From a garden of Greek verses edited by Francis Lincoln
Γλύκεια μᾶτερ, οὔ τοι δύναμαι κρέκην τὸν ἴστον,
πόθῳ δάμεισα παῖδος βραδίναν δἰ Ἀφρόδιταν.
Mother, I cannot mind my wheel;
My fingers ache, my lips are dry:
O, if you felt the pain I feel!
But O, who ever felt as I?
No longer could I doubt him true;
All other men may use deceit;
He always said my eyes were blue,
And often swore my lips were sweet.
Walter Savage Landor 1775-1864