Kitabı oku: «The Amores; or, Amours», sayfa 5
ELEGY XIV
He reproaches his mistress for having attempted to procure abortion.
Of what use is it for damsels to live at ease, exempt from war, and not with their bucklers, 439 to have any inclination to follow the bloodstained troops; if, without warfare, they endure wounds from weapons of their own, and arm their imprudent hands for their own destruction? She who was the first to teach how to destroy the tender embryo, was deserving to perish by those arms of her own. That the stomach, forsooth, may be without the reproach of wrinkles, the sand must 440 be lamentably strewed for this struggle of yours.
If the same custom had pleased the matrons of old, through such criminality mankind would have perished; and he would be required, who should again throw stones 441 on the empty earth, for the second time the original of our kind. Who would have destroyed the resources of Priam, if Thetis, the Goddess of the waves, had refused to bear Achilles, her due burden? If Ilia had destroyed 442 the twins in her swelling womb, the founder of the all-ruling City would have perished.
If Venus had laid violent hands on Æneas in her pregnant womb, the earth would have been destitute of its Cæsars. You, too, beauteous one, might have died at the moment you might have been born, if your mother had tried the same experiment which you have done. I, myself, though destined as I am, to die a more pleasing death by love, should have beheld no days, had my mother slain me.
Why do you deprive the loaded vine of its growing grapes? And why pluck the sour apples with relentless hand? When ripe, let them fall of their own accord; once put forth, let them grow. Life is no slight reward for a little waiting. Why pierce 443 your own entrails, by applying instruments, and why give dreadful poisons to the yet unborn? People blame the Colchian damsel, stained with the blood of her sons; and they grieve for Itys, Slaughtered by his own mother. Each mother was cruel; but each, for sad reasons, took vengeance on her husband, by shedding their common blood. Tell me what Tereus, or what Jason excites you to pierce your body with an anxious hand?
This neither the tigers do in their Armenian dens, 444 nor does the lioness dare to destroy an offspring of her own. But, delicate females do this, not, however, with impunity; many a time 445 does she die herself, who kills her offspring in the womb. She dies herself, and, with her loosened hair, is borne upon the bier; and those whoever only catch a sight of her, cry "She deserved it." 446 But let these words vanish in the air of the heavens, and may there be no weight in these presages of mine. Ye forgiving Deities, allow her this once to do wrong with safety to herself; that is enough; let a second transgression bring its own punishment.
ELEGY XV
He addresses a ring which he has presented to his mistress, and envi its happy lot.
O ring, 447 about to encircle the finger of the beauteous fair, in which there is nothing of value but the affection of the giver; go as a pleasing gift; and receiving you with joyous feelings, may she at once place you upon her finger. May you serve her as well as she is constant to me; and nicely fitting, may you embrace her finger in your easy circle. Happy ring, by my mistress will you be handled. To my sorrow, I am now envying my own presents.
O! that I could suddenly be changed into my own present, by the arts of her of Ææa, or of the Carpathian old man! 448 Then could I wish you to touch the bosom of my mistress, and for her to place her left hand within her dress. Though light and fitting well, I would escape from her finger; and loosened by some wondrous contrivance, into her bosom would I fall. I too, as well, that I might be able to seal 449 her secret tablets, and that the seal, neither sticky nor dry, might not drag the wax, should first have to touch the lips 450 of the charming fair. Only I would not seal a note, the cause of grief to myself. Should I be given, to be put away in her desk, 459 I would refuse to depart, sticking fast to your fingers with ray contracted circle.
To you, my life, I would never be a cause of disgrace, or a burden which your delicate fingers would refuse to carry. Wear me, when you are bathing your limbs in the tepid stream; and put up with the inconvenience of the water getting beneath the stone. But, I doubt, that on seeing you naked, my passion would be aroused; and that, a ring, I should enact the part of the lover. But why wish for impossibilities? Go, my little gift; let her understand that my constancy is proffered with you.
ELEGY XVI
He enlarges on the beauties of his native place, where he is now staying; but, notwithstanding the delights of the country, he says that he cannot feel happy in the absence of his mistress, whom he invites to visit him.
Sulmo, 460 the third part of the Pelignian land, 461 now receives me; a little spot, but salubrious with its flowing streams. Though the Sun should cleave the earth with his approaching rays, and though the oppressive Constellation 462 of the Dog of Icarus should shine, the Pelignian fields are traversed by flowing streams, and the shooting grass is verdant on the soft ground. The earth is fertile in corn, and much more fruitful in the grape; the thin soil 463 produces, too, the olive, that bears its berries. 464 The rivers also trickling amid the shooting blades, the grassy turfs cover the moistened ground.
