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Oh, I remember when I first eluded you;
You watched the stars till twelve, alert and true.
Perhaps some sweetheart sleeps beside you now? If so,
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Your lot’s a better one than mine, you know.
I’d even welcome shackles and complain no more.
The midnight hours fly; unbar the door.
Am I deceived, or did the door post shake and groan
As hinges turned and made an awful moan?
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I am deceived! The wind just knocked the door ajar,
Then took my hopes and scattered them afar.
But Boreas, young Orithyia once was yours;
Just think of her—and blast these stone-deaf doors.
The still town’s dew collects; soon night will be no more.
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The midnight hours fly; unbar the door.
Now if you don’t, with torch and crowbar, I will smash
Your haughty house and turn it into ash.
Night, Love, and Wine all counsel lack of self-restraint:
Night knows no shame and Love and Wine no taint
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Of fear. But every prayer and threat I’ve tried has failed
To move a man so thick and tightly nailed.
And oh, my darling’s guard: to think that you prevailed,
Who’s better fit to watch and ward the jailed!
Already frosty Lucifer begins to roll;
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The cock cries “Wake and work!” to every soul.
But you, you wretched garland snatched from off my head,
Lie all night long on stone blocks that are dead.
You’ll be the witness in the morning so she’ll know
I spent this faithful, awful night in woe.
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And you, you slave: good-bye, and here’s your Parthian prize:
You held, indifferent to this lover’s cries.
Farewell to rigid threshold, post, and beam as well;
You are this servant’s slaves, and never fell.
I.7
