…Ἔμεθεν δ’ ἔχεισθα λάθαν·
…Ἤ τιν’ ἄλλον
[μᾶλλον] ἀνθρώπων ἔμεθεν φίλησθα·
THOU hast not parted from the sun,
Thou art not dead,
Numbered with fickle ghosts as one
By Hermes led.
Thou still hast breath and memory,
Can'st seek and yearn ;
Yet wholly thou forgettest me,
Or I discern
The truth—thou lov'st another more.
Assuageless pain !
Betake thee to Oblivion's shore !
Wilt thou profane
Love's wine by drinking twice the draught
Of that red tide
We lifted to our lips and quaffed
When side by side ?
To thee let Lethe’s drowsing wave
Its solace give !
I, one bright memory to save,
Will weep and live.