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The Amores; or, Amours
ELEGY XIV
His mistress having been in the habit of dyeing her hair with noxious compositions, she has nearly lost it, becoming almost bald. He reminds her of his former advice, and entreats her to abstain from the practice, on which there may be a chance of her recovering it.
I always used to say; "Do leave off doctoring your hair." 203 And now you have no hair left, that you can be dyeing. But, if you had let it alone, what was more plenteous than it? It used to reach down your sides, so far as ever 204 they extend. And besides: Was it not so fine, that you were afraid to dress 205 it; just like the veils 206 which the swarthy Seres use? Or like the thread which the spider draws out with her slender legs, when she fastens her light work beneath the neglected beam? And yet its colour was not black, nor yet was it golden, but though it was neither, it was a mixture of them both. A colour, such as the tall cedar has in the moist vallies of craggy Ida, when its bark is stript off.
Besides, it was quite tractable, and falling into a thousand ringlets; and it was the cause of no trouble to you. Neither the bodkin, 208 nor the tooth of the comb ever tore it; your tire woman always had a whole skin. Many a time was it dressed before my eyes; and yet, never did the bodkin 210 seized make wounds in her arms. Many a time too, in the morning, her locks not yet arranged, was she lying on the purple couch, with her face half upturned. Then even, unadorned, was she beauteous; as when the Thracian Bacchanal, in her weariness, throws herself carelessly upon the green grass. Still, fine as it was, and just like down, what evils, alas! did her tortured hair endure! How patiently did it submit itself to the iron and the fire; 211 that the curls might become crisp with their twisting circlets. "'Tis a shame," I used to cry, "'tis a shame, to be burning that hair; naturally it is becoming; do, cruel one, be merciful to your own head. Away with all violence from it; it is not hair that deserves to be scorched; the very locks instruct 212 the bodkins when applied."
Those beauteous locks are gone; which Apollo might have longed for, and which Bacchus might have wished to be on his own head. With them I might compare those, which naked Dione is painted 213 as once having held up with her dripping hand. Why are you complaining that hair so badly treated is gone? Why, silly girl, do you lay down the mirror 214 with disconsolate hand? You are not seen to advantage by yourself with eyes accustomed to your former self. For you to please, you ought to be forgetful of your former self.
No enchanted herbs of a rival 215 have done you this injury; no treacherous hag has been washing you with Itæmonian water. The effects, too, of no disease have injured you; (far away be all bad omens; 216) nor has an envious tongue thinned your abundant locks;'twas your own self who gave the prepared poison to your head. Now Germany will be sending 217 for you her captured locks; by the favour of a conquered race you will be adorned. Ah! how many a time will you have to blush, as any one admires your hair; and then you will say, "Now I am receiving praise for a bought commodity! In place of myself, he is now bepraising some Sygambrian girl 218 unknown to me; still, I remember the time when that glory was my own."
Wretch that I am! with difficulty does she restrain her tears; and she covers her face with her hand, having her delicate cheeks suffused with blushes. She is venturing to look at her former locks, placed in her bosom; a treasure, alas! not fitted for that spot. 219
Calm your feelings with your features; the loss may still be repaired. Before long, you will become beauteous with your natural hair.
ELEGY XV
He tells the envious that the fame of Poets is immortal, and that theirs is not a life devoted to idleness.
Why, gnawing Envy, dost thou blame me for years of slothfulness; and why dost thou call poesy the employment of an idle mind? Thou sayest that I do not, after the manner of my ancestors, while vigorous years allow me, seek the prizes of warfare covered with dust; that I do not make myself acquainted with the prosy law, and that I have not let my tongue for hire 221 in the disagreeable courts of justice.
The pursuits of which thou art speaking, are perishable; by me, everlasting fame is sought; that to all time I may be celebrated throughout the whole world. The Mæonian bard 222 will live, so long as Tenedos and Ida 223 shall stand; so long as Simois shall roll down to the sea his rapid waves. The Ascræan, too, 224 will live, so long as the grape shall swell with its juices; 225 so long as the corn shall fall, reaped by the curving sickle. The son of Battus 226 will to all time be sung throughout the whole world; although he is not powerful in genius, in his skill he shows his might. No mischance will ever come to the tragic buskin 227 of Sophocles; with the Sun and Moon Aratus 228 will ever exist. So long as the deceitful slave, 229 the harsh father, the roguish procuress, and the cozening courtesan shall endure, Menander will exist. Ennius, 230 without any art, and Accius, 231 with his spirited language, have a name that will perish with no lapse of time.
