Front Page Titles (by Subject) P. OVIDII NASONIS AMORUM. liber secundus . - The Works of Christopher Marlowe, vol. 3 (Poems)
P. OVIDII NASONIS AMORUM. liber secundus . - Christopher Marlowe, The Works of Christopher Marlowe, vol. 3 (Poems) 
The Works of Christopher Marlowe, ed. A.H. Bullen (London: John C. Nimmo, 1885). Vol. 3.
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- Publisher's Notice
- Hero and Leander.
- To the Right-worshipful Sir Thomas Walsingham, Knight
- Hero and Leander.
- The First Sestiad.
- The Second Sestiad.
- The Epistle Dedicatory
- The Third Sestiad.
- The Fourth Sestiad.
- The Fifth Sestiad.
- The Sixth Sestiad.
- Ovid's Elegies.
- P. Ovidii Nasonis 'amorum Liber Primus
- Elegia I. Quemadmodum a Cupidine, Pro Bellis Amores Scribere Coactus Sit.
- Elegia II. Quod Primo Amore Correptus, In Triumphum Duci Se a Cupidine Patiatur.
- Elegia III. Ad Amicam.
- Elegia IV. Amicam, Qua Arte Quibusque Nutibus In Cæna, Presente Viro, Uti Debeat, Admonet.
- Elegia V. Corinnæ Concubitus.
- Elegia VI. Ad Janitorem, Ut Fores Sibi Aperiat.
- Elegia VII. Ad Pacandam Amicam, Quam Verberaverat.
- Elegia VIII. Execratur Lenam Quæ Puellam Suam Meretricis Arte Instituebat.
- Elegia Ix Ad Atticum, Amantem Non Oportere Desidiosum Esse, Sicuti Nec Militem.
- Elegia X Ad Puellam, Ne Pro Amore Præmia Poscat.
- Elegia XI. Napen Alloqutur, Ut Paratas Tabellas Ad Cornnam Perferat.
- Elegia XII. Tabellas Quas Miserat Execratur Quod Amica Noctem Negabat.
- Elegia XIII. Ad Auroram Ne Properet.
- Elegia XIV. Puellam Consolatur Cui Præ Nimia Cura Comæ Deciderant.
- Elegia XV. Ad Invidos, Quod Fama Poetarum Sit Perennis.
- P. Ovidii Nasonis Amorum. Liber Secundus .
- Elegia I. Quod Pro Gigantomachia Amores Scribere Sit Coactus.
- Elegia II. Ad Bagoum, Ut Custodiam Puellæ Sibi Commissæ Laxiorem Habeat
- Elegia III. Ad Eunuchum Servantem Dominam.
- Elegia IV. Quod Amet Mulieres, Cujuscunque Formæ Sint.
- Elegia V. Ad Amicam Corruptam.
- Elegia VI. In Mortem Psittaci.
- Elegia VII. Amicæ Se Purgat, Quod Ancillam Non Amet.
- Elegia VIII. Ad Cypassim Ancillam Corinnæ.
- Elegia IX. Ad Cupidinem.
- Elegia X. Ad Græcinum Quod Eodem Tempore Duas Amet.
- Elegia XI. Ad Amicam Navigantem.
- Elegia XII. Exultat, Quod Amica Potitus Sit.
- Elegia XIII. Ad Isidem, Ut Parientem Corinnam Servet
- Elegia XIV. In Amicam, Quod Abortivum Ipsa Fecerit.
- Elegia XV. Ad Annulum, Quem Dono Amicæ Dedit.
- Elegia XVI. Ad Amicam, Ut Ad Rura Sua Veniat.
- Elegia XVII. Quod Corinnæ Soli Sit Serviturus.
- Elegia XVIII. Ad Macrum, Quod De Amoribus Scribat,
- Elegia XIX. Ad Rivalem Cut Nxor Curæ Non Erat.
- P. Ovidii Masonis Amorum. Liber Tertius .
- Elegia I. Deliberatio Poetæ, Utrum Elegos Pergat Scribere an Potius Tragoedias.
- Elegia II. Ad Amicam Cursum Equorum Spectantem.
- Elegia III. De Amica Quæ Perjuraverat.
- Elegia IV. Ad Virum Servantem Conjugem.
- Elegia VI. Ad Amnem Dum Iter Faceret Ad Amicam.
- Elegia VII. Quod Ab Amica Receptus, Cum Ea Coire Non Potuit Conqueritur.
- Elegia VIII. Quod Ab Amica Non Recipiatur, Dolet.
- Elegia IX. Tibulli Mortem Deflet.
- Elegia X. Ad Cererem, Conquerens Quod Ejus Sacris Cum Amica Concumbere Non Permittatur.
- Elegia XI. Ad Amicam a Cujus Amore Discedere Non Potest.
- Elegia XII. Dolet Amicam Suam Ita Suis Carminibus Innotuisse Ut Rivales Multos Sibi Pararit.
- Elegia XIII. De Junonis Festo.
- Elegia XIV. Ad Amicam, Si Peccatura Est, Ut Occulte Peccet.
- Elegia XV. Ad Venerem, Quod Elegis Finem Imponat.
- Epigrams By J[ohn] D[avies].
- Ad Musam. I.
- Of a Gull. II.
- In Refum. III.
- In Quintum. IV.
- In Plurimos. V.
- In Titum. VI.
- In Faustum. VII.
- In Katam. VIII.
- In Librum. IX.
- In Medontem. X
- In Gellam. XI.
- In Quintum. XII.
- In Severum. XIII.
- In Leucam. XIV.
- In Macrum. XV.
- In Faustum. XVI.
