“O palace, splendor of the earth, return her to me.--See! She has collars on her breasts and circlets in her hair, an hundred pearls along her legs, two arms around her waist.” XXIII LYKAS Come, we will go into the fields, under the thickets of juniper; we will eat honey from the hives, we will make snares for grasshoppers with the twigs of asphodels. Come, we will go to see Lykas who tends his father’s flocks upon the slopes of shadowy Tauros. Surely he will give us milk. Already I hear the sound of his flute. He plays most skilfully. Here are the dogs and the sheep and he himself standing against a tree. Is he not fair as Adonis! O Lykas! give us milk. Here are figs from our fig trees. We would rest with thee. Bearded goats, do not leap, for fear of exciting the restless bucks. XXIV THE OFFERING TO THE GODDESS It is not for Artemis whom they adore at Perga, this garland woven with my hands, although Artemis may be a good goddess who would guard my couches of pain. It is not for Athena whom they adore at Sidon although she may be of ivory and of gold and carry in her hand a pomegranate which tempts the birds. No, it is for Aphrodite whom I adore in my heart, for she only can give what my lips most need, if I hang on her sacred tree my garland of tender roses. But I will not ask aloud that which I beg of her. I will raise myself upon my toes and confide my secret to a cleft in the bark. XXV THE COMPLAISANT FRIEND The storm continued all the night. Selenis of the beautiful hair had come to spin with me. She remained for fear of the mud, and, pressed one against the other, we filled my little bed. When girls lie together, sleep remains at the door. “Bilitis, tell me, tell me, whom lovest thou?” She slipped her leg over mine to caress me softly. And she said, against my mouth: “I know, Bilitis, whom thou lovest. Close thine eyes, I am Lykas.” I replied, touching her: “Do I not know thou art a girl? Thy jest fits badly.” But she replied: “In truth I am Lykas if thou wilt close thine eyes. These are his arms, these are his hands....” And tenderly, in the silence, she enchanted my reverie into a singular illusion. XXVI A PRAYER TO PERSEPHONE Purified by the ritual ablutions, and clad in violet tunics, we have kissed toward the earth our hands laden with branches of olive. “O Persephone of the Underworld, or whatever may be the name thou desirest, if this name is acceptable, hear us, O Shadowy-Haired, Queen sterile and unsmiling. “Kokhlis, daughter of Thrasymakos, is ill, and dangerously. Do not call her yet. Thou knowest she cannot escape thee; one day, very late, thou shalt take her.