Front Page Titles (by Subject) P. OVIDII MASONIS AMORUM. liber tertius . - The Works of Christopher Marlowe, vol. 3 (Poems)
P. OVIDII MASONIS AMORUM. liber tertius . - 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 MASONIS AMORUM.
Deliberatio poetæ, utrum elegos pergat scribere an potius tragoedias.
- An old wood stands, uncut of long years' space,
- 'Tis credible some godhead haunts the place.
- In midst thereof a stone-paved sacred spring,
- Where round about small birds most sweetly sing.
- Here while I walk, hid close in shady grove,
- To find what work my muse might move, I strove.
- Elegia came with hairs perfumèd sweet,
- And one, I think, was longer, of her feet:
- A decent form, thin robe, a lover's look,
- By her foot's blemish greater grace she took.
- Then with huge steps came violent Tragedy,
- Stern was her front, her cloak on ground did lie:
- Her left hand held abroad a regal sceptre,
- The Lydian buskin [in] fit paces kept her.
- And first she said, “When will thy love be spent,
- O poet careless of thy argument?
- Wine-bibbing banquets tell thy naughtiness,
- Each cross-way's corner doth as much express.
- Oft some points at the prophet passing by,
- And, ‘This is he whom fierce love burns,’ they cry.
- A laughing-stock thou art to all the city;
- While without shame thou sing'st thy lewdness' ditty.
- 'Tis time to move great things in lofty style,
- Long hast thou loitered; greater works compile.
- The subject hides thy wit; men's acts resound;
- This thou wilt say to be a worthy ground.
- Thy muse hath played what may mild girls content,
- And by those numbers is thy first youth spent.
- Now give the Roman Tragedy a name,
- To fill my laws thy wanton spirit frame.”
- This said, she moved her buskins gaily varnished,
- And seven times shook her head with thick locks garnished.
- The other smiled (I wot), with wanton eyes:
- Err I, or myrtle in her right hand lies?
- “With lofty words, stout Tragedy,” she said,
- “Why tread'st me down? art thou aye gravely play'd
- Thou deign'st unequal lines should thee rehearse;
- Thou fight'st against me using mine own verse.
- Thy lofty style with mine I not compare,
- Small doors unfitting for large houses are.
- Light am I, and with me, my care, light Love;
- Not stronger am I, than the thing I move.
- Ventis without me should be rustical:
- This goddess' company doth to me befall.
- What gate thy stately words cannot unlock,
- My flattering speeches soon wide open knock.
- And I deserve more than thou canst in verity,
- By suffering much not borne by thy severity.
- By me Corinna learns, cozening her guard,
- To get the door with little noise unbarred;
- And slipped from bed, clothed in a loose nightgown,
- To move her feet unheard in setting down.
- Ah, how oft on hard doors hung I engraved,
- From no man's reading fearing to be saved!
- But, till the keeper went forth, I forget not,
- The maid to hide me in her bosom let not.
- What gift with me was on her birthday sent,
- But cruelly by her was drowned and rent.
- First of thy mind the happy seeds I knew;
- Thou hast my gift, which she would from thee sue.”
- She left; I said, “You both I must beseech,
- To empty air may go my fearful speech.
- With sceptres and high buskins th' one would dress me,
- So through the world should bright renown express me.
- The other gives my love a conquering name;
- Come, therefore, and to long verse shorter frame.
- Grant, Tragedy, thy poet time's least tittle:
- Thy labour ever lasts; she asks but little.”
- She gave me leave; soft loves, in time make haste;
- Some greater work will urge me on at last.
Ad amicam cursum equorum spectantem.
- I sit not here the noble horse to see;
- Yet whom thou favour'st, pray may conqueror be.
- To sit and talk with thee I hither came,
- That thou may'st know with love thou mark'st me flame.
- Thou view'st the course; I thee: let either heed
- What please them, and their eyes let either feed.
- What horse-driver thou favour'st most is best,
- Because on him thy care doth hap to rest.
- Such chance let me have: I would bravely run,
- On swift steeds mounted till the race were done.
- Now would I slack the reins, now lash their hide,
- With wheels bent inward now the ring-turn ride.
- In running if I see thee, I shall stay,
- And from my hands the reins will slip away.
- Ah, Pelops from his coach was almost felled,
- Hippodamia's looks while he beheld!
- Yet he attained, by her support, to have her:
- Let us all conquer by our mistress' favour.
- In vain, why fly'st back? force conjoins us now:
- The place's laws this benefit allow.
- But spare my wench, thou at her right hand seated;
- By thy sides touching ill she is entreated.
- And sit thou rounder, that behind us see;
- For shame press not her back with thy hard knee.
- But on the ground thy clothes too loosely lie:
- Gather them up, or lift them, lo, will I.