- In Cosmum. XVII.
- In Flaccum. XVIII.
- In Cineam. XIX.
- In Gerontem. XX.
- In Marcum. XXI.
- In Cyprium. XXII.
- In Cineam. XXIII.
- In Gallum. XXIV.
- In Decium. XXV.
- In Gellam. XXVI.
- In Syllam. XXVII.
- In Syllam. XXVIII.
- In Heywodum. XXIX.
- In Dacum. XXX.
- In Priscum. XXXI.
- In Brunum. XXXII.
- In Francum. XXXIII.
- In Castorem. XXXIV.
- In Septimium. XXXV.
- Of Tobacco. XXXVI.
- In Crassum. Xxxvii
- In Philonem. XXXVIII.
- In Fuscum. XXXIX.
- In Afrum. Xl.
- In Paulum. Xli.
- In Lycum. Xlii.
- In Publium. Xliii.
- In Syllam. Xliv.
- In Dacum. Xlv.
- In Marcum. Xlvi.
- Meditations of a Gull. Xlvii.
- Ad Musam. Xlviii.
- The First Book of Lucan.
- To His Kind and True Friend, Edward Blunt.
- The First Book of Lucan.
- The Passionate Shepherd to His Love.
- Dialogue In Verse.
- No. 1. the Atheist’s Tragedie.
- No. II.
- No. III. a Note
- No. IV.: The Death of Marlowe.
- Scene I.
- Scene II.
- Scene III.
P. OVIDII NASONIS AMORUM.
Quod pro gigantomachia amores scribere sit coactus.
- I, Ovid, poet, of my wantonness,
- Born at Peligny, to write more address.
- So Cupid wills. Far hence be the severe!
- You are unapt my looser lines to hear.
- Let maids whom hot desire to husbands lead,
- And rude boys, touched with unknown love, me read
- That some youth hurt, as I am, with Love's bow,
- His own flame's best-acquainted signs may know,
- And long admiring say, “By what means learned,
- Hath this same poet my sad chance discern'd?”
- I durst the great celestial battles tell,
- Hundred-hand Gyges, and had done it well;
- With Earth's revenge, and how Olympus' top
- High Ossa bore, Mount Pelion up to prop;
- Jove and Jove's thunderbolts I had in hand,
- Which for his heaven fell on the giants' band.
- My wench her door shut, Jove's affairs I left,
- Even Jove himself out of my wit was reft.
- Pardon me, Jove! thy weapons aid me nought,
- Her shut gates greater lightning than thine brought.
- Toys, and light elegies, my darts I took,
- Quickly soft words hard doors wide-open strook.
- Verses reduce the hornèd bloody moon,
- And call the sun's white horses back at noon.
- Snakes leap by verse from caves of broken mountains,
- And turnèd streams run backward to their fountains.
- Verses ope doors; and locks put in the post,
- Although of oak, to yield to verses boast.
- What helps it me of fierce Achill to sing?
- What good to me will either Ajax bring?
- Or he who warred and wandered twenty year?
- Or woful Hector whom wild jades did tear?
- But when I praise a pretty wench's face,
- She in requital doth me oft embrace.
- A great reward! Heroes of famous names,
- Farewell! your favour nought my mind inflames.
- Wenches apply your fair looks to my verse,
- Which golden Love doth unto me rehearse.
Ad Bagoum, ut custodiam puellæ sibi commissæ laxiorem habeat
- Bagous, whose care doth thy mistress bridle,
- While I speak some few, yet fit words, be idle.
- I saw the damsel walking yesterday,
- There, where the porch doth Danaus' fact display:
- She pleased me soon; I sent, and did her woo;
- Her trembling hand writ back she might not do.
- And asking why, this answer she redoubled,
- Because thy care too much thy mistress troubled.
- Keeper, if thou be wise, cease hate to cherish,
- Believe me, whom we fear, we wish to perish.
- Nor is her husband wise: what needs defence,
- When unprotected there is no expense?
- But furiously he follow his love's fire,
- And thinks her chaste whom many do desire:
- Stolen liberty she may by thee obtain,
- Which giving her, she may give thee again:
- Wilt thou her fault learn? she may make thee tremble.
- Fear to be guilty, then thou may'st dissemble.
- Think when she reads, her mother letters sent her:
- Let him go forth known, that unknown did enter.
- Let him go see her though she do not languish,
- And then report her sick and full of anguish.
- If long she stays, to think the time more short,
- Lay down thy forehead in thy lap to snort.
- Inquire not what with Isis may be done,
- Nor fear lest she to the theàtres run.
- Knowing her scapes, thine honour shall increase;
- And what less labour than to hold thy peace?
- Let him please, haunt the house, be kindly used,
- Enjoy the wench; let all else be refused.
- Vam causes feign of him, the true to hide,
- And what she likes, let both hold ratified.
- When most her husband bends the brows and frowns,
- His fawning wench with her desire he crowns.
- But yet sometimes to chide thee let her fall
- Counterfeit tears: and thee lewd hangman call.
- Object thou then, what she may well excuse,
- To stain all faith in truth, by false crimes' use.
- Of wealth and honour so shall grow thy heap:
- Do this, and soon thou shalt thy freedom reap.
- On tell-tales' necks thou seest the link-knit chains,
- The filthy prison faithless breasts restrains.
- Water in waters, and fruit, flying touch,
- Tantalus seeks, his long tongue's gain is such.
- While Juno's watchman Iö too much eyed,
- Him timeless death took, she was deified.
- I saw one's legs with fetters black and blue,
- By whom the husband his wife's incest knew:
- More he deserved; to both great harm he framed,
- The man did grieve, the woman was defamed.
