HKB
look as once of yore, Atthis, upon my love; for thou no more Wilt find intact upon its stem the flower Thy guile left slain and bleeding in that hour.
So ruthless shepherds crush beneath their feet The hill flower blooming in the summer heat; The hyacinth whose purple heart is found Left bruised and dead, to darken on the ground.
DEATH
Death is an evil; so the Gods decree, So they have judged, and such must rightly be Our mortal view; for they who dwell on high Had never lived, had it been good to die.
And so the poet's house should never know Of tears and lamentations any show; Such things befit not us who deathless sing Of love and beauty, gladness and the spring.
No hint of grief should mar the features of Our dreams of endless beauty, lasting love; For they reflect the joy inviolate, Eternal calm that fronts whatever fate.
Clëis, my darling, grieve no more, I pray! Let wandering winds thy sorrow bear away, And all our care; my daughter, let thy smile Shine through thy tears and gladden me the while.
PERSEPHONE
I saw a tender maiden plucking flowers Once, long ago, in the bright morning hours; And then from heaven I saw a sudden cloud Fall swift and dark, and heard her cry aloud.
Again I looked, but from my open door My anxious eyes espied the maid no more; The cloud had vanished, bearing her away To underlands beyond the smiling day.
PARTHENEIA
DIDAKTIKA
MAIDENHOOD
Do I long for maidenhood? Do I long for days When upon the mountain slope I would stand and gaze Over the Ægean's blue Melting into mist, Ere with love my virgin lips Cercolas had kissed?
Maidenhood, O maidenhood, Whither hast thou flown? To a land beyond the sea Thou hast never known. Maidenhood, O maidenhood, Wilt return to me? Never will my bloom again Give its grace to thee.
Now the autumn skies are low, Youth and summer sped; Shepherd hills are far away, Cercolas is dead. Mitylene's marble courts Echo with my name;-- Maidenhood, we never dreamed, Long ago of fame.
EVER MAIDEN
I shall be ever maiden, Ever the little child, In my passionate quest for the lovely, By earth's glad wonder beguiled.
I shall be ever maiden, Standing in soul apart, For the Gods give the secret of beauty Alone to the virgin heart.
CLËIS
Daughter of mine, so fair, With a form like a golden flower, Wherefore thy pensive air And the dreams in the myrtle bower?
Clëis, beloved, thy eyes That are turned from my gaze, thy hand That trembles so, I prize More than all the Lydian land;
More than the lovely hills With the Lesbian olive crowned;-- Tell me, darling, what ills In the gloom of thy thought are found?
Daughter of mine, come near And thy head on my knees recline; Whisper and never fear, For the beat of thy heart is mine.
Sweet mother, I can turn With content to my loom no more; My bosom throbs, I yearn For a youth that my eyes adore;
Lykas of Eresus, Whom I knew when a little child; My heart by Love is thus With the sweetest of pain beguiled.
ASPIRATION
I do not think with my two arms to touch the sky, I do not dream to do almighty things; So small a singing bird may never soar so high, To beat the sapphire fire with baffled wings.
I do not think with my two arms to touch the sky, I do not dream by any chance to share With deathless Gods the bliss of Paphos they deny To men behind the azure veil of air.
HERO, OF GYARA
I taught Hero, of Gyara, the swift runner; Swifter far was she than Atalanta, When through clinging fleece of her wind-rippled Garments blushed the glimmer of her limbs.
I taught Hero, of Gyara, the swift runner; Lovelier was she than Atalanta, When the straining vision of the suitor Saw her beauty mock impending death.