O longing no research may satiate—
No aim to exhume what is hid!
For falsehood were vain to expatiate
On deeds more depraved than I did;
And though friendly faith I would flout not
On this it were rash to rely,
Since the friends who beheld me, I doubt not,
Were drunker than I.
Thou hast lured me to passionate pastime,
Dread goddess, whose smile is a snare!