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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=535418" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>From “Myrtis”</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=535418" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">FRIENDS, whom she look’d at blandly from her couch<br>And her white wrist above it, gem-bedew’d,<br>Were arguing with Pentheusa: she had heard<br>Report of Creon’s death, whom years before<br>She listen’d to, well-pleas’d; and sighs arose; <br>For sighs full often fondle with reproofs<br>And will be fondled by them. When I came<br>After the rest to visit her, she said,<br>“Myrtis! how kind! Who better knows than thou<br>The pangs of love? and my first love was he!” <br>Tell me (if ever, Eros! are reveal’d<br>Thy secrets to the earth) have they been true<br>To any love who speak about the first?<br>What! shall these holier lights, like twinkling stars<br>In the few hours assign’d them, change their place, <br>And, when comes ampler splendor, disappear?<br>Idler I am, and pardon, not reply,<br>Implore from thee, thus question’d; well I know<br>Thou strikest, like Olympian Jove, but once.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Walter+Savage+Landor">Walter Savage Landor</a></strong></div>