Gorgo, I am weary Of thy love's insistence, And my strength exhausted Grants thy wish at last. MNASIDICA Set, O Dica, garlands on thy lovely Glinting mass of fine and golden tresses, Sprays of dill with fingers soft entwining While I stand apart to better judge. Those who have fair wreaths about the forehead, Breathing brentheian odor to the senses, Ever first find favor with the Graces Who from wreathless suppliants turn away. Dica, Mnasidica, thou art shapely With the flowing curves of Aphrodite; Eyes the color of her azure ocean Washing wide on Cyprus' languid shore. In thy every movement grace unconscious Sways the rhythmic poem of thy body, Charming with elusive undulation Like a splendid lily in the wind. As I stand apart to judge the better Fair effects that roses add to beauty, All thy rays of loveliness concentered Sun me till I swoon with swift desire. 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.