- Trust me all husbands for such faults are sad,
- Nor make they any man that hears them glad.
- If he loves not, deaf ears thou dost importune,
- Or if he loves, thy tale breeds his misfortune.
- Nor is it easy proved though manifest;
- She safe by favour of her judge doth rest.
- Though himself see, he'll credit her denial,
- Condemn his eyes, and say there is no trial.
- Spying his mistress' tears he will lament
- And say “This blab shall suffer punishment.”
- Why fight'st 'gainst odds? to thee, being cast, do hap
- Sharp stripes; she sitteth in the judge's lap.
- To meet for poison or vild facts we crave not;
- My hands an unsheathed shining weapon have not.
- We seek that, through thee, safely love we may;
- What can be easier than the thing we pray?
Ad Eunuchum servantem dominam.
- Ay me, an eunuch keeps my mistress chaste,
- That cannot Venus' mutual pleasure taste.
- Who first deprived young boys of their best part,
- With self-same wounds he gave, he ought to smart.
- To kind requests thou would'st more gentle prove,
- If ever wench had made lukewarm thy love:
- Thou wert not born to ride, or arms to bear,
- Thy hands agree not with the warlike spear.
- Men handle those; all manly hopes resign,
- Thy mistress' ensigns must be likewise thine.
- Please her—her hate makes others thee abhor;
- If she discards thee, what use serv'st thou for?
- Good form there is, years apt to play together:
- Unmeet is beauty without use to wither.
- She may deceive thee, though thou her protect;
- What two determine never wants effect.
- Our prayers move thee to assist our drift,
- While thou hast time yet to bestow that gift.
Quod amet mulieres, cujuscunque formæ sint.
- I mean not to defend the scapes of any,
- Or justify my vices being many;
- For I confess, if that might merit favour,
- Here I display my lewd and loose behaviour.
- I loathe, yet after that I loathe I run:
- Oh, how the burthen irks, that we should shun.
- I cannot rule myself but where Love please;
- Am driven like a ship upon rough seas.
- No one face likes me best, all faces move,
- A hundred reasons make me ever love.
- If any eye me with a modest look,
- I burn, and by that blushful glance am took;
- And she that's coy I like, for being no clown,
- Methinks she would be nimble when she's down.
- Though her sour looks a Sabine's brow resemble,
- I think she'll do, but deeply can dissemble.
- If she be learned, then for her skill I crave her;
- If not, because she's simple I would have her.
- Before Callimachus one prefers me far;
- Seeing she likes my books, why should we jar?
- Another rails at me, and that I write,
- Yet would I lie with her, if that I might:
- Trips she, it likes me well; plods she, what than?
- She would be nimbler lying with a man.
- And when one sweetly sings, then straight I long,
- To quaver on her lips even in her song;
- Or if one touch the lute with art and cunning,
- Who would not love those hands for their swift running?
- And her I like that with a majesty,
- Folds up her arms, and makes low courtesy.
- To leave myself, that am in love with all,
- Some one of these might make the chastest fall.
- If she be tall, she's like an Amazon,
- And therefore fills the bed she lies upon:
- If short, she lies the rounder: to speak troth,
- Both short and long please me, for I love both,
- I think what one undecked would be, being drest;
- Is she attired? then show her graces best.
- A white wench thralls me, so doth golden yellow:
- And nut-brown girls in doing have no fellow.
- If her white neck be shadowed with black hair,
- Why, so was Leda's, yet was Leda fair.
- Amber-tress'd is she? then on the morn think I:
- My love alludes to every history:
- A young wench pleaseth, and an old is good,
- This for her looks, that for her womanhood:
- Nay what is she, that any Roman loves,
- But my ambitious ranging mind approves?
Ad amicam corruptam.
- No love is so dear,—quivered Cupid, fly!—
- That my chief wish should be so oft to die.
- Minding thy fault, with death I wish to revel;
- Alas! a wench is a perpetual evil.
- No intercepted lines thy deeds display,
- No gifts given secretly thy crime bewray.
- O would my proofs as vain might be withstood!
- Ay me, poor soul, why is my cause so good?
- He's happy, that his love dares boldly credit;
- To whom his wench can say, “I never did it.”
- He's cruel, and too much his grief doth favour,
- That seeks the conquest by her loose behaviour.
- Poor wretch, I saw when thou didst think I slumbered;
- Not drunk, your faults on the spilt wine I numbered.
- I saw your nodding eyebrows much to speak,
- Even from your cheeks, part of a voice did break.
- Not silent were thine eyes, the board with wine
- Was scribbled, and thy fingers writ a line.
- I knew your speech (what do not lovers see?)
- And words that seemed for certain marks to be.
- Now many guests were gone, the feast being done,
- The youthful sort to divers pastimes run.
- I saw you then unlawful kisses join;
- (Such with my tongue it likes me to purloin);
- None such the sister gives her brother grave,
- But such kind wenches let their lovers have.
- Phœbus gave not Diana such, 'tis thought,
- But Venus often to her Mars such brought.
- “What dost?” I cried; “transport'st thou my delight?
- My lordly hands I'll throw upon my right.
- Such bliss is only common to us two,
- In this sweet good why hath a third to do?”
- This, and what grief enforced me say, I said:
- A scarlet blush her guilty face arrayed;
- Even such as by Aurora hath the sky,
- Or maids that their betrothèd husbands spy;
- Such as a rose mixed with a lily breeds,
- Or when the moon travails with charmèd steeds.
- Or such as, lest long years should turn the dye,
- Arachne stains Assyrian ivory.
- To these, or some of these, like was her colour:
- By chance her beauty never shinèd fuller.
