Ἄλλα, μὴ μεγαλύνεο δακτυλίω πέρι·
COME, Gorgo, put the rug in place,
And passionate recline ;
I love to see thee in thy grace,
Dark, virulent, divine.
But wherefore thus thy proud eyes fix
Upon a jewelled band ?
Art thou so glad the sardonyx
Becomes thy shapely hand ?
Bethink thee ! 'Tis for such as thou
Zeus leaves his lofty seat ;
'Tis at thy beauty's bidding how
Man's mortal life shall fleet ;
Those fairest hands—dost thou forget
Their power to thrill and cling ?
O foolish woman, dost thou set
Thy pride upon a ring ?