Bedizened bosoms, arms baptismal white.
The guests are surfeited with food, and Night
With Sleep and Lust, her ill-assorted sons,
Creeps through the porphyry pavilions.
“Hither and sing, oh Syrian eunuch-boy,
“Those chaste and still-born songs that never cloy
“The prurient senses kindling in the flesh ...
“Come, Aphrodite, send to me a fresh
“Virginal body for my violence,
“That I may more enjoy the somnolence