The Amores; or, Amours Literally Translated into English Prose, with Copious Notes

The Amores;

or, AMOURS

By Ovid

Literally Translated into English Prose, with Copious Notes, by Henry T. Riley

1885

Book The First.

An Epigram On The Amours.

|We who of late were five books [001] of Naso, are now but three: this work our author has preferred to the former one. Though it should [002] now be no pleasure to thee to read us; still, the labour will be less, the two being removed.

Elegy I.

_He says that he is compelled by Cupid to write of love instead of battles and that the Divinity insists on making each second Hexameter line into a Pentameter._

|I was preparing to write of arms and impetuous warfare in serious numbers, [003] the subject-matter being suited to the measure. [004] The second verse was of equal measure with the first; but Cupid is said to have smiled, and to have abstracted one foot. [005] "Who, cruel boy, has given thee this right over my lines? We poets are the choir of _the Muses,_ the Pierian maids, not thine. What if Venus were to seize the arms of the yellow-haired Minerva, _and_ if the yellow-haired Minerva were to wave the lighted torches _of Love?_ Who would approve of Ceres holding her reign in the woods on the mountain ridges, _or_ of the fields being tilled under the control of the quivered Virgin? Who would arm Phoebus, graceful with his locks, with the sharp spear, while Mars is striking the Aonian lyre? Thy sway, O youth, is great, and far too potent; why, in thy ambition, dost thou attempt a new task? Is that which is everywhere, thine? Is Heliconian Tempe thine? Is even his own lyre hardly safe now for Phoebus? When the new page has made a good beginning in the first line, at that moment does he diminish my energies. [008] I have no subject fitted for _these_ lighter numbers, whether youth, or girl with her flowing locks arranged."

_Thus_ was I complaining; when, at once, his quiver loosened, [009] he selected the arrows made for my destruction; and he stoutly bent upon his knee the curving bow, and said, "Poet, receive a subject on which to sing." Ah wretched me! unerring arrows did that youth possess. I burn; and in my heart, _hitherto_ disengaged, does Love hold sway. _Henceforth_, in six feet [010] let my work commence; in five let it close. Farewell, ye ruthless wars, together with your numbers. My Muse, [011] to eleven feet destined to be attuned, bind with the myrtle of the sea shore thy temples encircled with their yellow _locks_.

Elegy II.

_He says, that being taken captive by Love, he allows Cupid to lead him away in triumph._

|Why shall I say it is, that my bed appears thus hard to me, and that my clothes rest not upon the couch? The night, too, long as it is, have I passed without sleep; and why do the weary bones of my restless body ache? But were I assailed by any flame, I think I should be sensible of it. Or does _Love_ come unawares and cunningly attack in silent ambush? 'Tis so; his little arrows have pierced my heart; and cruel Love is tormenting the breast he has seized.

Am I to yield? Or by struggling _against it_, am I to increase this sudden flame? I must yield; the burden becomes light which is borne contentedly. I have seen the flames increase when agitated by waving the torch; and when no one shook it, I have seen them die away. The galled bulls suffer more blows while at first they refuse the yoke, than those whom experience of the plough avails. The horse which is unbroken bruises his mouth with the hard curb; the one that is acquainted with arms is less sensible of the bit. Love goads more sharply and much more cruelly those who struggle, than those who agree to endure his servitude. Lo! I confess it; I am thy new-made prey, O Cupid; I am extending my conquered hands for thy commands. No war _between us_ is needed; I entreat for peace and for pardon; and no credit shall I be to thee, unarmed, conquered by thy arms. Bind thy locks with myrtle; yoke thy mother's doves; thy stepfather [014] himself will give a chariot which becomes thee. And in the chariot _so_ given thee, thou shalt stand, and with thy skill shalt guide the birds _so_ yoked [015], while the people shout "_Io_ triumphe" [016] aloud. The captured youths and the captive fair shall be led _in triumph_; this procession shall be a splendid triumph for thee. I myself, a recent capture, shall bear my wound _so_ lately made; and with the feelings of a captive shall I endure thy recent chains. Soundness of Understanding shall-be led along with hands bound behind his back, Shame as well, and whatever _beside_ is an enemy to the camp of Love. All things shall stand in awe of thee: towards thee the throng, stretching forth its hands, shall sing "Io triumphe" with loud voice. Caresses shall be thy attendants, Error too, and Madness, a troop that ever follows on thy side. With these for thy soldiers, thou dost overcome both men and Gods; take away from thee these advantages, _and_ thou wilt be helpless. From highest Olympus thy joyous mother will applaud thee in thy triumph, and will sprinkle her roses falling on thy face. While gems bedeck thy wings, _and_ gems thy hair; in thy golden chariot shalt thou go, resplendent thyself with gold. [017]

Then too, (if well I know thee) wilt thou influence not a few; then too, as thou passest by, wilt thou inflict many a wound. Thy arrows (even shouldst thou thyself desire it) cannot be at rest. A glowing flame _ever_ injures by the propinquity of its heat. Just such was Bacchus when the Gangetic land [018] was subdued; thou art the burden of the birds; he was _that_ of the tigers. Therefore, since I may be some portion of thy hallowed triumph, forbear, Conqueror, to expend thy strength on me. Look at the prospering arms of thy kinsman Cæsar; [019] with the same hand with which he conquers does he shield the conquered. [020]

Elegy III.

_He entreats his mistress to return his affection, and shows that he is deserving of her favour._

|I ask for what is just; let the fair who has so lately captivated me, either love me, or let her give me a cause why I should always love her. Alas! too much have I desired; only let her allow herself to be loved; _and then_ Cytherea will have listened to my prayers so numerous. Accept one who will be your servant through lengthened years; accept one who knows how to love with constant attachment. If the great names of ancient ancestors do not recommend me, or if the Equestrian founder of my family [021] _fails to do so_; and _if_ no field of mine is renewed by ploughs innumerable, and each of my parents [022] with frugal spirit limits my expenditure; still Phoebus and his nine companions and the discoverer of the vine may do so; and Love _besides_, who presents me as a gift to you; a fidelity, too that will yield to none, manners above reproach, ingenuousness without guile, and modesty _ever_ able to blush.

A thousand damsels have no charms for me; I am no rover in affection; [023] you will for ever be my choice, if you do but believe me. May it prove my lot to live with you for years as many as the threads of the Sister _Destinies_ shall grant me, and to die with you sorrowing _for me_. Grant me yourself as a delightful theme for my verse; worthy of their matter my lines will flow. Io, frightened by her horns, and she whom the adulterer deceived in _the shape of_ the bird [024] of the stream have a name in song; she, too, who, borne over the seas upon the fictitious bull, held fast the bending horns with her virgin hand. We, too, together shall be celebrated throughout all the world; and my name shall ever be united with thy own.

Elegy IV.

_He instructs his mistress what conduct to-observe in the presence of her husband at a feast to which he has been invited._

_Your_ husband is about to come to the same banquet [026] as ourselves: I pray that it may be the last meal [027] for this husband of yours. And am I then only as a guest to look upon the fair so much beloved? And shall there be another, to take pleasure in being touched _by you?_ And will you, conveniently placed below, be keeping warm the bosom of another? [028] _And_ shall he, when he pleases, be placing his hand upon your neck? Cease to be surprised that the beauteous damsel of Atrax [029] excited the two-formed men to combat when the wine was placed _on table_. No wood is my home, and my limbs adhere not to _those of_ a horse; _yet_ I seem to be hardly able to withhold my hands from you. Learn, however, what must be done by you; and do not give my injunctions to be borne away by the Eastern gales, nor on the warm winds of the South.

Come before your husband; and yet, I do not see what can be done, if you do come first; but still, do come first. [031] When he presses the couch, with modest air you will be going as his companion, to recline by him; _then_ secretly touch my foot. [032] Keep your eye on me, and my nods and the expression of my features; apprehend my secret signs, [033] and yourself return them. Without utterance will I give expression to words by my eyebrows; [034] you shall read words traced by my fingers, words _traced_ in the wine. [035] When the delights of our dalliance recur to your thoughts, press your blooming cheeks [036] with your beauteous finger. If there shall be anything, of which you may be making complaint about me silently in your mind, let your delicate hand reach from the extremity of your ear. When, my life, I shall either do or say aught which shall give you delight, let your ring be continually twisted on your fingers. [037] Take hold of the table with your hand, in the way in which those who are in prayer [038] take hold _of the altar_, when you shall be wishing many an evil for your husband, who so well deserves it. _The cup_ which he has mixed for you, if you are discreet, [039] bid him drink himself; _then_, in a low voice, do you ask the servant [041] for what _wine_ you wish. I will at once take the cup which you have put down; [042] and where you have sipped, on that side will I drink. If, perchance, he shall give you any morsels, of which he has tasted beforehand, reject them _thus_ touched by his mouth. [043] And do not allow him to press your neck, by putting his arms around it; nor recline your gentle head on his unsightly breast. [044] Let not your bosom, or your breasts so close at hand, [045] admit his fingers; _and_ especially allow him to give you no kisses. If you do give him _any_ kisses, I shall be discovered to be your lover, and I shall say, "Those are my own," and shall be laying hands upon him.

Still, this I shall _be able to_ see; but what the clothing carefully conceals, the same will be a cause for me of apprehension full of doubts. Touch not his thigh with yours, and cross not legs with him, and do not unite your delicate foot with his uncouth leg. To my misery, I am apprehensive of many a thing, because many a thing have I done in my wantonness; and I myself am tormented, through fear of my own precedent.

Oft _by joining hands_ beneath the cloth, [048] have my mistress and I forestalled our hurried delights. This, I _am sure_, you will not do _for him_; but that you may not _even_ be supposed to do so, take away the conscious covering [049] from your bosom. Bid your husband drink incessantly, but let there be no kisses with your entreaties; and while he is drinking, if you can, add wine by stealth. [050] If he shall be soundly laid asleep with dozing and wine, circumstances and opportunity will give us _fitting_ counsel. When you shall rise to go home, we all will rise as well; _and_ remember that you walk in the middle rank of the throng. In that rank you will either find me, or be found _by me_; _and_ whatever part of me you can there touch, _mind and_ touch.

Ah wretched me! I have given advice to be good for _but_ a few hours; _then_, at the bidding of night, I am separated from my mistress. At night her husband will lock her in; I, sad with my gushing tears, will follow her as far as I may, even to her obdurate door. _And_ now will he be snatching a kiss; _and_ now not kisses only will he snatch; you will be compelled to grant him that, which by stealth you grant to me. But grant him this (you can do so) with a bad grace, and like one acting by compulsion; let no caresses be heard; and let Venus prove inauspicious. If my wishes avail, I trust, too, that he will find no satisfaction therein; but if otherwise, still at least let it have no delights for you. But, however, whatever luck may attend upon the night, assure me in positive language to-morrow, that you did not dally with him.

Elegy V.

_The beauties of Corinna._

|Twas summer time, [051] and the day had passed the hour of noon; _when_ I threw my limbs to be refreshed on the middle of the couch. A part of the window [053] was thrown open, the other part shut; the light was such as the woods are wont to have; just as the twilight glimmers, when Phoebus is retreating; or _as_ when the night has gone, and still the day is not risen. Such light should be given to the bashful fair, in which coy modesty may hope to have concealment.

Behold! Corinna [054] came, clothed in a tunic [055] hanging loose, her flowing hair [056] covering her white neck.

Beauteous Semiramis [057] is said to have entered her chamber, and Lais, [058] beloved by many a hero. I drew aside the tunic; in its thinness [059] it was but a small impediment; still, to be covered with the tunic did she strive; and, as she struggled as though she was not desirous to conquer, without difficulty was she overcome, through betrayal of herself. When, her clothing laid aside, she stood before my eyes, throughout her whole body nowhere was there a blemish. What shoulders, what arms I _both_ saw and touched! The contour of her breast, how formed was it to be pressed! How smooth her stomach beneath her faultless bosom! How full and how beauteous her sides! How plump with youthfulness the thigh! _But_ why enlarge on every point? Nothing did I behold not worthy of praise; and I pressed her person even to my own.

The rest, who knows not? Wearied, we both reclined. May such a midday often prove my lot.

Elegy VI.

_He entreats the porter to open to him the door of his mistress's house._

Porter, fastened (_and_ how unworthily!) with the cruel fetter, [060] throw open the stubborn door with its turning hinge. What I ask, is but a trifle; let the door, half-opened, admit me sideways with its narrow passage. Protracted Love has made my body thin for such an emergency, and by diminishing my bulk, has rendered my limbs _quite_ supple.'Tis he who shows me how to go softly amid the watches of the keepers; [062] 'tis he directs my feet that meet no harm. But, at one time, I used to be afraid of the night and imaginary ghosts; _and_ I used to be surprised if any one was about to go in the dark: Cupid, with his graceful mother, laughed, so that I could hear him, and he softly said, "Thou too wilt become bold." Without delay, love came _upon me_; then, I feared not spectres that flit by night, [063] or hands uplifted for my destruction.

I only fear you, _thus_ too tardy; you alone do I court; you hold the lightning by which you can effect my destruction. Look (and that you may see, loosen the obdurate bars) how the door has been made wet with my tears. At all events, 'twas I, who, when, your garment laid aside, you stood ready for the whip, [064] spoke in your behalf to your mistress as you were trembling. Does then, (O shocking thought!) the credit which once prevailed in your behalf, now fail to prevail in my own favour? Give a return for my kindness; you may _now_ be grateful. As you wish, [065] the hours of the night pass on; [066] from the door-post [067] strike away the bar. Strike it away then may you one day be liberated from your long fetters and may the water of the slave [068] be not for ever drunk of by you. Hard-hearted porter! you hear me, as I implore in vain; the door, supported by its hard oaken _posts_, is still unmoved. Let the protection of a closed gate be of value to cities when besieged; _but_ why, in the midst of peace are you dreading warfare? What would you do to an enemy, who thus shut out the lover? The hours of the night pass on; from the door-post strike away the bar.

I am not come attended with soldiers and with arms; I should be alone, if ruthless Love were not here. Him, even if I should desire it, I can never send away; first should I be even severed from my limbs. Love then, and a little wine about my temples, [069] are with me, and the chaplet falling from off my anointed hair. Who is to dread arms _such_ as these? Who may not go out to face them? The hours of the night pass on; from the door-post strike away the bar.

Are you delaying? or does sleep (who but ill befriends the lover) give to the winds my words, as they are repelled from your ear? But, I remember, when formerly I used to avoid you, you were awake, with the stars of the midnight. Perhaps, too, your own mistress is now asleep with you; alas! how much superior _then_ is your fate to my own! And since 'tis so, pass on to me, ye cruel chains. The hours of the night pass on; from the door-post strike away the bar.

Am I mistaken? Or did the door-posts creak with the turning hinge, and did the shaken door give the jarring signal? Yes, I am mistaken; the door was shaken by the boisterous wind. Ah me! how far away has that gust borne my hopes! Boreas, if well thou dost keep in mind the ravished Orithyia, come hither, and with thy blast beat open this relentless door. 'Tis silence throughout all the City; damp with the glassy dew, the hours of the night pass on; from the door-post strike away the bar.

Otherwise I, myself, [073] now better prepared _than you_, with my sword, and with the fire which I am holding in my torch, [074] will scale this arrogant abode. Night, and lore, and wine, [075] are persuasive of no moderation; the first is without shame, Bacchus and Love _are without fear_.

I have expended every method; neither by entreaties nor by threats have I moved you, O _man, even_ more deaf yourself than your door. It becomes you not to watch the threshold of the beauteous fair; of the anxieties of the prison, [076] are you more deserving. And now Lucifer is moving his wheels beset with rime; and the bird is arousing [077] wretched _mortals_ to their work. But, chaplet taken from my locks joyous no longer, be you the livelong night upon this obdurate threshold. You, when in the morning she shall see you _thus_ exposed, will be a witness of my time thus thrown away. _Porter_, whatever your disposition, good bye, and _one day_ experience the pangs of him who is now departing; sluggish one, and worthless in not admitting the lover, fare you well. And you, ye cruel door-posts, with your stubborn threshold; and _you, ye_ doors, equally slaves, [078] hard-hearted blocks of wood, farewell.