What age is to be forgetful of Varro, 232 and the first ship that sailed, and of the golden fleece sought by the chief, the son of Æson? Then will the verses perish of the sublime Lucretius, 233 when the same day shall give the world to destruction. Tityrus, 234 and the harvests, and the arms of Æneas, will be read of, so long as thou, Rome, 235 shalt be the ruler of the conquered earth. So long as the flames and the bow shall be the arms of Cupid, thy numbers, polished Tibullus, 236 will be repeated. Gallus 237 will be known by the West, and Gallus known by the East, 238 and with Gallus will his Lycoris be known. Though flint-stones, then, and though the share of the enduring plough perish by lapse of time, yet poetry is exempt from death. Let monarchs and the triumphs of monarchs yield to poesy, and let the wealthy shores of the golden Tagus 239 yield.
Let the vulgar throng admire worthless things; let the yellow-haired Apollo supply for me cups filled from the Castalian stream; let me bear, too, on my locks the myrtle that dreads the cold; and let me often be read by the anxious lover. Envy feeds upon the living; after death it is at rest, when his own reward protects each according to his merit. Still then, when the closing fire 240 shall have consumed me, shall I live on; and a great portion of myself will ever be surviving.
BOOK THE SECOND
ELEGY I
He says that he is obliged by Cupid to write of Love instead of the Wars, of the Giants, upon which subject he had already commenced.
This work, also, I, Naso, born among the watery Peligni, 301 have composed, the Poet of my own failings. This work, too, has Love demanded. Afar hence, be afar hence, ye prudish matrons; you are not a fitting audience for my wanton lines. Let the maiden that is not cold, read me in the presence of her betrothed; the inexperienced boy, too, wounded by a passion hitherto unknown; and may some youth, now wounded by the bow by which I am, recognise the conscious symptoms of his flame; and after long wondering, may he exclaim, "Taught by what informant, has this Poet been composing my own story?"
I was (I remember) venturing to sing of the battles of the heavens, and Gyges 302 with his hundred hands; and I had sufficient power of expression; what time the Earth so disgracefully avenged herself, and lofty Ossa, heaped upon Olympus, bore Pelion headlong downwards. Having the clouds in my hands, and wielding the lightnings with Jove, which with success he was to hurl in behalf of his realms of the heavens, my mistress shut her door against me; the lightnings together with Jove did I forsake. Jupiter himself disappeared from my thoughts. Pardon me, O Jove; no aid did thy weapons afford me; the shut door was a more potent thunderbolt than thine. I forthwith resumed the language of endearment and trifling Elegies, those weapons of my own; and gentle words prevailed upon the obdurate door.
Verses bring down 303 the horns of the blood-stained Moon; and they recall the snow-white steeds of the Sun in his career. Through verses do serpents burst, their jaws rent asunder, and the water turned back flows upward to its source. Through verses have doors given way; and by verses 304 was the bar, inserted in the door-post, although 'twas made of oak, overcome. Of what use is the swift Achilles celebrated by me? What can this or that son of Atreus do for me? He, too, who wasted as many of his years in wandering as in warfare? And the wretched Hector, dragged by the Hæmonian steeds? But the charms of the beauteous fair being ofttimes sung, she presents herself to the Poet as the reward of his verse. This great recompense is given; farewell, then, ye illustrious names of heroes; your favour is of no use to me. Ye charming fair, turn your eyes to my lines, which blushing Cupid dictates to me.
ELEGY II
He has seen a lady walking in the portico of the temple of Apollo, and has sent to know if he may wait upon her. She has replied that it is quite impossible, as the eunuch Bagous is set to watch her. Ovid here addresses Bagous, and endeavours to persuade him to relax his watch over the fair; and shows him how he can do so with safety.
Bagous, 305 with whom is the duty of watching over your mistress, give me your attention, while I say a few but suitable words to you. Yesterday morning I saw a young lady walking in that portico which contains the choir of the daughters of Danaus. 306 At once, as she pleased me, I sent to her, and in my letter I proffered my request; with trembling hand, she answered me, "I cannot." And to my inquiry, why she could not, the cause was announced; namely, that your surveillance over your mistress is too strict.
O keeper, if you are wise (believe me now), cease to deserve my hatred; every one wishes him gone, of whom he stands in dread. Her husband, too, is not in his senses; for who would toil at taking care of that of which no part is lost, even if you do not watch it? But still, in his madness, let him indulge his passion; and let him believe that the object is chaste which pleases universally. By your favour, liberty may by stealth be given to her; that one day she may return to you what you have given her. Are you ready to be a confidant; the mistress is obedient to the slave. You fear to be an accomplice; you may shut your eyes. Does she read a letter by herself; suppose her mother to have sent it. Does a stranger come; bye and bye let him go, 307 as though an old acquaintance. Should she go to visit a sick female friend, who is not sick; in your opinion, let her be unwell. If she shall be a long time at the sacrifice, 308 let not the long waiting tire you; putting your head on your breast, you can snore away. And don't be enquiring what can be going on at the temple of the linen-clad Isis; 309 nor do you stand in any fear whatever of the curving theatres.
