CATULLIAN HENDECASYLLABLES

Hear, my belovéd, an old Milesian story!—

High, and embosom'd in congregated laurels,

Glimmer'd a temple upon a breezy headland;

In the dim distance amid the skiey billows

Rose a fair island; the god of flocks had blest it.

From the far shores of the bleat-resounding island

Oft by the moonlight a little boat came floating,

Came to the sea-cave beneath the breezy headland,

Where amid myrtles a pathway stole in mazes

Up to the groves of the high embosom'd temple.

There in a thicket of dedicated roses,

Oft did a priestess, as lovely as a vision,

Pouring her soul to the son of Cytherea,

Pray him to hover around the slight canoe-boat,

And with invisible pilotage to guide it

Over the dusk wave, until the nightly sailor

Shivering with ecstasy sank upon her bosom.