The Amores; or, Amours

"See now! what does this poet of yours make you a present of besides his last verses? You will read many thousands of them by this new lover. The God himself of poets, graceful in his mantle 116 (#x7_x_7_i49) adorned with gold, strikes the harmonious strings of the gilded lyre. He that shall make you presents, let him be to you greater than great Homer; believe me, it is a noble thing to give. And, if there shall be any one redeemed at a price for his person 117 (#x7_x_7_i52), do not you despise him; the fault of having the foot rubbed with chalk 118 (#x7_x_7_i55) is a mere trifle. Neither let the old-fashioned wax busts about the halls 119 (#x7_x_7_i58) take you in; pack off with your forefathers, you needy lover. Nay more, should 120 (#x7_x_7_i61) one, because he is good-looking, ask for a night without a present; why, let him first solicit his own admirer for something to present to you.

"Be less exacting of presents, while you are laying your nets, for fear lest they should escape you: once caught, tease them at your own pleasure. Pretended affection, too, is not a bad thing; let him fancy he is loved; but have you a care that this affection is not all for nothing. Often refuse your favours; sometimes pretend a head-ache; and sometimes there will be Isis 121 (#x7_x_7_i64) to afford a pretext. But soon admit him again; that he may acquire no habits of endurance, and that his love, so often repulsed, may not begin to flag. Let your door be deaf to him who entreats, open to him who brings. Let the lover that is admitted, hear the remarks of him who is excluded. And, as though you were the first injured, sometimes get in a passion with him when injured by you. His censure, when counterbalanced by your censure, 127 (#x7_x_7_i67) may wear away. But do you never afford a long duration for anger; prolonged anger frequently produces hatred. Moreover, let your eyes learn, at discretion, to shed tears; and let this cause or that cause your cheeks to be wet. And do not, if you deceive any one, hesitate to be guilty of perjury; Venus lends but a deaf hearing 128 (#x7_x_7_i70) to deceived lovers.

"Let a male servant and a crafty handmaid 129 (#x7_x_7_i73) be trained up to their parts; who may instruct him what may be conveniently purchased for you. And let them ask but little for themselves; if they ask a little of many, 130 (#x7_x_7_i76) very soon, great will be the heap from the gleanings. 131 (#x7_x_7_i79) Let your sister, and your mother, and your nurse as well, fleece your admirer. A booty is soon made, that is sought by many hands. When occasions for asking for presents shall fail you, call attention with a cake 132 (#x7_x_7_i82) to your birthday Take care that no one loves you in security, without a rival; love is not very lasting if you remove all rivalry. Let him perceive the traces of another person on the couch; all your neck, too, discoloured by the marks of toying. Especially let him see the presents, which another has sent. If he gives you nothing, the Sacred Street 133 (#x7_x_7_i85) must be talked about. When you have received many things, but yet he has not given you every thing, be continually asking him to lend you something, for you never to return. Let your tongue aid you, and let it conceal your thoughts; 134 (#x7_x_7_i88) caress him, and prove his ruin. 135 (#x7_x_7_i92) Beneath the luscious honey cursed poisons lie concealed. If you observe these precepts, tried by me throughout a long experience; and if the winds and the breezes do not bear away my words; often will you bless me while I live; often will you pray, when I am dead, that in quietude my bones may repose.".

She was in the middle of her speech, when my shadow betrayed me; but my hands with difficulty refrained from tearing her grey scanty locks, and her eyes bleared with wine, and her wrinkled cheeks. May the Gods grant you both no home, 136 (#x7_x_7_i95) and a needy old age; prolonged winters as well, and everlasting thirst.

ELEGY IX

Every lover is a soldier, and Cupid has a camp of his own; believe me, Atticus, 138 (#x7_x_7_i98) every lover is a soldier. The age which is fitted for war, is suited to love as well. For an old man to be a soldier, is shocking; amorousness in an old man is shocking. The years which 139 (#x7_x_7_i101) generals require in the valiant soldier, the same does the charming fair require in her husband. Both soldier and lover pass sleepless nights; both rest upon the ground. The one watches at the door of his mistress; but the other at that of his general. 140 (#x7_x_7_i104) Long marches are the duty of the soldier; send the fair far away, and the lover will boldly follow her, without a limit to his endurance. Over opposing mountains will he go, and rivers swollen with rains; the accumulating snows will he pace.

