No angry voice is heard


    Χρυσοφάη θεράπαιναν Ἀφροδιτάς·

    No angry voice is heard 
    In Aphrodite's train ; 
    Rude speech, it is averred, 
    Meets there with high disdain. 

    Beside her golden throne 
    Reproaches have no place ; 
    Complaint or amorous moan 
    Will scarcely win her grace : 

    But she for hours will hold 
    Persuasion at her feet, 
    Her handmaid bright as gold, 
    Than honey-bee more sweet; 

    And listen how her voice 
    As water flows along, 
    Making the ear rejoice, 
    So like it is to song,

    So voluble, so sure 
    To win and subjugate ; 
    Yet mortals, who endure 
    Love's torments, rail and hate, 

    Detract, and show their spleen, 
    Unmindful of the maid 
    Who , dear to Love's own Queen, 
    Their impotence can aid : 

    For, soon as on their tongue 
    Is laid her beauteous speech, 
    Their rage, their taunts are flung 
    Aside, and they beseech. 

    No maiden is so coy 
    Or heartless as to spurn 
    Tones that invite to joy, 
    That sway, encourage, yearn ; 

    And Aphrodite smiles, 
    Beholding with what speed 
    Her servant's suasive wiles 
    On human lips succeed.