Şiir 15
Go, happy ring, who art about to bind
The fair one's finger; may the fair be kind.
Small is the present, tho' the love be great;
May she swift slip thee on thy taper seat.
As she and I, may thou with her agree,
5
And not too large, nor yet too little be.
To touch her hand thou wilt the pleasure have;
I now must envy what myself I gave.
O! would a Proteus or a Circe change
Me to thy form, that I like thee might range !
10
Then would I wish thee with her breasts to play,
And her left hand beneath her robes to stray.
Tho' straight she thought me, I will then appear
Loose and unfix'd, and slip I know not where.
Whene'er she writes some secret lines of love,
15
Lest the dry gum and wax should sticking prove,
He first she moistens : then sly care I take,
And but, when lines I like, impression make.
Of in her pocket fain she would me hide,
Close will I press her finger, and not slide;
20