Elegy VII.

_He has beaten his mistress, and endeavours to regain her favour._

|Put my hands in manacles (they are deserving of chains), if any friend of mine is present, until all my frenzy has departed. For frenzy has raised my rash arms against my mistress; hurt by my frantic hand, the fair is weeping. In such case could I have done an injury even to my dear parents, or have given unmerciful blows to even the hallowed Gods. Why; did not Ajax, too, [080] the owner of the sevenfold shield, slaughter the flocks that he had caught along the extended plains? And did Orestes, the guilty avenger of his father, the punisher of his mother, dare to ask for weapons against the mystic Goddesses? [081]

And could I then tear her tresses so well arranged; and were not her displaced locks unbecoming to my mistress? Even thus was she beauteous; in such guise they say that the daughter of Schoeneus [082] pursued the wild beasts of Mænalus with her bow. 'Twere more fitting for her face to be pale from the impress of kisses, and for her neck to bear the marks of the toying teeth.

In such guise did the Cretan damsel [083] weep, that the South winds, in their headlong flight, had borne away both the promises and the sails of the forsworn Theseus. Thus, _too_, chaste Minerva, did Cassandra [084] fall in thy temple, except that her locks were bound with the fillet.

Who did not say to me, "You madman!" who did not say _to me_, "You barbarian!" She herself _said_ not a word; her tongue was restrained by timid apprehensions. But still her silent features pronounced my censure; by her tears _and_ by her silent lips did she convict me.

First could I wish that my arms had fallen from off my shoulders; to better purpose could I have parted with a portion of myself. To my own disadvantage had I the strength of a madman; and for my own punishment did I stoutly exert my strength. What do I want with you, ye ministers of death and criminality? Impious hands, submit to the chains, your due. Should I not have been punished had I struck the humblest Roman [085] of the multitude? _And_ shall I have a greater privilege against my mistress? The son of Tydeus has left the worst instance of crime: he was the first to strike a Goddess, [086] I, the second. But less guilty was he; by me, she, whom I asserted to be loved _by me_, was injured; against an enemy the son of Tydeus was infuriate.

Come now, conqueror, prepare your boastful triumphs; bind your locks with laurel, and pay your vows to Jove, and let the multitude, the train, that escorts your chariot, shout aloud, "Io _triumphe!_ by _this_ valiant man has the fair been conquered!" Let the captive, in her sadness, go before with dishevelled locks, pale all over, if her hurt cheeks [087] may allow.

In short, if, after the manner of a swelling torrent, I was impelled, and if impetuous anger did make me its prey; would it not have been enough to have shouted aloud at the trembling girl, and not to have thundered out my threats far too severe? Or else, to my own disgrace, to have torn her tunic from its upper edge down to the middle? Her girdle should, at the middle [089] have come to its aid. But now, in the hardness of my heart, I could dare, seizing her hair on her forehead, to mark her free-born cheeks [090] with my nails. _There_ she stood, amazed, with her features pale and bloodless, just as the marble is cut in the Parian mountains. [091] I saw her fainting limbs, and her palpitating members; just as when the breeze waves the foliage of the poplars; just as the slender reed quivers with the gentle Zephyr; or, as when the surface of the waves is skimmed by the warm South wind. Her tears, too, so long repressed, flowed down her face, just as the water flows from the snow when heaped up.

Then, for the first time, did I begin to be sensible that I was guilty; the tears which she was shedding were _as_ my own blood. Yet, thrice was I ready, suppliantly to throw myself before her feet; thrice did she repel my dreaded hands. But, _dearest,_ do not you hesitate, (_for_ revenge will lessen your grief) at once to attack my face with your nails. Spare not my eyes, nor _yet_ my hair; let anger nerve your hands, weak though they may be.

And that tokens so shocking of my criminality may no longer exist, put your locks, arranged anew, in their proper order. [092]

Elegy VIII.

_He curses a certain procuress, whom he overhears instructing his mistress in the arts of a courtesan._

|There is a certain--(whoever wishes to make acquaintance with a procuress, let him listen.)--There is a certain old hag, Dipsas by name. From fact does she derive [094] her name; never in a sober state does she behold the mother of the swarthy Memnon with her horses of roseate hue. She knows well the magic arts, and the charms of Ææa, [095] and by her skill she turns back to its source [096] the flowing stream. She knows right well what the herbs, what the thrums impelled around the whirling spinning-wheel, [097] _and_ what the venomous exudation [098] from the prurient mare can effect. When she wills it, the clouds are overspread throughout all the sky; when she wills it, the day is bright with a clear atmosphere.

I have beheld (if I may be believed) the stars dripping with blood: the face of the moon was empurpled [099] with gore. I believe that she, transformed, [101] was flying amid the shades of night, and that her hag's carcase was covered with feathers. _This_ I believe, and such is the report. A double pupil, too, [102] sparkles in her eyes, and light proceeds from a twofold eyeball. Forth from the ancient sepulchres she calls our great grandsires, and their grandsires [103] as well; and with her long incantations she cleaves the solid ground. She has made it her occupation to violate the chaste bed; and besides, her tongue is not "wanting in guilty advocacy. Chance made me the witness of her language; in such words was she giving her advice; the twofold doors [105] concealed me.

"You understand, my life, how greatly you yesterday pleased a wealthy young man; _for_ he stopped short, and stood gazing for some time on your face. And whom do you not please? Your beauty is inferior to no one's. _But_ woe is me! your person has not a fitting dress. I _only_ wish you were as well off, as you are distinguished for beauty; if you became rich, I should not be poor. The adverse star of Mars in opposition [106] was unfortunate for you; Mars has gone; now Venus is befriending you with her planet. See now how favourable she is on her approach; a rich lover is sighing for you, and he makes it his care [107] what are your requirements. He has good looks, too, that may compare with your own; if he did not wish to have you at a price, he were worthy himself to be purchased."

_On this the damsel_ blushed: [108] "Blushing," _said the hag_, "suits a faircomplexion indeed; but if you _only_ pretend it, 'tis an advantage; _if_ real, it is wont to be injurious. When, your eyes cast down, [109] you are looking full upon your bosom, each man must _only_ be looked at in the proportion in which he offers. Possibly the sluttish Sabine females, [111] when Tati us was king, were unwilling to be accommodating to more men _than one_. Now-a-days, Mars employs the bravery _of our men_ in foreign warfare; [112] but Venus holds sway in the City of her own Æneas. Enjoy yourselves, my pretty ones; she is chaste, whom nobody has courted; or else, if coyness does not prevent her, she herself is the wooer. Dispel these frowns [113] as well, which you are carrying upon your lofty brow; with those frowns will numerous failings be removed. Penelope used to try [114] the strength of the young men upon the bow; the bow that tested _the strength_ of their sides, was made of horn. Age glides stealthily on, and beguiles us as it flies; just as the swift river glides onward with its flowing waters. Brass grows bright by use; good clothes require to be worn; uninhabited buildings grow white with nasty mould. Unless you entertain _lovers_, beauty _soon_ waxes old, with no one to enjoy it; and _even_ one or two _lovers_ are not sufficiently profitable. From many _of them_, gain is more sure, and not so difficult to be got. An abundant prey falls to the hoary wolves out of a _whole_ flock.

"See now! what does this poet of yours make you a present of besides his last verses? You will read many thousands of them by _this_ new lover. The God himself of poets, graceful in his mantle [116] adorned with gold, strikes the harmonious strings of the gilded lyre. He that shall make you presents, let him be to you greater than great Homer; believe me, it is a noble thing to give. And, if there shall be any one redeemed at a price for his person [117], do not you despise him; the fault of having the foot rubbed with chalk [118] is a mere trifle. Neither let the old-fashioned wax busts about the halls [119] take you in; pack off with your forefathers, you needy lover. Nay more, should [120] one, because he is good-looking, ask for a night without a present; _why_, let him first solicit his own admirer for something to present to you.

"Be less exacting of presents, while you are laying your nets, _for fear_ lest they should escape you: _once_ caught, tease them at your own pleasure. Pretended affection, too, is not a bad thing; let him fancy he is loved; but have you a care that this affection is not all for nothing. Often refuse your favours; sometimes pretend a head-ache; and sometimes there will be Isis [121] to afford a pretext. _But_ soon admit him again; that he may acquire no habits of endurance, and that his love, so often repulsed, may not begin to flag. Let your door be deaf to him who entreats, open to him who brings. Let the lover that is admitted, hear the remarks of him who is excluded. And, as though you were the first injured, sometimes get in a passion with him when injured _by you_. His censure, when counterbalanced by your censure, [127] may wear away. But do you never afford a long duration for anger; prolonged anger frequently produces hatred. Moreover, let your eyes learn, at discretion, to shed tears; and let this cause or that cause your cheeks to be wet. And do not, if you deceive any one, hesitate to be guilty of perjury; Venus lends _but_ a deaf hearing [128] to deceived _lovers_.

"Let a male servant and a crafty handmaid [129] be trained up to their parts; who may instruct him what may be conveniently purchased for you. And let them ask but little for themselves; if they ask a little of many, [130] very soon, great will be the heap from the gleanings. [131] Let your sister, and your mother, and your nurse as well, fleece your admirer. A booty is soon made, that is sought by many hands. When occasions for asking for presents shall fail you, call attention with a cake [132] to your birthday Take care that no one loves you in security, without a rival; love is not very lasting if you remove _all_ rivalry. Let him perceive the traces of _another_ person on the couch; all your neck, too, discoloured by the marks of toying. Especially let him see the presents, which another has sent. If he gives you nothing, the Sacred Street [133] must be talked about. When you have received many things, but yet he has not given you every thing, be continually asking him to lend you something, for you never to return. Let your tongue aid you, and let it conceal your thoughts; [134] caress him, and prove his ruin. [135] Beneath the luscious honey cursed poisons lie concealed. If you observe these precepts, tried by me throughout a long experience; and if the winds and the breezes do not bear away my words; often will you bless me while I live; often will you pray, when I am dead, that in quietude my bones may repose.".

She was in the middle of her speech, when my shadow betrayed me; but my hands with difficulty refrained from tearing her grey scanty locks, and her eyes bleared with wine, and her wrinkled cheeks. May the Gods grant you both no home, [136] and a needy old age; prolonged winters as well, and everlasting thirst.

Elegy IX.

_He tells Atticus that like the soldier, the lover ought to be on his guard and that Love is a species of warfare._

|Every lover is a soldier, and Cupid has a camp of his own; believe me, Atticus, [138] every lover is a soldier. The age which is fitted for war, is suited to love as well. For an old man to be a soldier, is shocking; amorousness in an old man is shocking. The years which [139] generals require in the valiant soldier, the same does the charming fair require in her husband. Both _soldier and lover_ pass sleepless nights; both rest upon the ground. The one watches at the door of his mistress; but the other _at that_ of his general. [140] Long marches are the duty of the soldier; send the fair _far_ away, _and_ the lover will boldly follow her, without a limit _to his endurance_. Over opposing mountains will he go, and rivers swollen with rains; the accumulating snows will he pace.

About to plough the waves, he will not reproach the stormy East winds; nor will he watch for Constellations favourable for scudding over the waves. Who, except either the soldier or the lover, will submit to both the chill of the night, and the snows mingled with the heavy showers? The one is sent as a spy against the hostile foe; the other keeps his eye on his rival, as though upon an enemy. The one lays siege to stubborn cities, the other to the threshold of his obdurate mistress: the one bursts open gates, and the other, doors. [142] Full oft has it answered to attack the enemy when buried in sleep; and to slaughter an unarmed multitude with armed hand. Thus did the fierce troops of the Thracian Rhesus [143] fall; and you, captured steeds, forsook your lord. Full oft do lovers take advantage of the sleep of husbands, and brandish their arms against the slumbering foe. To escape the troops of the sentinels, and the bands of the patrol, is the part _both_ of the soldier, and of the lover always in misery. Mars is wayward, and Venus is uncertain; both the conquered rise again, and those fall whom you would say could never possibly be prostrate.

Whoever, then, has pronounced Love _mere_ slothfulness, let him cease _to love_: [144] to the discerning mind does Love belong. The mighty Achilles is inflamed by the captive Briseis. Trojans, while you may, destroy the Argive resources. Hector used to go to battle _fresh_ from the embraces of Andromache; and it was his wife who placed his helmet on his head. The son of Atreus, the first of _all_ the chiefs, on beholding the daughter of Priam, is said to have been smitten with the dishevelled locks of the raving _prophetess_. [146] Mars, too, when caught, was sensible of the chains wrought at the forge; [147] there was no story better known than his, in all the heavens.

I myself was of slothful habit, and born for a lazy inactivity; [148] the couch and the shade [149] had enervated my mind. Attentions to the charming fair gave a fillip to me, in my indolence; and _Love_ commanded me to serve [150] in his camp. Hence it is that thou seest me active, and waging the warfare by night. Let him who wishes not to become slothful, fall in love.

Elegy X.

_He tells his mistress that she ought not to require presents as a return for her love._

|Such as she, who, borne away from the Eurotas, [151] in the Phrygian ships, was the cause of warfare to her two husbands; such as Leda was, whom her crafty paramour, concealed in his white feathers, deceived under _the form of_ a fictitious bird; such as Amymone [152] used to wander in the parched _fields of_ Argos, when the urn was pressing the locks on the top of her head; such were you; and I was in dread of both the eagle and the bull with respect to you, and whatever _form besides_ Love has created of the mighty Jove.

Now, all fears are gone, and the disease of my mind is cured; and now no longer does that form _of yours_ rivet my eyes. Do you inquire why I am changed? _It is_, because you require presents. This reason does not allow of your pleasing me. So long as you were disinterested, I was in love with your mind together with your person; now, _in my estimation_ your appearance is affected by this blemish on your disposition. Love is both a child and naked; he has years without sordidness, and _he wears_ no clothes, that he may be without concealment. Why do you require the son of Venus to be prostituted at a price? He has no fold in his dress, [153] in which to conceal that price. Neither Venus is suited for cruel arms, nor yet the son of Venus; it befits not such unwarlike Divinities to serve for pay. The courtesan stands for hire to any one at a certain price; and with her submissive body, she seeks for wretched pelf. Still, she curses the tyranny of the avaricious procurer; [154] and she does by compulsion [155] what you are doing of your own free will.

Take, as an example, the cattle, devoid of reason; it were a shocking thing for there to be a finer feeling in the brutes. The mare asks no gift of the horse, nor the cow of the bull; the ram does not woo the ewe, induced by presents. Woman alone takes pleasure in spoils torn from the man; she alone lets out her nights; alone is she on sale, to be hired at a price. She sells, too, _joys_ that delight them both, _and_ which both covet; and she makes it a _matter_ of pay, at what price she herself is to be gratified. Those joys, which are so equally sweet to both, why does the one sell, and _why_ the other buy them? Why must that delight prove a loss to me, to you a gain, for which the female and the male combine with kindred impulse? Witnesses hired dishonestly, [156] sell their perjuries; the chest [157] of the commissioned judge [158] is disgracefully open _for the bribe_.

'Tis a dishonourable thing to defend the wretched criminals with a tongue that is purchased; [159] 'tis a disgrace for a tribunal to make great acquisitions. 'Tis a disgrace for a woman to increase her patrimonial possessions by the profits of her embraces, and to prostitute her beauty for lucre. Thanks are _justly_ due for things obtained without purchase; there are no thanks for an intercourse disgracefully bartered. He who hires, [160] pays all _his due_; the price _once_ paid, he no longer remains a debtor for your acquiescence. Cease, ye beauties, to bargain for pay for your favours. Sordid gains bring no good results. It was not worth her while to bargain for the Sabine bracelets, [161] in order that the arms should crush the head of the sacred maiden. The son pierced [163] with the sword those entrails from which he had sprung, and a simple necklace [164] was the cause of the punishment.

