English

Lysidicë doth bring to thee,
Dear Cyprian, the goad
Wherewith she won the mastery
When she on horseback rode,
And on her comely leg did wear
This cunning piece of golden gear.

On her no spur was ever used
To reach her journey's end,
Her tender thighs were scarcely bruised,
So lightly did she bend;
And now she hangs within thy fane
The tool she ne'er will need again.

Her Saffron smock and garlands blue,
Still fragrant with the myrrhine dew
Of ivy berries, and her snood
Alexo offers to the god,
Priapus of the girlish glance,
A guerdon for his vigil dance.

The wine-cup flew with treacherous haste
As in your arms I lay embraced,
While low you murmured in my ear
Whispers of love so sweet to hear.
I fell asleep, a maiden free;
And in my sleep you conquered me.

So now to Venus here I bring
These sandals for an offering,
And these soft bands with perfume wet
Which on my bosom then were set,
That they may witness how I strove
Before I yielded to my love.

By Timo's wealth of ringlets
In lovers' true-knots drest,
By Demo's fragrant perfumes
And sleep-beguiling breast,

By Ilias' sportive fancies
And by my lamp's dim light —
The lamp that's seen the revels
Of many a vigil night —

Upon my lips my spirit faints;
But while I breathe and live,
All that to me of life remains
To thee, great Love, I give.

Soft is her voice, persuasion in it speaks,
Cupid himself sent roses for her cheeks,
Love decked the couch wherein she now is laid,
Happy, thrice happy maid.

See how the Cupids string their bows
As from her couch Irene goes,
The golden couch of Love.
A statue with a maiden's face
From head to foot arrayed in grace
Her power they soon will prove.
From purple cord they speed the dart
Which quick shall pierce some youthful heart.

She Beat her milk-white breast
Where the young god was laid
And at his vigil feast
Of me her captive made.

If thus she'll mourn for me
I will no longer stay,
Adonis, let's to sea
And hasten on death's way.

Dear Moon that on true lovers shine,
And thou my faithful mandoline,
Ye stars with radiance bright,
And thou, dear night,

Shall I this eve my wanton see
As once upon the couch with me,
When 'neath the lamp's clear ray
We sleepless lay?

But if another shares her bed
I'll come with suppliant wreaths instead,
Which at her doorway set
With tears I'll wet.

And these the words I'll write above —
" From Meleager, priest of love,
These shall an offering be,
Cypris, to thee."

Long are the hours, the storm winds blow,
Night passes ere the Pleiads set,
But still before her door I go
With driving rain all wet.

This is not love, this torturing smart,
These arrows forged in flaming fire;
I know her false, but yet my heart
Still burns with mad desire.

Take my message, Dorcas, pray;
Once and twice and three times say
All that's in it: do not stay,
Hasten, Dorcas, haste away.

Nay a moment, Dorcas — wait:
Why so quick to close the gate?
Let me all my tale relate.

Add to what you just have read: —
Nay! I'm going off my head —
Tell her nothing. Or instead
Tell her, Dorcas, all I've said.

Tell her all: be sure you do —
Yet what need have I of you?
I myself am coming too.