Book V, 215

I pray thee, Love, reverence the Muse who intercedes for me and lull to rest this my sleepless passion for Heliodora. I swear it by thy bow that hath learnt to shoot none else, but ever pours the winged shafts upon me, even if thou slayest me I will leave letters speaking thus: “Look, O stranger, on the murderous work of Love.”