Calliope, queen of the tuneful throng, Descend and be the Muse of melic song; For through my frame life's tides renewing bring The glad vein-warming vigor of the spring. The skies that dome the earth with far blue fire Make the wide land one temple of desire;-- Just now across my cheek I felt a God, In the enraptured breeze, pass zephyr-shod. Was that Pan's flute, O Atthis, that we heard, Or the soft love-note of a woodland bird? That flame a scarlet wing that skimmed the stream, Or the red flash of our impassioned dream? Ah, soon again we two shall gather fair Garlands of dill and rose to deck our bare White arms that cling, white breast that burns to breast, When the long night of love shall banish rest. GIRL FRIENDS PRELUDE Deftly on my little Seven-stringed barbitos, Now to please my girl friends Songs I set to music. Maidens fair, companions Of the Muses, never Toward you shall my feelings Undergo a change. Chanted in a plaintive Old Ionic measure, All the songs I give you Are the songs of love. ANDROMEDA What bucolic maiden Now thy heart bewitches, O my Andromeda Of the strange amours? Round her awkward ankles She has not the faintest Sense of art to draw her Long ungraceful tunic. Yet she surely makes thee, O my Andromeda, For thy sweet unlawful Love a fair requital. Joy and praise attend thee, In thy keen perceptive Taste for beauty, daughter Of Polyanax! EUNEICA Aphrodite's handmaid, Bright as gold thou earnest, Tender woven garlands Round thy tender neck; Sweet as soft Persuasion, Lissome as the Graces, Shy Euneica, lovely Girl from Salamis. Slender thou as Syrinx, As the waving reed-nymph, Once by Pan, the god of Summer winds, deflowered. On thy lips whose quiver Seems to plead for pity, Mine shall rest and linger Like the mouth of Pan On the mouth of Syrinx, When his breath that filled her Blew through all her body Music of his love. GORGO Gorgo, I am weary Of thy love's insistence, Thou to me appearest An ill-favored child. Though I am than Gello Fonder still of virgins, Toward thee I have never Felt the least desire. Yesternight I knew not What to do, for pity Moved my bosom deeply, Seeing thee implore. Harassed by alternate Yielding and refusal, I was half persuaded Then to grant thy prayer. At my door thy presence Lingers like a shadow; Vain wouldst thou reproach me With appealing eyes. Dost thou think by constant Proofs of lasting passion, Slowly my obdurate Will to wear away?