Thea Brennan-Krohn
O mihi clarorum nuptae nunc invideatis,
dilectaeque puellae pueris lepidis,
iucundissimum enim quod saepe soletis dare non
tam tenerum quam mi suaviolum pueri.
Cur fles, Briseis, miscens in aequore guttas?
Nam eius lecto non duceris a tenero.
Filia Ledes, mox remea ad patriam sine fletu,
nam Troiam puerum non mihi deserere.
Envy me now, o wives of renowned men
and girls beloved of charming boys,
for the sweetest kiss which you are often accustomed to receive
is not as sweet as the kiss of my boy.
Why do you weep, Briseis, mixing teardrops in the sea?
You are not being led from his soft bed.
Daughter of Leda, return quickly to your fatherland without weeping,
for to leave Troy is not to leave my boy.