Book XII, Epigram 49 (Ker)

Linus, guardian of a long-haired troop, whom rich Postumilla calls the master of her fortune, and to whom she entrusts gems, gold plate, wines, paramours; so may your patroness prefer none other to you who are proved by constant fidelity; come, I pray you, to the aid of my wretched frenzy, and sometimes guard negligently those that sadly consume my heart, those that night and day I long in eagerness to see in my bosom, beautiful, snowy-white, a pair, twins, big — I mean not boys, but pearls.