Ancient and Modern Pederasty Investigated and Exemplify'd/Encolpion and Giton

Encolpion and Giton are in a Storm, which so damages the Ship, that some trust to the Boat, while others run their Risque with the Bottom, they are upon. The Lovers are of this Number. Then, says Encolpion,
 * clasping my Giton more fast than ever, with forceful Tears, and heart-bled Sobs, I vent the high swoln Passion, Thus, Thus, may we not die thus, O severe Divinities? But no; dashing Mountains are on their Way to separate our Embraces; so, Giton my Soul, kiss while permitted, kiss your Encolpion, if ever he was dear to you.  Let us snatch this last Joy spite of Fate, that so raging rushes to overwhelm us.

Upon this, Giton throws off his own Robe, and wrapt with me in mine, puts up his lovely Face to kiss, and receive a thousand Kisses. (How is it to be lamented, Petronius paints such a Subject!) Moreover, the thoughtful Charmer binds us about with his Sash, least the Waves malignant prevail over so dear a Situation. Thus, however, observes he, we float together. Thus we lay to be cover&rsquo;d with Stones by the Humanity of some Passenger. At worst the undesigning Sand entombs us; I calmly wait Death, disarm&rsquo;d of it&rsquo;sits [sic] Terrors by the sweet Encirclement. Meanwhile the Tempest executes the Decree of Heaven, and leaves nothing of our Ship but the Hulk, which tumbles at the Will of the yet heaving Sea, and invites the Strangers of the Coast to plunder. Accordingly some Fishermen put off in their little Boats, but finding People able to defend their own, change their cruel designs into a very kind Assistance. Thus breaks the Cloud; thus shines the golden Sun. These Lovers so join&rsquo;d, and even cemented, had past together a particular Night utter&rsquo;d by Encolpion in one of the finest Raptures, ever pour&rsquo;d from mouth.
 * &rsquo;Tis this, What a Night was that, Gods and Goddesses; how soft the Bed! forcing and burning we gluy stick, and with Lips, which here and there gave a Love nip, transfus&rsquo;d our delightedly wandering Souls. Fare ye well, low Cares: I, a Mortal, thus extacy&rsquo;d begin to know the closing Dissolution.