yourself drawn out from yourself

like the holy serpent,

never forget

in thought or mysterious trance—

I am greatest and least.

Soft are the hands of Love,

soft, soft are his feet;

you who have twined myrtle,

have you brought crocuses,

white as the inner

stript bark of the osier,

have you set

black crocus against the black

locks of another?

[17]

III

Of whom do I speak?

Many the children of gods

but first I take

Bromios, fostering prince,

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