But who yieldeth herself unto advowtry impure,
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Ah! may her loathèd gifts in light dust uselessly soak,
For of unworthy sprite never a gift I desire.
Rather, O new-mated brides, be concord aye your companion,
Ever let constant love dwell in the dwellings of you.
Yet when thou sightest, O Queen, the Constellations, I pray thee,
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Every festal day Venus the Goddess appease;
Nor of thy unguent-gifts allow myself to be lacking,