VI
O reeds, move softly and make keen bewildering music,
For I fear lest Arkadian Pan should seize Myrrhine as she comes from the city;
O Artemis, shed thy light across the peaks to hasten her coming,
But do thou, Eos, hold back thy white radiance till love be content.
VII
Last night Zeus sent swift rain upon the blue-grey rocks,
But Konallis held me close to her pear-pointed breasts.