Love
Book XVI, 199: On the Same
Translated by W. R. Paton (1916–18) · From The Greek Anthology (Loeb, vol. V, 1918)
Weep and moan, thou artful schemer, the sinews of thy hands made fast: thou hast thy desert. None will untie thee; make not those piteous faces; for thou thyself, Love, didst wring the tears from other eyes, and piercing the heart with thy bitter darts, didst instil the venom of desire that takes fast hold. The woes of mortals are thy sport. Thou hast suffered what thou hast done. An excellent thing is justice.
This translation is printed as prose in its source edition.
Cite this poem
MLA
Mytilene, Crinagoras of. “Book XVI, 199: On the Same.” Translated by W. R. Paton. Poetry Codex, poetrycodex.com/poem/crinagoras/49/.
Chicago
Mytilene, Crinagoras of. “Book XVI, 199: On the Same.” Translated by W. R. Paton. Poetry Codex. https://poetrycodex.com/poem/crinagoras/49/.
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