Şiir 66
Nor wi’ the dresses doft your barèd nipples encounter,
Ere shall yon onyx-vase pour me libations glad,
Onyx yours, ye that seek only rights of virtuous bed-rite.
But who yieldeth herself unto advowtry impure,
Ah! may her loathed gifts in light dust uselessly soak,
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For of unworthy sprite never a gift I desire.
Rather, O new-mated brides, be concord aye your companion,
Ever let constant love dwell in the dwellings of you.
Yet when thou sightest, O Queen, the Constellations, I pray thee,
Every festal day Venus the Goddess appease;
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Nor of thy unguent-gifts allow myself to be lacking,
Nay, do thou rather add largeliest increase to boons.
Would but the stars down fall! Could I of my Queen be the hair-lock,
Neighbour to Hydrochois e’en let Oarion shine.