Where bright Cephissus murm’ring flows

Beside the templed Academe,

Proud Lyce reign’d with cheeks of rose,

And eyes that sham’d the sparkling stream.

A pleasing glance the fair possesst,

And hair that wav’d in nice array;

The trim small foot, the snowy breast,

All charms confirm’d her conscious sway.

But not to honest dreams of love

Her liquorish fancy oft inclin’d,

For with a heart dispos’d to rove,

She look’d for joys of briefer kind.

No sage too grave, no youth too good,

Her greedy melting look to gain;

She lur’d, and left in changeful mood,

Unheeding all th’ inflicted pain.

Wise Agathon had borne her lust,

And broken Straton knew her fire;

Scholars and saints crush’d down to dust

To slake her goatish quick desire.

So tho’ her ruthless acts she hid

In specious cant of sentiment,

Erinys reckon’d what she did,

And not her words of smooth intent.

‘Twas thus when to these garden shades

Young DAMON bent his easy course;

Slim idol of th’ assembled maids,

And master of all wisdom’s force.

‘Twere trite to paint the mingled charms

That set the boy above the crowd;

The godlike height, the muscled arms,

The noble features, fair and proud.

Such graces every poet limns

Who to Apollo tunes his song,

And such a mind wakes all the hymns

That to Athena’s praise belong.

Hot Lyce look’d, and burst to flame,

Enraptur’d with the grace she saw;

Nor did she stay her brutish aim

To blast the mind that rous’d her awe.

Forthwith, her lovers half-dismiss’d,

The fickle wench her plan matur’d;

And with pretended shyness kiss’d

The budding boy she wou’d have lur’d.

Alas for fickle shameless sport!

Not yet have all the gods forborne

To offer wisdom’s safe resort

To lambs they fain wou’d save unshorn.

For comely DAMON’S boyish face

A sharpen’d cynick brain conceal’d,

So that in but a little space

He saw each base design reveal’d.

Each false-drawn sigh he smiling heard,

And feign’d to answer ev’ry kiss;

Yet still with cunning art deferr’d

The moment of expected bliss.

Amongst the garden’s learned few

Was Nea, sweet ancestral friend,

Whose father DAMON’s father knew

In ties of fealty without end.

To this pure maid he spoke betimes,

And told what she already guess’d;

Still more knew she of Lyce’s crimes,

Nor was she slow to name the rest.

Now DAMON, nerv’d to pay at last

This swine-soul’d Circe for the woe

She had on all her lovers cast,

Resolv’d upon a mortal blow.

Down on bright DAMON’S Chian farm

Liv’d Glaber, young but dull of soul,

Who mirror’d DAMON’S outward charm

But lack’d the fire that crown’d the whole.

A shrill-voic’d slave, whose mother’s eyes

Young DAMON’S kin had lov’d to praise;

Whom art had made a greater prize

By methods known to ancient days.

This beauteous lad sharp DAMON brought

To share his villa on the plain;

And sure, they seem’d in one mould wrought,

Tho’ Glaber had an idiot’s brain.

Kept close conceal’d, the idiot slave

On DAMON’S banquet-leavings far’d;

Or sav’ry scraps that Nea gave,

For she alone the secret shar’d.

Then one soft evening Lyce’s arms

About young DAMON slyly crept,

And he agreed to sing her charms

That very night before he slept.

His dog he chain’d far from the gate,

And just ajar he set his door;

Then, leaving Glaber couch’d in state,

His Nea to the priest he bore.

Ionian bards have sweetly told

The joys his afterlife contain’d,

For fifty precious years unroll’d

Where love with him and Nea reign’d.

A sourer Muse in whisper’d tone

Recounts the fate that Lyce knew,

But Dian smiles upon her throne

To see a trollop get her due.

Poor Glaber’s face was scratch’d and torn

When he his kindly master found,

Whilst Lyce fretted all forlorn,

Her pride destroy’d with such a wound.

And when she sought Leucadia’s cliff,

With Sapphic death to purge her sin,

‘Tis said an hundred lovers’ grief

Was temper’d with a wry-fac’d grin.