XLVIII
Fine woven purple linen
I bring thee from Phocæa,
That, beauty upon beauty,
A precious gift may cover
The lap where I have lain. 5
And a gold comb, and girdle,
And trinkets of white silver,
And gems are in my sea-chest,
Lest poor and empty-handed
Thy lover should return. 10
And I have brought from Tyre
A Pan-flute stained vermilion,
Wherein the gods have hidden
Love and desire and longing,
Which I shall loose for thee. 15
XLIX
When I am home from travel,
My eager foot will stay not
Until I reach the threshold
Where I went forth from thee.
And there, as darkness gathers 5
In the rose-scented garden,
The god who prospers music
Shall give me skill to play.
And thou shalt hear, all startled,
A flute blown in the twilight, 10
With the soft pleading magic
The green wood heard of old.
Then, lamp in hand, thy beauty
In the rose-marble entry!
And unreluctant Hermes 15
Shall give me words to say.