- She viewed the earth; the earth to view, beseemed her;
- She lookèd sad; sad, comely I esteemed her.
- Even kembèd as they were, her locks to rend,
- And scratch her fair soft cheeks I did intend.
- Seeing her face, mine upreared arms descended,
- With her own armour was my wench defended.
- I, that erewhile was fierce, now humbly sue,
- Lest with worse kisses she should me endue.
- She laughed, and kissed so sweetly as might make
- Wrath-kindled Jove away his thunder shake.
- I grieve lest others should such good perceive,
- And wish hereby them all unknown to leave.
- Also much better were they than I tell,
- And ever seemed as some new sweet befell.
- 'Tis ill they pleased so much, for in my lips
- Lay her whole tongue hid, mine in hers she dips.
- This grieves me not; no joinèd kisses spent,
- Bewail I only, though I them lament.
- Nowhere can they be taught but in the bed;
- I know no master of so great hire sped.
In mortem psittaci.
- The parrot, from East India to me sent,
- Is dead; all fowls her exequies frequent!
- Go godly birds, striking your breast, bewail,
- And with rough claws your tender cheeks assail.
- For woful hairs let piece-torn plumes abound,
- For long shrild trumpets let your notes resound.
- Why, Philomel, dost Tereus' lewdness mourn?
- All-wasting years have that complaint now worn.
- Thy tunes let this rare bird's sad funeral borrow;
- Itys a great, but ancient cause of sorrow.
- All you whose pinions in the clear air soar,
- But most, thou friendly turtle-dove, deplore.
- Full concord all your lives was you betwixt,
- And to the end your constant faith stood fixt.
- What Pylades did to Orestes prove,
- Such to the parrot was the turtle-dove.
- But what availed this faith? her rarest hue?
- Or voice that how to change the wild notes knew?
- What helps it thou wert given to please my wench?
- Birds' hapless glory, death thy life doth quench.
- Thou with thy quills might'st make green emeralds dark,
- And pass our scarlet of red saffron's mark.
- No such voice-feigning bird was on the ground,
- Thou spok'st thy words so well with stammering sound.
- Envy hath rapt thee, no fierce wars thou mov'dst.
- Vain-babbling speech, and pleasant peace thou lov'dst.
- Behcld how quails among their battles live,
- Which do perchance old age unto them give.
- A little filled thee, and for love of talk,
- Thy nouth to taste of many meats did balk.
- Nuts were thy food, and poppy caused thee sleep,
- Pure water's moisture thirst away did keep.
- The ravenous vulture lives, the puttock hovers
- Around the air, the cadess rain discovers.
- And crow survives arms-bearing Pallas' hate,
- Whose life nine ages scarce bring out of date.
- Dead is that speaking image of man's voice,
- The parrot given me, the far-world's best choice.
- The greedy spirits take the best things first,
- Supplying their void places with the worst.
- Thersites did Protesilaus survive;
- And Hector died, his brothers yet alive.
- My wench's vows for thee what should I show,
- Which stormy south winds into sea did blow?
- The seventh day came, none following might'st thou see,
- And the Fate's distaff empty stood to thee:
- Yet words in thy benumbèd palate rung;
- 'Farewell, Corinna,” cried thy dying tongue.
- Elysium hath a wood of holm-trees black,
- Whose earth doth not perpetual green grass lack.
- There good birds rest (if we believe things hidden),
- Whence unclean fowls are said to be forbidden.
- There harmless swans feed all abroad the river;
- There lives the phœnix, one alone bird ever;
- There Juno's bird displays his gorgeous feather,
- And loving doves kiss eagerly together.
- The parrot into wood received with these,
- Turns all the godly birds to what she please.
- A grave her bones hides: on her corps' great grave,
- The little stones these little verses have.
- This tomb approves I pleased my mistress well;
- My mouth in speaking did all birds excel.
Amicæ se purgat, quod ancillam non amet.
- Dost me of new crimes always guilty frame?
- To overcome, so oft to fight I shame.
- If on the marble theatre I look,
- One among many is, to grieve thee, took.
- If some fair wench me secretly behold,
- Thou arguest she doth secret marks unfold.
- If I praise any, thy poor hairs thou tearest;
- If blame, dissembling of my fault thou fearest.
- If I look well, thou think'st thou dost not move,
- If ill, thou say'st I die for others' love.
- Would I were culpable of some offence!
- They that deserve pain, bear't with patience.
- Now rash accusing, and thy vain belief,
- Forbid thine anger to procure my grief.
- Lo, how the miserable great-eared ass,
- Dulled with much beating, slowly forth doth pass!
- Behold Cypassis, wont to dress thy head,
- Is charged to violate her mistress' bed!
- The gods from this sin rid me of suspicion,
- To like a base wench of despised condition.
- With Venus' game who will a servant grace?
- Or any back, made rough with stripes, embrace?
- Add she was diligent thy locks to braid,
- And, for her skill, to thee a grateful maid.
- Should I solicit her that is so just,—
- To take repulse, and cause her show my lust?
- I swear by Venus, and the winged boy's bow,
- Myself unguilty of this crime I know.
Ad Cypassim ancillam Corinnæ.
- Cypassis, that a thousand ways trim'st hair,
- Worthy to kemb none but a goddess fair,
- Our pleasant scapes show thee no clown to be,
- Apt to thy mistress, but more apt to me.
- Who that our bodies were comprest bewrayed?
- Whence knows Corinna that with thee I played?
- Yet blushed I not, nor used I any saying,
- That might be urged to witness our false playing.
- What if a man with bondwomen offend,
- To prove him foolish did I e'er contend?
