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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?
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.