Note 461 — Chapter VIII · LATIN POETRY
Reading edition
None of these things he tried; but only ran, And clasped with his sweet arms the angry man; Hung on his neck, rained kisses forth that Heaven Envied from those red lips to mortals given; In number like ripe ears of ruddy corn, Or flowers beneath the breath of April born. Still doubting, Maximus? Change place with me: Gladly I'd bear such infidelity.