Not caught Ermao net

Her eyes are as splendours that break in the rain at the set of the sun,

But turn from the steps of Campaspe - a Woman to look at and shun!

Dost thou know of the cunning of Beauty? Take heed to thyself and beware

Of the trap in the droop in the raiment - the snare in the folds of the hair!

She is fulgent in flashes of pearl, the breeze with her breathing is sweet,

But fly from the face of the girl - there is death in the fall of her feet!

Is she maiden or marvel of marble? Oh, rather a tigress at wait

To pounce on thy soul for her pastime - a leopard for love or for hate.