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(Carm. III., 9.) H. As long as you loved me, and no arms but mine
Around your white neck might in ecstasy twine,
My heart felt as wealthy as wealthy could be—
E'en the King of the East seemed a pauper to me!

L. As long as you loved with unflickering flame,
And no Chloe 'twixt you and your Lydia came,
My fame mounted far, far above every other—
I wouldn't have changed e'en with Remus's mother!

H. Pretty Chloe of Crete, my bosom now sways—
Oh, how softly she sings, and how sweetly she plays!
If her bright, sunny life could be saved by my death,
For her I would willingly breathe my last breath!

L. Son of Thurian Ornithus, Calaïs dear,
For thee—burning, also—my love burneth clear;
If the Fates would but spare the sweet, beautiful boy,
Two deaths for my darling I'd reckon a joy?

H. But suppose that Love's Queen, by her son's cunning stroke,
Should bend our stiff necks once again to her yoke,—
What if golden-haired Chloe I eyed with disdain,
And my door were to open to Lydia again?

L. Then, though he is more beautiful e'en than a star,
And you than a floating cork fickler by far,
Than Adria more fierce, when it mounts to the sky—
With you I would live, and with you I would die!