Odes 1.13 (Martin): Cum Tu, Lydia

Lydia, when so oft the charms
Of Telephus you bid me note,
Taunt me with his snowy arms,
Rosy cheek, and shapely throat,
Within my breast I feel the fires
Of wild and desperate desires.

Then reels my brain, then on my cheek
The shifting colour comes and goes,
And tears, that flow unbidden, speak
The torture of my inward throes,
The fierce unrest, the deathless flame,
That slowly macerates my frame.

O agony! to trace where he
Has smutch'd thy shoulders ivory-white
Amid his tipsy revelry;
Or where, in trance of fierce delight,
Upon thy lips the frenzied boy
Has left the records of his joy.

Hope not such love can last for aye,
(But thou art deaf to words of mine!)
Such selfish love, as ruthlessly
Could wound those kisses all divine,
Which Venus steeps in sweets intense
Of her own nectar's quintessence.

O, trebly blest, and blest forever,
Are they whom true affection binds,
In whom no doubts nor janglings sever
The union of their constant minds;
But life in blended current flows,
Serene and sunny to the close!