- Envious garments, so good legs to hide!
- The more thou look'st, the more the gown's envied.
- Swift Atalanta's flying legs, like these,
- Wish in his hands grasped did Hippomenes.
- Coat-tucked Diana's legs are painted like them,
- When strong wild beasts, she, stronger, hunts to strike them.
- Ere these were seen, I burnt: what will these do?
- Flames into flame, floods thou pour'st seas into.
- By these I judge; delight me may the rest,
- Which lie hid, under her thin veil supprest.
- Yet in the meantime wilt small winds bestow,
- That from thy fan, moved by my hand, may blow?
- Or is my heat of mind, not of the sky?
- Is't women's love my captive breast doth fry?
- While thus I speak, black dust her white robes ray,
- Foul dust, from her fair body go away!
- Now comes the pomp; themselves let all men cheer
- The shout is nigh; the golden pomp comes here.
- First, Victory is brought with large-spread wing
- Goddess, come here; make my love conquering.
- Applaud you Neptune, that dare trust his wave,
- The sea I use not: me my earth must have.
- Soldier applaud thy Mars, no wars we move,
- Peace pleaseth me, and in mid peace is love.
- With augurs Phœbus, Phœbe with hunters stands;
- To thee Minerva turn the craftsmen's hands.
- Ceres and Bacchus countrymen adore,
- Champions please Pollux, Castor loves horsemen more
- Thee, gentle Venus, and the boy that flies,
- We praise: great goddess aid my enterprise.
- Let my new mistress grant to be beloved;
- She becked, and prosperous signs gave as she moved.
- What Venus promised, promise thou we pray
- Greater than her, by her leave, thou'rt, I'll say.
- The gods, and their rich pomp witness with me,
- For evermore thou shalt my mistress be.
- Thy legs hang down, thou may'st, if that be best,
- Awhile thy tiptoes on the footstool rest.
- Now greatest spectacles the Prætor sends,
- Four chariot-horses from the lists' even ends.
- I see whom thou affect'st: he shall subdue;
- The horses seem as thy desire they knew.
- Alas, he runs too far about the ring;
- What dost? thy waggon in less compass bring.
- What dost, unhappy? her good wishes fade:
- Let with strong hand the rein to bend be made.
- One slow we favour, Romans, him revoke:
- And each give signs by casting up his cloak.
- They call him back; lest their gowns toss thy hair,
- To hide thee in my bosom straight repair.
- But now again the barriers open lie,
- And forth the gay troops on swift horses fly.
- At least now conquer, and outrun the rest:
- My mistress' wish confirm with my request.
- My mistress hath her wish; my wish remain:
- He holds the palm: my palm is yet to gain.
- She smiled, and with quick eyes behight some grace
- Pay it not here, but in another place.
De amica quæ perjuraverat.
- What, are there gods? herself she hath forswore,
- And yet remains the face she had before.
- How long her locks were ere her oath she took.
- So long they be since she her faith forsook.
- Fair white with rose-red was before commixt;
- Now shine her looks pure white and red betwixt.
- Her foot was small: her foot's form is most fit:
- Comely tall was she, comely tall she's yet.
- Sharp eyes she had: radiant like stars they be,
- By which she, perjured oft, hath lied to me.
- In sooth, th' eternal powers grant maids society
- Falsely to swear; their beauty hath some deity.
- By her eyes, I remember, late she swore,
- And by mine eyes, and mine were painèd sore.
- Say gods: if she unpunished you deceive,
- For other's faults why do I loss receive.
- But did you not so envy Cepheus' daughter,
- For her ill-beauteous mother judged to slaughter.
- 'Tis not enough, she shakes your record off,
- And, unrevenged, mocked gods with me doth scoff.
- But by my pain to purge her perjuries,
- Cozened, I am the cozener's sacrifice.
- God is a name, no substance, feared in vain,
- And doth the world in fond belief detain.
- Or if there be a God, he loves fine wenches,
- And all things too much in their sole power drenches.
- Mars girts his deadly sword on for my harm;
- Pallas' lance strikes me with unconquered arm;
- At me Apollo bends his pliant bow;
- At me Jove's right hand lightning hath to throw.
- The wrongèd gods dread fair ones to offend,
- And fear those, that to fear them least intend.
- Who now will care the altars to perfume?
- Tut, men should not their courage so consume.
- Jove throws down woods and castles with his fire,
- But bids his darts from perjured girls retire.
- Poor Semele among so many burned,
- Her own request to her own torment turned.
- But when her lover came, had she drawn back,
- The father's thigh should unborn Bacchus lack.
- Why grieve I? and of heaven reproaches pen?
- The gods have eyes, and breasts as well as men.