But yet it is not unbecoming for a present to be asked of the wealthy man; he has something to give to her who does ask for a present. Pluck the grapes that hang from the loaded vines; let the fruitful soil of Alcinous [165] afford the apples. Let the needy man proffer duty, zeal, and fidelity; what each one possesses, let him bestow it all upon his mistress. My endowments, too, are in my lines to shig the praises of those fair who deserve them; she, whom I choose, becomes celebrated through my skill. Vestments will rend, gems and gold will spoil; the fame which poesy confers is everlasting.

_Still_ I do not detest giving and revolt at it, but at being asked for a price. Cease to demand it, _and_ I will give you that which I refuse you while you ask.

Elegy XI.

_He begs Nape to deliver his letter to her mistress, and commences by praising her neatness and dexterity, and the interest she has hitherto manifested in his behalf._

|Nape, skilled at binding the straggling locks [166] and arranging them in order, and not deserving to be reckoned [167] among the female slaves; _known_, too, _by experience_ to be successful in the contrivances of the stealthy night, and clever in giving the signals; [168] you who have so oft entreated Corinna, when hesitating, to come to me; who have been found so often faithful by me in my difficulties; take and carry these tablets, [169] so well-filled, [170] this morning to your mistress; and by your diligence dispel _all_ impeding delay. Neither veins of flint, nor hard iron is in your breast, nor have you a simplicity greater than that of your _clever_ class. There is no doubt that you, too, have experienced the bow of Cupid; in my behalf defend the banner of your service. If _Corinna_ asks what I am doing, you will say that I am living in expectation of the night. The wax inscribed with my persuasive hand is carrying the rest.

While I am speaking, time is flying; opportunely give her my tablets, when she is at leisure; but still, make her read them at once. I bid you watch her eyes and her forehead as she reads; from the silent features we may know the future. And _be there_ no delay; when she has read them through, request her to write a long answer; [172] I hate it, when the bleached wax is empty, with a margin on every side. Let her write the lines close as they run, and let the letters traced in the extreme margin long detain my eyes.

_But_ what need is there for wearying her fingers with holding the pen? [175] Let the whole of her letter contain this one word, "Come." Then, I should not delay to crown my victorious tablets with laurel, nor to place them in the midst of the temple of Venus. Beneath them I would inscribe "Naso consecrates these faithful servants of his to Venus; but lately, you were pieces of worthless maple." [176]

Elegy XII.

_He curses the tablets which he has sent, because his mistress has written an answer on them, in which she refuses to grant his request._

|Lament my misfortune; my tablets have returned to me with sad intelligence. Her unlucky letter announces that she cannot _be seen_ to-day. There is something in omens; just now, when she was preparing to go, Napè stopped short, having struck her foot [178] against the threshold. When sent out of doors another time, remember to pass the threshold more carefully, and _like_ a sober woman lift your foot high _enough._

Away with you; obdurate tablets, fatal bits of board; and you wax, as well, crammed with the lines of denial. I doubt the Corsican bee [180] has sent you collected from the blossom of the tall hemlock, beneath its abominable honey.

Besides, you were red, as though you had been thoroughly dyed in vermilion; [181] such a colour is exactly that of blood. Useless bits of board, thrown out in the street, _there_ may you lie; and may the weight of the wheel crush you, as it passes along. I could even prove that he who formed you to shape from the tree, had not the hands of innocence. That tree surely has afforded a gibbet for some wretched neck, _and_ has supplied the dreadful crosses [182] for the executioner. It has given a disgusting shelter to the screeching owls; in its branches it has borne the eggs of the vulture and of the screech-owl. [183] In my madness, have I entrusted my courtship to these, and have I given soft words to be _thus_ carried to my mistress?

These tablets would more becomingly hold the prosy summons, [184] which some judge [185] pronounces, with his sour face.

Elegy XIII.

_He entreats the morning not to hasten on with its usual speed._

|Now over the Ocean does she come from her aged husband _Tithonus_, who, with her yellow locks, brings on the day with her frosty chariot. Whither, Aurora, art thou hastening? Stay; _and_ then may the yearly bird, with its wonted death, honour the shades [189] of thy Memnon, its parent. Now do I delight to recline in the soft arms of my mistress; now, if ever, is she deliciously united to my side. Now, too, slumbers are sound, and now the moisture is cooling the birds, too, are sweetly waronng with their little throats. Whither art thou hastening, hated by the men, detested by the fair? Check thy dewy reins with thy rosy hand. [190]

Before thy rising, the sailor better observes his Constellations; and he wanders not in ignorance, in the midst of the waves. On thy approach, the wayfarer arises, weary though he be; the soldier lays upon his arms the hands used to bear them. Thou art the first to look upon the tillers of the fields laden with the two-pronged fork; thou art the first to summon the lagging oxen to the crooked yoke. 'Tis thou who dost deprive boys of their sleep, and dost hand them over to their masters; [192], that their tender hands may suffer the cruel stripes. [193] 'Tis thou, too, who dost send the man before the vestibule of the attorney, [194] when about to become bail; [195] that he may submit to the great risks of a single word.

Thou art no source of pleasure to the pleader, [198] nor yet to the counsel; for fresh combats each is forced to rise. Thou, when the labours of the females might have had a pause, dost recal the hand of the worker in wool to its task.

All _this_ I could endure; but who could allow the fair to arise _thus_ early, except _the man_ who has no mistress of his own? How often have I wished that night would not make way for thee; and that the stars when put to flight would not fly from thy countenance. Many a time have I wished that either the wind would break thy chariot to pieces, or that thy steed would fall, overtaken by _some_ dense cloud. Remorseless one, whither dost thou hasten? Inasmuch as thy son was black, such was the colour of his mother's heart. What if [199] she had not once burned with passion for Cephalus? Or does she fancy that her escapade was not known? I _only_ wish it was allowed Tithonus to tell of thee; there would not be a more coarse tale in _all_ the heavens. While thou art avoiding him, because he is chilled by length of years, thou dost rise early in the morning from _the bed of_ the old man to thy odious chariot. But if thou wast _only_ holding some Cephalus embraced in thy arms; _then_ wouldst thou be crying out, "Run slowly on, ye horses of the night."

Why should I be punished in my affections, if thy husband does decay through _length of_ years? Wast thou married to the old fellow by my contrivance? See how many hours of sleep the Moon gave [201] to the youth beloved by _her_; and yet her beauty is not inferior to thine. The parent of the Gods himself, that he might not see thee so often, joined two nights together [202] for _the attainment of_ his desires.

I had finished my reproaches; you might be sure she heard them; _for_ she blushed'. However, no later than usual did the day arise.

Elegy XIV.

_His mistress having been in the habit of dyeing her hair with noxious compositions, she has nearly lost it, becoming almost bald. He reminds her of his former advice, and entreats her to abstain from the practice, on which there may be a chance of her recovering it._

|I always used to say; "Do leave off doctoring your hair." [203] _And_ now you have no hair _left_, that you can be dyeing. But, if you had let it alone, what was more plenteous than it? It used to reach down your sides, so far as ever [204] they extend. And besides: Was it not so fine, that you were afraid to dress [205] it; just like the veils [206] which the swarthy Seres use? Or _like_ the thread which the spider draws out with her slender legs, when she fastens her light work beneath the neglected beam? And yet its colour was not black, nor yet was it golden, but though it was neither, it was a mixture of them both. A _colour_, such as the tall cedar has in the moist vallies of craggy Ida, when its bark is stript off.

Besides, it was _quite_ tractable, and falling into a thousand ringlets; and it was the cause of no trouble to you. Neither the bodkin, [208] nor the tooth of the comb _ever_ tore it; your tire woman always had a whole skin. Many a time was it dressed before my eyes; and _yet_, never did the bodkin [210] seized make wounds in her arms. Many a time too, in the morning, her locks not yet arranged, was she lying on the purple couch, with her face half upturned. Then even, unadorned, was she beauteous; as when the Thracian Bacchanal, in her weariness, throws herself carelessly upon the green grass. Still, fine as it was, and just like down, what evils, alas! did her tortured hair endure! How patiently did it submit itself to the iron and the fire; [211] that the curls might become crisp with their twisting circlets. "'Tis a shame," I used to cry, "'tis a shame, to be burning that hair; naturally it is becoming; do, cruel one, be merciful to your own head. Away with all violence from it; it is not _hair_ that deserves to be scorched; the very locks instruct [212] the bodkins when applied."

Those beauteous locks are gone; which Apollo might have longed for, _and_ which Bacchus might have wished to be on his own head. With them I might compare those, which naked Dione is painted [213] as once having held up with her dripping hand. Why are you complaining that hair so badly treated is gone? Why, silly girl, do you lay down the mirror [214] with disconsolate hand? You are not seen to advantage by yourself with eyes accustomed _to your former self._ For you to please, you ought to be forgetful of your _former_ self.

No enchanted herbs of a rival [215] have done you this injury; no treacherous hag has been washing you with Itæmonian water. The effects, too, of no disease have injured you; (far away be all _bad_ omens; [216]) nor has an envious tongue thinned your abundant locks;'twas your own self who gave the prepared poison to your head. Now Germany will be sending [217] for you her captured locks; by the favour of a conquered race you will be adorned. Ah! how many a time will you have to blush, as any one admires your hair; and _then_ you will say, "Now I am receiving praise for a bought commodity! In place of myself, he is now bepraising some Sygambrian girl [218] unknown to me; still, I remember _the time_ when that glory was my own."

Wretch that I am! with difficulty does she restrain her tears; and she covers her face with her hand, having her delicate cheeks suffused with blushes. She is venturing to look at her former locks, _placed_ in her bosom; a treasure, alas! not fitted for that spot. [219]

Calm your feelings with your features; the loss may still be repaired. Before long, you will become beauteous with your natural hair.

Elegy XV.

_He tells the envious that the fame of Poets is immortal, and that theirs is not a life devoted to idleness._

|Why, gnawing Envy, dost thou blame me for years of slothfulness; and _why_ dost thou call poesy the employment of an idle mind? _Thou sayest_ that I do not, after the manner of my ancestors, while vigorous years allow me, seek the prizes of warfare covered with dust; that I do not make myself acquainted with the prosy law, and that I have not let my tongue for hire [221] in the disagreeable courts of justice.

The pursuits of which thou art speaking, are perishable; by me, everlasting fame is sought; that to all time I may be celebrated throughout the whole world. The Mæonian bard [222] will live, so long as Tenedos and Ida [223] shall stand; so long as Simois shall roll down to the sea his rapid waves. The Ascræan, too, [224] will live, so long as the grape shall swell with its juices; [225] so long as the corn shall fall, reaped by the curving sickle. The son of Battus [226] will to all time be sung throughout the whole world; although he is not powerful in genius, in his skill he shows his might. No mischance will _ever_ come to the _tragic_ buskin [227] of Sophocles; with the Sun and Moon Aratus [228] will ever exist. So long as the deceitful slave, [229] the harsh father, the roguish procuress, and the cozening courtesan shall endure, Menander will exist. Ennius, [230] without any _art_, and Accius, [231] with his spirited language, have a name that will perish with no lapse of time.

What age is to be forgetful of Varro, [232] and the first ship _that sailed_, and of the golden fleece sought by the chief, the son of Æson? Then will the verses perish of the sublime Lucretius, [233] when the same day shall give the world to destruction. Tityrus, [234] and the harvests, and the arms of Æneas, will be read of, so long as thou, Rome, [235] shalt be the ruler of the conquered earth. So long as the flames and the bow shall be the arms of Cupid, thy numbers, polished Tibullus, [236] will be repeated. Gallus [237] _will be known_ by the West, and Gallus _known_ by the East, [238] and with Gallus will his Lycoris be known. Though flint-stones, then, _and_ though the share of the enduring plough perish by lapse of time, _yet_ poetry is exempt from death. Let monarchs and the triumphs of monarchs yield to poesy, and let the wealthy shores of the golden Tagus [239] yield.

Let the vulgar throng admire worthless things; let the yellow-haired Apollo supply for me cups filled from the Castalian stream; let me bear, too, on my locks the myrtle that dreads the cold; and let me often be read by the anxious lover. Envy feeds upon the living; after death it is at rest, when his own reward protects each according to his merit. Still then, when the closing fire [240] shall have consumed me, shall I live on; and a great portion of myself will _ever_ be surviving.

Book The Second

Elegy I.

_He says that he is obliged by Cupid to write of Love instead of the Wars, of the Giants, upon which subject he had already commenced._

|This work, also, I, Naso, born among the watery Peligni, [301] have composed, the Poet of my own failings. This work, too, has Love demanded. Afar hence, be afar hence, ye prudish matrons; you are not a fitting audience for my wanton lines. Let the maiden that is not cold, read me in the presence of her betrothed; the inexperienced boy, too, wounded by a passion hitherto unknown; and may some youth, now wounded by the bow by which I am, recognise the conscious symptoms of his flame; and after long wondering, may he exclaim, "Taught by what informant, has this Poet been composing my own story?"

I was (I remember) venturing to sing of the battles of the heavens, and Gyges [302] with his hundred hands; and I had sufficient power of expression; what time the Earth so disgracefully avenged herself, and lofty Ossa, heaped upon Olympus, bore Pelion headlong downwards. Having the clouds in my hands, and wielding the lightnings with Jove, which with success he was to hurl in behalf of his realms of the heavens, my mistress shut her door against me; the lightnings together with Jove did I forsake. Jupiter himself disappeared from my thoughts. Pardon me, O Jove; no aid did thy weapons afford me; the shut door was a more potent thunderbolt than thine. I forthwith resumed the language of endearment and trifling Elegies, those weapons of my own; and gentle words prevailed upon the obdurate door.

Verses bring down [303] the horns of the blood-stained Moon; and they recall the snow-white steeds of the Sun in his career. Through verses do serpents burst, their jaws rent asunder, and the water turned back flows upward to its source. Through verses have doors given way; and by verses [304] was the bar, inserted in the door-post, although 'twas made of oak, overcome. Of what use is the swift Achilles celebrated by me? What can this or that son of Atreus do for me? He, too, who wasted as many of his years in wandering as in warfare? And the wretched Hector, dragged by the Hæmonian steeds? But the charms of the beauteous fair being ofttimes sung, she presents herself to the Poet as the reward of his verse. This great recompense is given; farewell, then, ye illustrious names of heroes; your favour is of no use to me. Ye charming fair, turn your eyes to my lines, which blushing Cupid dictates to me.

Elegy II.

_He has seen a lady walking in the portico of the temple of Apollo, and has sent to know if he may wait upon her. She has replied that it is quite impossible, as the eunuch Bagous is set to watch her. Ovid here addresses Bagous, and endeavours to persuade him to relax his watch over the fair; and shows him how he can do so with safety._

|Bagous, [305] with whom is the duty of watching over your mistress, give me your attention, while I say a few but suitable words to you. Yesterday morning I saw a young lady walking in that portico which contains the choir _of the daughters_ of Danaus. [306] At once, as she pleased me, I sent _to her_, and in my letter I proffered my request; with trembling hand, she answered me, "I cannot." And to my inquiry, why she could not, the cause was announced; _namely_, that your surveillance over your mistress is too strict.

O keeper, if you are wise (believe me _now_), cease to deserve my hatred; every one wishes him gone, of whom he stands in dread. Her husband, too, is not in his senses; for who would toil at taking care of that of which no part is lost, even if you do not watch it? But _still_, in his madness, let him indulge his passion; and let him believe that the object is chaste which pleases universally. By your favour, liberty may by stealth be given to her; that _one day_ she may return to you what you have given her. Are you ready to be a confidant; the mistress is obedient to the slave. You fear to be an accomplice; you may shut your eyes. Does she read a letter by herself; suppose her mother to have sent it. Does a stranger come; bye and bye let him go, [307] _as though_ an _old_ acquaintance. Should she go to visit a sick female friend, who is not sick; in your opinion, let her be unwell. If she shall be a long time at the sacrifice, [308] let not the long waiting tire you; putting your head on your breast, you can snore away. And don't be enquiring what can be going on at _the temple of_ the linen-clad Isis; [309] nor do you stand in any fear _whatever_ of the curving theatres.

