To Melitë
Thy hands have all Athena's skill,
Thy feet like Thetis' silvery white,
E'en Juno's eyes are not more still,
Nor Venus' breast more bright.
Happy the men thy voice who hear
And touch thy lips, a hero's prize;
Thrice blessed he who holds thee near,
Thy couch his Paradise.
Thy feet like Thetis' silvery white,
E'en Juno's eyes are not more still,
Nor Venus' breast more bright.
Happy the men thy voice who hear
And touch thy lips, a hero's prize;
Thrice blessed he who holds thee near,
Thy couch his Paradise.
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