How unhappy are the maidens who with Cupid may not play,Who may never touch the wine-cup, but must tremble all the dayAt an uncle, and the scourging of his tongue!Neobule, there's a robber takes your needle and your thread,Lets the lessons of Minerva run no longer in your head;It is Hebrus, the athletic and the young!O, to see him when anointed he is plunging in the flood!What a seat he has on horseback! was Bellerophon's as good?As a boxer, as a runner, past compare!When the deer are flying blindly all the open country o'er,He can aim and he can hit them; he can steal upon the boar,As it couches in the thicket unaware.