r forth with hallowing tear Assyrian incense where my ashes rest.
Nor Delia, who, before she said adieu, Asked omens fair at every potent shrine. Thrice did the ministrants give blessings true, The thrice-cast lot returned the lucky sign.
All promised safe return; but she had fears And doubting sorrows, which implored my stay; While I, though all was ready, dried her tears, And found fresh pretext for one more delay.
An evil bird, I cried, did near me flit, Or luckless portent thrust my plans aside; Or Saturn's day, unhallowed and unfit, Forbade a journey from my Delia's side.
Full oft, when starting on the fatal track, My stumbling feet foretold unhappy hours: Ah! he who journeys when love calls him back, Should know he disobeys celestial powers!
Help me, great Goddess! For thy healing power The votive tablets on thy shrine display. See Delia there outwatch the midnight hour, Sitting, white-stoled, until the dawn of day!