Lift, lover, they long-shadowed eyne!



    Φαίνεταί ϝοι κῆνος·

    LIFT, lover, thy long-shadowed eyne ! 
    Why should thy sleepless lids decline, 
        Thy breast so deeply sigh ? 
    Seek we the shade of yonder pine, 
        'Neath which the river flows ; 
    There we the sweet flower-test will try 
        For healing of thy woes. 

    Thou mourn'st thy maiden's faith is gone ; 
        Stoop for fair-leaved telephilon; 
    Woe, if the petals cleave ! 
    But see ! sharp-struck thy palms upon, 
    They leap, they burst, as shoots a star. 
    Alcaeus, lo ! thou must believe 
        This sign of Love-afar.