An accomplice in the escapade will receive everlasting honour; and what is less trouble than _merely_ to hold your tongue? He is in favour; he turns the house [310] upside down _at his pleasure_, and he feels no stripes; he is omnipotent; the rest, a scrubby lot, are grovelling on. By him, that the real circumstances may be concealed, false ones are coined; and both the masters approve [311] of, what one, _and that the mistress_, Approves of. When the husband has quite contracted his brow, and has pursed up his wrinkles, the caressing fair makes him become just as she pleases. But still, let her sometimes contrive some fault against you even, and let her pretend tears, and call you an executioner. [312] Do you, on the other hand, making some charge which she may easily explain; by a feigned accusation remove all suspicion of the truth. [313] In such case, may your honours, then may your limited savings [314] increase; _only_ do this, and in a short time you shall be a free man.

You behold the chains bound around the necks of informers; [315] the loathsome gaol receives the hearts that are unworthy of belief. In the midst of water Tantalus is in want of water, and catches at the apples as they escape him; 'twas his blabbing tongue caused this. [325] While the keeper appointed by Juno, [326] is watching Io too carefully, he dies before his time; she becomes a Goddess.

I have seen him wearing fetters on his bruised legs, through whom a husband was obliged to know of an intrigue. The punishment was less than his deserts; an unruly tongue was the injury of the two; the husband was grieved; the female suffered the loss of her character. Believe me; accusations are pleasing to no husband, and no one do they delight, even though he should listen to them. If he is indifferent, then you are wasting your information upon ears that care nothing for it; if he dotes _on her_, by your officiousness is he made wretched.

Besides, a faux pas, although discovered, is not so easily proved; she comes _before him_, protected by the prejudices of her judge. Should even he himself see it, still he himself will believe her as she denies it; and he will condemn his own eyesight, and will impose upon himself. Let him _but_ see the tears of his spouse, and he himself will weep, and he will say, "That blabbing fellow shall be punished." How unequal the contest in which you embark! if conquered, stripes are ready for you; _while_ she is reposing in the bosom of the judge.

No crime do we meditate; we meet not for mixing poisons; my hand is not glittering with the drawn sword. We ask that through you we may be enabled to love in safety; what can there be more harmless than these our prayers?

Elegy III.

_He again addresses Bagous, who has proved obdurate to his request, and tries to effect his object by sympathising with his unhappy fate._

|Alas! that, [327] neither man nor woman, you are watching your mistress, and that you cannot experience the mutual transports of love! He who was the first to mutilate boys, [328] ought himself to have suffered those wounds which he made. You would be ready to accommodate, and obliging to those who entreat you, had your own passion been before inflamed by any fair. You were not born for _managing_ the steed, nor _are you_ skilful in valorous arms; for your right hand the warlike spear is not adapted. With these let males meddle; do you resign _all_ manly aspirations; may the standard be borne [329] by you in the cause of your mistress.

Overwhelm her with your favours; her gratitude may be of use to you. If you should miss that, what good fortune will there be for you? She has both beauty, _and_ her years are fitted for dalliance; her charms are not deserving to fade in listless neglect. Ever watchful though you are deemed, _still_ she may deceive you; what two persons will, does not fail of accomplishment. Still, as it is more convenient to try you with our entreaties, we do implore you, while you have _still_ the opportunity of conferring your favours to advantage. [330]

Elegy IV.

_He confesses that he is an universal admirer of the fair sex._

|I would not presume to defend my faulty morals, and to wield deceiving arms in behalf of my frailties. I confess them, if there is any use in confessing one's errors; and now, having confessed, I am foolishly proceeding to my own accusation. I hate _this state_; nor, though I wish, can I be otherwise than what I hate. Alas! how hard it is to bear _a lot_ which you wish to lay aside! For strength and self-control fail me for ruling myself; just like a ship carried along the rapid tide, am I hurried away.

There is no single style of beauty which inflames my passion; there are a hundred causes for me always to be in love.

Is there any fair one that casts down her modest eyes? I am on fire; and that very modesty becomes an ambush against me. Is another one forward; _then_ I am enchanted, because she is not coy; and her liveliness raises all my expectations. If another seems to be prudish, and to imitate the repulsive Sabine dames; [332] I think that she is kindly disposed, but that she conceals it in her stateliness. [333] Or if you are a learned fair, you please me, _thus_ endowed with rare acquirements; or if ignorant, you are charming for your simplicity. Is there one who says that the lines of Callimachus are uncouth in comparison with mine; at once she, to whom I am _so_ pleasing, pleases me. Is there even one who abuses both myself, the Poet, and my lines; I could wish to have her who so abuses me, upon my knee. Does this one walk leisurely, she enchants me with her gait; is another uncouth, still, she may become more gentle, on being more intimate with the other sex.

Because this one sings _so_ sweetly, and modulates her voice [334] with such extreme case, I could wish to steal a kiss from her as she sings. Another is running through the complaining strings with active finger; who could not fall in love with hands so skilled? _And now_, one pleases by her gestures, and moves her arms to time, [335] and moves her graceful sides with languishing art _in the dance_; to say nothing about myself, who am excited on every occasion, put Hippolytus [336] there; he would become a Priapus. You, because you are so tall, equal the Heroines of old; [337] and, of large size, you can fill the entire couch as you lie. Another is active from her shortness; by both I am enchanted; both tall and short suit my taste. Is one unadorned; it occurs what addition there might be if she was adorned. Is one decked out; she sets out her endowments to advantage. The blonde will charm me; the brunette [338] will charm me _too_; a Venus is pleasing, even of a swarthy colour. Does black hair fall upon a neck of snow; Leda was sightly, with her raven locks. Is the hair flaxen; with her saffron locks, Aurora was charming. To every traditional story does my passion adapt itself. A youthful age charms me; _an age_ more mature captivates me; the former is superior in the charms of person, the latter excels in spirit.

In fine, whatever the fair any person approves of in all the City, to all these does my passion aspire.

Elegy V.

_He addresses his mistress, whom he has detected acting falsely towards him._

|Away with thee, quivered Cupid: no passion is of a value so great, that it should so often be my extreme wish to die. It is my wish to die, as oft as I call to mind your guilt. Fair one, born, alas! to be a never-ceasing cause of trouble! It is no tablets rubbed out [339] that discover your doings; no presents stealthily sent reveal your criminality. Oh! would that I might so accuse you, that, _after all_, I could not convict you! Ah wretched me! _and_ why is my case so stare? Happy _the man_ who boldly dares to defend the object which he loves; to whom his mistress is able to say, "I have done nothing _wrong_." Hard-hearted _is he_, and too much does he encourage his own grief, by whom a blood-stained victory is sought in the conviction of the accused.

To my sorrow, in my sober moments, with the wine on table, [342] I myself was witness of your criminality, when you thought I was asleep. I saw you _both_ uttering many an expression by moving your eyebrows; [343] in your nods there was a considerable amount of language. Your eyes were not silent, [344] the table, too, traced over with wine; [345] nor was the language of the fingers wanting; I understood your discourse, [346] which treated of that which it did not appear to do; the words, too, preconcerted to stand for certain meanings. And now, the tables removed, many a guest had gone away; a couple of youths _only_ were _there_ dead drunk. But then I saw you _both_ giving wanton kisses; I am sure that there was billing enough on your part; such, _in fact_, as no sister gives to a brother of correct conduct, but _rather such_ as some voluptuous mistress gives to the eager lover; such as we may suppose that Phoebus did not give to Diana, but that Venus many a time save to her own _dear_ Mars.

"What are you doing?" I cried out; "whither are you taking those transports that belong to me? On what belongs to myself, I will lay the hand of a master, [347] These _delights_ must be in common with you and me, _and_ with me and you; _but_ why does any third person take a share in them?"

This did I say; and what, _besides_, sorrow prompted my tongue to say; but the red blush of shame rose on her conscious features; just as the sky, streaked by the wife of Tithonus, is tinted with red, or the maiden when beheld by her new-made husband; [348] just as the roses are beauteous when mingled among their _encircling_ lilies; or when the Moon is suffering from the enchantment of her steeds; [349] or the Assyrian ivory [350] which the Mæonian woman has stained, [351] that from length of time it may not turn yellow. That complexion _of hers_ was extremely like to these, or to some one of these; and, as it happened, she never was more beauteous _than then_. She looked towards the ground; to look upon the ground, added a charm; sad were her features, in her sorrow was she graceful. I had been tempted to tear her locks just as they were, (and nicely dressed they were) and to make an attack upon her tender cheeks.

When I looked on her face, my strong arms fell powerless; by arms of her own was my mistress defended. I, who the moment before had been so savage, _now_, as a suppliant and of my own accord, entreated that she would give me kisses not inferior _to those given-to my rival_. She smiled, and with heartiness she gave me her best _kisses_; such as might have snatched his three-forked bolts from Jove. To my misery I am _now_ tormented, lest that other person received them in equal perfection; and I hope that those were not of this quality. [352]

Those _kisses,_ too, were far better than those which I taught her; and she seemed to have learned something new. That they were too delightful, is a bad sign; that so lovingly were your lips joined to mine, _and_ mine to yours. And yet, it is not at this alone that I am grieved; I do not only complain that kisses were given; although I do complain as well that they were given; such could never have been taught but on a closer acquaintanceship. I know not who is the master that has received a remuneration so ample.

Elegy VI.

_He laments the death of the parrot which he had given to Corinna._

|The parrot, the imitative bird [353] sent from the Indians of the East, is dead; come in flocks to his obsequies, ye birds. Come, affectionate denizens of air, and beat your breasts with your wings; and with your hard claws disfigure your delicate features. Let your rough feathers be torn in place of your sorrowing hair; instead of the long trumpet, [354] let your songs resound.

Why, Philomela, are you complaining of the cruelty of _Tereus,_ the Ismarian tyrant? _Surely,_ that grievance is worn out by its _length of_ years. Turn your attention to the sad end of a bird so prized. It is is a great cause of sorrow, but, _still,_ that so old. All, who poise yourselves in your career in the liquid air; but you, above the rest, affectionate turtle-dove, [360] lament him. Throughout life there was a firm attachment between you, and your prolonged and lasting friendship endured to the end. What the Phocian youth [361] was to the Argive Orestes, the same, parrot, was the turtle-dove to you, so long as it was allowed _by fate._

But what _matters_ that friendship? What the beauty of your rare plumage? What your voice so ingenious at imitating sounds? What avails it that _ever_ since you were given, you pleased my mistress? Unfortunate pride of _all_ birds, you are indeed laid low. With your feathers you could outvie the green emerald, having your purple beak tinted with the ruddy saffron. There was no bird on earth more skilled at imitating sounds; so prettily [362] did you utter words with your lisping notes.

Through envy, you were snatched away _from us_: you were the cause of no cruel wars; you were a chatterer, and the lover of peaceful concord. See, the quails, amid _all_ their battles, [363] live on; perhaps, too, for that reason, they become old. With a very little you were satisfied; and, through your love of talking, you could not give time to your mouth for much food. A nut was your food, and poppies the cause of sleep; and a drop of pure water used to dispel your thirst. The gluttonous vulture lives on, the kite, too, that forms its circles in the air, and the jackdaw, the foreboder [364] of the shower of rain. The crow, too, lives on, hateful to the armed Minerva; [366] it, indeed, will hardly die after nine ages. [367] The prattling parrot is dead, the mimic of the human voice, sent as a gift from the ends of the earth. What is best, is generally first carried off by greedy hands; what is worthless, fills its _destined_ numbers. [368] Thersites was the witness of the lamented death of him from Phylax; and now Hector became ashes, while his brothers _yet_ lived.

Why should I mention the affectionate prayers of my anxious mistress in your behalf; prayers borne over the seas by the stormy North wind? The seventh day was come, [369] that was doomed to give no morrow; and now stood your Destiny, with her distaff all uncovered. And yet your words did not die away, in your faltering mouth; as you died, your tongue cried aloud, "Corinna, farewell!" [370]

At the foot of the Elysian hill [371] a grove, overshaded with dark holm oaks, and the earth, moist with never-dying grass, is green. If there is any believing in matters of doubt, that is said to be the abode of innocent birds, from which obscene ones are expelled. There range far and wide the guiltless swans; the long-lived Phoenix, too, ever the sole bird _of its kind. There_ the bird itself of Juno unfolds her feathers; the gentle dove gives kisses to its loving mate. Received in this home in the groves, amid these the Parrot attracts the guileless birds by his words. [372]

A sepulchre covers his bones; a sepulchre small as his body; on which a little stone has _this_ inscription, well suited to itself: "From this very tomb [377] I may be judged to have been the favorite of my mistress. I had a tongue more skilled at talking than other birds."

Elegy VII.

_He attempts to convince his mistress, who suspects the contrary, that he is not in love with her handmaid Cypassis._

|Am I then [378] 'to be for ever made the object of accusation by new charges? Though I should conquer, _yet_ I am tired of entering the combat so oft. Do I look up to the _very_ top of the marble theatre, from the multitude, you choose some woman, from whom to receive a cause of grief. Or does some beauteous fair look on me with inexpressive features; you find out that there are secret signs on the features. Do I praise any one; with your nails you attack her ill-starred locks; if I blame any one, you think I am hiding some fault. If my colour is healthy, _then I am pronounced_ to be indifferent towards you; if unhealthy, _then_ I am said to be dying with love for another. But I _only_ wish I was conscious to myself of some fault; those endure punishment with equanimity, who are deserving of it. Now you accuse me without cause; and by believing every thing at random, you yourself forbid your anger to be of any consequence. See how the long-eared ass, [379] in his wretched lot, walks leisurely along, _although_ tyrannized over with everlasting blows.

_And_ lo! a fresh charge; Cypassis, so skilled at tiring, [380] is blamed for having been the supplanter of her mistress. May the Gods prove more favourable, than that if I should have any inclination for a faux pas, a low-born mistress of a despised class should attract me! What free man would wish to have amorous intercourse with a bondwoman, and to embrace a body mangled with the whip? [387] Add, _too_, that she is skilled in arranging your hair, and is a valuable servant to you for the skill of her hands. And would I, forsooth, ask _such a thing_ of a servant, who is so faithful to you? _And_ for why? Only that a refusal might be united to a betrayal? I swear by Venus, and by the bow of the winged boy, that I am accused of a crime which I never committed.

Elegy VIII.

_He wonders how Corinna has discovered his intrigue with Cypassis, her handmaid, and tells the latter how ably he has defended her and himself to her mistress._

|Cypassis, perfect in arranging the hair in a thousand fashions, but deserving to adorn the Goddesses alone; discovered, too, by me, in our delightful intrigue, to be no novice; useful, indeed, to your mistress, but still more serviceable to myself; who, _I wonder_, was the informant of our stolen caresses? "Whence was Corinna made acquainted with your escapade? Is it that I have blushed? Is it that, making a slip in any expression, I have given any guilty sign of our stealthy amours? And have I _not_, too, declared that if any one can commit the sin with a bondwoman, that man must want a sound mind?

The Thessalian was inflamed by the beauty of the captive daughter of Brises; the slave priestess of Phoebus was beloved by the general from Mycenæ. I am not greater than the descendant of Tantalus, nor greater than Achilles; why should I deem that a disgrace to me, which was becoming for monarchs?

But when she fixed her angry eyes upon you, I saw you blushing all over your cheeks. But, if, perchance, you remember, with how much more presence of mind did I myself make oath by the great Godhead of Venus! Do thou, Goddess, do thou order the warm South winds to bear away over the Carpathian ocean [388] the perjuries of a mind unsullied. In return for these services, swarthy Cypassis, [389] give me a sweet reward, your company to-day. Why refuse me, ungrateful one, and why invent new apprehensions? 'Tis enough to have laid one of your superiors under an obligation. But if, in your folly, you refuse me, as the informer, I will tell what has taken place before; and I myself will be the betrayer of my own failing. And I will tell Cypassis, in what spots I have met you, and how often, and in ways how many and what.

