Imitated From Catullus: to Ellen, par Lord Byron

Lord Byron

Imitated From Catullus: to Ellen

Oh! might I kiss those eyes of fire,

A million scarce would quench desire:

Still would I steep my lips in bliss,

And dwell an age on every kiss;

Nor then my soul should sated be,

Still would I kiss and cling to thee:

Nought should my kiss from thine dissever;

Still would we kiss, and kiss for ever,

E’en though the numbers did exceed

The yellow harvest’s countless seed.

To part would be a vain endeavor:

Could I desist?—ah! never—never!

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Lord Byron