Nor locks that down her neck of ivory stream,
Nor eyes—my stars—twin lamps with love aglow;
Nor, if in silk of Araby she gleam
(I prize not baubles), does she thrill me so,
As when she leaves the mantling cup to thread
The mazy dance, and moves before my view,
Graceful as blooming Ariadne led
The choral revels of the Bacchic crew.”
The death of Propertius is supposed to have taken place about 15 B.C. Of his elegies, there is none better than
LOVE’S DREAM REALIZED.