Idly (Licinius!) we our yesterday,
Played with my tablets much as pleased us play,
In mode becoming souls of dainty strain.
Inditing verses either of us twain
Now in one measure then in other line 5
We rang the changes amid wit and wine.
Then fared I homewards by thy fun so fired
And by thy jests (Licinius!) so inspired,
Nor food my hapless appetite availed
Nor sleep in quiet rest my eyelids veiled, 10
But o'er the bedstead wild in furious plight
I tossed a-longing to behold the light,
So I might talk wi' thee, and be wi' thee.
But when these wearied limbs from labour free
Were on my couchlet strewn half-dead to lie, 15
For thee (sweet wag!) this poem for thee wrote I,
Whereby thou mete and weet my cark and care.
Now be not over-bold, nor this our prayer
Outspit thou (apple of mine eyes!): we pray
Lest doom thee Nemesis hard pain repay:-- 20
She's a dire Goddess, 'ware thou cross her way.
Yestreen, Licinius, in restful day, much mirthful verse we flashed upon my
tablets, as became us, men of fancy. Each jotting versicles in turn sported
first in this metre then in that, exchanging mutual epigrams 'midst jokes
and wine. But I departed thence, afire, Licinius, with thy wit and
drolleries, so that food was useless to my wretched self; nor could sleep
close mine eyes in quiet, but all o'er the bed in restless fury did I toss,
longing to behold daylight that with thee I might speak, and again we might
be together. But afterwards, when my limbs, weakened by my restless
labours, lay stretched in semi-death upon the bed, this poem, O jocund one,
I made for thee, from which thou mayst perceive my dolour. Now 'ware thee
of presumptuousness, and our pleadings 'ware thee of rejecting, we pray
thee, eye-babe of ours, lest Nemesis exact her dues from thee. She is a
forceful Goddess; 'ware her wrath.