University of Virginia Library

Epig 10. To my Friend Lucius Varrus .

How can I chuse, but like mount Ætna glow,
Though I Carussa made my drink each day,
Or fed on frigid lettice, and lay low
Upon the humble earth, Love to allay:
Her skin for whitenesse passeth Atlas snow,
Her cheeks the Roses that in Jury grow:

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Her crisped locks do out shine Lybian Gold,
Her teeth the pearles, in stately {Ormas} sold;
Her lipps as Cherries, breath as incense flow,
Her eyes as to pure Chrystall Heavens show;
Her tongue, like Lydian Musick, doth delight,
Then how can I (Friend Varrus) want her sight;
Her presence can alone preserve my breath,
Her losse (to me) is Famine, War, and Death.