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99

To Lesbia.

How many kisses must I sip
To satiate love from Lesbia's lip?—
O seek Cyrene's fragrant shore,
The countless Lybian sand explore,
From where Jove's fervid fane is rear'd
To antient Battus' tomb revered;
Or swift the sum of stars unfold—
Of stars that secret joys behold,
When night in silent splendor glows
And all but lovers seek repose:—
So many kisses must I sip
To satiate love from Lesbia's lip!
With these my raging passion bless—
Catullus only feels excess,
When no keen eye can count his joy,
No envious spell his bliss annoy!
 

The influence of Magic did not extend (according to ancient superstition) beyond the limit of numbers.