Thine elder that I am, thou must not cling

    XXX

    Πόλυ πάκτιδος ἀδυμελεστέρα, χρύσω χρυσοτέρα·

    THINE elder that I am, thou must not cling 
    To me, nor mournful for my love entreat : 
    And yet, Alcaeus, as the sudden spring 
    Is love, yea, and to veiled Demetia sweet. 

    Sweeter than tone of harp, more gold than gold 
    Is thy young voice to me ; yet, ah, the pain 
    To learn I am beloved now I am old, 
    Who, in my youth, loved, as thou must, in vain.