Once Lesbia vow'd, she would Catullus wed,
And scorn for him the blissful arms of Jove:
Then did my flame the lover's flame exceed;
'Twas fond, 'twas tender as a parent's love!
I know thee now; and, tho' more fierce I burn,
Yet I thy charms more cheap, more worthless deem!
“How so?” thou sayst—'Tis that, perfidious grown,
Thou'rt more seducing, but of less esteem.