He lifts up both his hands to feel the work,
and wonders if it can be ivory,
because it seems to him more truly flesh,--
his mind refusing to conceive of it
as ivory, he kisses it and feels
his kisses are returned.  And speaking love,
caresses it with loving hands that seem
to make an impress, on the parts they touch,
so real that he fears he then may bruise
her by his eager pressing.  Softest tones
are used each time he speaks to her.  He brings
to her such presents as are surely prized
by sweet girls; such as smooth round pebbles, shells,
and birds, and fragrant flowers of thousand tints,
lilies, and painted balls, and amber tears
of Heliads, which distill from far off trees,--
he drapes her in rich clothing and in gems:
rings on her fingers, a rich necklace round
her neck, pearl pendants on her graceful ears;
and golden ornaments adorn her breast.
All these are beautiful--and she appears
most lovable, if carefully attired,--
or perfect as a statue, unadorned.

He lays her on a bed luxurious, spread
with coverlets of Tyrian purple dye,
and naming her the consort of his couch,
lays her reclining head on the most soft
and downy pillows, trusting she could feel.

The festal day of Venus, known throughout
all Cyprus, now had come, and throngs were there
to celebrate.  Heifers with spreading horns,
all gold-tipped, fell when given the stroke of death
upon their snow-white necks; and frankincense
was smoking on the altars.  There, intent,
Pygmalion stood before an altar, when
his offering had been made; and although he
feared the result, he prayed:  "If it is true,
O Gods, that you can give all things, I pray
to have as my wife--" but, he did not dare
to add "my ivory statue-maid," and said,
"One like my ivory--."  Golden Venus heard,
for she was present at her festival,
and she knew clearly what the prayer had meant.
She gave a sign that her Divinity
favored his plea:  three times the flame leaped high
and brightly in the air.

When he returned,
he went directly to his image-maid,
bent over her, and kissed her many times,
while she was on her couch; and as he kissed,
she seemed to gather some warmth from his lips.
Again he kissed her; and he felt her breast;
the ivory seemed to soften at the touch,
and its firm texture yielded to his hand,
as honey-wax of Mount Hymettus turns
to many shapes when handled in the sun,
and surely softens from each gentle touch.