Elegy IX.

_To Cupid._

O Cupid, never angered enough against me, O boy, that hast taken up thy abode in my heart! why dost thou torment me, who, _thy_ soldier, have never deserted thy standards? And _why_, in my own camp, am I _thus_ wounded? Why does thy torch burn, thy bow pierce, thy friends? 'Twere a greater glory to conquer those who war _with thee_. Nay more, did not the Hæmonian hero, afterwards, relieve him, when wounded, with his healing aid, whom he had struck with his spear. [390] The hunter follows _the prey_ that flies, that which is caught he leaves behind; and he is ever on the search for still more than he has found. We, a multitude devoted to thee, are _too well_ acquainted with thy arms; _yet_ thy tardy hand slackens against the foe that resists. Of what use is it to be blunting thy barbed darts against bare bones? _for_ Love has left my bones _quite_ bare. Many a man is there free from Love, many a damsel, too, free from Love; from these, with great glory, may a triumph be obtained by thee.

Rome, had she not displayed her strength over the boundless earth, would, even to this day, have been planted thick with cottages of thatch. [391] The invalid soldier is drafted off to the fields [392] that he has received; the horse, when free from the race, [393] is sent into the pastures; the lengthened docks conceal the ship laid up; and the wand of repose [394] is demanded, the sword laid by. It were time for me, too, who have served so oft in love for the fair, now discharged, to be living in quiet.

_And yet_, if any Divinity were to say to me, 'Live on, resigning love I should decline it; so sweet an evil are the fair. When I am quite exhausted, and the passion has faded from my mind, I know not by what perturbation of my wretched feelings I am bewildered. Just as the horse that is hard of mouth bears his master headlong, as he vainly pulls in the reins covered with foam; just as a sudden gale, the land now nearly made, carries out to sea the vessel, as she is entering harbour; so, many a time, does the uncertain gale of Cupid bear me away, and rosy Love resumes his well-known weapons. Pierce me, boy; naked am I exposed to thee, my arms laid aside; hither let thy strength be _directed_: here thy right hand tells _with effect_. Here, as though bidden, do thy arrows now spontaneously come; in comparison to myself, their own quiver is hardly so well known to them.

Wretched is he who endures to rest the whole night, and who calls slumber a great good. Fool, what is slumber but the image of cold death? The Fates will give abundance of time for taking rest.

Only let the words of my deceiving mistress beguile me; in hoping, at least, great joys shall I experience. And sometimes let her use caresses; sometimes let her find fault; oft may I enjoy _the favour_ of my mistress; often may I be repulsed. That Mars is one so dubious, is through thee, his step-son, Cupid; and after thy example does thy step-father wield his arms. Thou art fickle, and much more wavering than thy own wings; and thou both dost give and refuse thy joys at thy uncertain caprice. Still if thou dost listen to me, as I entreat thee, with thy beauteous mother; hold a sway never to be relinquished in my heart. May the damsels, a throng too flighty _by far_, be added to thy realms; then by two peoples wilt thou be revered.

Elegy X.

_He tells Græcinus how he is in love with two mistresses at the same time._

|Thou wast wont to tell me, Græcinus [395] (I remember well), 'twas thou, I am sure, that a person cannot be in love with two females at the same time. Through thee have I been deceived; through thee have I been caught without my arms. [396] Lo! to my shame, I am in love with two at the same moment. Both of them are charming; both most attentive to their dress; in skill, 'tis a matter of doubt, whether the one or the other is superior. That one is more beauteous than this; this one, too, is more beauteous than that; and this one pleases me the most, and that one the most. The one passion and the other fluctuate, like the skiff, [397] impelled by the discordant breezes, and keep me distracted. Why, Erycina, dost thou everlastingly double my pangs? Was not one damsel sufficient for my anxiety? Why add leaves to the trees, why stars to the heavens filled _with them?_ Why additional waters to the vast ocean?

But still this is better, than if I were languishing without a flame; may a life of seriousness be the lot of my foes. May it be the lot of my foes to sleep in the couch of solitude, and to recline their limbs outstretched in the midst of the bed. But, for me, may cruel Love _ever_ disturb my sluggish slumbers; and may I be not the solitary burden of my couch. May my mistress, with no one to hinder it, make me die _with love_, if one is enough to be able to do so; _but_ if one is not enough, _then_ two. Limbs that are thin, [401] but not without strength, may suffice; flesh it is, not sinew that my body is in want of. Delight, too, will give resources for vigour to my sides; through me has no fair ever been deceived. Often, robust through the hours of delicious night, have I proved of stalwart body, even in the mom. Happy the man, who proves the delights of Love? Oh that the Gods would grant that to be the cause of my end!

Let the soldier arm his breast [402] that faces the opposing darts, and with his blood let him purchase eternal fame. Let the greedy man seek wealth; and with forsworn mouth, let the shipwrecked man drink of the seas which he has wearied with ploughing them. But may it be my lot to perish in the service of Love: _and_, when I die, may I depart in the midst of his battles; [403] and may some one say, when weeping at my funeral rites: "Such was a fitting death for his life."

Elegy XI.

_He endeavours to dissuade Corinna from her voyage to Baiæ._

|The pine, cut on the heights of Pelion, was the first to teach the voyage full of danger, as the waves of the ocean wondered: which, boldly amid the meeting rocks, [404] bore away the ram remarkable for his yellow fleece. Oh! would that, overwhelmed, the Argo had drunk of the fatal waves, so that no one might plough the wide main with the oar.

Lo! Corinna flies from both the well-known couch, and the Penates of her home, and prepares to go upon the deceitful paths _of the ocean_. Ah wretched me! why, for you, must I dread the Zephyrs, and the Eastern gales, and the cold Boreas, and the warm wind of the South? There no cities will you admire, _there_ no groves; _ever_ the same is the azure appearance of the perfidious main.

The midst of the ocean has no tiny shells, or tinted pebbles; [405] that is the recreation [406] of the sandy shore. The shore _alone_, ye fair, should be pressed with your marble feet. Thus far is it safe; the rest of _that_ path is full of hazard. And let others tell you of the warfare of the winds: the waves which Scylla infests, or those which Charybdis _haunts_: from what rocky range the deadly Ceraunia projects: in what gulf the Syrtes, or in what Malea [407] lies concealed. Of these let others tell: but do you believe what each of them relates: no storm injures the person who credits them.

After a length of time _only_ is the land beheld once more, when, the cable loosened, the curving ship runs out upon the boundless main: where the anxious sailor dreads the stormy winds, and _sees_ death as near him, as he sees the waves. What if Triton arouses the agitated waves? How parts the colour, then, from all your face! Then you may invoke the gracious stars of the fruitful Leda: [409] and may say, 'Happy she, whom her own _dry_ land receives!'Tis far more safe to lie snug in the couch, [410] to read amusing books, [411] _and_ to sound with one's fingers the Thracian lyre.

But if the headlong gales bear away my unavailing words, still may Galatea be propitious to your ship. The loss of such a damsel, both ye Goddesses, daughters of Nereus, and thou, father of the Nereids, would be a reproach to you. Go, mindful of me, on your way, _soon_ to return with favouring breezes: may that, a stronger gale, fill your sails. Then may the mighty Nereus roll the ocean towards this shore: in this direction may the breezes blow: hither may the tide impel the waves. Do you yourself entreat, that the Zephyrs may come full upon your canvass: do you let out the swelling sails with your own hand.

I shall be the first, from the shore, to see the well-known ship, and I shall exclaim, "'Tis she that carries my Divinities: [412] and I will receive you in my arms, and will ravish, indiscriminately, many a kiss; the victim, promised for your return, shall fall; the soft sand shall be heaped, too, in the form of a couch; and some sand-heap shall be as a table [413] _for us_. There, with wine placed before us, you shall tell many a story, how your bark was nearly overwhelmed in the midst of the waves: and how, while you were hastening to me, you dreaded neither the hours of the dangerous night, nor yet the stormy Southern gales. Though they be fictions, [414] _yet_ all will I believe as truth; why should I not myself encourage what is my own wish? May Lucifer, the most brilliant in the lofty skies, speedily bring me that day, spurring on his steed."

Elegy XII.

_He rejoices in the possession of his mistress, having triumphed over every obstacle._

|Come, triumphant laurels, around my temples; I am victorious: lo! in my bosom Corinna is; she, whom her husband, whom a keeper, whom a door _so_ strong, (so many foes!) were watching, that she might by no stratagem be taken. This victory is deserving of an especial triumph: in which the prize, such as it is, is _gained_ without bloodshed. Not lowly walls, not towns surrounded with diminutive trenches, but a _fair_ damsel has been taken by my contrivance.

When Pergamus fell, conquered in a war of twice five years: [415] out of so many, how great was the share of renown for the son of Atreus? But my glory is undivided, and shared in by no soldier: and no other has the credit of the exploit. Myself the general, myself the troops, I have attained this end of my desires: I, myself, have been the cavalry, I the infantry, I, the standard-bearer _too_. Fortune, too, has mingled no hazard with my feats. Come hither, _then_, thou Triumph, gained by exertions _entirely_ my own.

And the cause [416] of my warfare is no new one; had not the daughter of Tyndarus been carried off, there would have been peace between Europe and Asia. A female disgracefully set the wild Lapithæ and the two-formed race in arms, when the wine circulated. A female again, [417] good Latinus, forced the Trojans to engage in ruthless warfare, in thy realms. 'Twas the females, [421] when even now the City was but new, that sent against the Romans their fathers-in-law, and gave them cruel arms. I have beheld the bulls fighting for a snow-white mate: the heifer, herself the spectator, afforded fresh courage. Me, too, with many others, but still without bloodshed, has Cupid ordered to bear the standard in his service.

Elegy XIII.

_He entreats the aid of Isis and Lucina in behalf of Corinna, in her labour._

|While Corinna, in her imprudence, is trying to disengage the burden of her pregnant womb, exhausted, she lies prostrate in danger of her life. She, in truth, who incurred so great a risk unknown to me, is worthy of my wrath; but anger falls before apprehension. But yet, by me it was that she conceived; or so I think. That is often as a fact to me, which is possible.

Isis, thou who dost [422] inhabit Parætonium, [423] and the genial fields of Canopus, [424] and Memphis, [425] and palm-bearing Pharos, [426] and where the rapid. Nile, discharged from its vast bed, rushes through its seven channels into the ocean waves; by thy 'sistra' [428] do I entreat thee; by the faces, _too_, of revered Anubis; [429] and then may the benignant Osiris [430] ever love thy rites, and may the sluggish serpent [431] ever wreath around thy altars, and may the horned Apis [432] walk in the procession as thy attendant; turn hither thy features, [433] and in one have mercy upon two; for to my mistress wilt thou be giving life, she to me. Full many a time in thy honour has she sat on thy appointed days, [434] on which [435] the throng of the Galli [436] wreathe _themselves_ with thy laurels. [437]

Thou, too, who dost have compassion on the females who are in labour, whose latent burden distends their bodies slowly moving; come, propitious Ilithyia, [438] and listen to my prayers. She is worthy for thee to command to become indebted to thee. I, myself, in white array, will offer frankincense at thy smoking altars; I, myself, will offer before thy feet the gifts that I have vowed. I will add _this_ inscription too; "Naso, for the preservation of Corinna, _offers these_." But if, amid apprehensions so great, I may be allowed to give you advice, let it suffice for you, Corinna, to have struggled in this _one_ combat.

Elegy XIV.

_He reproaches his mistress for having attempted to procure abortion._

|Of what use is it for damsels to live at ease, exempt from war, and not with their bucklers, [439] to have any inclination to follow the bloodstained troops; if, without warfare, they endure wounds from weapons of their own, and arm their imprudent hands for their own destruction? She who was the first to teach how to destroy the tender embryo, was deserving to perish by those arms of her own. That the stomach, forsooth, may be without the reproach of wrinkles, the sand must [440] be lamentably strewed for this struggle of yours.

If the same custom had pleased the matrons of old, through _such_ criminality mankind would have perished; and he would be required, who should again throw stones [441] on the empty earth, for the second time the original of our kind. Who would have destroyed the resources of Priam, if Thetis, the Goddess of the waves, had refused to bear _Achilles_, her due burden? If Ilia had destroyed [442] the twins in her swelling womb, the founder of the all-ruling City would have perished.

If Venus had laid violent hands on Æneas in her pregnant womb, the earth would have been destitute of _its_ Cæsars. You, too, beauteous one, might have died at the moment you might have been born, if your mother had tried the same experiment which you have done. I, myself, though destined as I am, to die a more pleasing death by love, should have beheld no days, had my mother slain me.

Why do you deprive the loaded vine of its growing grapes? And why pluck the sour apples with relentless hand? When ripe, let them fall of their own accord; _once_ put forth, let them grow. Life is no slight reward for a little waiting. Why pierce [443] your own entrails, by applying instruments, and _why_ give dreadful poisons to the _yet_ unborn? People blame the Colchian damsel, stained with the blood of her sons; and they grieve for Itys, Slaughtered by his own mother. Each mother was cruel; but each, for sad reasons, took vengeance on her husband, by shedding their common blood. Tell me what Tereus, or what Jason excites you to pierce your body with an anxious hand?

This neither the tigers do in their Armenian dens, [444] nor does the lioness dare to destroy an offspring of her own. But, delicate females do this, not, however, with impunity; many a time [445] does she die herself, who kills her _offspring_ in the womb. She dies herself, and, with her loosened hair, is borne upon the bier; and those whoever only catch a sight of her, cry "She deserved it." [446] But let these words vanish in the air of the heavens, and may there be no weight in _these_ presages of mine. Ye forgiving Deities, allow her this once to do wrong with safety _to herself_; that is enough; let a second transgression bring _its own_ punishment.

Elegy XV.

_He addresses a ring which he has presented to his mistress, and envi its happy lot._

|O ring, [447] about to encircle the finger of the beauteous fair, in which there is nothing of value but the affection of the giver; go as a pleasing gift; _and_ receiving you with joyous feelings, may she at once place you upon her finger. May you serve her as well as she is constant to me; and nicely fitting, may you embrace her finger in your easy circle. Happy ring, by my mistress will you be handled. To my sorrow, I am now envying my own presents.

O! that I could suddenly be changed into my own present, by the arts of her of Ææa, or of the Carpathian old man! [448] Then could I wish you to touch the bosom of my mistress, and for her to place her left hand within her dress. Though light and fitting well, I would escape from her finger; and loosened by _some_ wondrous contrivance, into her bosom would I fall. I too, _as well_, that I might be able to seal [449] her secret tablets, and that the seal, neither sticky nor dry, might not drag the wax, should first have to touch the lips [450] of the charming fair. Only I would not seal a note, the cause of grief to myself. Should I be given, to be put away in her desk, [459] I would refuse to depart, sticking fast to your fingers with ray contracted circle.

To you, my life, I would never be a cause of disgrace, or a burden which your delicate fingers would refuse to carry. Wear me, when you are bathing your limbs in the tepid stream; and put up with the inconvenience of the water getting beneath the stone. But, I doubt, that _on seeing you_ naked, my passion would be aroused; and that, a ring, I should enact the part of the lover. _But_ why wish for impossibilities? Go, my little gift; let her understand that my constancy is proffered with you.

Elegy XVI.

_He enlarges on the beauties of his native place, where he is now staying; but, notwithstanding the delights of the country, he says that he cannot feel happy in the absence of his mistress, whom he invites to visit him._

|Sulmo, [460] the third part of the Pelignian land, [461] _now_ receives me; a little spot, but salubrious with its flowing streams. Though the Sun should cleave the earth with his approaching rays, and though the oppressive Constellation [462] of the Dog of Icarus should shine, the Pelignian fields are traversed by flowing streams, and the shooting grass is verdant on the soft ground. The earth is fertile in corn, and much more fruitful in the grape; the thin soil [463] produces, too, the olive, that bears its berries. [464] The rivers also trickling amid the shooting blades, the grassy turfs cover the moistened ground.