- Achilles burnt with face of captive Briseis,
- Great Agamemnon loved his servant Chrysëis.
- Greater than these myself I not esteem:
- What gracèd kings, in me no shame I deem.
- But when on thee her angry eyes did rush,
- In both thy cheeks she did perceive thee blush.
- But being present, might that work the best,
- By Venus deity how did I protest!
- Thou goddess dost command a warm south blast,
- My self oaths in Carpathian seas to cast.
- For which good turn my sweet reward repay,
- Let me lie with thee, brown Cypass, to-day.
- Ungrate, why feign'st new fears, and dost refuse?
- Well may'st thou one thing for thy mistress use.
- If thou deniest, fool, I'll our deeds express,
- And as a traitor mine own faults confess;
- Telling thy mistress where I was with thee,
- How oft, and by what means, we did agree.
- O Cupid, that dost never cease my smart!
- O boy, that liest so slothful in my heart!
- Why me that always was thy soldier found,
- Dost harm, and in thy tents why dost me wound?
- Why burns thy brand, why strikes thy bow thy friends
- More glory by thy vanquished foes ascends.
- Did not Pelides whom his spear did grieve,
- Being required, with speedy help relieve?
- Hunters leave taken beasts, pursue the chase,
- And than things found do ever further pace.
- We people wholly given thee, feel thine arms,
- Thy dull hand stays thy striving enemies' harms.
- Dost joy to have thy hookèd arrows shaked
- In naked bones? love hath my bones left naked.
- So many men and maidens without love,
- Hence with great laud thou may'st a triumph move.
- Rome, if her strength the huge world had not filled,
- With strawy cabins now her courts should build.
- The weary soldier hath the conquered fields,
- His sword, laid by, safe, tho' rude places yields;
- The dock inharbours ships drawn from the floods,
- Horse freed from service range abroad the woods.
- And time it was for me to live in quiet,
- That have so oft served pretty wenches' diet.
- Yet should I curse a God, if he but said,
- “Live without love;” so sweet ill is a maid.
- For when my loathing it of heat deprives me,
- I know not whither my mind's whirlwind drives me.
- Even as a headstrong courser bears away
- His rider, vainly striving him to stay;
- Or as a sudden gale thrusts into sea
- The haven-touching bark, now near the lea;
- So wavering Cupid brings me back amain,
- And purple Love resumes his darts again.
- Strike, boy, I offer thee my naked breast,
- Here thou hast strength, here thy right hand doth rest.
- Here of themselves thy shafts come, as if shot;
- Better than I their quiver knows them not:
- Hapless is he that all the night lies quiet,
- And slumbering, thinks himself much blessèd by it.
- Fool, what is sleep but image of cold death,
- Long shalt thou rest when Fates expire thy breath.
- But me let crafty damsel's words deceive,
- Great joys by hope I inly shall conceive.
- Now let her flatter me, now chide me hard,
- Let me enjoy her oft, oft be debarred.
- Cupid, by thee, Mars in great doubt doth trample,
- And thy stepfather fights by thy example.
- Light art thou, and more windy than thy wings;
- Joys with uncertain faith thou tak'st and brings:
- Yet Love, if thou with thy fair mother hear,
- Within my breast no desert empire bear;
- Subdue the wandering wenches to thy reign,
- So of both people shalt thou homage gain.
Ad Græcinum quod eodem tempore duas amet.
- Græcinus (well I wot) thou told'st me once,
- I could not be in love with two at once;
- By thee deceived, by thee surprised am I,
- For now I love two women equally:
- Both are well favoured, both rich in array,
- Which is the loveliest it is hard to say:
- This seems the fairest, so doth that to me;
- And this doth please me most, and so doth she;
- Even as a boat tossed by contràry wind,
- So with this love and that wavers my mind.
- Venus, why doublest thou my endless smart?
- Was not one wench enough to grieve my heart?
- Why add'st thou stars to heaven, leaves to green woods,
- And to the deep vast sea fresh water-floods?
- Yet this is better far than lie alone:
- Let such as be mine enemies have none;
- Yea, let my foes sleep in an empty bed,
- And in the midst their bodies largely spread:
- But may soft love rouse up my drowsy eyes,
- And from my mistress' bosom let me rise!
- Let one wench cloy me with sweet love's delight,
- If one can do't; if not, two every night.
- Though I am slender, I have store of pith,
- Nor want I strength, but weight, to press her with:
- Pleasure adds fuel to my lustful fire,
- I pay them home with that they most desire:
- Oft have I spent the night in wantonness,
- And in the morn been lively ne'ertheless.
- He's happy who Love's mutual skirmish slays;
- And to the gods for that death Ovid prays.
- Let soldiers chase their enemies amain,
- And with their blood eternal honour gain,
- Let merchants seek wealth and with perjured lips,
- Being wrecked, carouse the sea tired by their ships;
- But when I die, would I might droop with doing,
- And in the midst thereof, set my soul going,
- That at my funerals some may weeping cry,
- “Even as he led his life, so did he die.”
Ad amicam navigantem.
- The lofty pine, from high Mount Pelion raught,
- Ill ways by rough seas wondering waves first taught;
- Which rashly 'twixt the sharp rocks in the deep,
- Carried the famous golden-fleecèd sheep.
- O would that no oars might in seas have sunk!
- The Argo wrecked had deadly waters drunk.
- Lo, country gods and know[n] bed to forsake
- Corinna means, and dangerous ways to take.
- For thee the East and West winds make me pale,
- With icy Boreas, and the Southern gale.
- Thou shalt admire no woods or cities there,
- The unjust seas all bluish do appear.
