Classic Poem

Why weep for him, Asterie, whom, when spring
Begins, clear sunny breezes home to you
Rich with Bithynian bales will bring,
Your Gyges tried and true?

He, shelter driven in Oricus to take
By gales that followed the wild Goat-star's rise,
Passes the winter nights awake,
Tears flowing from his eyes.

Yet comes his hostess' messenger to tell
How Chloe sighs forlorn, how pines her heart
For love all given to you. Full well
The tempter plies his art,

With many a hint how Proetus doomed in haste,
Dupe to his treacherous wife's false charge of crime,
Bellerophon too coldly chaste
To perish ere his time.

Of Peleus too nigh done to death his speech—
Strict youth who from Hippolyta fled away—
Reminds, and guileful tales that teach
From virtue's path to stray.

In vain; more deaf than Icarus' rocks the ear
Of Gyges faithful still. But you too see
Lest young Enipeus dwelling near
Too high in favour be.

Though, when he rides o'er Campus turf his steed,
All eyes he draw with none to rival him,
Nor ever one his match in speed
Down Tuscan Tiber swim,

At nightfall close the house; nor forth be swayed
By sound of plaintive flute to look; and though
Your cruelty he oft upbraid,
No yielding temper show.