Chapter II: 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_.----