When thou restorest thyself (Lesbia!) to lovingmost me,
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Self thou restorest unhoped, and after despair thou returnest.
Oh the fair light of a Day noted with notabler white!
Where lives a happier man than myself or—this being won me—
Who shall e'er boast that his life brought him more coveted lot?
If what one desires and covets is ever obtained unhoped for, this is specially grateful to the soul. Wherefore is it grateful to us and far dearer than gold, that thou com'st again, Lesbia, to longing me; com'st yet again, long-looked for and unhoped, thou restorest thyself. O day of whiter note for us! who lives more happily than I, sole I, or who can say what greater thing than this could be hoped for in life?
CVIII.
Si, Comini, populi arbitrio tua cana senectus
Spurcata inpuris moribus intereat,