Difference between revisions of "Archons (Ownage)"
| Line 1: | Line 1: | ||
Anactoria, Atthis, Andromeda, Mnasidika, Eranna | Anactoria, Atthis, Andromeda, Mnasidika, Eranna | ||
| − | == Anactoria == | + | == Anactoria/Anaktoria == |
| − | |||
Thus quickly is bent the will of that woman<br> | Thus quickly is bent the will of that woman<br> | ||
To whom things near and dear seem to be nothing.<br> | To whom things near and dear seem to be nothing.<br> | ||
| Line 9: | Line 8: | ||
If she were with you. | If she were with you. | ||
| − | + | == Atthis == | |
| + | |||
But to thee, Atthis, the thought of me is hateful; thou fliest to Andromeda. | But to thee, Atthis, the thought of me is hateful; thou fliest to Andromeda. | ||
| − | + | == Mnasidica/Mnasidika == | |
More shapely is Mnasidica, than gentle Gyrinno. | More shapely is Mnasidica, than gentle Gyrinno. | ||
| Line 31: | Line 31: | ||
the beautiful girl: her dress<br> | the beautiful girl: her dress<br> | ||
excited you when you saw it, | excited you when you saw it, | ||
| + | |||
| + | == Timas == | ||
| + | |||
| + | Here rests the dust of Timas who, unwed,<br> | ||
| + | Passed the dark portals of Persephone.<br> | ||
| + | With sharpened metal, when her spirit fled,<br> | ||
| + | Her mourning friends each shore her fair-tressed head.<br> | ||
Revision as of 20:25, 8 December 2006
Anactoria, Atthis, Andromeda, Mnasidika, Eranna
Anactoria/Anaktoria
Thus quickly is bent the will of that woman
To whom things near and dear seem to be nothing.
So mightest thou fail, My Anactoria,
If she were with you.
Atthis
But to thee, Atthis, the thought of me is hateful; thou fliest to Andromeda.
Mnasidica/Mnasidika
More shapely is Mnasidica, than gentle Gyrinno.
(Fr. 74)
One more scornful than thee, O Eranna, I have never found.
Gongyla
Be kind to me
Gongyla; I ask only
that you wear the cream
white dress when you come
Abanthis, take your lyre and sing
of Gongyla, while desire once again
flutters around
the beautiful girl: her dress
excited you when you saw it,
Timas
Here rests the dust of Timas who, unwed,
Passed the dark portals of Persephone.
With sharpened metal, when her spirit fled,
Her mourning friends each shore her fair-tressed head.
