Ipsa nymphas diva luco jussit ire myrteo: 
It puer comes puellis.  Nee tamen credi potest
Esse Amorem feriatum, si sagittas vexerit. 30
Ite, nymphae, posuit arma, feriatus est Amor;
Jussus est inermis ire, nudus ire jussus est,
Neu quid arcu, neu sagitta, neu quid igne Iaederet;
Sed tamen nymphse cavete, quod Cupido pulcher est;
Est in armis totus idem quando nudus est Amor! 35

Cras amet qui nunquam amavit; quique amavit eras amet.

Conpari Venus pudore mittit ad te virgines: 

“Go, maidens,” Our Lady commands, “while the myrtle is green in the
    groves,
Take the Boy to your escort.”  “But ah!” cry the maidens, “what trust
    is in Love’s
Keeping holiday too, while he weareth his archery, tools of his
    trade?” 30
“Go! he lays them aside, an apprentice released; ye may wend unafraid. 
See, I bid him disarm, he disarms; mother-naked I bid him to go,
And he goes mother-naked.  What flame can he shoot without arrow or bow?”
Yet beware ye of Cupid, ye maidens!  Beware most of all when he charms
As a child:  for the more he runs naked, the more he’s a strong
    man-at-arms. 35

Now learn ye to love who loved never—­now ye who have loved, love anew!  “Lady Dian”—­Behold how demurely the damsels approach her and sue—­

Una res est quam rogamus:  cede, virgo Delia,
Ut nemus sit incruentum de ferinis stragibus. 
Ipsa vellet ut venires, si deceret virginem:  40
Jam tribus choros videres feriatos noctibus
Congreges inter catervas ire per saltus tuos,
Floreas inter coronas, myrteas inter casas: 
Nee Ceres nee Bacchus absunt, nee poetarum Deus;
De tenente tota nox est pervigilia canticis:  45
Regnet in silvis Dione; tu recede, Delia.
Cras amet qui nunquam amavit; quique amavit cras amet.

Hear Venus her only petition!  Dear maiden of
   Delos, depart! 
Let the forest be bloodless to-day, unmolested the
   roe and the hart! 
Holy huntress, thyself she would bid be her guest, 40
   could thy chastity stoop
To approve of our revels, our dances—­three
   nights that we weave in a troop
Arm-in-arm thro’ thy sanctu’ries whirling, till faint
   and dispersed in the grove
We lie with thy lilies for chaplets, thy myrtles for
   arbours of love: 
And Apollo, with Ceres and Bacchus to chorus—­
   song, harvest, and wine—­
Hymns thee dispossess’d, “’Tis Dione who reigns! 45
   Let Diana resign!”
O, the wonderful nights of Dione! dark bough,
   with her star shining thro’!
Now learn ye to love who loved never—­now ye who have
   loved, love anew!

Jussit Hyblaeis tribunal stare diva floribus;
Praeses ipsa jura dicit, adsederunt Gratiae. 
Hybla, totos funde floras quidquid annus adtulit; 50
Hybla, florum rumpe vestem quantus AEtnae campus est.