“I took my lyre and said: come now, my heavenly tortoise shell: become a speaking instrument.”

Death is an ill; ’tis thus the Gods decide: / For had death been a boon, the Gods had died.

I know not what to do, my mind is divided.

Stand and face me, my love,and scatter the grace in your eyes.

The moon has set In a bank of jet That fringes the Western sky, The pleiads seven Have sunk from heaven And the midnight hurries by; My hopes are flown And, alas! alone On my weary couch I lie.

Eros harrows my heart: wild gales sweeping desolate mountains, uprooting oaks.

Raise high the roof-beam, carpenters. Like Ares comes the bridegroom, taller far than a tall man.

Death must be an evil and the gods agree; for why else would they live for ever?

Love – bittersweet, irrepressible – loosens my limbs and I tremble.

Death is an evil; the gods have so judged; had it been good, they would die.

With his venom irresistible and bittersweet that loosener of limbs, Love reptile-like strikes me down

He who is fair to look upon is good, and he who is good will soon be fair also.

Some say an army of horsemen, or infantry, A fleet of ships is the fairest thing On the face of the black earth, but I say It’s what one loves.

How love the limb-loosener sweeps me away.

Mere air, these words, but delicious to hear.

Experience shows us Wealth unchaperoned by Virtue is never an innocuous neighbor.

Hesperus bringing together All that the morning star scattered.