While the mute stars turn overhead and the owls cry from the cypresses.
XIII
Wandering in tears about the city I came to the dark temple of Priapus;
The tall, naked, scented-tressed priestesses taught me the mysteries,
And I lay between Guathina and Leuke and afterwards Chrusea and Anthea;
But now I worship the god on the mountain slopes, yet not unforgetful of Myrrhine.
XIV
This is the tomb of Konallis; Korinthos was her city and Kleobulina bore her,
Having lain in sweet love with Sesocrates, the son of Menophiles.
I lived three and twenty years, and then sudden sickness bore me to Dis