Tale of Archais

P A R T I V FAIRER than woman, blushing at the kiss Of young keen Phoibos, whose lips’ nectar is More fresh than lilies, whose divine embrace Flushes the creamy pallor of her face, And, even in those depths of azure sea Where her eyes dwell, bids them glint amorously, While the intense hushed music of his breath Sighs, till her longing grows divine as death— So, fairer far, drew dawn on Ida’s grove. The young sun rose, whose burning lips of love Kissed the green steeps, whose beamy locks of flame Brushed o’er the dewy pastures, with acclaim Of tuneful thrushes shrill with mountain song, And noise of nightingales, and murmur long— A sigh half-sad, as if remembering earth And all the massy pillars of her girth ; Half-jubilant, as if foreseeing a world Fresher with starlight and with waters pearled,