For whose a stranger to the joys of love?
Who, can't the thoughts of such lost pleasures move?
Such Epicurus own'd the chiefest bliss,
And such lives the gods themselves possess.
There's nothing more deceitful than a ridiculous opinion, nor more
ridiculous, than an affected gravity. After this, I call'd Gito to
me; and "tell me," said I, "but sincerely, whether Ascyltos, when he
took you from me, pursu'd the injury that night, or was chastly
content to lye alone?" The boy with his finger at his eyes, took a
solemn oath, that he had no incivility offer'd him by Ascyltos.
This drove me to my wits end, nor did I well know what to say: For
why, I consider'd, shou'd I think of the twice mischievous accident
that lately befell me? At last, I did what I cou'd to recover my
vigour: and willing to invoke the assistance of the gods, I went out
to pay my devotions to Priapus, and as wretched as I was, did not
despair, but kneeling at the entry of the chamber, thus beseecht the
god:
"Bacchus and Nymphs delight, O mighty God!
Whom Cynthia gave to rule the blooming wood.
Lesbos and verdant Thasos thee adore,
And Lydians, in loose flowing dress implore,
And raise devoted temples to thy power.
Thou Dryad's joy, and Bacchus's guardian, hear
My conscious prayer, with an attentive ear.
My hands with guiltless blood I never stain'd,
Or sacrilegiously the gods prophan'd.
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