Why should I praise thee, blissful Aphrodite?

    XXIV

     

    Ψάπφοι, τί τὰν πολύολβον Ἀφροδιταν;

    WHY should I praise thee, blissful Aphrodite ? 
         Wrong hast thou wrought 
    Thy Sappho, thy flower-weaving one, who brought 
    The fair, white goat, and poured the milky bowl, 
         Using thy mighty, 
    Malignant craft to baulk me of m y goal; 
         Though all my days 
    And starless nights I crown thee with my lays : 
         Why should I praise, 
    Why should I praise thee, blissful Aphrodite ? 

    Why should I praise thee, blissful Aphrodite ? 
         Thou dost not guide, 
    Rather with conflict dire my mind divide ; 
    For me the trembling boy grows honey-pale, 
         While for the mighty 
    Fervours of Phaon's breast, without avail, 
         My mad heart prays. 
    Win him, O Queen, who shunned to seek my gaze ! 
         Then will I praise, 
    Then will I praise thee, blissful Aphrodite.