Book V, 222: To a harp-player and tragic actress called Ariadne

Whenever she strikes her harp with the plectrum, it seems to be the echo of Terpsichore’s strings, and if she tunes her voice to the high tragic strain, it is the hum of Melpomene that she reproduces. Were there a new contest for beauty too, Cypris herself were more likely to lose the prize than she, and Paris would revise his judgement. But hush! let us keep it to our own selves, lest Bacchus overhear and long for the embraces of this Ariadne too.