Since Adonis was gored in Idalia, and the Cytharean

Idalia

Ran crying with out-spread hair,

In vain, you call back the shade,

In vain, Cynthia. Vain call to unanswering shadow,

Small talk comes from small bones.

VII

ME happy, night, night full of brightness;

M

Oh couch made happy by my long delectations;

How many words talked out with abundant candles;

Struggles when the lights were taken away;

Now with bared breasts she wrestled against me,

Tunic spread in delay;

And she then opening my eyelids fallen in sleep,

Her lips upon them; and it was her mouth saying: Sluggard!

In how many varied embraces, our changing arms,

Her kisses, how many, lingering on my lips.

“Turn not Venus into a blinded motion,

Eyes are the guides of love,

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