Odes 1.23 (Martin): Vitas Hinnuleo

Nay, hear me, dearest Chloe, pray!
You shun me like a timid fawn,
That seeks its mother all the day
By forest brake and upland lawn,
Of every passing breeze afraid,
And leaf that twitters in the glade.

Let but the wind with sudden rush
The whispers of the wood awake,
Or lizard green disturb the hush.
Quick-darting through the grassy brake,
The foolish frightened thing will start,
With trembling knees and beating heart.

But I am neither lion fell,
No tiger grim to work you woe;
I love you, sweet one, much too well,
Then cling not to your mother so,
But to a lover's tender arms
Confide your ripe and rosy charms.