Can they pluck anything off from the soft limbs, Aimlessly wandering over the whole body. And when at last with limbs knit they enjoy The flower of their age, when now the body Presages rapture, and Venus is in act To sow the fields of woman, eagerly They clasp bodies and join moist mouth to mouth With panted breath, imprinting lips with teeth; In vain, for naught thence can they pluck away, Nor each with the whole body entering pass Into the other’s body; for at times They seem to wish and struggle so to do. So greedily do they hug the bonds of Venus, While their limbs melt, enfeebled by the might Of pleasure. Finally, when the gathered lust Has burst forth from the frame, awhile there comes A brief pause in their passion’s violent heat. Then returns the same madness: the old frenzy Revisits them, when they would fain discover What verily they desire to attain; Yet never can they find out what device May conquer their disease: in such blind doubt They waste away, pined by a secret wound. Consider too how they consume their strength And are worn out with toiling; and consider How at another’s beck their life is passed. Meantime their substance vanishes and is changed To Babylonian stuffs; their duties languish; Their reputation totters and grows sick. While at her lover’s cost she anoints herself With precious unguents, and upon her feet Beautiful Sicyonian slippers laugh. Then doubtless she has set for her in gold Big green-lit emeralds; and the sea-purple dress, Worn out by constant use, imbibes the sweat Of love’s encounters. The wealth which their fathers Had nobly gathered, becomes hair-ribbons And head-dresses, or else may be is turned Into a long Greek gown, or stuffs of Alinda And Ceos. Feasts with goodly broideries And viands are prepared, games, numerous cups, Unguents, crowns and festoons; but all in vain; Since from the well-spring of delights some touch Of bitter rises, to give pain amidst The very flowers; either when the mind Perchance grows conscience-stricken, and remorse Gnaws it, thus to be spending a life of sloth, And ruining itself in wanton haunts; Or else because she has launched forth some word And left its sense in doubt, some word that clings To the hungry heart, and quickens there like fire; Or that he fancies she is casting round Her eyes too freely, or looks upon some other, And on her face sees traces of a smile.