Sparrow, that art my darling's pet--
My darling's who'll frolic with thee and let
Thee nestle within her bosom, and when
Thou peck'st her forefinger will give it again,
And provoke thee to bite with a sharper smart,
When that glorious creature who rules my heart
Enchants it the more with her playful wiles,
And her own heart, too, of its pain beguiles;
Allaying, I do believe, just so
What else would burn with too fierce a glow.
Ah, would, like her, I might toy with thee,
And lighten the pangs that are rending me!
Thee would I then with such welcome greet,
As the fabled girl of the flying feet
Did the apple of gold, which unloosed the zone,
That long had engirdled a heart of stone.
- Catullus