We bleached the fillet,

Brought the myrtle;

To us the task was set

Of knotting the fine threads of silk:

We fastened the veil,

And over the white foot

Drew on the painted shoe

Steeped in Illyrian crocus.

[11]

Strophe

But of her,

Who can say if she is fair?

For her head is covered over

With her mantle

White on white,

Snow on whiter amaranth,

Snow on hoar-frost,

Snow on snow,

Snow on whitest buds of myrrh.

Antistrophe

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