I wish that I had sooner realized this blest condition;
’Tis pouring living water on a dead man’s ashes now.
In vain did others seek my love, in vain they called upon her,
She leaned her head upon my breast, was kind as girl could be.
Of conquered Parthians talk no more, I’ve gained a nobler honor,
For she’ll be spoils, and leaders, and triumphal car to me.
Light of my life! say, shall my bark reach shore with gear befitting,
Or, dashed amid the breakers, with her cargo run aground?
With thee it lies: but if, perchance, through fault of my committing,
Thou giv’st me o’er, before thy door let my cold corse be found.”