CHAPTER THE ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY-THIRD.

I called Giton when I had finished my meditation: "Tell me, little brother," I demanded, "tell me, on your honor: Did Ascyltos stay awake until he had exacted his will of you, the night he stole you away from me? Or was he content to spend the night like a chaste widow?" Wiping his eyes the lad, in carefully chosen words took oath that Ascyltos had used no force against him. (The truth of the matter is, that I was so distraught with my own misfortunes that I knew not what I was saying. "Why recall past memories which can only cause pain," said I to myself. I then directed all my energies towards the recovery of my lost manhood. To achieve this I was ready even to devote myself to the gods; accordingly, I went out to invoke the aid of Priapus.) Putting as good a face upon the matter as I could I knelt upon the threshold of his shrine and invoked the God in the following verses:

"Of Bacchus and the nymphs, companion boon,

Whom fair Dione set o'er forests wide

As God: whom Lesbos and green Thasos own

For deity, whom Lydians, far and wide

Adore through all the seasons of the year;

Whose temple in his own Hypaepa placed,

Thou Dryad's joy and Bacchus', hear my prayer!

To thee I come, by no dark blood disgraced,

No shrine, in wicked lust have I profaned;

When I was poor and worn with want, I sinned

Not by intent, a pauper's sin's not banned

As of another! Unto thee I pray

Lift thou the load from off my tortured mind,

Forgive a light offense! When fortune smiles

I'll not thy glory shun and leave behind

Thy worship! Unto thee, a goat that feels

His primest vigor, father of the flocks

Shall come! And suckling pigs, the tender young

Of some fine grunting sow! New wine, in crocks

Shall foam! Thy grateful praises shall be sung

By youths who thrice shall dance around thy shrine

Happy, in youth and full of this year's wine!"