Chapter VII

Ask me, Lesbia, what the sum delightful
Of thy kisses, enough to charm, to tire me?

Multitudinous as the grains on even
Lybian sands aromatic of Cyrene;

'Twixt Jove's oracle in the sandy desert 5
And where royally Battus old reposeth;

Yea a company vast as in the silence
Stars which stealthily gaze on happy lovers;

E'en so many the kisses I to kiss thee
Count, wild lover, enough to charm, to tire me; 10

These no curious eye can wholly number,
Tongue of jealousy ne'er bewitch nor harm them.