By Heliodora's sandal,
By Demo's tresses bright,
By Anticlea's smiling lips
And eyes of orbèd light,

By dear Timarion's doorway
Fragrant with scented dew,
By Dorothea's garlands
Blooming and ever new,

I swear that Love on me has tried
The sting of every dart:
Empty his quiver: all his shafts
Are buried in my heart.