robe; which I
    Shred thus, and cast it on the raging flames. 
    Ah baleful Love! why, like the marsh-born leech,
    Cling to my flesh, and drain my dark veins dry?
      Turn, magic wheel, draw homeward him I love. 
    From a crushed eft tomorrow he shall drink
    Death!  But now, Thestylis, take these herbs and smear
    That threshold o’er, whereto at heart I cling
    Still, still—­albeit he thinks scorn of me—­
    And spit, and say, ‘’Tis Delphis’ bones I smear.’
      Turn, magic wheel, draw homeward him I love.

[Exit Thestylis.

Now, all alone, I’ll weep a love whence sprung
When born?  Who wrought my sorrow?  Anaxo came,
Her basket in her hand, to Artemis’ grove. 
Bound for the festival, troops of forest beasts
Stood round, and in the midst a lioness.
Bethink thee, mistress Moon, whence came my love. 
Theucharidas’ slave, my Thracian nurse now dead
Then my near neighbour, prayed me and implored
To see the pageant:  I, the poor doomed thing,
Went with her, trailing a fine silken train,
And gathering round me Clearista’s robe.
Bethink thee, mistress Moon, whence came my love. 
Now, the mid-highway reached by Lycon’s farm,
Delphis and Eudamippus passed me by. 
With beards as lustrous as the woodbine’s gold
And breasts more sheeny than thyself, O Moon,
Fresh from the wrestler’s glorious toil they came.
Bethink thee, mistress Moon, whence came my love. 
I saw, I raved, smit (weakling) to my heart. 
My beauty withered, and I cared no more
For all that pomp; and how I gained my home
I know not:  some strange fever wasted me. 
Ten nights and days I lay upon my bed.
Bethink thee, mistress Moon, whence came my love. 
And wan became my flesh, as ’t had been dyed,
And all my hair streamed off, and there was left
But bones and skin.  Whose threshold crossed I not,
Or missed what grandam’s hut who dealt in charms? 
For no light thing was this, and time sped on.
Bethink thee, mistress Moon, whence came my love. 
At last I spake the truth to that my maid: 
“Seek, an thou canst, some cure for my sore pain. 
Alas, I am all the Mindian’s!  But begone,
And watch by Timagetus’ wrestling-school: 
There doth he haunt, there soothly take his rest.
Bethink thee, mistress Moon, whence came my love. 
“Find him alone:  nod softly:  say, ‘she waits’;
And bring him.”  So I spake:  she went her way,
And brought the lustrous-limbed one to my roof. 
And I, the instant I beheld him step
Lightfooted o’er the threshold of my door,
(Bethink thee, mistress Moon, whence came my love,)
Became all cold like snow, and from my brow
Brake the damp dewdrops:  utterance I had none,
Not e’en such utterance as a babe may make
That babbles to its mother in its dreams;