Love, Worship and Death Part 4

Note 8

II

THE FOUNTAIN HEAD

Pause not here to drink thy fill Where the sheep have stirred the rill, And the pool lies warm and still-- Cross yon ridge a little way, Where the grazing heifers stray, And the stone-pine's branches sway O'er a creviced rock below; Thence the bubbling waters flow Cooler than the northern snow.

DIONYSUS

2ND CENTURY B.C. (?)

THE ROSE OF YOUTH

Girl with the roses and the grace Of all the roses in your face, Are you, or are the blooms you bear, Or haply both your market ware?

DAMAGETUS

2ND CENTURY B.C.

THEANO

These words, renowned Phocaea, were the last Theano said, As she went down into the night that none hath harvested.

Hapless am I, Apellichus, beloved husband mine, Where in the wide, wide waters is now that bark of thine?

My doom hath come upon me, and would to G.o.d that I Had felt my hand in thy dear hand on the day I had to die.

ARCHIAS

1ST CENTURY B.C.

I

THE HARBOUR G.o.d

Me, Pan, whose presence haunts the sh.o.r.e, The fisher folk set here, To guard their haven anchorage On the cliff that they revere; And thence I watch them cast the net And mind their fis.h.i.+ng gear.

Sail past me, traveller: for I send The gentle southern breeze, Because of this their piety, To speed thee over seas.

II

A GRAVE BY THE SEA

I, s.h.i.+pwrecked Theris, whom the tide Flung landward from the deep, Not even dead may I forget The sh.o.r.es that know not sleep.

Beneath the cliffs that break the surf My body found a grave, Dug by the hands of stranger men, Beside the cruel wave: And still ill-starred among the dead I hear for evermore The hateful booming of the seas That thunder on the sh.o.r.e.

MELEAGER

1ST CENTURY B.C.

I

LOVE'S QUIVER

By Heliodora's sandalled foot, and Demo's waving hair, By Dorothea's wreath of blooms unbudding to the air, By Anticlea's winsome smile and the great eyes of her, And by Timarion's open door distilling scent like myrrh, I know the G.o.d of love has spent his arrows winged to smart, For all the shafts his quiver held I have them in my heart.

II

THE CUP

The cup takes heart of gladness, whose boast it is to be Sipped by the mouth of love's delight, soft-voiced Zenophile.

Most favoured cup! I would that she with lips to my lips pressed Would drink the soul in one deep draught, that is my body's guest.

III

ZENOPHILE