But my flame is far away. In one word, I am mistaken; she who excites my flame is far off; my flame is here. I would not choose, could I be placed between Pollux and Castor, to be in a portion of the heavens without yourself. Let them lie with their anxious cares, and let them be pressed with the heavy weight of the earth, who have measured out the earth into lengthened tracks. [465] Or else they should have bid the fair to go as the companions of the youths, if the earth must be measured out into lengthened tracks. Then, had I, shivering, had to pace the stormy Alps, [466] the journey would have been pleasant, so that _I had been_ with my love. With my love, I could venture to rush through the Libyan quicksands, and to spread my sails to be borne along by the fitful Southern gales. _Then_, I would not dread the monsters which bark beneath the thigh of the virgin _Scylla_; nor winding Malea, thy bays; nor where Charybdis, sated with ships swallowed up, disgorges them, and sucks up again the water which she has discharged. And if the sway of the winds prevails, and the waves bear away the Deities about to come to our aid; do you throw your snow-white arms around my shoulders; with active body will I support the beauteous burden. The youth who visited Hero, had often swam across the waves; then, too, would he have crossed them, but the way was dark.

But without you, although the fields affording employment with their vines detain me; although the meadows be overflowed by the streams, and _though_ the husbandman invite the obedient stream [467] into channels, and the cool air refresh the foliage of the trees, I should not seem to be among the healthy Peliguians; I _should_ not _seem to be in_ the place of my birth--my paternal fields; but in Scythia, and among the fierce Cilicians, [468] and the Britons _painted_ green, [469] and the rocks which are red with the gore of Prometheus.

The elm loves the vine, [471] the vine forsakes not the elm: why am I _so_ often torn away from my love? But you used to swear, _both_ by myself, and by your eyes, my stars, that you would ever be my companion. The winds and the waves carry away, whither they choose, the empty words of the fair, more worthless than the falling leaves. Still, if there is any affectionate regard in you for me _thus_ deserted: _now_ commence to add deeds to your promises: and forthwith do you, as the nags [472] whirl your little chaise [473] along, shake the reins over their manes at full speed. But you, rugged hills, subside, wherever she shall come; and you paths in the winding vales, be smooth.

Elegy XVII.

_He says that he is the slave of Corinna, and complains of the tyranny which she exercises over him._

|If there shall be any one who thinks it inglorious to serve a damsel: in his opinion I shall be convicted of such baseness. Let me be disgraced; if only she, who possesses Paphos, and Cythera, beaten by the waves, torments me with less violence. And would that I had been the prize, too, of some indulgent mistress; since I was destined to be the prize of some fair. Beauty begets pride; through her charms Corinna is disdainful. Ah wretched me! why is she so well known to herself? Pride, forsooth, is caught from the reflection of the mirror: and _there_ she sees not herself, unless she is first adorned.

If your beauty gives you a sway not too great over all things, face born to fascinate my eyes, still, you ought not, on that account, to despise me comparatively with yourself. That which is inferior must be united with what is great. The Nymph Calypso, seized with passion for a mortal, is believed to have detained the hero against his will. It is believed that the ocean-daughter of Nereus was united to the king of Plithia, [474] _and_ that Egeria was to the just Numa: that Venus was to Vulcan: although, his anvil [475] left, he limped with a distorted foot. This same kind of verse is unequal; but still the heroic is becomingly united [476] with the shorter measure.

You, too, my life, receive me upon any terms. May it become you to impose conditions in the midst of your caresses. I will be no disgrace to you, nor one for you to rejoice at my removal. This affection will not be one to be disavowed by you. [477] May my cheerful lines be to you in place of great wealth: even many a fair wishes to gain fame through me. I know of one who publishes it that she is Corinna. [478] What would she not be ready to give to be so? But neither do the cool Eurotas, and the poplar-bearing Padus, far asunder, roll along the same banks; nor shall any one but yourself be celebrated in my poems. You, alone, shall afford subject-matter for my genius.

Elegy XVIII.

_He tells Macer that he ought to write on Love._

|While thou art tracing thy poem onwards [479] to the wrath of Achilles, and art giving their first arms to the heroes, after taking the oaths; I, Macer, [480] am reposing in the shade of Venus, unused to toil; and tender Love attacks me, when about to attempt a mighty subject. Many a time have I said to my mistress, "At length, away with you:" _and_ forthwith she has seated herself in my lap. Many a time have I said, "I am ashamed _of myself:" when,_ with difficulty, her tears repressed, she has said, "Ah wretched me! Now you are ashamed to love." And _then_ she has thrown her arms around my neck: and has given me a thousand kisses, which _quite_ overpowered me. I am overcome: and my genius is called away from the arms it has assumed; and I _forthwith_ sing the exploits of my home, and my own warfare.

Still did I wield the sceptre: and by my care my Tragedy grew apace; [481] and for this pursuit I was well prepared. Love smiled both at my tragic pall, and my coloured buskins, and the sceptre wielded so well by a private hand. From this pursuit, too, did the influence of my cruel mistress draw me away, and Love triumphed over the Poet with his buskins. As I am allowed _to do_, either I teach the art of tender love, (alas! by my own precepts am I myself tormented:) or I write what was delivered to Ulysses in the words of Penelope, or thy tears, deserted Phyllis. What, _too_, Paris and Macareus, and the ungrateful Jason, and the parent of Hip-polytus, and Hippolytus _himself_ read: and what the wretched Dido says, brandishing the drawn sword, and what the Lesbian mistress of the Æolian lyre.

How swiftly did my friend, Sabinus, return [482] from all quarters of the world, and bring back letters [483] from different spots! The fair Penelope recognized the seal of Ulysses: the stepmother read what was written by her own Hippolytus. Then did the dutiful Æneas write an answer to the afflicted Elissa; and Phyllis, if she only survives, has something to read. The sad letter came to Hypsipyle from Jason: the Lesbian damsel, beloved _by Apollo_, may give the lyre that she has vowed to Phoebus. [484] Nor, Macer, so far as it is safe for a poet who sings of wars, is beauteous Love unsung of by thee, in the midst of warfare. Both Paris is there, and the adultress, the far-famed cause of guilt: and Laodamia, who attends her husband in death. If well I know thee; thou singest not of wars with greater pleasure than these; and from thy own camp thou comest back to mine.

Elegy XIX.

_He tells a husband who does not care for his wife to watch her a little more carefully._

|If, fool, thou dost not need the fair to be well watched; still have her watched for my sake: that I may be pleased with her the more. What one may have is worthless; what one may not have, gives the more edge to the desires. If a man falls in love with that which another permits him _to love_, he is a man without feeling. Let us that love, both hope and fear in equal degree; and let an occasional repulse make room for our desires.

Why should I _think of_ Fortune, should she never care to deceive me? I value nothing that does not sometimes cause me pain. The clever Corinna saw this failing in me; and she cunningly found out the means by which I might be enthralled. Oh, how many a time, feigning a pain in her head [485] that was quite well, has she ordered me, as I lingered with tardy foot, to take my departure! Oh, how many a time has she feigned a fault, and guilty _herself,_ has made there to be an appearance of innocence, just as she pleased! When thus she had tormented me and had rekindled the languid flame, again was she kind and obliging to my wishes. What caresses, what delightful words did she have ready for me! What kisses, ye great Gods, and how many, used she to give me!

You, too, who have so lately ravished my eyes, often stand in dread of treachery, often, when entreated, refuse; and let me, lying prostrate on the threshold before your door-posts, endure the prolonged cold throughout the frosty night. Thus is my love made lasting, and it grows up in lengthened experience; this is for my advantage, this forms food for my affection. A surfeit of love, [486] and facilities too great, become a cause of weariness to me, just as sweet food cloys the appetite. If the brazen tower had never enclosed Danaë, [487] Danaë had never been made a mother by Jove. While Juno is watching Io 'with her curving horns, she becomes still more pleasing to Jove than she has been _before_.

Whoever desires what he may have, and what is easily obtained, let him pluck leaves from the trees, and take water from the ample stream. If any damsel wishes long to hold her sway, let her play with her lover. Alas! that I, myself, am tormented through my own advice. Let _constant_ indulgence be the lot of whom it may, it does injury to me: that which pursues, _from it_ I fly; that which flies, I ever pursue. But do thou, too sure of the beauteous fair, begin now at nightfall to close thy house. Begin to enquire who it is that so often stealthily paces thy threshold? Why, _too_, the dogs bark [488] in the silent night. Whither the careful handmaid is carrying, or whence bringing back, the tablets? Why so oft she lies in her couch apart? Let this anxiety sometimes gnaw into thy very marrow; and give some scope and some opportunity for my stratagems.

If one could fall in love with the wife of a fool, that man could rob the barren sea-shore of its sand. And now I give thee notice; unless thou begin to watch this fair, she shall begin to cease to be a flame of mine. I have put up with much, and that for a long time; I have often hoped that it would come to pass, that I should adroitly deceive thee, when thou hadst watched her well. Thou art careless, and dost endure what should be endured by no husband; but an end there shall be of an amour that is allowed to me. And shall I then, to my sorrow, forsooth, never be forbidden admission? Will it ever be night for me, with no one for an avenger? Am I to dread nothing? Shall I heave no sighs in my sleep? What have I to do with one so easy, what with such a pander of a husband? By thy own faultiness thou dost mar my joys. Why, then, dost thou not choose some one else, for so great long-suffering to please? If it pleases thee for me to be thy rival, forbid me _to be so_.----

Book The Third.

Elegy I.

_The Poet deliberates whether he shall continue to write Elegies, or whether he shall turn to Tragedy._

|There stands an ancient grove, and one uncut for many a year; 'tis worthy of belief that a Deity inhabits that spot. In the midst there is a holy spring, and a grotto arched with pumice; and on every side the birds pour forth their sweet complaints. Here, as I was walking, protected by the shade of the trees, I was considering upon what work my Muse should commence. Elegy came up, having her perfumed hair wreathed; and, if I mistake not, one of her feet was longer _than the other_. [501] Her figure was beauteous; her robe of the humblest texture, her garb that of one in love; the fault of her foot was one cause of her gracefulness.

Ruthless Tragedy, too, came with her mighty stride; on her scowling brow were her locks; her pall swept the ground. Her left hand held aloft the royal sceptre; the Lydian buskin [502] was the high sandal for her feet. And first she spoke; "And when will there be an end of thy loving? O Poet, so slow at thy subject matter! Drunken revels [503] tell of thy wanton course of life; the cross roads, as they divide in their many ways, tell of it. Many a time does a person point with his finger at the Poet as he goes along, and say, 'That, that is the man whom cruel Love torments.' Thou art talked of as the story of the whole City, and yet thou dost not perceive it; while, all shame laid aside, thou art boasting of thy feats. 'Twere time to be influenced, touched by a more mighty inspiration; [505] long enough hast thou delayed; commence a greater task. By thy subject thou dost cramp thy genius; sing of the exploits of heroes; then thou wilt say, 'This is the field that is worthy of my genius.' Thy Muse has sportively indited what the charming fair may sing; and thy early youth has been passed amidst its own numbers. Now may I, Roman Tragedy, gain a celebrity by thy means; thy conceptions will satisfy my requirements."

Thus far _did she speak_; and, supported on her tinted buskins, three or four times she shook her head with its flowing locks. The other one, if rightly I remember, smiled with eyes askance. Am I mistaken, or was there a branch of myrtle in her right hand? "Why, haughty Tragedy," said she, "dost thou attack me with high-sounding words? And canst thou never be other than severe? Still, thou thyself hast deigned to be excited in unequal numbers! [506] Against me hast thou strived, making use of my own verse. I should not compare heroic measures with my own; thy palaces quite overwhelm my humble abodes. I am a trifler; and with myself, Cupid, my care, is a trifler too; I am no more substantial myself than is my subject-matter. Without myself, the mother of wanton Love were coy; of that Goddess do I show myself the patroness [507] and the confidant. The door which thou with thy rigid buskin canst not unlock, the same is open to my caressing words. And yet I have deserved more power than thou, by putting up with many a thing that would not have been endured by thy haughtiness.

"Through me Corinna learned how, deceiving her keeper, to shake the constancy of the fastened door, [508] and to slip away from her couch, clad in a loose tunic, [509] and in the night to move her feet without a stumble. Or how often, cut in _the wood_, [510] have I been hanging up at her obdurate doors, not fearing to be read by the people as they passed! I remember besides, how, when sent, I have been concealed in the bosom of the handmaid, until the strict keeper had taken his departure. Still further--when thou didst send me as a present on her birthday [511] --but she tore me to pieces, and barbarously threw me in the water close by. I was the first to cause the prospering germs of thy genius to shoot; it has, as my gift, that for which she is now asking thee."

They had now ceased; on which I began: "By your own selves, I conjure you both; let my words, as I tremble, be received by unprejudiced ears. Thou, the one, dost grace me with the sceptre and the lofty buskin; already, even by thy contact with my lips, have I spoken in mighty accents. Thou, the other, dost offer a lasting fame to my loves; be propitious, then, and with the long lines unite the short.

"Do, Tragedy, grant a little respite to the Poet. Thou art an everlasting task; the time which she demands is but short." Moved by my entreaties, she gave me leave; let tender Love be sketched with hurried hand, while still there is time; from behind [514] a more weighty undertaking presses on.

Elegy II.

_To his mistress, in whose company he is present at the chariot races in the Circus Maximus. He describes the race._

|I am not sitting here [515] an admirer of the spirited steeds; [516] still I pray that he who is your favourite may win. I have come here to chat with you, and to be seated by you, [517] that the passion which yea cause may not be unknown to you. You are looking at the race, I _am looking_ at you; let us each look at what pleases us, and so let us each feast our eyes. O, happy the driver [518] of the steeds, whoever he is, that is your favourite; it is then his lot to be the object of your care; might such be my lot; with ardent zeal to be borne along would I press over the steeds as they start from the sacred barrier. [519] And now I would give rein; [520] now with my whip would I lash their backs; now with my inside wheel would I graze the turning-place. [521] If you should be seen by me in my course, then I should stop; and the reins, let go, would fall from my hands.

Ah! how nearly was Pelops [522] falling by the lance of him of Pisa, while, Hippodamia, he was gazing on thy face! Still did he prove the conqueror through the favour of his mistress; [523] let us each prove victor through the favour of his charmer. Why do you shrink away in vain? [524] The partition forces us to sit close; the Circus has this advantage [525] in the arrangement of its space. But do you [526] on the right hand, whoever you are, be accommodating to the fair; she is being hurt by the pressure of your side. And you as well, [527] who are looking on behind us; draw in your legs, if you have _any_ decency, and don't press her back with your hard knees. But your mantle, hanging too low, is dragging on the ground; gather it up; or see, I am taking it up [528] in my hands. A disobliging garment you are, who are thus concealing ancles so pretty; and the more you gaze upon them, the more disobliging garment you are. Such were the ancles of the fleet Atalanta, [529] which Milanion longed to touch with his hands. Such are painted the ancles of the swift Diana, when, herself _still_ bolder, she pursues the bold beasts of prey. On not seeing them, I am on fire; what would be the consequence if they _were seen?_ You are heaping flames upon flames, water upon the sea. From them I suspect that the rest may prove charming, which is so well hidden, concealed beneath the thin dress.

But, meanwhile, should you like to receive the gentle breeze which the fan may cause, [530] when waved by my hand? Or is the heat I feel, rather that of my own passion, and not of the weather, and is the love of the fair burning my inflamed breast? While I am talking, your white clothes are sprinkled with the black dust; nasty dust, away from a body like the snow.

But now the procession [531] is approaching; give good omens both in words and feelings. The time is come to applaud; the procession approaches, glistening with gold. First in place is Victory borne [532] with expanded wings; [533] come hither, Goddess, and grant that this passion of mine may prove victorious.