About to plough the waves, he will not reproach the stormy East winds; nor will he watch for Constellations favourable for scudding over the waves. Who, except either the soldier or the lover, will submit to both the chill of the night, and the snows mingled with the heavy showers? The one is sent as a spy against the hostile foe; the other keeps his eye on his rival, as though upon an enemy. The one lays siege to stubborn cities, the other to the threshold of his obdurate mistress: the one bursts open gates, and the other, doors. 142 (#x7_x_7_i107) Full oft has it answered to attack the enemy when buried in sleep; and to slaughter an unarmed multitude with armed hand. Thus did the fierce troops of the Thracian Rhesus 143 (#x7_x_7_i110) fall; and you, captured steeds, forsook your lord. Full oft do lovers take advantage of the sleep of husbands, and brandish their arms against the slumbering foe. To escape the troops of the sentinels, and the bands of the patrol, is the part both of the soldier, and of the lover always in misery. Mars is wayward, and Venus is uncertain; both the conquered rise again, and those fall whom you would say could never possibly be prostrate.

Whoever, then, has pronounced Love mere slothfulness, let him cease to love: 144 (#x7_x_7_i113) to the discerning mind does Love belong. The mighty Achilles is inflamed by the captive Briseis. Trojans, while you may, destroy the Argive resources. Hector used to go to battle fresh from the embraces of Andromache; and it was his wife who placed his helmet on his head. The son of Atreus, the first of all the chiefs, on beholding the daughter of Priam, is said to have been smitten with the dishevelled locks of the raving prophetess. 146 (#x7_x_7_i116) Mars, too, when caught, was sensible of the chains wrought at the forge; 147 (#x7_x_7_i119) there was no story better known than his, in all the heavens.

I myself was of slothful habit, and born for a lazy inactivity; 148 (#x7_x_7_i122) the couch and the shade 149 (#x7_x_7_i125) had enervated my mind. Attentions to the charming fair gave a fillip to me, in my indolence; and Love commanded me to serve 150 (#x7_x_7_i128) in his camp. Hence it is that thou seest me active, and waging the warfare by night. Let him who wishes not to become slothful, fall in love.

ELEGY X

Such as she, who, borne away from the Eurotas, 151 (#x7_x_7_i131) in the Phrygian ships, was the cause of warfare to her two husbands; such as Leda was, whom her crafty paramour, concealed in his white feathers, deceived under the form of a fictitious bird; such as Amymone 152 (#x7_x_7_i134) used to wander in the parched fields of Argos, when the urn was pressing the locks on the top of her head; such were you; and I was in dread of both the eagle and the bull with respect to you, and whatever form besides Love has created of the mighty Jove.

Now, all fears are gone, and the disease of my mind is cured; and now no longer does that form of yours rivet my eyes. Do you inquire why I am changed? It is, because you require presents. This reason does not allow of your pleasing me. So long as you were disinterested, I was in love with your mind together with your person; now, in my estimation your appearance is affected by this blemish on your disposition. Love is both a child and naked; he has years without sordidness, and he wears no clothes, that he may be without concealment. Why do you require the son of Venus to be prostituted at a price? He has no fold in his dress, 153 (#x7_x_7_i137) in which to conceal that price. Neither Venus is suited for cruel arms, nor yet the son of Venus; it befits not such unwarlike Divinities to serve for pay. The courtesan stands for hire to any one at a certain price; and with her submissive body, she seeks for wretched pelf. Still, she curses the tyranny of the avaricious procurer; 154 (#x7_x_7_i140) and she does by compulsion 155 (#x7_x_7_i143) what you are doing of your own free will.

Take, as an example, the cattle, devoid of reason; it were a shocking thing for there to be a finer feeling in the brutes. The mare asks no gift of the horse, nor the cow of the bull; the ram does not woo the ewe, induced by presents. Woman alone takes pleasure in spoils torn from the man; she alone lets out her nights; alone is she on sale, to be hired at a price. She sells, too, joys that delight them both, and which both covet; and she makes it a matter of pay, at what price she herself is to be gratified. Those joys, which are so equally sweet to both, why does the one sell, and why the other buy them? Why must that delight prove a loss to me, to you a gain, for which the female and the male combine with kindred impulse? Witnesses hired dishonestly, 156 (#x7_x_7_i146) sell their perjuries; the chest 157 (#x7_x_7_i149) of the commissioned judge 158 (#x7_x_7_i152) is disgracefully open for the bribe.