An accomplice in the escapade will receive everlasting honour; and what is less trouble than merely to hold your tongue? He is in favour; he turns the house 310 upside down at his pleasure, and he feels no stripes; he is omnipotent; the rest, a scrubby lot, are grovelling on. By him, that the real circumstances may be concealed, false ones are coined; and both the masters approve 311 of, what one, and that the mistress, Approves of. When the husband has quite contracted his brow, and has pursed up his wrinkles, the caressing fair makes him become just as she pleases. But still, let her sometimes contrive some fault against you even, and let her pretend tears, and call you an executioner. 312 Do you, on the other hand, making some charge which she may easily explain; by a feigned accusation remove all suspicion of the truth. 313 In such case, may your honours, then may your limited savings 314 increase; only do this, and in a short time you shall be a free man.
You behold the chains bound around the necks of informers; 315 the loathsome gaol receives the hearts that are unworthy of belief. In the midst of water Tantalus is in want of water, and catches at the apples as they escape him; 'twas his blabbing tongue caused this. 325 While the keeper appointed by Juno, 326 is watching Io too carefully, he dies before his time; she becomes a Goddess.
I have seen him wearing fetters on his bruised legs, through whom a husband was obliged to know of an intrigue. The punishment was less than his deserts; an unruly tongue was the injury of the two; the husband was grieved; the female suffered the loss of her character. Believe me; accusations are pleasing to no husband, and no one do they delight, even though he should listen to them. If he is indifferent, then you are wasting your information upon ears that care nothing for it; if he dotes on her, by your officiousness is he made wretched.
Besides, a faux pas, although discovered, is not so easily proved; she comes before him, protected by the prejudices of her judge. Should even he himself see it, still he himself will believe her as she denies it; and he will condemn his own eyesight, and will impose upon himself. Let him but see the tears of his spouse, and he himself will weep, and he will say, "That blabbing fellow shall be punished." How unequal the contest in which you embark! if conquered, stripes are ready for you; while she is reposing in the bosom of the judge.
No crime do we meditate; we meet not for mixing poisons; my hand is not glittering with the drawn sword. We ask that through you we may be enabled to love in safety; what can there be more harmless than these our prayers?
ELEGY III
He again addresses Bagous, who has proved obdurate to his request, and tries to effect his object by sympathising with his unhappy fate.
Alas! that, 327 neither man nor woman, you are watching your mistress, and that you cannot experience the mutual transports of love! He who was the first to mutilate boys, 328 ought himself to have suffered those wounds which he made. You would be ready to accommodate, and obliging to those who entreat you, had your own passion been before inflamed by any fair. You were not born for managing the steed, nor are you skilful in valorous arms; for your right hand the warlike spear is not adapted. With these let males meddle; do you resign all manly aspirations; may the standard be borne 329 by you in the cause of your mistress.
Overwhelm her with your favours; her gratitude may be of use to you. If you should miss that, what good fortune will there be for you? She has both beauty, and her years are fitted for dalliance; her charms are not deserving to fade in listless neglect. Ever watchful though you are deemed, still she may deceive you; what two persons will, does not fail of accomplishment. Still, as it is more convenient to try you with our entreaties, we do implore you, while you have still the opportunity of conferring your favours to advantage. 330
ELEGY IV
He confesses that he is an universal admirer of the fair sex.
I would not presume to defend my faulty morals, and to wield deceiving arms in behalf of my frailties. I confess them, if there is any use in confessing one's errors; and now, having confessed, I am foolishly proceeding to my own accusation. I hate this state; nor, though I wish, can I be otherwise than what I hate. Alas! how hard it is to bear a lot which you wish to lay aside! For strength and self-control fail me for ruling myself; just like a ship carried along the rapid tide, am I hurried away.
There is no single style of beauty which inflames my passion; there are a hundred causes for me always to be in love.
Is there any fair one that casts down her modest eyes? I am on fire; and that very modesty becomes an ambush against me. Is another one forward; then I am enchanted, because she is not coy; and her liveliness raises all my expectations. If another seems to be prudish, and to imitate the repulsive Sabine dames; 332 I think that she is kindly disposed, but that she conceals it in her stateliness. 333 Or if you are a learned fair, you please me, thus endowed with rare acquirements; or if ignorant, you are charming for your simplicity. Is there one who says that the lines of Callimachus are uncouth in comparison with mine; at once she, to whom I am so pleasing, pleases me. Is there even one who abuses both myself, the Poet, and my lines; I could wish to have her who so abuses me, upon my knee. Does this one walk leisurely, she enchants me with her gait; is another uncouth, still, she may become more gentle, on being more intimate with the other sex.
