Aphrodite, look down from above!
Thou, who dost madden the gods with desire,
Thou, who fulfillest men’s hearts with thy fire,
All but the heart of my lord that I crave,
Hark to thy slave!”
She stood as one inspired while she sang, with her fingers on the chords, facing the temple. Around her the girls danced to the song. The movements of their lithe bodies, light as the ripple of a silken scarf in the breeze, met and dissolved in picture after picture with each word of the song. The singer’s voice swelled crystal-clear. From the bank of the canal, from the open houses, on the temple-steps the people listened to her song. In the tall reeds lay smaller boats, wherein a man and woman embraced in love. Their hands thrust aside the yielding stems; and their smiles glanced at Cora.
“All but the heart of my lord that I crave,
Hark to thy slave!”
the other singers now sang after her.