But Bacchus and the skilful Sisters nine
No prophecies possess.
"But of what Fate ordains for times to be
Jove gave me vision. Therefore, minstrel dear!
Receive what my unerring lips decree!
The Cynthian wisdom hear!
"She whom thy love holds dearer than sweet child
Is to a mother's breast, or virgin soft
To longing lover, she for whom thy wild
Prayers vex high Heaven so oft,
"Who worries thee each day, and vainly fills
Dark-mantled sleep with visions that beguile,
Lovely Neaera, theme of all thy quills,
Now elsewhere gives her smile.
"For sighs not thine her fickle passions flame:
For thy chaste house Neaera has no care.
O cruel tribe! O woman, faithless name!
Curse on the false and fair!
"But woo her still! For mutability
Is woman's soul. Fond vows may yet prevail,
Fierce love bears well a woman's cruelty,
Nor at the lash will quail.
"That I did feed Admetus' heifers white
Is no light tale. Upon the lyric string
Nor more could I my joyful notes indite,
Nor with sweet concord sing.
"On oaten pipe I sued the woodland Muse--
I, of Latona and the Thunderer son!
Thou knowst not what love is, if thou refuse
T'endure a cruel one.
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