Amores II.15

O ring, that art to circle the finger of my fair lady, in which naught is of value but the giver's love, mayst thou go to her a welcome gift! May she receive thee with glad heart and straightway slip thee on her finger; mayst thou fit her as well as she fits me, and press her finger with aptly adjusted circle!

Happy ring, thou wilt be touched by the hands of my lady-love; already, ah me, I envy my own gift. Ah, might I suddenly become that gift, by the arts of her of Aeaea, or of the ancient one of Carpathus! Then would I wish you, my lady, both to touch your breasts, and lay your left hand within your tunic — I would slip from your finger, however tight and close; I would grow loose with wondrous art and fall into your bosom. Likewise, to help her seal her secret missives, and to keep the dry, clinging gem from drawing away the wax. I should first touch the moist lips of my beautiful love — only so that I scaled no missive that would bring me pain. If you wish me given over to the casket's keeping, I will refuse to leave your finger, and lessen my circle to keep firm hold. I would not ill become you, my life, nor be a burden your tender finger would refuse to bear. Wear me when you spray yourself with the warm rain of the bath, nor shrink at the harm from water creeping beneath the gem — but methinks my passions would rise at sight of your fairness, and I, though naught but that ring, would play the human part.

Why pray for what cannot be? Little gift, go on thy way; let my lady feel that with thee my true love comes!