovely nails, threaten to scorch my . . .
Transience
Persephone, let your mercy endure: Dis, why set out to be crueller than her? There are so many thousands of lovely girls among the dead: if allowed, leave one beautiful one up here! Down there with you is Iope; with you shining Tyro; with you Europa, and wicked Pasiphae; and whatever beauty old Troy . . .