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.