(_from the Greek of Myrrhine of Mitulene, and Konallis; translated
by Richard Aldington_)
I
Hierocleia, bring hither my silver vine-leaf-carved armlet and the
mirror graven with two Maenads,
For my heart is burned to dust with longing for Konallis;
And this is the silver armlet which pressed into her side when I held
her,
And before this mirror she bound up her golden-hyacinth-curled hair,
sitting in the noon sunlight.