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Elegia VII.2
Ad pacandam amicam, quam verberaverat.

Bind fast my hands, they have deservèd chains,
While rage is absent, take some friend the pains.
For rage against my wench moved my rash arm;
My mistress weeps whom my mad hand did harm.
I might have then my parents dear misused,
Or holy gods with cruel strokes abused.
Why, Ajax, master of the seven-fold shield,
Butchered the flocks he found in spacious field.
And he who on his mother venged his ire,
Against the Destinies durst sharp3 darts require.
10
Could I therefore her comely tresses tear?
Yet was she gracèd with her ruffled hair.
So fair she was, Atalanta she resembled,
Before whose bow th' Arcadian wild beasts trembled.
Such Ariadne was, when she bewails,
Her perjured Theseus' flying vows and sails.
So, chaste Minerva, did Cassandra fall
Deflowered1 except within thy temple wall.
That I was mad and barbarous all men cried:
She nothing said; pale fear her tongue had tied.
20
But secretly her looks with checks did trounce me,
Her tears, she silent, guilty did pronounce me.
Would of mine arms my shoulders had been scanted!
Better I could part of myself have wanted.
To mine own self have I had strength so furious,
And to myself could I be so injurious?
Slaughter and mischief's instruments, no better,
Deservèd chains these cursèd hands shall fetter.
Punished I am, if I a Roman beat:
Over my mistress is my right more great?
30
Tydides left worst signs2 of villainy;
He first a goddess struck: another I.
Yet he harmed less; whom I professed to love
I harmed: a foe did Diomede's anger move.
Go now, thou conqueror, glorious triumphs raise,
Pay vows to Jove; engirt thy hairs with bays.
And let the troops which shall thy chariot follow,
“Iö, a strong man conquered this wench,” hollow.
Let the sad captive foremost, with locks spread
On her white neck, but for hurt cheeks,1 be led.
40
Meeter it were her lips were blue with kissing,
And on her neck a wanton's2 mark not missing.
But, though I like a swelling flood was driven,
And as a prey unto blind anger given,
Was't not enough the fearful wench to chide?
Nor thunder, in rough threatenings, haughty pride?
Nor shamefully her coat pull o'er her crown,
Which to her waist her girdle still kept down?
But cruelly her tresses having rent,
My nails to scratch her lovely cheeks I bent.
50
Sighing she stood, her bloodless white looks shewed,
Like marble from the Parian mountains hewed.
Her half-dead joints, and trembling limbs I saw,
Like poplar leaves blown with a stormy flaw.
Or slender ears, with gentle zephyr shaken,
Or waters' tops with the warm south-wind taken.
And down her cheeks, the trickling tears did flow,
Like water gushing from consuming snow.
Then first I did perceive I had offended;
My blood the tears were that from her descended.
60
Before her feet thrice prostrate down I fell,
My fearèd hands thrice back she did repel.
But doubt thou not (revenge doth grief appease),
With thy sharp nails upon my face to seize;
Bescratch mine eyes, spare not my locks to break
(Anger will help thy hands though ne'er so weak);
And lest the sad signs of my crime remain,
Put in their place thy kembèd1 hairs again.

[2]Not in Isham copy or ed. A.

[3]I should like to omit this word, to which there is nothing to correspond in the original.

[1]Marlowe has misunderstood the original:

“Sic nisi vittatis quod erat Cassandra capillis.”

[2]“Pessima Tydides scelerum monumenta reliquit.”

[1]An awkward translation of

“Si sinerent læsæ, Candida tota, genæ.”

[2]So ed. B.—Ed. C. “wanton.”

[1]Old eds. “keembed.” (“Pone recompositas in statione comas.”)

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Elegia VII. Ad pacandam amicam, quam verberaverat. - Christopher Marlowe, The Works of Christopher Marlowe, vol. 3 (Poems) [1598]

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Elegia VII.2Ad pacandam amicam, quam verberaverat.

Elegia VII.2
Ad pacandam amicam, quam verberaverat.