 | Poetical Trifles |  |
134
TO LESBIA'S SPARROW.
Passer, deliciæ meæ puellæ,
Quîcum ludere, quem in sinu tenere.
Catul.
Quîcum ludere, quem in sinu tenere.
Catul.
Pretty sparrow, my Love's delight,
Thou little minion in her sight;
Who e'er art wont to find a rest,
When dandling on her downy breast;
While her fair finger tempts thy beak
To bite it in thy playful freak;
Oh! would that I might ease my heart,
And fondle thee with Lesbia's art;
135
Each airy toy my grief can charm;
Some balmy peace I then might find
To sooth the weepings of my mind.
What maidens call a golden ill,
My bosom would with raptures fill,
To see that coyish zone unbound,
Which has so long been fasten'd round.
Sept. 8th, 1825.
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