- The ocean hath no painted stones or shells,
- The sucking shore with their abundance swells.
- Maids on the shore, with marble-white feet tread,
- So far 'tis safe; but to go farther, dread.
- Let others tell how winds fierce battles wage,
- How Scylla's and Charybdis' waters rage;
- And with what rock[s] the feared Ceraunia threat;
- In what gulf either Syrtes have their seat.
- Let others tell this, and what each one speaks
- Believe; no tempest the believer wreaks.
- Too late you look back, when with anchors weighed,
- The crookèd bark hath her swift sails displayed.
- The careful shipman now fears angry gusts,
- And with the waters sees death near him thrusts.
- But if that Triton toss the troubled flood,
- In all thy face will be no crimson blood.
- Then wilt thou Leda's noble twin-stars pray,
- And, he is happy whom the earth holds, say.
- It is more safe to sleep, to read a book,
- The Thracian harp with cunning to have strook.
- But if my words with wingèd storm hence slip,
- Yet, Galatea, favour thou her ship.
- The loss of such a wench much blame will gather,
- Both to the sea-nymphs and the sea-nymphs' father.
- Go, minding to return with prosperous wind,
- Whose blast may hither strongly be inclined.
- Let Nereus bend the waves unto this shore,
- Hither the winds blow, here the spring-tide roar.
- Request mild Zephyr's help for thy avail,
- And with thy hand assist thy swelling sail.
- I from the shore thy known ship first will see,
- And say it brings her that preserveth me.
- I'll clip and kiss thee with all contentation;
- For thy return shall fall the vowed oblation;
- And in the form of beds we'll strew soft sand;
- Each little hill shall for a table stand:
- There, wine being filled, thou many things shalt tell,
- How, almost wrecked, thy ship in main seas fell.
- And hasting to me, neither darksome night,
- Nor violent south-winds did thee aught affright,
- I'll think all true, though it be feignèd matter!
- Mine own desires why should myself not flatter?
- Let the bright day-star cause in heaven this day be,
- To bring that happy time so soon as may be.
Exultat, quod amica potitus sit.
- About my temples go, triumphant bays!
- Conquered Corinna in my bosom lays.
- She whom her husband, guard, and gate, as foes,
- Lest art should win her, firmly did enclose:
- That victory doth chiefly triumph merit,
- Which without bloodshed doth the prey inherit.
- No little ditchèd towns, no lowly walls,
- But to my share a captive damsel falls.
- When Troy by ten years' battle tumbled down.
- With the Atrides many gained renown:
- But I no partner of my glory brook,
- Nor can another say his help I took.
- I, guide and soldier, won the field and wear her.
- I was both horseman, footman, standard-bearer.
- Nor in my act hath fortune mingled chance
- O care-got triumph hitherwards advance!
- Nor is my war's cause new; but for a queen,
- Europe and Asia in firm peace had been;
- The Lapiths and the Centaurs, for a woman,
- To cruel arms their drunken selves did summon;
- A woman forced the Trojans new to enter
- Wars, just Latinus, in thy kingdom's centre,
- A woman against late-built Rome did send
- The Sabine fathers, who sharp wars intend.
- I saw how bulls for a white heifer strive,
- She looking on them did more courage give.
- And me with many, but me without murther,
- Cupid commands to move his ensigns further.
Ad Isidem, ut parientem Corinnam servet
- While rashly her womb's burden she casts out,
- Weary Corinna hath her life in doubt.
- She, secretly from me, such harm attempted,
- Angry I was, but fear my wrath exempted.
- But she conceived of me; or I am sure
- I oft have done what might as much procure.
- Thou that frequent'st Canopus' pleasant fields,
- Memphis, and Pharos that sweet date-trees yields,
- And where swift Nile in his large channel skipping,
- By seven huge mouths into the sea is slipping.
- By feared Anubis' visage I thee pray,—
- So in thy temples shall Osiris stay,
- And the dull snake about thy offerings creep,
- And in thy pomp horned Apis with thee keep,—
- Turn thy looks hither, and in one spare twain:
- Thou givest my mistress life, she mine again.
- She oft hath served thee upon certain days,
- Where the French rout engirt themselves with bays.
- On labouring women thou dost pity take,
- Whose bodies with their heavy burdens ache;
- My wench, Lucina, I entreat thee favour;
- Worthy she is, thou should'st in mercy save her.
- In white, with incense, I'll thine altars greet,
- Myself will bring vowed gifts before thy feet,
- Subscribing Naso with Corinna saved:
- Do but deserve gifts with this title graved.
- But, if in so great fear I may advise thee,
- To have this skirmish fought let it suffice thee.
In amicam, quod abortivum ipsa fecerit.
- What helps it woman to be free from war,
- Nor, being armed, fierce troops to follow far,
- If without battle self-wrought wounds annoy them,
- And their own privy-weaponed hands destroy them.
- Who unborn infants first to slay invented,
- Deserved thereby with death to be tormented.
- Because thy belly should rough wrinkles lack,
- Wilt thou thy womb-inclosèd offspring wrack?
- Had ancient mothers this vile custom cherished,
- All human kind by their default had perished;
- Or stones, our stock's original should be hurled.
- Again, by some, in this unpeopled world.
- Who should have Priam's wealthy substance won,
- If watery Thetis had her child fordone?
- In swelling womb her twins had Ilia killed,
- He had not been that conquering Rome did build.
- Had Venus spoiled her belly's Trojan fruit,
- The earth of Cæsars had been destitute.
- Thou also that wert born fair, had'st decayed,
- If such a work thy mother had assayed.
- Myself, that better die with loving may,
- Had seen, my mother killing me, no day.
