. . . . . Tam gratumst mihi quam ferunt puellae pernici aureolum fuisse malum, quod zonam soluit diu ligatam.
Lvgete, o Veneres Cupidinesque, et quantumst hominum venustiorum. passer mortuus est meae puellae, passer, deliciae meae puellae, 5quem plus illa oculis suis amabat: nam mellitus erat suamque norat ipsam tam bene quam puella matrem; nec sese a gremio illius movebat, sed circumsiliens modo huc modo illuc 10ad solam dominam usque pipiabat. qui nunc it per iter tenebricosum illuc, unde negant redire quemquam. at vobis male sit, malae tenebrae Orci, quae omnia bella devoratis: 15tam bellum mihi passerem abstulistis. o factum male! o1 miselle passer! tua nunc opera meae puellae flendo turgiduli rubent ocelli.
Phaselvs ille quem videtis, hospites, ait fuisse navium celerrimus, neque ullius natantis impetum trabis nequisse praeterire, sive palmulis
. . . . .
This is as welcome to me as to the swift maiden was (they say) the golden apple, which loosed her girdle too long tied.
Mourn, ye Graces and Loves, and all you whom the Graces love. My lady’s sparrow is dead, the sparrow my lady’s pet, whom she loved more than her very eyes; for honey-sweet he was, and knew his mistress as well as a girl knows her own mother. Nor would he stir from her lap, but hopping now here, now there, would still chirp to his mistress alone. Now he goes along the dark road, thither whence they say no one returns. But curse upon you, cursed shades of Orcus, which devour all pretty things! Such a pretty sparrow you have taken away. Ah, cruel! Ah, poor little bird! All because of you my lady’s darling eyes are heavy and red with weeping.
The pinnace you see, my friends, says that she was once the fleetest of ships, and that there was never any timber afloat whose speed she was not able to pass, whether she would fly with oar-blades or