For me a charm this potent witch did weave;
Thrice if thou sing, then speak with spittings three,
Thy husband not one witness will believe,
Nor his own eyes, if our embrace they see!
But tempt not others! He will surely spy
All else--to me, me only, magic-blind!
And, hark! the hag with drugs, she said, would try
To heal love's madness and my heart unbind.
One cloudless night, with smoky torch, she burned
Black victims to her gods of sorcery;
Yet asked I not love's loss, but love returned,
And would not wish for life, if robbed of thee.
ELEGY THE THIRD
SICKNESS AND ABSENCE
Am I abandoned? Does Messala sweep
Yon wide Aegean wave, not any more
He, nor my mates, remembering where I weep,
Struck down by fever on this alien shore?
Spare me, dark death! I have no mother here,
To clasp my relics to her widowed breast;
No sister, to pour forth with hallowing tear
Assyrian incense where my ashes rest.
Nor Delia, who, before she said adieu,
Asked omens fair at every potent shrine.
Thrice did the ministrants give blessings true,
The thrice-cast lot returned the lucky sign.
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