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I am voiceless, yet speaketh my sepulchre for me with voice undying.

If one ask of me, maidens, I lay at your feet what story is mine:—

Aristo to Artemis vowed me in infancy, sanctifying

Her babe—she, Hermoclides' daughter, of old Saonaïades' line.

O Queen of all women, thy servant was she: to her prayers replying

Graciously, deign thou to honour our house with favour benign.

Lo the dust of young Timas. Ere dawned her day of espousals upon her,

Death claimed her: her bridal-bower was Persephone's mansion of gloom.