"Salute Neptune, [534] you who put too much confidence in the waves; I have nought to do with the sea; my own dry land engages me. Soldier, salute thy own Mars; arms I detest [535] Peace delights me, and Love found in the midst of Peace. Let Phoebus be propitious to the augurs, Phoebe to the huntsmen; turn, Minerva, towards thyself the hands of the artisan. [536] Ye husbandmen, arise in honour of Ceres and the youthful Bacchus; let the boxers [537] render Pollux, the horseman Castor propitious. Thee, genial Venus, and _the Loves_, the boys so potent with the bow, do I salute; be propitious, Goddess, to my aspirations. Inspire, too, kindly feelings in my new mistress; let her permit herself to be loved." She has assented; and with her nod she has given a favourable sign. What the Goddess has promised, I entreat yourself to promise. With the leave of Venus I will say it, you shall be the greater Goddess. By these many witnesses do I swear to you, and by this array of the Gods, that for all time you have been sighed for by me. But your legs have no support; you can, if perchance you like, rest the extremities of your feet in the lattice work. [538]

Now the Prætor, [539] the Circus emptied, has sent from the even barriers [540] the chariots with their four steeds, the greatest sight of all. I see who is your favourite; whoever you wish well to, he will prove the conqueror. The very horses appear to understand what it is you wish for. Oh shocking! around the turning-place he goes with a circuit _far too_ wide. [541] What art thou about? The next is overtaking thee with his wheel in contact. What, wretched man, art thou about? Thou art wasting the good wishes of the fair; pull in the reins, I entreat, to the left, [542] with a strong hand. We have been resting ourselves in a blockhead; but still, Romans, call him back again, [543] and by waving the garments, [544] give the signal on every side. See! they are calling him back; but that the waving of the garments may not disarrange your hair, [545] you may hide yourself quite down in my bosom.

And now, the barrier [546] unbarred once more, the side posts are open wide; with the horses at full speed the variegated throng [547] bursts forth. This time, at all events, [548] do prove victorious, and bound over the wide expanse; let my wishes, let those of my mistress, meet with success. The wishes of my mistress are fulfilled; my wishes still exist. He bears away the palm; [549] the palm is yet to be sought by me. She smiles, and she gives me a promise of something with her expressive eye. That is enough for this spot; grant the rest in another place.

Elegy III.

_He complains of his mistress, whom he has found to be forsworn._

|Go to, believe that the Gods exist; she who had sworn has broken her faith, and still her beauty remains [550] just as it was before. Not yet forsworn, flowing locks had she; after she has deceived the Gods, she has them just as long. Before, she was pale, having her fair complexion suffused with the blush of the rose; the blush is still beauteous on her complexion of snow. Her foot was small; still most diminutive is the size of that foot. Tall was she, and graceful; tall and graceful does she still remain. Expressive eyes had she, which shone like stars; many a time through them has the treacherous fair proved false to me. [551]

Even the Gods, forsooth, for ever permit the fair to be forsworn, and beauty has its divine sway. [552] I remember that of late she swore both by her own eyes and by mine, and mine felt pain. [553] Tell me, ye Gods, if with impunity she has proved false to you, why have I suffered, punishment for the deserts of another? But the virgin daughter of Cepheus is no reproach, _forsooth_, to you, [554] who was commanded to die for her mother, so inopportunely beauteous. 'Tis not enough that I had you for witnesses to no purpose; unpunished, she laughs at even the Gods together with myself; that by my punishment she may atone for her perjuries, am I, the deceived, to be the victim of the deceiver? Either a Divinity is a name without reality, and he is revered in vain, and influences people with a silly credulity; or else, _if there is any_ God, he is fond of the charming fair, and gives them alone too much licence to be able to do any thing.

Against us Mavors is girded with the fatal sword; against us the lance is directed by the invincible hand of Pallas; against us the flexible bow of Apollo is bent; against us the lofty right hand of Jove wields the lightnings. The offended Gods of heaven fear to hurt the fair; and they spontaneously dread those who dread them not. And who, then, would take care to place the frankincense in his devotion upon the altars? At least, there ought to be more spirit in men. Jupiter, with his fires, hurls at the groves [555] and the towers, and yet he forbids his weapons, thus darted, to strike the perjured female. Many a one has deserved to be struck. The unfortunate Semele [556] perished by the flames; that punishment was found for her by her own compliant disposition. But if she had betaken herself off, on the approach of her lover, his father would not have had for Bacchus the duties of a mother to perform.

Why do I complain, and why blame all the heavens? The Gods have eyes as well as we; the Gods have hearts as well. Were I a Divinity myself, I would allow a woman with impunity to swear falsely by my Godhead. I myself would swear that the fair ever swear the truth; and I would not be pronounced one of the morose Divinities. Still, do you, fair one, use their favour with more moderation, or, at least, do have some regard [557] for my eyes.

Elegy IV.

_He tells a jealous husband, who watches his wife, that the greater his precautions, the greater are the temptations to sin._

|Cruel husband, by setting a guard over the charming fair, thou dost avail nothing; by her own feelings must each be kept. If, all apprehensions removed, any woman is chaste, she, in fact, is chaste; she who sins not, because she cannot, _still_ sins. [558] However well you may have guarded the person, the mind is still unchaste; and, unless it chooses, it cannot be constrained. You cannot confine the mind, should you lock up every thing; when all is closed, the unchaste one will be within. The one who can sin, errs less frequently; the very opportunity makes the impulse to wantonness to be the less powerful. Be persuaded by me, and leave off instigating to criminality by constraint; by indulgence thou mayst restrain it much more effectually.

I have sometimes seen the horse, struggling against his reins, rush on like lightning with his resisting mouth. Soon as ever he felt that rein was given, he stopped, and the loosened bridle lay upon his flowing mane. We are ever striving for what is forbidden, and are desiring what is denied us; even so does the sick man hanker after the water that is forbidden him. Argus used to carry a hundred eyes in his forehead, a hundred in his neck; [559] and these Love alone many a time evaded. Danaë, who, a maid, had been placed in the chamber which was to last for ever with its stone and its iron, [560] became a mother. Penelope, although she was without a keeper, amid so many youthful suitors, remained undefiled.

Whatever is hoarded up, we long for it the more, and the very pains invite the thief; few care for what another giants.

Not through her beauty is she captivating, but through the fondness of her husband; people suppose it to be something unusual which has so captivated thee. Suppose she is not chaste whom her husband is guarding, but faithless; she is beloved; but this apprehension itself causes her value, rather than her beauty. Be indignant if thou dost please; forbidden pleasures delight me: if any woman can only say, "I am afraid, that woman alone pleases me. Nor yet is it legal [561] to confine a free-born woman; let these fears harass the bodies of those from foreign parts. That the keeper, forsooth, may be able to say, 'I caused it she must be chaste for the credit of thy slave. He is too much of a churl whom a faithless wife injures, and is not sufficiently acquainted with the ways of the City; in which Romulus, the son of Ilia, and Remus, the son of Ilia, both begotten by Mars, were not born without a crime being committed. Why didst thou choose a beauty for thyself, if she was not pleasing unless chaste? Those two qualities [562] cannot by any means be united.'"

If thou art wise, show indulgence to thy spouse, and lay aside thy morose looks; and assert not the rights of a severe husband. Show courtesy, too, to the friends thy wife shall find thee, and many a one will she find. 'Tis thus that great credit accrues at a very small outlay of labour. Thus wilt thou be able always to take part in the festivities of the young men, and to see many a thing at home, [563] which you have not presented to her.

Elegy V.

_A vision, and its explanation._

|Twas night, and sleep weighed down my wearied eyes. Such a vision as this terrified my mind.

Beneath a sunny hill, a grove was standing, thick set with holm oaks; and in its branches lurked full many a bird. A level spot there was beneath, most verdant with the grassy mead, moistened with the drops of the gently trickling stream. Beneath the foliage of the trees, I was seeking shelter from the heat; still, under the foliage of the trees it was hot. Lo! seeking for the grass mingled with the variegated flowers, a white cow was standing before my eyes; more white than the snows at the moment when they have just fallen, which, time has not yet turned into flowing water. More white than the milk which is white with its bubbling foam, [564] and at that moment leaves the ewe when milked. [565] A bull there was, her companion, he, in his happiness, eas her mate; and with his own one he pressed the tender grass. While he was lying, and slowly ruminating upon the grass chewed once again; and once again was feeding on the food eaten by him before; he seemed, as sleep took away his strength, to lay his horned head upon the ground that supported it. Hither came a crow, gliding through the air on light wings; and chattering, took her seat upon the green sward; and thrice with her annoying beak did she peck at the breast of the snow-white cow; and with her bill she took away the white hair. Having remained awhile, she left the spot and the bull; but black envy was in the breast of the cow. And when she saw the bulls afar browsing upon the pastures (bulls were browsing afar upon the verdant pastures), thither did she betake herself, and she mingled among those herds, and sought out a spot of more fertile grass.

"Come, tell me, whoever thou art, thou interpreter of the dreams of the night, what (if it has any truth) this vision means." Thus said I: thus spoke the interpreter of the dreams of the night, as he weighed in his mind each particular that was seen; "The heat which thou didst wish to avoid beneath the rustling leaves, but didst but poorly avoid, was that of Love. The cow is thy mistress; that complexion is suited to the fair. Thou wast the male, and the bull with the fitting mate. Inasmuch as the crow pecked at her breast with her sharp beak; an old hag of a procuress [566] will tempt the affections of thy mistress. In that, after hesitating long, his heifer left the bull, thou wilt be left to be chilled in a deserted couch. Envy and the black spots below the front of her breast, show that she is not free from the reproach of inconstancy."

Thus spoke the interpreter; the blood retreated from my chilled face; and profound night stood before my eyes.

Elegy VI.

_He addresses a river which has obstructed his passage while he is going to his mistress._

|River that hast [567] thy slimy banks planted with reeds, to my mistress I am hastening; stay thy waters for a moment. No bridges hast thou, nor yet a hollow boat [568] to carry one over without the stroke of the oar, by means of the rope thrown across. Thou wast a small stream, I recollect; and I did not hesitate to pass across thee; and the surface of thy waves then hardly reached to my ancles. Now, from the opposite mountain [569] thou dost rush, the snows being melted, and in thy turbid stream thou dost pour thy muddied waters. What avails it me thus to have hastened? What to have given so little time to rest? What to have made the night all one with the day? 569*

If still I must be standing here; if, by no contrivance, thy opposite banks are granted to be trodden by my foot.

Now do I long for the wings which the hero, the son of Danaë, [570] possessed, when he bore away the head, thickset with the dreadful serpents; now do I wish for the chariot, [571] from which the seed of Ceres first came, thrown upon the uncultivated ground. Of the wondrous fictions of the ancient poets do I speak; no time has produced, nor does produce, nor will produce these wonders. Rather, do thou, stream that dost overflow thy wide banks, flow within thy limits, then for ever mayst thou run on. Torrent, thou wilt not, believe me, be able to endure the reproaches, if perchance I should be mentioned as detained by thee in my love.

Rivers ought rather to aid youths in their loves; rivers themselves have experienced what love is. Inachus [572] is said to have flowed pale with love for Melie, [573] the Bithynian Nymph, and to have warmed throughout his cold fords. Not yet was Troy besieged for twice five years, when, Xanthus, Neæra attracted thy eyes. Besides; did not enduring love for the Arcadian maid force Alpheus [574] to run through various lands? They say, too, that thou, Peneus, didst conceal, in the lands of the Phthiotians, Creüsa, [575] already betrothed to Xanthus. Why should I mention Asopus, whom Thebe, beloved by Mars, [576] received, Thebe, destined to be the parent of five daughters? Should I ask of Achelous, "Where now are thy horns?" thou wouldst complain that they were broken away by the wrathful hand of Hercules. [577] Not of such value was Calydon, [578] nor of such value was the whole of Ætolia; still, of such value was Deianira alone. The enriching Nile, that flows through his seven mouths, who so well conceals the native spot [579] of waters so vast, is said not to have been able to overpower by his stream the flame that was kindled by Evadne, the daughter of Asopus. [580] Enipeus, dried up, [581] that he might be enabled to embrace the daughter of Salmoneus, bade his waters to depart; his waters, so ordered, did depart.

Nor do I pass thee by, who as thou dost roll amid the hollow rocks, foaming, dost water the fields of Argive Tibur [582] whom Ilia [583] captivated, although she was unsightly in her garb, bearing the marks of her nails on her locks, the marks of her nails on her cheeks. Bewailing both the crimes of her uncle, and the fault of Mars, she was wandering along the solitary spots with naked feet. Her the impetuous stream beheld from his rapid waves, and raised his hoarse mouth from the midst of his fords, and thus he said: "Why, in sorrow, art thou pacing my banks, Ilia, the descendant of Laomedon [584] of Ida? Whither have gone thy vestments? Why wandering thus alone? And why does no white fillet [585] bind thy hair tied up? Why weepest thou, and why spoil thy eyes wet with tears? And why beat thy open breast with frenzied hand? That man has both flints and ore of iron in his breast, who, unconcerned, beholds the tears on thy delicate face. Ilia, lay aside thy fears; my palace shall be opened unto thee; the streams, too, shall obey thee; Ilia, lay aside thy fears. Among a hundred Nymphs or more, thou shalt hold the sway; for a hundred or more does my stream contain. Only, descendant of Troy, despise me not, I pray; gifts more abundant than my promises shalt thou receive."

_Thus_ he said; she casting on the ground her modest eyes, as she wept, besprinkled her warm breast with her tears. Thrice did she attempt to fly; thrice did she stop short at the deep waves, as fear deprived her of the power of running. Still, at last, as with hostile fingers she tore her hair, with quivering lips she uttered these bitter words; "Oh! would that my bones had been gathered up, and hidden in the tomb of my fathers, while yet they could be gathered, belonging to me a virgin! Why now, am I courted [586] for any nuptials, a Vestal disgraced, and to be driven from the altars of Ilium? Why do I hesitate? See! by the fingers of the multitude am I pointed at as unchaste. Let this disgrace be ended, which marks my features."

Thus far _did she speak_, and before her swollen eyes she extended her robe; and so, in her despair, did she throw herself [587] into the rapid waters. The flowing stream is said to have placed his hands beneath her breast, and to have conferred on her the privilege of his nuptial couch.

'Tis worthy of belief, too, that thou hast been inflamed _with love_ for some maiden; but the groves and woods conceal thy failings.

While I have been talking, it has become more swollen with its extending waves, and the deep channel contains not the rushing waters. What, furious torrent, hast thou against me? Why thus delay our mutual transports? Why, churlish river, interrupt the journey once commenced? What if thou didst flow according to some fixed rule, [588] a river of some note? What if thy fame was mighty throughout the earth? But no name hast thou collected from the exhausted rivulets; thou hast no springs, no certain abode hast thou. In place of spring, thou hast rain and melted snow; resources which the sluggish winter supplies to thee. Either in muddy guise, in winter time, thou dost speed onward in thy course; or filled with dust, thou dost pass over the parched ground. What thirsty traveller has been able to drink of thee then? Who has said, with grateful lips, "Mayst thou flow on for ever?"

_Onward_ thou dost run, injurious to the flocks, [589] still more injurious to the fields. Perhaps these _mischiefs may move_ others; my own evils move me. And, oh shocking! did I in my madness relate to this stream the loves of the rivers? I am ashamed unworthily to have pronounced names so great. Gazing on I know not what, could I speak of the rivers [590] Acheloüs and Inachus, and could I, Nile, talk of thy name? But for thy deserts, torrent far from clear, I wish that for thee there may be scorching heat, and winter always dry.

