A Greek Libel

    ARCHILOCHUS.

    Neobule, yesternight
    Saw I thee in beauty dight,
    On thy head a myrtle spray
    Cast its shadow as the day
    By the stars was put to flight.
    Twining on thy temples white
    Roses gave the myrtle light,
    Sign thou wilt not say me nay,
                                Neobule.
    Loosened from its coilèd height
    Streamed thy hair in thy despite
    On thy shoulders soft to stray
    And to bid the bard essay
    Never but of thee to write,
                                Neobule.


    NEOBULE.

    Sorry poet, who dost dare
    Cast bold glances on my hair,
    Let thy most presumptuous eyes
    Seek another enterprise,
    Ceasing now to linger there.
    Hearken, I can tell thee where
    Grow the bushes that will spare
    Rods to teach thee humbler guise,
                                Sorry poet.
    Know I not that I am fair?
    Need thy halting verse declare
    What my mirror daily cries?
    Rid me of thy silly sighs,
    Rid me of thy hateful stare,
                                Sorry poet.


    ARCHILOCHUS.

    Neobule, poets see
    Dreams of things that are to be.
    Vengeance is the poet's trade,
    Come, iambus, to my aid
    'Gainst the fools who scoff at me.
    All the world will laugh with glee
    When they mark my verses free
    Grasp thee like a pillory,
    And thy scorn with scorn repaid,
                                Neobule.
    E'en in death thou canst not flee
    From the doom the Fates decree.
    When my satire's keenest blade
    Cuts thee to the heart, fond maid,
    I shall laugh, but what of thee,
                                Neobule?