Heu misere exagitans immiti corde furores
sancte puer , curis hominum qui gaudia misces ,
quaeque regis Golgos quaeque Idalium frondosum ,
qualibus incensam iactastis mente puellam
fluctibus , in flavo saepe hospite suspirantem !
Quantos illa tulit languenti corde timores !
Quanto saepe magis fulgore expalluit auri ,
cum saevum cupiens contra contendere monstrum
aut mortem appeteret Theseus aut praemia laudis !
Non ingrata tamen frustra munuscula divis
Promittens tacito succepit vota labello .
Oh ! Sadly , the boy drives out cruel rage from hearts ,
whom which mixes man ' s pain and with joy ,
And you , the one whom rules Golgos and leafy/luscious Idalia ,
Which burning , shakes the girls flowing mind ,
On always golden and sighing guest !
How many fears that girl’s tired heart has !
How many she , with brightness , always turns pale like gold ,
As Theseus went against the savage monster
Either death seeking Theseus or first praise !
No unpleasant divine presents yet
Are promised from her closed lips
Ah sadly the Boy incites inexorable passion
in chaste hearts , he who mixes joy and pains for mortals ,
and she who rules Golgos and leafy Idalia ,
even she , who shakes the mind of a smitten girl ,
Often sighing for a blonde-haired stranger !
How many fears the girl suffers in her weak heart !
How often she grows pallid : more so than pale gold .
As Theseus went off eager to fight the savage monster
either death approached or fame’s reward !
Promising small gifts , not unwelcome or in vain ,
She made her prayers to the gods with closed lips .