A Greek Libel

ARCHILOCHUS.         Neobule, yesternight         Saw I thee in beauty dight,         On thy head a myrtle spray         Cast its shadow as the day         By the stars was put to flight.         Twining on thy temples white         Roses gave the myrtle light,         Sign thou wilt not say me nay,                                     Neobule.         Loosened from its coild height         Streamed thy hair in thy despite         On thy shoulders soft to stray         And to bid the bard essay         Never but of thee to write,                                     Neobule.         NEOBULE.         Sorry poet, who dost dare         Cast bold glances on my hair,         Let thy most presumptuous eyes         Seek another enterprise,         Ceasing now to linger there.         Hearken, I can tell thee where         Grow the bushes that will spare         Rods to teach thee humbler guise,                                     Sorry poet.         Know I not that I am fair?         Need thy halting verse declare         What my mirror daily cries?         Rid me of thy silly sighs,         Rid me of thy hateful stare,                                     Sorry poet.         ARCHILOCHUS.         Neobule, poets see         Dreams of things that are to be.         Vengeance is the poet's trade,         Come, iambus, to my aid         'Gainst the fools who scoff at me.         All the world will laugh with glee         When they mark my verses free         Grasp thee like a pillory,         And thy scorn with scorn repaid,                                     Neobule.         E'en in death thou canst not flee         From the doom the Fates decree.         When my satire's keenest blade         Cuts thee to the heart, fond maid,         I shall laugh, but what of thee,                                     Neobule?