Explore "Translation from Catullus Ad Lesbiam" by Lord Byron on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Equal to Jove that youth must be- / Greater than Jove he seems to me- / Who, free from Jealousy's alarms, / Securely views thy matchless charms.
That cheek, which ever dimpling glows, / That mouth, from whence such music flows, / To him, alike, are always known, / Reserved for him, and him alone.
Ah! Lesbia! though 'tis death to me, / I cannot choose but look on thee; / Whilst trembling with a thousand fears, / Parch'd to the throat my tongue adheres, / My pulse beats quick, my breath heaves short, / My limbs deny their slight support, / Cold dews my pallid face o'erspread, / With deadly langour droops my head, / My ears with tingling echoes ring, / And life itself is on the wing; / My eyes refuse the cheering light, / Their orbs are veil'd in starless night: / Such pangs my nature sinks beneath, / And feels a temporary death.