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| Henri Duhem Portrait of Marie Duhem 1898 watercolor on paper Musée de la Chartreuse, Douai |
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| Marie Bermond Woman in a Park ca. 1895 oil on canvas Musée des Beaux-Arts de Gaillac |
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| Julius Victor Berger Girl in Villa Garden 1900 oil on panel Belvedere Museum, Vienna |
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| Gabriel Deluc The Lake 1912 oil on canvas Musée Bonnat-Helleu, Bayonne |
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| Maximilien Luce Le Vagabond 1901 oil on canvas Kröller-Müller Museum, Otterlo, Netherlands |
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| Pierre Magnan-Bernard Summer Morning in Provence 1929 oil on canvas Musée des Beaux-Arts de Gaillac |
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| Louis Castelli Young Woman with a Guitar in a Landscape ca. 1830 oil on canvas Galerie Neue Meister (Albertinum), Dresden |
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| Ary Scheffer Medora on the Rock (illustration to Byron's Corsair) 1833 oil on canvas Dordrechts Museum, Netherlands |
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| Edvard Munch The Lonely One 1897 color mezzotint Kupferstichkabinett, Staatliche Museen zu Berlin |
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| Jacques-Nicolas Paillot de Montabert Diana and Endymion ca. 1810 oil on canvas Musée Saint-Loup, Troyes |
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| Georges Seurat Study for Bathers at Asnières 1883 oil on panel National Gallery, London |
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| Bernard Picart Narcissus 1733 etching and engraving Städtisches Museum, Braunschweig |
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| Wilhelm von Gloeden Taormina ca. 1895 albumen print Moderna Museet, Stockholm |
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| Giulio Campagnola Young Shepherd before 1515 engraving Graphische Sammlung Albertina, Vienna |
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| Börje Almquist Awakening 1981 photogravure Moderna Museet, Stockholm |
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| Eli To Hovden Høneblund 2001 lithograph Stortingets Kunstsamling, Oslo |
Vine, dost thou fear the setting of the Pleiads in the west, that thou hastenest to shed thy leaves on the ground? Tarry till sweet sleep fall on Antileon beneath thee; tarry till then, bestower of all favours on the fair.
There is, I swear it by Pan, yes, by Dionysus, there is some fire hidden here under the embers. I mistrust me. Embrace me not, I entreat thee. Often a tranquil stream secretly eats away a wall at its base. Therefore now too I fear, Menexenus, lest this silent crawler find his way into me and cast me into love.
When I saw Archestratus the fair I said, so help me Hermes I did, that he was not fair; for he seemed not passing fair to me. I had but spoken the word and Nemesis struck me, and at once I lay in the flames and Zeus, in the guise of a boy, rained his lightning on me. Shall I beseech the boy or the goddess for mercy? But to me the boy is greater than the goddess. Let Nemesis go her way.
Why weepest thou, O stealer of the wits? Why hast thou cast away thy savage bow and arrows, folding thy pair of outstretched wings? Doth Myiscus, ill to combat, burn thee, too, with his eyes? How hard it has been for thee to learn by suffering what evil thou wast wont to do of old!
I caught the fawn and lost him; I, who had taken countless pains and set up the nets and stakes, go away empty-handed, but they who toiled not carry off my quarry, O Love. May thy wrath be heavy upon them.
Dexionicus, having caught a blackbird with lime under a green plane-tree, held it by the wings, and it, the holy bird,* screamed complaining. But I, dear Love, and ye blooming Graces, would fain be even a thrush or a blackbird, so that in his hand I might pour forth my voice and sweet tears.
– from Book XII (Strato's Musa Puerilis) in the Greek Anthology, translated and edited by W.R. Paton (1917)
*holy because it is a singing bird