'
_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.
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