Come, Melissa! give us honey. Come, Naiads! we will bathe with you. Come, Melissa! throw a shadow gently over our perspiring bodies. And we will offer you, kind nymphs, not shameful wine, but oil and milk and goats with twisted horns. XV THE SYMBOLIC RING The voyagers who return from Sardis tell us that the women of Lydia are covered with collars and stones from the top of their hair to their tinted feet. The girls of my country have neither bracelets nor diadems, but one of their fingers carries a silver ring and upon the bezel is graven the triangle of the goddess. When they turn the point outward, they would say: “Psyche is to be taken.” When they turn the point inward, they would say: “Psyche is taken.” The men believe this, the women do not. As for me, I little regard which way the point is turned, for Psyche offers herself freely. Psyche is always to be taken. XVI DANCES BY MOONLIGHT On the soft grass, in the night, the young girls with hair of violets have all danced together, one of each two playing the part of lover. The virgins said: “We are not for you.” And, as though they were bashful, concealed their virginity. Among the trees, an ægipan played upon the flute. The others said: “We have come to seek you.” They arranged their robes like the tunics of men and they struggled gently while entwining their dancing legs. Then, each pretending to be vanquished, took her friend by the ears, like a cup with two handles, and, inclining the head, drank a kiss. XVII THE LITTLE CHILDREN The river is almost dry; the brittle reeds are dying in the mud; the air burns and, far beyond the hollow banks, a clear brook flows upon the gravel. It is there that, from morning to evening, the little naked children come to play. They bathe themselves only as high as their calves for the river is low. But they walk in the current, sometimes slipping on the rocks, and the little boys throw water on the little girls, who laugh. And when a troop of passing merchants lead their great white oxen to drink, they clasp their hands behind them and watch the enormous beasts. XVIII THE STORIES I am loved by the little children; when they see me they run to me and cling to my tunic or clasp my legs in their little arms. If they have gathered flowers, they give them all to me; if they have caught a beetle, they put it in my hand; if they have nothing, they caress me and make me sit before them. Then they kiss me on the cheek, they rest their heads upon my breasts; they supplicate me with their eyes. I know well what they would say. They would say: “Dear Bilitis, tell us, for we are quiet, the history of the hero Perseus or the death of the little Hellé.” XIX THE MARRIED FRIEND