So to me and my Lesbians round me gathered, Each made mine, an amphor of love long tasted, Bid us drink, who sigh for thy thrill ecstatic, Passion's full goblet; Grant me this, O Kypris, and on thy altar Dawn will see a goat of the breed of Naxos, Snowy doves from Cos and the drip of rarest Lesbian vintage; For a regal taste is mine and the glowing Zenith-lure and beauty of suns must brighten Love for me, that ever upon perfection Trembles elusive. MOON AND STARS When the moon at full on the sill of heaven Lights her beacon, flooding the earth with silver, All the shining stars that about her cluster Hide their fair faces; So when Anactoria's beauty dazzles Sight of mine, grown dim with the joy it gives me, Gorgo, Atthis, Gyrinno, all the others Fade from my vision. ODE TO ANACTORIA Peer of Gods to me is the man thy presence Crowns with joy; who hears, as he sits beside thee, Accents sweet of thy lips the silence breaking, With lovely laughter; Tones that make the heart in my bosom flutter, For if I, the space of a moment even, Near to thee come, any word I would utter Instantly fails me; Vain my stricken tongue would a whisper fashion, Subtly under my skin runs fire ecstatic; Straightway mists surge dim to my eyes and leave them Reft of their vision; Echoes ring in my ears; a trembling seizes All my body bathed in soft perspiration; Pale as grass I grow in my passion's madness, Like one insensate; But must I dare all, since to me unworthy, Bliss thy beauty brings that a God might envy; Never yet was fervid woman a fairer Image of Kypris. Ah! undying Daughter of God, befriend me! Calm my blood that thrills with impending transport; Feed my lips the murmur of words to stir her Bosom to pity; Overcome with kisses her faintest protest, Melt her mood to mine with amorous touches, Till her low assent and her sigh's abandon Lure me to rapture. THE ROSE If it pleased the whim of Zeus in an idle Hour to choose a king for the flowers, he surely Would have crowned the rose for its regal beauty, Deeming it peerless; By its grace is valley and hill embellished, Earth is made a shrine for the lover's ardor; Dear it is to flowers as the charm of lovely Eyes are to mortals; Joy and pride of plants, and the garden's glory, Beauty's blush it brings to the cheek of meadows; Draining fire and dew from the dawn for rarest Color and odor;