Great Cypris stood beside me, while still I slumbered, 
and with her beautiful hand she led the child Love, 
whose head was earthward bowed. This word she spake to me, 
"Dear herdsman, prithee take Love, and teach him to sing." 
So said she, and departed, and I -- my store of pastoral song 
I taught to Love, in my innocence, as if he had been fain to learn. 
I taught him how the cross-flute was invented by Pan,
and the flute by Athene, and by Hermes the tortoise-shell lyre,
and the harp by sweet Apollo. All these things I taught him 
as best I might; but he, not heeding my words, himself 
would sing me ditties of love, and taught me the desires 
of mortals and immortals, and all the deeds of his mother. 
And I clean forgot the lore I was teaching to Love, 
but what Love taught me, and his love ditties, I learned them all.