Why weep for him whom sweet Favonian airsWill waft next spring, Asteria, back to you,Rich with Bithynia's wares,A lover fond and true,Your Gyges? He, detain'd by stormy stressAt Oricum, about the Goat-star's rise,Cold, wakeful, comfortless,The long night weeping lies.Meantime his lovesick hostess' messengerTalks of the flames that waste poor Chloe's heart(Flames lit for you, not her!)With a besieger's art;Shows how a treacherous woman's lying breathOnce on a time on trustful Proetus wonTo doom to early deathToo chaste Bellerophon;Warns him of Peleus' peril, all but slainFor virtuous scorn of fair Hippolyta,And tells again each taleThat e'er led heart astray.