Chapter III: Book THE THIRD: Elegy I (1)

_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 to love.

ELEGY XII.

_He complains that he has rendered his mistress so celebrated by his verses, as to have thereby raised for himself many rivals._

|What day was that, on which, ye birds of no white hue, you sent forth your ominous notes, ever sad to me in my loves? Or what star must I consider to be the enemy of my destiny? Or what Deities am I to complain of, as waging war against me? She, who but lately [647] was called my own, whom I commenced alone to love, I fear that with many she must be shared by me.

Am I mistaken? Or has she gained fame by my poems? 'Tis so; by my genius has she been made public. And justly; for why have I made proclamation [648] of her charms? Through my fault has the fair been put up for sale. She pleases, and I the procurer; by my guidance is the lover introduced; by my hands has her door been opened. Whether verses are of any use, is matter of doubt; at all events, they have injured me; they have been envious of my happiness. While Thebes, [649] while Troy, while the exploits of Caesar existed; Corinna alone warmed my genius. Would that I had meddled with verses against the will of the Muses; and that Phoebus had deserted the work commenced! And yet, it is not the custom to listen to Poets as witnesses; [650] I would have preferred all weight to be wanting to my words.

Through us, Scylla, who robbed her father of his white hair, bears the raging dogs [651] beneath her thigh and loins. We have given wings to the feet, serpents to the hair; the victorious descendant of Abas [652] is borne upon the winged steed. We, too, have extended Tityus [653] over the vast space, and have formed the three mouths for the dog bristling -with snakes. We have described Enceladus, [654] hurling with his thousand arms; and the heroes captivated by the voice of the two-shaped damsels. [655] In the Ithacan bags [656] have we enclosed the winds of Æolus; the treacherous Tantalus thirsts in the middle of the stream. Of Niobe we have made the rock, of the damsel, the she-bear; the Cecropian [657] bird sings of Odrysian Itys. Jupiter transforms himself, either into a bird, or into gold [658] or, as a bull, with the virgin placed upon him, he cleaves the waves. Why mention Proteus, and the Theban seed, [659] the teeth? Why that there were bulls, which vomited flames from their mouths? Why, charioteer, that thy sisters distil amber tears? [660] Why that they are now Goddesses of the sea, who once were ships? [661] Why that the light of day fled from the hellish banquet [662] of Atreus? And why that the hard stones followed the lyre [663] as it was struck?

The fertile license of the Poets ranges over an immense space; and it ties not its words to the accuracy of history. So, too, ought my mistress to have been deemed to be falsely praised; now is your credulity a mischief to me.

ELEGY XIII.

_He describes the Festival of Juno, as celebrated at Falisci, the native place of his wife._

As my wife was born at Falisci, so fruitful in apples, we repaired to the walls that were conquered, Camillus, by thee. [664] The priestesses were preparing the chaste festival of Juno, with distinguished games, and the heifer of the country. 'Twas a great remuneration for my stay, to be acquainted with the ceremony; although a path, difficult from the ascent, leads the way thither. There stands a grove, ancient, and shaded with numberless trees; look at it, you must confess that a Divinity exists in the spot. An altar receives the prayers, and the votive incense of the pious; an altar made without skill, by ancient hands.

When, from this spot, the pipe has given the signal with its usual note, the yearly procession moves along the covered paths. [665] Snow-white heifers [666] are led, as the crowd applauds, which the Faliscan grass has fed on its own plains; calves, too, not yet threatening with the forehead to inspire fear; and the pig, a smaller victim, from its lowly sty; the leader too, of the flock, with his horns bending back over his hardy temples; the goat alone is odious to the Goddess queen. By her betrayal, discovered in the lofty woods, [667] she is said to have desisted from the flight she had commenced. Even now, by the boys, is she aimed at as a mark; [668] and she is given, as a prize, to the author of her wound. Where the Goddess is to come, the youths and bashful girls sweep the roads before her, with garments [669] as they lie. Their virgin hair is adorned with gold and gems; and the proud mantle conceals their feet, bedecked with gold. After the Grecian manner [670] of their ancestors, clad in white garments, they bear the sacred vessels entrusted to them on their heads, placed beneath. The people hold religious silence, [671] at the moment when the resplendent procession comes up; and she herself follows after her priestesses.

Argive is the appearance of the procession; Agamemnon slain, Halesus [672] fled from both his crime and his father's wealth. And now, an exile, having wandered over both land and sea, he erected lofty walls with prospering hand. He taught his own Falisci the rites of Juno. May they be ever propitious to myself, may they be ever so to her own people.

ELEGY XIV.

_He entreats his mistress, if she will not be constant, at least, to conceal her intrigues from him._