Odes 3.9 (Martin): Donec Gratus Eram

Whilst thou wert ever good and kind,
And I, and I alone might lie
Upon thy snowy breast reclined,
Not Persia's king so blest as I.

Whilst I to thee was all in all,
Nor Chloe might with Lydia vie,
Renown'd in ode or madrigal,
Not Roman Ilia famed as I.

I now am Thracian Chloe's slave,
With hand and voice that charms the air,
For whom ev'n death itself I'd brave,
So fate the darling girl would spare!

I dote on Calais — and I
Am all his passion, all his care,
For whom a double death I'd die,
So fate the darling boy would spare.

What, if our ancient love return,
And bind us closer in its chain,
If I the far-hair'd Chloe spurn,
And welcome Lydia's charms again?

Though lovelier than yon star is he,
Thou fickle as an April sky,
More churlish too than Adria's sea,
With thee I'd live, with thee I'd die!