Art thou, then, vexed at my silence? What shall I speak of? Thou markest
Neither my sorrowful sigh, nor my soft eloquent look.
Only one goddess is able the seal of my lips to unloosen,—
When by Aurora I'm found, slumbering calm on thy breast.
Ah, then my hymn in the ears of the earliest gods shall be chanted.
As the Memnonian form breathed forth sweet secrets in song.
In the twilight of morning to climb to the top of the mountain,—
Thee to salute, kindly star, earliest herald of day,—
And to await, with impatience, the gaze of the ruler of heaven,—
Youthful delight, oh, how oft lurest thou me out in the night!
Oh, ye heralds of day, ye heavenly eyes of my mistress,
Now ye appear, and the sun evermore riseth too soon.
Thou art amazed, and dost point to the ocean. It seems to be burning;
Flame-crested billows in play dart round our nightmoving bark.
Me it astonisheth not,—of the ocean was born Aphrodite,—
Did not a flame, too, proceed from her for us, in her son?
Gleaming the ocean appeared, the beauteous billows were smihng.