Elegy VII.

```At non formosa est, at non bene culta puella;

````At, puto, non votis sæpe petita meis.

```Hanc tamen in nullos tenui male languidus usus,

````Sed jacui pigro crimen onusque toro.

```Nec potui cupiens, pariter cupiente puella,

````Inguinis effoeti parte juvante frui.

```Ilia quidem nostro subjecit ebumea collo

````Brachia, Sithonia candidiora nive;

```Osculaque inseruit cupidæ lactantia linguæ,

````Lascivum femori Supposuitque femur;

```Et mihi blanditias dixit, Dominumque vocavit,

````Et quæ præterea publica verba juvant.

```Tacta tamen veluti gelidâ mea membra cicutâ,

````Segnia propositum destituere suum.

```Truncus iners jacui, species, et inutile pondus:

````Nec satis exactum est, corpus an umbra forem,

```Quæ mihi ventura est, (siquidem ventura), senectus,

````Cum desit numeris ipsa juventa suis?

```Ah pudet annorum! quo me juvenemque virumque,

````Nec juvenem, nec me sensit arnica virum.

```Sic flammas aditura pias æterna sacerdos

````Surgit, et a caro fratre verenda soror.

```At nuper bis flava Chlide, ter Candida Pitho,

````Ter Libas officio continuata meo.

```Exigere a nobis angustâ nocte Corinnam,

````Me memini numéros sustinuisse uovem.

```Num mea Thessalico languent tlevota veneno Co

````rpora? num misero carmen et herba nocent?

```Sagave Puniceâ defixit nomina cerâ,

````Et medium tenues in jecur egit acus?

```Carmine læsa Ceres sterüem vanescit in herbam:

````Deficiunt læsæ carmine fontis aquæ:

```Ilicibus glandes, cantataque vitibus uva

````Decidit; et nullo poma movente fluunt.

```Quid vetat et nervos magicas torpere per arteg

````Forsitan impatiens sit latus inde meum.

```Hue pudor accessit: facti pudor ipse nocebat

````Ille fuit vitii causa secunda mei.

```At qualem vidi tantum tetigique puellam,

````Sic etiam tunicâ tangitur ipsa sua.

```Illius ad tactum Pylius juvenescere possit,

````Tithonusque annis fortior esse suis.=

```Hæc mihi contigerat; scd vir non contigit illi.

````Quas nunc concipiam per nova vota preces?

```Credo etiam magnos, quo sum tam turpiter usus,

````Muneris oblati pcenituisse Deos.

```Optabam certe recipi; sum nempe receptus:

````Oscula ferre; tuii: proximus esse; fui.

```Quo mihi fortunæ tantum? quo régna sine usu?

````Quid, nisi possedi dives avarus opes?

```Sic aret mediis taciti vulgator in undis;

````Pomaque, quæ nullo tempore tangat, habet.

```A tenerâ quisquam sic surgit mane puellâ,

```Protinus ut sanctos possit adiré Deos.

```Sed non blanda, puto, non optima perdidit in me

````Oscula, non omni sohcitavit ope.

```Ilia graves potuit quercus, adamantaque durum,

````Surdaque blanditiis saxa movere suis.

```Digna movere fuit certe vivosque virosque;

````Sed neque turn vixi, nec vir, ut ante, fui.

```Quid juvet, ad surdas si cantet Phemius aures?

````Quid miserum Thamyran picta tabeba juvet?7`

```At quæ non tacitâ formavi gaudia mente!

````Quos ego non finxi disposuique modos!

```Nostra tamen jacuere, velut præmortua, membra

````Turpiter, hesternâ languidiora rosâ.

```Quæ nunc ecce rigent intempestiva, valentque;

````Nunc opus exposcunt, mihtiamque suam.

```Quin istic pudibunda jaces, pars pessima nostri?

````Sic sum polhcitis captus et ante tuis.

```Tu dominam falbs; per te deprensus inermis

````Tristia cum magno damna pudore tub.

```Hanc etiam non est mea dedignata puella

````Molbter admotâ sobcitare manu.

```Sed postquam nullas consurgere posse per artes,

````Immemoremque sui procubuisse videt;

```Quid me ludis? ait; quis te, male sane, jubebat

````Invxtum nostro ponere membra toro?

```Aut te trajectis Ææa venefica lanis

````Devovet, aut abo lassus amore venis.

```Nec mora; desiluit tunicâ velata recinctâ:

````Et decuit nudos proripuisse pedes.

```Neve suæ possent intactam scire ministrae,

````Dedecus hoc sumtâ dissimulavit aquâ.

Elegy VIII.

_He laments that he is not received by his mistress, and complains that she gives the preference to a wealthy rival._

|And does any one still venerate the liberal arts, or suppose that soft verses have any merit? Genius once was more precious than gold; but now, to be possessed of nought is the height of ignorance. After my poems [591] have proved very pleasing to my mistress, it is not allowed me to go where it has been allowed my books. When she has much bepraised me, her door is shut on him who is praised; talented _though I be_, I disgracefully wander up and down.

Behold! a Knight gorged with blood, lately enriched, his wealth acquired [592] through his wounds, [593] is preferred before myself. And can you, my life, enfold him in your charming arms? Can you, my life, rush into his embrace? If you know it not, that head used to wear a helmet; that side which is so at your service, was girded with a sword. That left hand, which thus late [594] the golden ring so badly suits, used to bear the shield; touch his right, it has been stained with blood. And can you touch that right hand, by which some person has met his death? Alas! where is that tenderness of heart of yours? Look at his scars, the traces of his former fights; whatever he possesses, by that body was it acquired. [595] Perhaps, too, he will tell how often he has stabbed a man; covetous one, will you touch the hand that confesses this? I, unstained, the priest of the Muses and of Phoebus, am he who is singing his bootless song before your obdurate doors.

Learn, you who are wise, not what we idlers know, but how to follow the anxious troops, and the ruthless camp; instead of good verses hold sway over [596] the first rank; through this, Homer, hadst thou wished it, she might have proved kind to thee. Jupiter, well aware that nothing is more potent than gold, was himself the reward of the ravished damsel. [597] So long as the bribe was wanting, the father was obdurate, she herself prudish, the door-posts bound with brass, the tower made of iron; but after the knowing seducer resorted to presents, [598] she herself opened her lap; and, requested to surrender, she did surrender.

But when the aged Saturn held the realms of the heavens, the ground kept all money deep in its recesses. To the shades below had he removed brass and silver, and, together with gold, the weight of iron; and no ingots were there _in those times_. But she used to give what was better, corn without the crooked plough-share, apples too, and honey found in the hollow oak. And no one used with sturdy plough to cleave the soil; with no boundaries [599] did the surveyor mark out the ground. The oars dipped down did not skim the upturned waves; then was the shore [601] the limit of the paths of men. Human nature, against thyself hast thou been so clever; and for thy own destruction too ingenious. To what purpose surround cities with turreted fortifications? [602] To what purpose turn hostile hands to arms? What hast thou to do with the sea? With the earth thou mightst have been content. Why not seek the heavens [603] as well, for a third realm? To the heavens, too, dost thou aspire, so far as thou mayst. Quirinus, Liber, and Alcides, and Caesar but recently, [604] have their temples.

Instead of corn, we dig the solid gold from the earth; the soldier possesses riches acquired by blood. To the poor is the Senate-house [605] shut; wealth alone confers honours; [606] hence, the judge so grave; hence the knight so proud. Let them possess it all; let the field of Mars [607] and the Forum [608] obey them; let these administer peace and cruel warfare. Only, in their greediness, let them not tear away my mistress; and 'tis enough, so they but allow something to belong to the poor.

But now-a-days, he that is able to give away plenty, rules it _over a woman_ like a slave, even should she equal the prudish Sabine dames. The keeper is in my way; with regard to me, [609] she dreads her husband. If I were to make presents, both of them would entirely disappear from the house. Oh! if any God is the avenger of the neglected lover, may he change riches, so ill-gotten, into dust.

Elegy IX.

_He laments the death of the Poet Tibullus._

|If his mother has lamented Memnon, his mother Achilles, and if sad deaths influence the great Goddesses; plaintive Elegy, unbind thy sorrowing tresses; alas! too nearly will thy name be derived from fact! The Poet of thy own inspiration, [610] Tibullus, thy glory, is burning, a lifeless body, on the erected pile. [611] Lo! the son of Venus bears both his quiver inverted, and his bow broken, and his torch without a flame; behold how wretched with drooping wings he goes: and how he beats his naked breast with cruel hand. His locks dishevelled about his neck receive his tears, and his mouth resounds with sobs that convulse his body. 'Twas thus, beauteous Iulus, they say that thou didst go forth from thy abode, at the funeral of his brother Æneas. Not less was Venus afflicted when Tibullus died, than when the cruel boar [612] tore the groin of the youth.

And yet we Poets are called 'hallowed,' and the care of the Deities; there are some, too, who believe that we possess inspiration. [613] Inexorable Death, forsooth, profanes all that is hallowed; upon all she lays her [614] dusky hands. What availed his father, what, his mother, for Ismarian Orpheus [615] What, with his songs to have lulled the astounded wild beasts? The same father is said, in the lofty woods, to have sung 'Linus! Alas! Linus! Alas! [616] to his reluctant lyre. Add the son of Mæon, [617] too, by whom, as though an everlasting stream, the mouths of the poets are refreshed by the waters of Piëria: him, too, has his last day overwhelmed in black Avernus; his verse alone escapes the all-consuming pile. The fame of the Trojan toils, the work of the Poets is lasting, and the slow web woven [618] again through the stratagem of the night. So shall Nemesis, so Delia, [619] have a lasting name; the one, his recent choice, the other his first love.

What does sacrifice avail thee? [620] Of what use are now the 'sistra' of Egypt? What, lying apart [621] in a forsaken bed? When the cruel Destinies snatch away the good, (pardon the confession) I am tempted to think that there are no Deities. Live piously; pious _though you be_, you shall die; attend the sacred worship; _still_ ruthless Death shall drag the worshipper from the temples to the yawning tomb. [622] Put your trust in the excellence of your verse; see! Tibullus lies prostrate; of so much, there hardly remains _enough_ for a little urn to receive.

And, hallowed Poet, have the flames of the pile consumed thee, and have they not been afraid to feed upon that heart of thine? They could have burned the golden temples of the holy Gods, that have dared a crime so great. She turned away her face, who holds the towers of Eryx; [623] there are some, too, who affirm that she did not withhold her tears. But still, this is better than if the Phæacian land [624] had buried him a stranger, in an ignoble spot. Here, [625] at least, a mother pressed his tearful eyes [626] as he fled, and presented the last gifts [627] to his ashes; here a sister came to share the grief with her wretched mother, tearing her unadorned locks. And with thy relatives, both Nemesis and thy first love [628] joined their kisses; and they left not the pile in solitude. Delia, as she departed, said, "More fortunately was I beloved by thee; so long as I was thy flame, thou didst live." To her said Nemesis: "What dost thou say? Are my sufferings a pain to thee? When dying, he grasped me with his failing hand." [629]

If, however, aught of us remains, but name and spirit, Tibullus will exist in the Elysian vales. Go to meet him, learned Catullus, [630] with thy Calvus, having thy youthful temples bound with ivy. Thou too, Gallus, (if the accusation of the injury of thy friend is false) prodigal of thy blood [631] and of thy life.

Of these, thy shade is the companion; if only there is any shade of the body, polished Tibullus; thou hast swelled the blessed throng. Rest, bones, I pray, in quiet, in the untouched urn; and may the earth prove not heavy for thy ashes.

Elegy X.

_He complains to Ceres that during her rites he is separated from his mistress._

|The yearly season of the rites of Ceres [632] is come: my mistress lies apart on a solitary couch. Yellow Ceres, having thy floating locks crowned with ears of corn, why dost thou interfere with my pleasures by thy rites? Thee, Goddess, nations speak of as bounteous everywhere: and no one is less unfavorable to the blessings of mankind.

In former times the uncouth peasants did not parch the corn; and the threshing floor was a name unknown on earth. But the oaks, the early oracles, [633] used to bear acorns; these, and the grass of the shooting sod, were the food of men. Ceres was the first to teach the seed to swell in the fields, and with the sickle did she cut her coloured locks; she first forced the bulls to place their necks beneath the yoke; and she with crooked tooth turned up the fallow ground. Can any one believe that she takes delight in the tears of lovers, and is duly propitiated with misery and single-blessedness? Nor yet (although she loves the fruitful fields) is she a coy one; nor lias she a breast devoid of love. The Cretans shall be my witnesses; and the Cretans do not feign everything; the Cretans, a nation proud of having nurtured Jove. [634] There, he who rules the starry citadel of the world, a little child, drank milk with tender lips. There is full confidence in the witness; by its foster-child the witness is recommended I think that Ceres will confess her frailties, so well known.

The Goddess had beheld Iasius [635] at the foot of Cretan Ida, as he pierced the backs of the wild beasts with unerring hand. She beheld, and when her tender marrow caught the flame; on the one side Shame, on the other Love, inflamed her. Shame was conquered by Love; you might see the furrows lying dry, and the crops coming up with a very small proportion of their wheat. [636] When the mattocks stoutly wielded had turned up the land, and the crooked plough had broken the hard earth, and the seed had fallen equally scattered over the wide fields; the hopes of the deceived husbandman were vain.

The Goddess, the guardian of corn, was lingering in the lofty woods; the wreaths of com had fallen from her flowing locks. Crete alone was fertile in its fruitful year; all places, whither the Goddess had betaken herself, were one continued harvest. Ida, the locality itself for groves, grew white with corn, and the wild boar cropped the ears in the woods. The law-giving Minos [637] wished for himself many like years; he wished that the love of Ceres might prove lasting.

Whereas, yellow-haired Goddess, single-blessedness would have been sad to thee; this am I now compelled by thy rites to endure. Why should I be sad, when thy daughter has been found again by thee, and rules over realms, only less than Juno in rank? This festive day calls for both Venus, and songs, and wine. These gifts is it fitting to bear to the ruling Gods.

Elegy XI.

_He tells his mistress that he cannot help loving her._

|Much and long time have I suffered; by your faults is my patience overcome. Depart from my wearied breast, disgraceful Love. In truth I have now liberated myself, and I have burst my chains; and I am ashamed to have borne what it shamed me not to endure. I have conquered; and Love subdued I have trodden under foot; late have the horns [638] come upon my head. Have patience, and endure, [639] this pain will one day avail thee; often has the bitter potion given refreshment to the sick.

And could I then endure, repulsed so oft from thy doors, to lay a free-born body upon the hard ground? [640] And did I then, like a slave, keep watch before thy street door, for some stranger I know not whom, that you were holding in your embrace? And did I behold it, when the wearied paramour came out of your door, carrying off his jaded and exhausted sides? Still, this is more endurable than the fact that I was beheld by him; [641] may that disgrace be the lot of my foes.

When have I not kept close fastened to your side as you walked, [642] myself your keeper, myself your husband, myself your companion? And, celebrated by me forsooth, did you please the public: my passion was the cause of passion in many. Why mention the base perjuries of your perfidious tongue? and why the Gods forsworn [643] for my destruction? Why the silent nods of young men at banquets, [644] and words concealed in signs arranged _beforehand?_ She was reported to me to be ill; headlong and distracted I ran; I arrived; and, to my rival she was not ill. [645]

Bearing these things, and others on which I am silent, I have oft endured them; find another in my stead, who could put up with these things. Now my ship, crowned with the votive chaplet, listens in safety to the swelling waves of the ocean. Cease to lavish your blandishments and the words which once availed; I am not a fool, as once I was. Love on this side, Hatred on that, are struggling, and are dragging my tender heart in opposite directions; but Love, I think, still gets the better. I will hate, [646] if I can; if not, reluctantly will I love; the bull loves not his yoke; still, that which he hates he bears.

I fly from treachery; your beauty, as I fly, brings me back; I abhor the failings of your morals; your person I love. Thus, I can neither live without you, nor yet with you; and I appear to be unacquainted with my own wishes. I wish that either you were less handsome, or less unprincipled. So beauteous a form does not suit morals so bad. Your actions excite hatred; your beauty demands love. Ah wretched me! she is more potent than her frailties.

O pardon me, by the common rites of our bed, by all the Gods who so often allow themselves to be deceived by you, and by your beauty, equal to a great Divinity with me, and by your eyes, which have captivated my own; whatever you shall be, ever shall you be mine; only do you make choice whether you will wish me to wish as well to love you, or whether I am to love you by compulsion. I would rather spread my sails and use propitious gales; since, though I should refuse, I shall still be forced t