'Tis a dishonourable thing to defend the wretched criminals with a tongue that is purchased; 159 (#x7_x_7_i155) 'tis a disgrace for a tribunal to make great acquisitions. 'Tis a disgrace for a woman to increase her patrimonial possessions by the profits of her embraces, and to prostitute her beauty for lucre. Thanks are justly due for things obtained without purchase; there are no thanks for an intercourse disgracefully bartered. He who hires, 160 (#x7_x_7_i158) pays all his due; the price once paid, he no longer remains a debtor for your acquiescence. Cease, ye beauties, to bargain for pay for your favours. Sordid gains bring no good results. It was not worth her while to bargain for the Sabine bracelets, 161 (#x7_x_7_i161) in order that the arms should crush the head of the sacred maiden. The son pierced 163 (#x7_x_7_i164) with the sword those entrails from which he had sprung, and a simple necklace 164 (#x7_x_7_i167) was the cause of the punishment.

But yet it is not unbecoming for a present to be asked of the wealthy man; he has something to give to her who does ask for a present. Pluck the grapes that hang from the loaded vines; let the fruitful soil of Alcinous 165 (#x7_x_7_i170) afford the apples. Let the needy man proffer duty, zeal, and fidelity; what each one possesses, let him bestow it all upon his mistress. My endowments, too, are in my lines to shig the praises of those fair who deserve them; she, whom I choose, becomes celebrated through my skill. Vestments will rend, gems and gold will spoil; the fame which poesy confers is everlasting.

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

ELEGY XI

Nape, skilled at binding the straggling locks 166 (#x7_x_7_i173) and arranging them in order, and not deserving to be reckoned 167 (#x7_x_7_i176) among the female slaves; known, too, by experience to be successful in the contrivances of the stealthy night, and clever in giving the signals; 168 (#x7_x_7_i179) you who have so oft entreated Corinna, when hesitating, to come to me; who have been found so often faithful by me in my difficulties; take and carry these tablets, 169 (#x7_x_7_i182) so well-filled, 170 (#x7_x_7_i185) this morning to your mistress; and by your diligence dispel all impeding delay. Neither veins of flint, nor hard iron is in your breast, nor have you a simplicity greater than that of your clever class. There is no doubt that you, too, have experienced the bow of Cupid; in my behalf defend the banner of your service. If Corinna asks what I am doing, you will say that I am living in expectation of the night. The wax inscribed with my persuasive hand is carrying the rest.

While I am speaking, time is flying; opportunely give her my tablets, when she is at leisure; but still, make her read them at once. I bid you watch her eyes and her forehead as she reads; from the silent features we may know the future. And be there no delay; when she has read them through, request her to write a long answer; 172 (#x7_x_7_i188) I hate it, when the bleached wax is empty, with a margin on every side. Let her write the lines close as they run, and let the letters traced in the extreme margin long detain my eyes.

But what need is there for wearying her fingers with holding the pen? 175 (#x7_x_7_i191) Let the whole of her letter contain this one word, "Come." Then, I should not delay to crown my victorious tablets with laurel, nor to place them in the midst of the temple of Venus. Beneath them I would inscribe "Naso consecrates these faithful servants of his to Venus; but lately, you were pieces of worthless maple." 176 (#x7_x_7_i194)

ELEGY XII

Lament my misfortune; my tablets have returned to me with sad intelligence. Her unlucky letter announces that she cannot be seen to-day. There is something in omens; just now, when she was preparing to go, Napè stopped short, having struck her foot 178 (#x7_x_7_i197) against the threshold. When sent out of doors another time, remember to pass the threshold more carefully, and like a sober woman lift your foot high enough.

Away with you; obdurate tablets, fatal bits of board; and you wax, as well, crammed with the lines of denial. I doubt the Corsican bee 180 (#x7_x_7_i200) has sent you collected from the blossom of the tall hemlock, beneath its abominable honey.

Besides, you were red, as though you had been thoroughly dyed in vermilion; 181 (#x7_x_7_i203) such a colour is exactly that of blood. Useless bits of board, thrown out in the street, there may you lie; and may the weight of the wheel crush you, as it passes along. I could even prove that he who formed you to shape from the tree, had not the hands of innocence. That tree surely has afforded a gibbet for some wretched neck, and has supplied the dreadful crosses 182 (#x7_x_7_i206) for the executioner. It has given a disgusting shelter to the screeching owls; in its branches it has borne the eggs of the vulture and of the screech-owl. 183 (#x7_x_7_i209) In my madness, have I entrusted my courtship to these, and have I given soft words to be thus carried to my mistress?

These tablets would more becomingly hold the prosy summons, 184 (#x7_x_7_i212) which some judge 185 (#x7_x_7_i215) pronounces, with his sour face.