- Why tak'st increasing grapes from vinetrees full?
- With cruel hand why dost green apples pull?
- Fruits ripe will fall; let springing things increase,
- Life is no light price of a small surcease.
- Why with hid irons are your bowels torn?
- And why dire poison give you babes unborn?
- At Colchis, stained with children's blood, men rail.
- And mother-murdered Itys they bewail
- Both unkind parents; but, for causes sad,
- Their wedlocks' pledges venged their husbands bad.
- What Tereus, what Iason you provokes,
- To plague your bodies with such harmful strokes?
- Armenian tigers never did so ill,
- Nor dares the lioness her young whelps kill.
- But tender damsels do it, though with pain;
- Oft dies she that her paunch-wrapt child hath slain:
- She dies, and with loose hairs to grave is sent,
- And whoe'er see her, worthily lament.
- But in the air let these words come to naught,
- And my presages of no weight be thought.
- Forgive her, gracious gods, this one delict,
- And on the next fault punishment inflict.
Ad annulum, quem dono amicæ dedit.
- Thou ring that shalt my fair girl's finger bind,
- Wherein is seen the giver's loving mind:
- Be welcome to her, gladly let her take thee,
- And, her small joints encircling, round hoop make thee
- Fit her so well, as she is fit for me,
- And of just compass for her knuckles be.
- Blest ring, thou in my mistress' hand shall lie.
- Myself, poor wretch, mine own gifts now envy.
- O would that suddenly into my gift,
- I could myself by secret magic shift!
- Then would I wish thee touch my mistress' pap,
- And hide thy left hand underneath her lap,
- I would get off, though strait and sticking fast,
- And in her bosom strangely fall at last.
- Then I, that I may seal her privy leaves,
- Lest to the wax the hold-fast dry gem cleaves,
- Would first my beauteous wench's moist lips touch:
- Only I'll sign naught that may grieve me much.
- I would not out, might I in one place hit:
- But in less compass her small fingers knit.
- My life! that I will shame thee never fear,
- Or be a load thou should'st refuse to bear.
- Wear me, when warmest showers thy members wash,
- And through the gem let thy lost waters pash,
- But seeing thee, I think my thing will swell,
- And even the ring perform a man's part well.
- Vain things why wish I? go, small gift, from hand,
- Let her my faith, with thee given, understand.
Ad amicam, ut ad rura sua veniat.
- Sulmo, Peligny's third part, me contains,
- A small, but wholesome soil with watery veins,
- Although the sun to rive the earth incline,
- And the Icarian froward dog-star shine;
- Pelignian fields with liquid rivers flow,
- And on the soft ground fertile green grass grow;
- With corn the earth abounds, with vines much more,
- And some few pastures Pallas' olives bore;
- And by the rising herbs, where clear springs slide,
- A grassy turf the moistened earth doth hide.
- But absent is my fire; lies I'll tell none,
- My heat is here, what moves my heat is gone.
- Pollux and Castor, might I stand betwixt,
- In heaven without thee would I not be fixt
- Upon the cold earth pensive let them lay,
- That mean to travel some long irksome way.
- Or else will maidens young men's mates to go,
- If they determine to persèver so.
- Then on the rough Alps should I tread aloft,
- My hard way with my mistress would seem soft.
- With her I durst the Libyan Syrts break through,
- And raging seas in boisterous south-winds plough.
- No barking dogs, that Scylla's entrails bear,
- Nor thy gulfs, crook'd Malea, would I fear.
- No flowing waves with drownèd ships forth-poured
- By cloyed Charybdis, and again devoured.
- But if stern Neptune's windy power prevail,
- And waters' force force helping Gods to fail,
- With thy white arms upon my shoulders seize;
- So sweet a burden I will bear with ease.
- The youth oft swimming to his Hero kind,
- Had then swum over, but the way was blind.
- But without thee, although vine-planted ground
- Contains me; though the streams the fields surround
- Though hinds in brooks the running waters bring,
- And cool gales shake the tall trees' leafy spring,
- Healthful Peligny, I esteem naught worth,
- Nor do I like the country of my birth.
- Scythia, Cilicia, Britain are as good,
- And rocks dyed crimson with Prometheus' blood.
- Elms love the vines; the vines with elms abide.
- Why doth my mistress from me oft divide?
- Thou swear'dst, division should not twixt us rise.
- By me, and by my stars, thy radiant eyes;
- Maids' words more vain and light than falling leaves
- Which, as it seems, hence wind and sea bereaves.
- If any godly care of me thou hast,
- Add deeds unto thy promises at last.
- And with swift nags drawing thy little coach
- (Their reins let loose), right soon my house approach
- But when she comes, you swelling mounts, sink down,
- And falling valleys be the smooth ways' crown.
Quod Corinnæ soli sit serviturus.
- To serve a wench if any think it shame,
- He being judge, I am convinced of blame.
- Let me be slandered, while my fire she hides,
- That Paphos, and flood-beat Cythera guides.
- Would I had been my mistress' gentle prey,
- Since some fair one I should of force obey.
- Beauty gives heart; Corinna's looks excel;
- Ay me, why is it known to her so well?
- But by her glass disdainful pride she learns,
- Nor she herself, but first trimmed up, discerns.
- Not though thy face in all things make thee reign,
- (O face, most cunning mine eyes to detain!)
- Thou ought'st therefore to scorn me for thy mate,
- Small things with greater may be copulate.
- Love-snared Calypso is supposed to pray
- A mortal nymph's refusing lord to stay.
- Who doubts, with Peleus Thetis did consort?
- Egeria with just Numa had good sport.
