And only little clay figures, painted with Tyrian red, with crocus, and with Lydian gold,
Remain to show thy beauty; but thy wild lovely songs shall last for ever.
Soon we too shall join Anaktoria and Kudno and kiss thy pale shadowy fingers.
IX
When Myrrhine departed I, weeping passionately, kissed her golden-wrought knees, saying:
“O, Myrrhine, by what god shall I keep the memory of thy caresses?”
But she, bending down like golden, smiling Aphrodite, whispered to me;
And lying here in the sunlight among the reeds I remember her words.
X
Hierocleia, do thou weave white-violet-crowns and spread mountain-haunting lilies upon my couch,