Diana lay sleeping in the West,
Her snowy, lissome limbs were bare;
Her robe had slipped adown her breast
And Phoebus, 'raptured, saw her there.
The sleeper felt his look of flame
And restless, tossed her arms with grace;
Awoke - then blushing at her shame
Within her mantle hid her face!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem