English

" A thousand down" — she cries, the ugly jade:
He pays the money and is still afraid.
My Lysianassa charges me a crown
And lets me kiss her anywhere in town.
Either I'm wrong, or else he should be sent
Straight to the gelder for his punishment.

Zeus may turn to rain of gold,
As a bull Europa hold,
Come a swan to view.
As for me, I need not fly
While a crown or two can buy
All I want from Sue.

Shine, horned moon, upon our revels bright,
Shine through the lattice and dispel the night.
Shine where my fair Callistion doth rest
And make more golden still her gleaming breast.
We grudge thee not: that bright immortal eye
May all the deeds of eager lovers spy.
Thou, too, didst burn beneath Endymion's kiss
And now to her and me thou givest bliss.

Though when from the bath he goes
Grace and beauty from him flows,
Though to win his body's prize
You would offer both your eyes,
Be not caught by charms like these,
Son of great Megistocles.

He is skilled in all love's wiles,
Many a suitor wins his smiles,
Naught of kindness there you'll see,
Nor of youth's simplicity.
Cruel is he though he's fair;
Fan not the flame; dear friend, beware.

'Twas midnight when I stole away,
The rain had wet me to the skin;
Fond lovers talk and sleep, men say,
Ah! when shall we begin?

I burn, I burn: the light within thine eyes
Has lit a fire for Love's sacrifice.

There was Demo of Paphos; what wonder if I
From her arms to fair Demo of Samos did fly?
Then came Demo of Corinth; the joke seemed to pall,
Until Demo of Argos proved sweetest of all.
Sure 'tis fated — for is not my name Philodeme!
That some Demo to me ever lovely shall seem.

No lover once her charms might hold
Till he had paid the price in gold.
But now she shows a little grace
And seems less arrogant of face.
She seems, I say; for well I ween
No change has in her nature been.
So the cold snake for months will harmless hang,
But death still lurks within his cruel fang.

What spells an empty plate can weave!
How all his friends a poor man leave!
They loved you when you gold could give,
Now love with gold is fugitive.
Once it was " Sweety," " dearest Don,"
To-day another tune is on;
" I wonder why on earth he came:
Who is he, pray, and what's his name?"

When she was but a baby girl I said, —
" She'll set us all ablaze, this tender maid."
They mocked my warning, but the time has come.
She is a woman — and I know my doom.
What shall I do? to court her is in vain:
To look is torment: not to look is pain.