[BNP/E3, 13 – 41]

Let […] yellow gold

An[d] […]easance hold

Tr[…] work with false enemies trust

Charles Robert Anon

Tibullus

       I.1.

Who loves

              These sportive songs of a new kind

              Just polished by the pumice stone

sportive      To whom shall I dedicate? To thee

              Cornelius, who wert wont to prize

stone        My trifles, then, who went to bold

              As, first of Romans, to unfold

              In three books centuries’ history

              A learn’d, Gods! and laborious book

protecting    So thee accept this book and all

muse          It doth contain whate’er its worth

              And thou protecting muse degree

More than a century it shall[1] live.

A subtle feeling o’er his senses came

A thing so deep, so terrible so wild

He seemed to die of it ‘neath flame, {…}

He trembled with a fear he had not known

Oh how the God of men is weak and small.

[1] shall ^/may\