But my flame is far away. In one word, I am mistaken; she who excites my flame is far off; my flame is here. I would not choose, could I be placed between Pollux and Castor, to be in a portion of the heavens without yourself. Let them lie with their anxious cares, and let them be pressed with the heavy weight of the earth, who have measured out the earth into lengthened tracks. 465 Or else they should have bid the fair to go as the companions of the youths, if the earth must be measured out into lengthened tracks. Then, had I, shivering, had to pace the stormy Alps, 466 the journey would have been pleasant, so that I had been with my love. With my love, I could venture to rush through the Libyan quicksands, and to spread my sails to be borne along by the fitful Southern gales. Then, I would not dread the monsters which bark beneath the thigh of the virgin Scylla; nor winding Malea, thy bays; nor where Charybdis, sated with ships swallowed up, disgorges them, and sucks up again the water which she has discharged. And if the sway of the winds prevails, and the waves bear away the Deities about to come to our aid; do you throw your snow-white arms around my shoulders; with active body will I support the beauteous burden. The youth who visited Hero, had often swam across the waves; then, too, would he have crossed them, but the way was dark.
But without you, although the fields affording employment with their vines detain me; although the meadows be overflowed by the streams, and though the husbandman invite the obedient stream 467 into channels, and the cool air refresh the foliage of the trees, I should not seem to be among the healthy Peliguians; I should not seem to be in the place of my birth—my paternal fields; but in Scythia, and among the fierce Cilicians, 468 and the Britons painted green, 469 and the rocks which are red with the gore of Prometheus.
The elm loves the vine, 471 the vine forsakes not the elm: why am I so often torn away from my love? But you used to swear, both by myself, and by your eyes, my stars, that you would ever be my companion. The winds and the waves carry away, whither they choose, the empty words of the fair, more worthless than the falling leaves. Still, if there is any affectionate regard in you for me thus deserted: now commence to add deeds to your promises: and forthwith do you, as the nags 472 whirl your little chaise 473 along, shake the reins over their manes at full speed. But you, rugged hills, subside, wherever she shall come; and you paths in the winding vales, be smooth.
ELEGY XVII
He says that he is the slave of Corinna, and complains of the tyranny which she exercises over him.
If there shall be any one who thinks it inglorious to serve a damsel: in his opinion I shall be convicted of such baseness. Let me be disgraced; if only she, who possesses Paphos, and Cythera, beaten by the waves, torments me with less violence. And would that I had been the prize, too, of some indulgent mistress; since I was destined to be the prize of some fair. Beauty begets pride; through her charms Corinna is disdainful. Ah wretched me! why is she so well known to herself? Pride, forsooth, is caught from the reflection of the mirror: and there she sees not herself, unless she is first adorned.
If your beauty gives you a sway not too great over all things, face born to fascinate my eyes, still, you ought not, on that account, to despise me comparatively with yourself. That which is inferior must be united with what is great. The Nymph Calypso, seized with passion for a mortal, is believed to have detained the hero against his will. It is believed that the ocean-daughter of Nereus was united to the king of Plithia, 474 and that Egeria was to the just Numa: that Venus was to Vulcan: although, his anvil 475 left, he limped with a distorted foot. This same kind of verse is unequal; but still the heroic is becomingly united 476 with the shorter measure.
You, too, my life, receive me upon any terms. May it become you to impose conditions in the midst of your caresses. I will be no disgrace to you, nor one for you to rejoice at my removal. This affection will not be one to be disavowed by you. 477 May my cheerful lines be to you in place of great wealth: even many a fair wishes to gain fame through me. I know of one who publishes it that she is Corinna. 478 What would she not be ready to give to be so? But neither do the cool Eurotas, and the poplar-bearing Padus, far asunder, roll along the same banks; nor shall any one but yourself be celebrated in my poems. You, alone, shall afford subject-matter for my genius.
ELEGY XVIII
He tells Macer that he ought to write on Love.
While thou art tracing thy poem onwards 479 to the wrath of Achilles, and art giving their first arms to the heroes, after taking the oaths; I, Macer, 480 am reposing in the shade of Venus, unused to toil; and tender Love attacks me, when about to attempt a mighty subject. Many a time have I said to my mistress, "At length, away with you:" and forthwith she has seated herself in my lap. Many a time have I said, "I am ashamed of myself:" when, with difficulty, her tears repressed, she has said, "Ah wretched me! Now you are ashamed to love." And then she has thrown her arms around my neck: and has given me a thousand kisses, which quite overpowered me. I am overcome: and my genius is called away from the arms it has assumed; and I forthwith sing the exploits of my home, and my own warfare.
