Those sacred nymphs shall welcome thy return
Who guard the portals of Minerva’s fane
Or speed the current from its murmuring urn:
Choral dances of delight
That prolong the jocund night,
At Hyacinthus’ banquet shalt thou join,
Fair stripling, whom with luckless hand
Unwitting did Apollo slay
At games that crowned the festive day,
Hurling his quoit on the Laconian strand;
To him Jove’s son due honours paid:
At Sparta too, that lovely maid
Shalt thou behold, whom there thou left’st behind,
Still to celibacy consigned.