ELEGY XIII

Now over the Ocean does she come from her aged husband Tithonus, who, with her yellow locks, brings on the day with her frosty chariot. Whither, Aurora, art thou hastening? Stay; and then may the yearly bird, with its wonted death, honour the shades 189 (#x7_x_7_i224) of thy Memnon, its parent. Now do I delight to recline in the soft arms of my mistress; now, if ever, is she deliciously united to my side. Now, too, slumbers are sound, and now the moisture is cooling the birds, too, are sweetly waronng with their little throats. Whither art thou hastening, hated by the men, detested by the fair? Check thy dewy reins with thy rosy hand. 190 (#x7_x_7_i227)

Before thy rising, the sailor better observes his Constellations; and he wanders not in ignorance, in the midst of the waves. On thy approach, the wayfarer arises, weary though he be; the soldier lays upon his arms the hands used to bear them. Thou art the first to look upon the tillers of the fields laden with the two-pronged fork; thou art the first to summon the lagging oxen to the crooked yoke. 'Tis thou who dost deprive boys of their sleep, and dost hand them over to their masters; 192 (#x7_x_7_i230), that their tender hands may suffer the cruel stripes. 193 (#x7_x_7_i233) 'Tis thou, too, who dost send the man before the vestibule of the attorney, 194 (#x7_x_7_i236) when about to become bail; 195 (#x7_x_7_i239) that he may submit to the great risks of a single word.

Thou art no source of pleasure to the pleader, 198 (#x7_x_7_i242) nor yet to the counsel; for fresh combats each is forced to rise. Thou, when the labours of the females might have had a pause, dost recal the hand of the worker in wool to its task.

All this I could endure; but who could allow the fair to arise thus early, except the man who has no mistress of his own? How often have I wished that night would not make way for thee; and that the stars when put to flight would not fly from thy countenance. Many a time have I wished that either the wind would break thy chariot to pieces, or that thy steed would fall, overtaken by some dense cloud. Remorseless one, whither dost thou hasten? Inasmuch as thy son was black, such was the colour of his mother's heart. What if 199 (#x7_x_7_i245) she had not once burned with passion for Cephalus? Or does she fancy that her escapade was not known? I only wish it was allowed Tithonus to tell of thee; there would not be a more coarse tale in all the heavens. While thou art avoiding him, because he is chilled by length of years, thou dost rise early in the morning from the bed of the old man to thy odious chariot. But if thou wast only holding some Cephalus embraced in thy arms; then wouldst thou be crying out, "Run slowly on, ye horses of the night."

Why should I be punished in my affections, if thy husband does decay through length of years? Wast thou married to the old fellow by my contrivance? See how many hours of sleep the Moon gave 201 (#x7_x_7_i248) to the youth beloved by her; and yet her beauty is not inferior to thine. The parent of the Gods himself, that he might not see thee so often, joined two nights together 202 (#x7_x_7_i251) for the attainment of his desires.

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

ELEGY XIV

I always used to say; "Do leave off doctoring your hair." 203 (#x7_x_7_i254)And now you have no hair left, that you can be dyeing. But, if you had let it alone, what was more plenteous than it? It used to reach down your sides, so far as ever 204 (#x7_x_7_i257) they extend. And besides: Was it not so fine, that you were afraid to dress 205 (#x7_x_7_i260) it; just like the veils 206 (#x7_x_7_i263) which the swarthy Seres use? Or like the thread which the spider draws out with her slender legs, when she fastens her light work beneath the neglected beam? And yet its colour was not black, nor yet was it golden, but though it was neither, it was a mixture of them both. A colour, such as the tall cedar has in the moist vallies of craggy Ida, when its bark is stript off.

Besides, it was quite tractable, and falling into a thousand ringlets; and it was the cause of no trouble to you. Neither the bodkin, 208 (#x7_x_7_i266) nor the tooth of the comb ever tore it; your tire woman always had a whole skin. Many a time was it dressed before my eyes; and yet, never did the bodkin 210 (#x7_x_7_i269) seized make wounds in her arms. Many a time too, in the morning, her locks not yet arranged, was she lying on the purple couch, with her face half upturned. Then even, unadorned, was she beauteous; as when the Thracian Bacchanal, in her weariness, throws herself carelessly upon the green grass. Still, fine as it was, and just like down, what evils, alas! did her tortured hair endure! How patiently did it submit itself to the iron and the fire; 211 (#x7_x_7_i272) that the curls might become crisp with their twisting circlets. "'Tis a shame," I used to cry, "'tis a shame, to be burning that hair; naturally it is becoming; do, cruel one, be merciful to your own head. Away with all violence from it; it is not hair that deserves to be scorched; the very locks instruct 212 (#x7_x_7_i275) the bodkins when applied."