Still did I wield the sceptre: and by my care my Tragedy grew apace; 481 and for this pursuit I was well prepared. Love smiled both at my tragic pall, and my coloured buskins, and the sceptre wielded so well by a private hand. From this pursuit, too, did the influence of my cruel mistress draw me away, and Love triumphed over the Poet with his buskins. As I am allowed to do, either I teach the art of tender love, (alas! by my own precepts am I myself tormented:) or I write what was delivered to Ulysses in the words of Penelope, or thy tears, deserted Phyllis. What, too, Paris and Macareus, and the ungrateful Jason, and the parent of Hip-polytus, and Hippolytus himself read: and what the wretched Dido says, brandishing the drawn sword, and what the Lesbian mistress of the Æolian lyre.
How swiftly did my friend, Sabinus, return 482 from all quarters of the world, and bring back letters 483 from different spots! The fair Penelope recognized the seal of Ulysses: the stepmother read what was written by her own Hippolytus. Then did the dutiful Æneas write an answer to the afflicted Elissa; and Phyllis, if she only survives, has something to read. The sad letter came to Hypsipyle from Jason: the Lesbian damsel, beloved by Apollo, may give the lyre that she has vowed to Phoebus. 484 Nor, Macer, so far as it is safe for a poet who sings of wars, is beauteous Love unsung of by thee, in the midst of warfare. Both Paris is there, and the adultress, the far-famed cause of guilt: and Laodamia, who attends her husband in death. If well I know thee; thou singest not of wars with greater pleasure than these; and from thy own camp thou comest back to mine.
ELEGY XIX
He tells a husband who does not care for his wife to watch her a little more carefully.
If, fool, thou dost not need the fair to be well watched; still have her watched for my sake: that I may be pleased with her the more. What one may have is worthless; what one may not have, gives the more edge to the desires. If a man falls in love with that which another permits him to love, he is a man without feeling. Let us that love, both hope and fear in equal degree; and let an occasional repulse make room for our desires.
Why should I think of Fortune, should she never care to deceive me? I value nothing that does not sometimes cause me pain. The clever Corinna saw this failing in me; and she cunningly found out the means by which I might be enthralled. Oh, how many a time, feigning a pain in her head 485 that was quite well, has she ordered me, as I lingered with tardy foot, to take my departure! Oh, how many a time has she feigned a fault, and guilty herself, has made there to be an appearance of innocence, just as she pleased! When thus she had tormented me and had rekindled the languid flame, again was she kind and obliging to my wishes. What caresses, what delightful words did she have ready for me! What kisses, ye great Gods, and how many, used she to give me!
You, too, who have so lately ravished my eyes, often stand in dread of treachery, often, when entreated, refuse; and let me, lying prostrate on the threshold before your door-posts, endure the prolonged cold throughout the frosty night. Thus is my love made lasting, and it grows up in lengthened experience; this is for my advantage, this forms food for my affection. A surfeit of love, 486 and facilities too great, become a cause of weariness to me, just as sweet food cloys the appetite. If the brazen tower had never enclosed Danaë, 487 Danaë had never been made a mother by Jove. While Juno is watching Io 'with her curving horns, she becomes still more pleasing to Jove than she has been before.
Whoever desires what he may have, and what is easily obtained, let him pluck leaves from the trees, and take water from the ample stream. If any damsel wishes long to hold her sway, let her play with her lover. Alas! that I, myself, am tormented through my own advice. Let constant indulgence be the lot of whom it may, it does injury to me: that which pursues, from it I fly; that which flies, I ever pursue. But do thou, too sure of the beauteous fair, begin now at nightfall to close thy house. Begin to enquire who it is that so often stealthily paces thy threshold? Why, too, the dogs bark 488 in the silent night. Whither the careful handmaid is carrying, or whence bringing back, the tablets? Why so oft she lies in her couch apart? Let this anxiety sometimes gnaw into thy very marrow; and give some scope and some opportunity for my stratagems.
If one could fall in love with the wife of a fool, that man could rob the barren sea-shore of its sand. And now I give thee notice; unless thou begin to watch this fair, she shall begin to cease to be a flame of mine. I have put up with much, and that for a long time; I have often hoped that it would come to pass, that I should adroitly deceive thee, when thou hadst watched her well. Thou art careless, and dost endure what should be endured by no husband; but an end there shall be of an amour that is allowed to me. And shall I then, to my sorrow, forsooth, never be forbidden admission? Will it ever be night for me, with no one for an avenger? Am I to dread nothing? Shall I heave no sighs in my sleep? What have I to do with one so easy, what with such a pander of a husband? By thy own faultiness thou dost mar my joys. Why, then, dost thou not choose some one else, for so great long-suffering to please? If it pleases thee for me to be thy rival, forbid me to be so.–
BOOK THE THIRD
ELEGY I
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.
