Νὺξ μακρὴ καὶ χεῖμα, †μέσην δ’ ἐπὶ Πλειάδα δύνει†·
κἀγὼ πὰρ προθύροις νίσσομαι ὑόμενος,
τρωθεὶς τῆς δολίης κείνης πόθῳ· οὐ γὰρ ἔρωτα
Κύπρις, ἀνιηρὸν δ’ ἐκ πυρὸς ἧκε βέλος.
(Asclepiades, Anth. Pal. 5.189)

It’s a long night, and there’s a storm, and it sets towards the Pleiad (?),
and I’m walking by the outer doors getting drenched with rain,
wounded by desire for that deceptive girl. For Cypris sent
not love but a painful bolt made of fire.
(tr. Alexander Sens)