Thes. Nay, I have loved thee!
Ari. Thou hast loved, didst say?
Thes. I loved thee well at Crete.
Ari. Lov’st me no more?
Thes. Ah! who can hold the wave upon the shore?
Ari. Thou, if thou wouldst; and, oh! is that the way
Thou speak’st to me, who gave thee, on that day,
My flower of life?
Thes. My ship is ready—sail and oar!…
Ari. Did I not save thee from the Minotaur,—
And wilt thou leave me?
Thes. Who can make love stay? …
Wax is my heart and takes full easily
The last print on ’t. Past love is past recall.
Adieu!… Love has the helm—he guides, not we …
Ari. Beloved Traitor! May thy black sail pall
Deep in the brine, thee, and thy maidens all!…
Ye gods! he leaves me and my babe to be!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem