Book III, Elegy 13: On her Love (Postgate)

At last has come a love which. Rumour, it would shame me more to hide than to disclose to any one. Won over by my Muse's prayers, Cythera's queen has brought and placed him in my arms. What Venus promised she hath fulfilled. Let my joys be told by all of whom 'tis said that they have missed their own. Never would I choose to entrust my messages to tablets under seal, that none might read my thoughts before my lover. Nay, I love my fault, and loathe to wear a mask for rumour. Let all hear that we have met, each worthy of the other.