Classic Poem

This shepherdess
serene of gaze,
charm of the grove,
envy of the sky,

she whose eye smote,
whose lock ensnared,
the Shepherd of
the supernal fire.

To whom her lover
was myrrh a space
in the bower
of her white breasts.

She who in rich
apparel adorns
the cedarn house,
the flowery bed.

She who made boast
her dusky hue
was kindled by
the Phoebean rays.

For whom her Spouse
in ardent vigil
sped his way
o'er hill and dale.

She soft of speech
from whose fair lips
nectar, milk
and honey flow.

She who would know
with anxious love
where her Spouse
grazes his lambs.

To whom her lover,
generous and fond,
from Libanus sweetly
suppliant calls.

To enjoy the arms
of her loving lord,
she leaves the low vale
for the lofty mount.

The sacred shepherds
of eternal Olympus
hail her coming
with dulcet song.

But those of the vale,
as they watch her fly,
utter sudden
troubled murmurs.