Quid dicam, Gelli, quare rosea ista labella
Hiberna fiant candidiora nive,
Mane domo cum exis et cum te octava quiete
E molli longo suscitat hora die?
Nescioquid certest: an vere fama susurrat 5
Grandia te medii tenta vorare viri?
Sic certest: clamant Victoris rupta miselli
Ilia, et emulso labra notata sero.
How shall I (Gellius!) tell what way lips rosy as thine are
Come to be bleached and blanched whiter than wintry snow,
Whenas thou quittest the house a-morn, and at two after noon-tide
Rousèd from quiet repose, wakest for length of the day?
Certès sure am I not an Rumour rightfully whisper 5
What shall I say, Gellius, wherefore those lips, erstwhile rosy-red, have become whiter than wintery snow, thou leaving home at morn and when the noontide hour arouses thee from soothing slumber to face the longsome day? I know not forsure! but is Rumour gone astray with her whisper that thou devourest the well-grown tenseness of a man’s middle? So forsure it must be! the ruptured guts of wretched Virro cry it aloud, and thy lips marked with lately-drained [Greek: semen] publish the fact.
Last updated Sunday, March 27, 2016 at 11:52