AD LESBIAM <br /> <br />Equal to Jove that youth must be-- <br />Greater than Jove he seems to me-- <br />Who, free from Jealousy's alarms, <br />Securely views thy matchless charms. <br />That cheek, which ever dimpling glows, <br />That mouth, from whence such music flows, <br />To him, alike, are always known, <br />Reserved for him, and him alone. <br />Ah! Lesbia! though 'tis death to me, <br />I cannot choose but look on thee; <br />Whilst trembling with a thousand fears, <br />Parch'd to the throat my tongue adheres, <br />My pulse beats quick, my breath heaves short, <br />My limbs deny their slight support, <br />Cold dews my pallid face o'erspread, <br />With deadly langour droops my head, <br />My ears with tingling echoes ring, <br />And life itself is on the wing; <br />My eyes refuse the cheering light, <br />Their orbs are veil'd in starless night: <br />Such pangs my nature sinks beneath, <br />And feels a temporary death.<br /><br />George Gordon Byron<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/translation-from-catullus/