Because this one sings so sweetly, and modulates her voice 334 with such extreme case, I could wish to steal a kiss from her as she sings. Another is running through the complaining strings with active finger; who could not fall in love with hands so skilled? And now, one pleases by her gestures, and moves her arms to time, 335 and moves her graceful sides with languishing art in the dance; to say nothing about myself, who am excited on every occasion, put Hippolytus 336 there; he would become a Priapus. You, because you are so tall, equal the Heroines of old; 337 and, of large size, you can fill the entire couch as you lie. Another is active from her shortness; by both I am enchanted; both tall and short suit my taste. Is one unadorned; it occurs what addition there might be if she was adorned. Is one decked out; she sets out her endowments to advantage. The blonde will charm me; the brunette 338 will charm me too; a Venus is pleasing, even of a swarthy colour. Does black hair fall upon a neck of snow; Leda was sightly, with her raven locks. Is the hair flaxen; with her saffron locks, Aurora was charming. To every traditional story does my passion adapt itself. A youthful age charms me; an age more mature captivates me; the former is superior in the charms of person, the latter excels in spirit.
In fine, whatever the fair any person approves of in all the City, to all these does my passion aspire.
ELEGY V
He addresses his mistress, whom he has detected acting falsely towards him.
Away with thee, quivered Cupid: no passion is of a value so great, that it should so often be my extreme wish to die. It is my wish to die, as oft as I call to mind your guilt. Fair one, born, alas! to be a never-ceasing cause of trouble! It is no tablets rubbed out 339 that discover your doings; no presents stealthily sent reveal your criminality. Oh! would that I might so accuse you, that, after all, I could not convict you! Ah wretched me! and why is my case so stare? Happy the man who boldly dares to defend the object which he loves; to whom his mistress is able to say, "I have done nothing wrong." Hard-hearted is he, and too much does he encourage his own grief, by whom a blood-stained victory is sought in the conviction of the accused.
To my sorrow, in my sober moments, with the wine on table, 342 I myself was witness of your criminality, when you thought I was asleep. I saw you both uttering many an expression by moving your eyebrows; 343 in your nods there was a considerable amount of language. Your eyes were not silent, 344 the table, too, traced over with wine; 345 nor was the language of the fingers wanting; I understood your discourse, 346 which treated of that which it did not appear to do; the words, too, preconcerted to stand for certain meanings. And now, the tables removed, many a guest had gone away; a couple of youths only were there dead drunk. But then I saw you both giving wanton kisses; I am sure that there was billing enough on your part; such, in fact, as no sister gives to a brother of correct conduct, but rather such as some voluptuous mistress gives to the eager lover; such as we may suppose that Phoebus did not give to Diana, but that Venus many a time save to her own dear Mars.
"What are you doing?" I cried out; "whither are you taking those transports that belong to me? On what belongs to myself, I will lay the hand of a master, 347 These delights must be in common with you and me, and with me and you; but why does any third person take a share in them?"
This did I say; and what, besides, sorrow prompted my tongue to say; but the red blush of shame rose on her conscious features; just as the sky, streaked by the wife of Tithonus, is tinted with red, or the maiden when beheld by her new-made husband; 348 just as the roses are beauteous when mingled among their encircling lilies; or when the Moon is suffering from the enchantment of her steeds; 349 or the Assyrian ivory 350 which the Mæonian woman has stained, 351 that from length of time it may not turn yellow. That complexion of hers was extremely like to these, or to some one of these; and, as it happened, she never was more beauteous than then. She looked towards the ground; to look upon the ground, added a charm; sad were her features, in her sorrow was she graceful. I had been tempted to tear her locks just as they were, (and nicely dressed they were) and to make an attack upon her tender cheeks.
When I looked on her face, my strong arms fell powerless; by arms of her own was my mistress defended. I, who the moment before had been so savage, now, as a suppliant and of my own accord, entreated that she would give me kisses not inferior to those given-to my rival. She smiled, and with heartiness she gave me her best kisses; such as might have snatched his three-forked bolts from Jove. To my misery I am now tormented, lest that other person received them in equal perfection; and I hope that those were not of this quality. 352
Those kisses, too, were far better than those which I taught her; and she seemed to have learned something new. That they were too delightful, is a bad sign; that so lovingly were your lips joined to mine, and mine to yours. And yet, it is not at this alone that I am grieved; I do not only complain that kisses were given; although I do complain as well that they were given; such could never have been taught but on a closer acquaintanceship. I know not who is the master that has received a remuneration so ample.
