10
o'er rocks, through echoing groves, and joy to launch
Cydonian arrows from a Parthian bow.—
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as if my madness could find healing thus,
or that god soften at a mortal's grief!
Now neither Hamadryads, no, nor songs
delight me more: ye woods, away with you!
No pangs of ours can change him; not though we
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in the mid-frost should drink of Hebrus' stream,
and in wet winters face Sithonian snows,
or, when the bark of the tall elm-tree bole
of drought is dying, should, under Cancer's Sign,
in Aethiopian deserts drive our flocks.
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Love conquers all things; yield we too to love!”