Those beauteous locks are gone; which Apollo might have longed for, and which Bacchus might have wished to be on his own head. With them I might compare those, which naked Dione is painted 213 (#x7_x_7_i278) as once having held up with her dripping hand. Why are you complaining that hair so badly treated is gone? Why, silly girl, do you lay down the mirror 214 (#x7_x_7_i281) with disconsolate hand? You are not seen to advantage by yourself with eyes accustomed to your former self. For you to please, you ought to be forgetful of your former self.

No enchanted herbs of a rival 215 (#x7_x_7_i284) have done you this injury; no treacherous hag has been washing you with Itæmonian water. The effects, too, of no disease have injured you; (far away be all bad omens; 216 (#x7_x_7_i287)) nor has an envious tongue thinned your abundant locks;'twas your own self who gave the prepared poison to your head. Now Germany will be sending 217 (#x7_x_7_i290) for you her captured locks; by the favour of a conquered race you will be adorned. Ah! how many a time will you have to blush, as any one admires your hair; and then you will say, "Now I am receiving praise for a bought commodity! In place of myself, he is now bepraising some Sygambrian girl 218 (#x7_x_7_i293) unknown to me; still, I remember the time when that glory was my own."

Wretch that I am! with difficulty does she restrain her tears; and she covers her face with her hand, having her delicate cheeks suffused with blushes. She is venturing to look at her former locks, placed in her bosom; a treasure, alas! not fitted for that spot. 219 (#x7_x_7_i296)

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

ELEGY XV

Why, gnawing Envy, dost thou blame me for years of slothfulness; and why dost thou call poesy the employment of an idle mind? Thou sayest that I do not, after the manner of my ancestors, while vigorous years allow me, seek the prizes of warfare covered with dust; that I do not make myself acquainted with the prosy law, and that I have not let my tongue for hire 221 (#x7_x_7_i299) in the disagreeable courts of justice.

The pursuits of which thou art speaking, are perishable; by me, everlasting fame is sought; that to all time I may be celebrated throughout the whole world. The Mæonian bard 222 (#x7_x_7_i302) will live, so long as Tenedos and Ida 223 (#x7_x_7_i305) shall stand; so long as Simois shall roll down to the sea his rapid waves. The Ascræan, too, 224 (#x7_x_7_i308) will live, so long as the grape shall swell with its juices; 225 (#x7_x_7_i311) so long as the corn shall fall, reaped by the curving sickle. The son of Battus 226 (#x7_x_7_i314) will to all time be sung throughout the whole world; although he is not powerful in genius, in his skill he shows his might. No mischance will ever come to the tragic buskin 227 (#x7_x_7_i317) of Sophocles; with the Sun and Moon Aratus 228 (#x7_x_7_i320) will ever exist. So long as the deceitful slave, 229 (#x7_x_7_i323) the harsh father, the roguish procuress, and the cozening courtesan shall endure, Menander will exist. Ennius, 230 (#x7_x_7_i326) without any art, and Accius, 231 (#x7_x_7_i329) with his spirited language, have a name that will perish with no lapse of time.

What age is to be forgetful of Varro, 232 (#x7_x_7_i332) and the first ship that sailed, and of the golden fleece sought by the chief, the son of Æson? Then will the verses perish of the sublime Lucretius, 233 (#x7_x_7_i335) when the same day shall give the world to destruction. Tityrus, 234 (#x7_x_7_i338) and the harvests, and the arms of Æneas, will be read of, so long as thou, Rome, 235 (#x7_x_7_i341) shalt be the ruler of the conquered earth. So long as the flames and the bow shall be the arms of Cupid, thy numbers, polished Tibullus, 236 (#x7_x_7_i344) will be repeated. Gallus 237 (#x7_x_7_i347)will be known by the West, and Gallus known by the East, 238 (#x7_x_7_i350) and with Gallus will his Lycoris be known. Though flint-stones, then, and though the share of the enduring plough perish by lapse of time, yet poetry is exempt from death. Let monarchs and the triumphs of monarchs yield to poesy, and let the wealthy shores of the golden Tagus 239 (#x7_x_7_i353) yield.

Let the vulgar throng admire worthless things; let the yellow-haired Apollo supply for me cups filled from the Castalian stream; let me bear, too, on my locks the myrtle that dreads the cold; and let me often be read by the anxious lover. Envy feeds upon the living; after death it is at rest, when his own reward protects each according to his merit. Still then, when the closing fire 240 (#x8_x_8_i1) shall have consumed me, shall I live on; and a great portion of myself will ever be surviving.

BOOK THE SECOND

ELEGY I

This work, also, I, Naso, born among the watery Peligni, 301 (#x8_x_8_i6) 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 (#x8_x_8_i9) 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 (#x8_x_8_i12) 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 (#x8_x_8_i15) 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