Ego nolo Florus esse, ambulare per tabernas, latitare per popinas, culices pati rotundos.
Lascivus versu, mente pudicus eras.
Animula vagula blandula, hospes comesque corporis, quae nunc abibis in loca, pallidula, rigida, nudula, nec ut soles dabis iocos?
Retort to Florusa
I’ve no mind to be a Florus Strolling round among the drink-shops, Skulking round among the cook-shops. Victim of fat-gorged mosquitoes.
On a Poet-friend
Your lines were wanton but your heart was clean.b
Hadrian’s Dying Farewell to his Soul
Dear fleeting sweeting, little soul, My body’s comrade and its guest, What region now must be thy goal, Poor little wan, numb, naked soul, Unable, as of old, to jest?