Telesippa

Sleep thou in the bosom Of thy tender girl friend, Telesippa, gentle Maiden from Miletus.

Like twin petals shyly Closing to the darkness, Dewy on your drooping Lids shall fall her kisses.

While her arms enfold you, On your drowsy senses Shall her soft caresses Seal delicious languor.

Warm from her desireful Heart the flush of passion On your cheek unconscious, With her sighs shall deepen.

All the long sweet night-time, Sleepless while you slumber, She shall lie and quiver With her love’s mad longing.

GYRINNO

Now the silver crescent Of the moon has vanished, With the golden Pleiads Drifting down the west.

It is after midnight And the time is passing, Hours we pledged to passion And I sleep alone.

Anger ill becomes thee, Tender-souled Gyrinno, Shapelier is Dica But less loved by me.

Art thou still relentless, Wilful one, annulling All thy protestations In the fervid past?

Can it, O Charites, Be thou hast forgotten? Dost thou love another, Even now, perchance?

Ah, my tears are falling, Yet in my despairing Mood I lie and listen For thy furtive step;

For the lightest rustle Of thy flowing garment, For thy sweet and panting Whisper at the door.

Now the moon has vanished With the golden Pleiads; It is after midnight And I sleep alone.

MEGARA

Thou burnest us, Megara, With thy passions wild; Bringing from Panormus Such unbridled fires.

Thou burnest us, a supple Flow of tortured flame, Raging, biting, searing, Lawless of the will.

Thou burnest us, Megara, Love must know reserve, Curbing power to keep it Keener for restraint.

ERINNA

Haughtier than thou, O fair Erinna, I have never met with any maiden.

Such a careless scorn as thine for passion Proves a dire affront to Aphrodite.

When with soft desire she wounds thy bosom, Thou shalt know love’s pain and doubly suffer.

Keep the gifts I gave thee, long rejected; Fabrics for thy lap from far Phocea,

Babylonian unguents, scented sandals, And the costly mitra for thy tresses;

Tripods worked in brass to flank the altar With the ivory figure of the Goddess;

Where the sacrificial fumes from sacred Flames shall rise to gladden and appease her,

In the hour when at her call thy fervid Breast and mouth to mine shall be relinquished.

GONGYLA

It was when the sunset Burned with saffron fire, And Apollo’s coursers Turned below the hills,

That on Mitylene’s Marble bridge we met, Gongyla, thou golden Maid of Colophon.

Like the breath of morning Or a breeze from sea, Fresh thy beauty smote me, Virile of the north.

Startled by thy vision, Transports half divine Flooded veins and bosom, Shook me with desire.

Soon the kinder sunglow Of Æolic lands Melted all the futile Snows about thy heart.