- Venus with Vulcan, though, smith's tools laid by,
- With his stump foot he halts ill-favouredly.
- This kind of verse is not alike; yet fit,
- With shorter numbers the heroic sit.
- And thou, my light, accept me howsoever;
- Lay in the mid bed, there be my lawgiver.
- My stay no crime, my flight no joy shall breed,
- Nor of our love, to be ashamed we need.
- For great revenues I good verses have,
- And many by me to get glory crave.
- I know a wench reports herself Corinne;
- What would not she give that fair name to win?
- But sundry floods in one bank never go,
- Eurotas cold, and poplar-bearing Po;
- Nor in my books shall one but thou be writ,
- Thou dost alone give matter to my wit.
Ad Macrum, quod de amoribus scribat,
- To tragic verse while thou Achilles train'st,
- And new sworn soldiers' maiden arms retain'st,
- We, Macer, sit in Venus' slothful shade,
- And tender love hath great things hateful made.
- Often at length, my wench depart I bid,
- She in my lap sits still as erst she did.
- I said, “It irks me:” half to weeping framed,
- “Ay me!” she cries, “to love why art ashamed?
- Then wreathes about my neck her winding arms,
- And thousand kisses gives, that work my harms:
- I yield, and back my wit from battles bring,
- Domestic acts, and mine own wars to sing.
- Yet tragedies, and sceptres fill'd my lines,
- But though I apt were for such high designs,
- Love laughèd at my cloak, and buskins painted,
- And rule, so soon with private hands acquainted.
- My mistress' deity also drew me fro it,
- And love triumpheth o'er his buskined poet.
- What lawful is, or we profess love's art:
- (Alas, my precepts turn myself to smart!)
- We write, or what Penelope sends Ulysses,
- Or Phillis' tears that her Demophoon misses;
- What thankless Jason, Macareus, and Paris.
- Phedra, and Hippolyte may read, my care is,
- And what poor Dido, with her drawn sword sharp,
- Doth say, with her that loved the Aonian harp.
- As soon as from strange lands Sabinus came,
- And writings did from divers places frame,
- White-cheeked Penelope knew Ulysses' sign,
- The step-dame read Hippolytus' lustless line.
- Æneas to Elisa answer gives,
- And Phillis hath to read, if now she lives;
- Jason's sad letter doth Hypsipyle greet:
- Sappho her vowed harp lays at Phœbus' feet.
- Nor of thee, Macer, that resound'st forth arms,
- Is golden love hid in Mars' mid alarms.
- There Paris is, and Helen's crime's record,
- With Laodamia, mate to her dead lord,
- Unless I err to these thou more incline,
- Than wars, and from thy tents wilt come to mine.
Ad rivalem cut nxor curæ non erat.
- Fool, if to keep thy wife thou hast no need,
- Keep her from me, my more desire to breed;
- We scorn things lawful; stolen sweets we affect
- Cruel is he that loves whom none protect.
- Let us, both lovers, hope and fear alike,
- And may repulse place for our wishes strike.
- What should I do with fortune that ne'er fails me?
- Nothing I love that at all times avails me.
- Wily Corinna saw this blemish in me,
- And craftily knows by what means to win me.
- Ah, often, that her hale head ached, she lying,
- Willed me, whose slow feet sought delay, be flying
- Ah, oft, how much she might, she feigned offence;
- And, doing wrong, made show of innocence.
- So, having vexed, she nourished my warm fire,
- And was again most apt to my desire.
- To please me, what fair terms and sweet words has she
- Great gods! what kisses, and how many ga' she!
- Thou also that late took'st mine eyes away,
- Oft cozen me, oft, being wooed, say nay,
- And on thy threshold let me lie dispread,
- Suff'ring much cold by hoary night's frost bred.
- So shall my love continue many years;
- This doth delight me, this my courage cheers.
- Fat love, and too much fulsome, me annoys,
- Even as sweet meat a glutted stomach cloys
- In brazen tower had not Danäe dwelt,
- A mother's joy by Jove she had not felt.
- While Juno 10 keeps, when horns she wore,
- Jove liked her better than he did before.
- Who covets lawful things takes leaves from woods.
- And drinks stolen waters in surrounding floods.
- Her lover let her mock that long will reign.
- Ay me, let not my warnings cause my pain!
- Whatever haps, by sufferance harm is done,
- What flies I follow, what follows me I shun.
- But thou, of thy fair damsel too secure,
- Begin to shut thy house at evening sure.
- Search at the door who knocks oft in the dark,
- In night's deep silence why the ban-dogs bark.
- Whither the subtle maid lines brings and carries,
- Why she alone in empty bed oft tarries.
- Let this care sometimes bite thee to the quick.
- That to deceits it may me forward prick.
- To steal sands from the shore he loves a-life
- That can affect a foolish wittol's wife.
- Now I forewarn, unless to keep her stronger
- Thou dost begin, she shall be mine no longer.
- Long have I borne much, hoping time would beat thee
- To guard her well, that well I might entreat thee.
- Thou suffer'st what no husband can endure,
- But of my love it will an end procure.
- Shall I, poor soul, be never interdicted?
- Nor never with night's sharp revenge afflicted.
- In sleeping shall I fearless draw my breath?
- Wilt nothing do, why I should wish thy death?
- Can I but loathe a husband grown a bawd?
- By thy default thou dost our joys defraud.
- Some other seek that may in patience strive with thee,
- To pleasure me, forbid me to corrive with thee.
- “Let merchants seek wealth with perjurèd lips
- And being wrecked,” &c.
- “Ah, quotiens sani capitis mentita dolores,
- Cunctantem tardo jussit abire pede.”