- Were I a god, I should give women leave,
- With lying lips my godhead to deceive.
- Myself would swear the wenches true did swear,
- And I would be none of the gods severe.
- But yet their gift more moderately use,
- Or in mine eyes, good wench, no pain transfuse.
Ad virum servantem conjugem.
- Rude man, 'tis vain thy damsel to commend
- To keeper's trust: their wits should them defend.
- Who, without fear, is chaste, is chaste in sooth:
- Who, because means want, doeth not, she doth.
- Though thou her body guard, her mind is stained;
- Nor, 'less she will, can any be restrained.
- Nor can'st by watching keep her mind from sin,
- All being shut out, the adulterer is within.
- Who may offend, sins least; power to do ill
- The fainting seeds of naughtiness doth kill.
- Forbear to kindle vice by prohibition;
- Sooner shall kindness gain thy will's fruition.
- I saw a horse against the bit stiff-necked,
- Like lightning go, his struggling mouth being checked.
- When he perceived the reins let slack, he stayed,
- And on his loose mane the loose bridle laid.
- How to attain what is denied we think,
- Even as the sick desire forbidden drink.
- Argus had either way an hundred eyes,
- Yet by deceit Love did them all surprise.
- In stone and iron walls Danäe shut,
- Came forth a mother, though a maid there put.
- Penelope, though no watch looked unto her,
- Was not defiled by any gallant wooer.
- What's kept, we covet more: the care makes theft,
- Few love what others have unguarded left.
- Nor doth her face please, but her husband's love:
- I know not what men think should thee so move
- She is not chaste that's kept, but a dear whore:
- Thy fear is than her body valued more.
- Although thou chafe, stolen pleasure is sweet play,
- She pleaseth best, “I fear,” if any say.
- A free-born wench, no right 'tis up to lock,
- So use we women of strange nations' stock.
- Because the keeper may come say, “I did it,”
- She must be honest to thy servant's credit.
- He is too clownish whom a lewd wife grieves,
- And this town's well-known custom not believes;
- Where Mars his sons not without fault did breed,
- Remus and Romulus, Ilia's twin-born seed.
- Cannot a fair one, if not chaste, please thee?
- Never can these by any means agree.
- Kindly thy mistress use, if thou be wise;
- Look gently, and rough husbands' laws despise.
- Honour what friends thy wife gives, she'll give many,
- Least labour so shall win great grace of any.
- So shalt thou go with youths to feast together,
- And see at home much that thou ne'er brought'st thither.
Ad amnem dum iter faceret ad amicam.
- Flood with reed-grown slime banks, till I be past
- Thy waters stay: I to my mistress haste.
- Thou hast no bridge, nor boat with ropes to throw,
- That may transport me, without oars to row.
- Thee I have passed, and knew thy stream none such,
- When thy wave's brim did scarce my ankles touch.
- With snow thawed from the next hill now thou gushest
- And in thy foul deep waters thick thou rushest.
- What helps my haste? what to have ta'en small rest?
- What day and night to travel in her quest?
- If standing here I can by no means get
- My foot upon the further bank to set.
- Now wish I those wings noble Perseus had,
- Bearing the head with dreadful adders clad;
- Now wish the chariot, whence corn-fields were found.
- First to be thrown upon the untilled ground:
- I speak old poets' wonderful inventions,
- Ne'er was, nor [e'er] shall be, what my verse mentions.
- Rather, thou large bank-overflowing river,
- Slide in thy bounds; so shalt thou run for ever.
- Trust me, land-stream, thou shalt no envy lack,
- If I a lover be by thee held back.
- Great floods ought to assist young men in love,
- Great floods the force of it do often prove.
- In mid Bithynia, 'tis said, Inachus
- Grew pale, and, in cold fords, hot lecherous.
- Troy had not yet been ten years' siege outstander,
- When nymph Neæra rapt thy looks, Scamander.
- What, not Alpheus in strange lands to run,
- The Arcadian virgin's constant love hath won?
- And Creusa unto Xanthus first affied,
- They say Peneus near Phthia's town did hide.
- What should I name Asop, that Thebe loved,
- Thebe who mother of five daughters proved,
- If, Achelous, I ask where thy horns stand,
- Thou say'st, broke with Alcides' angry hand.
- Not Calydon, nor Ætolia did please;
- One Deianira was more worth than these.
- Rich Nile by seven mouths to the vast sea flowing,
- Who so well keeps his water's head from knowing,
- Is by Evadne thought to take such flame,
- As his deep whirlpools could not quench the same.
- Dry Enipeus, Tyro to embrace,
- Fly back his stream charged; the stream charged, gave place.
- Nor pass I thee, who hollow rocks down tumbling,
- In Tibur's field with watery foam art rumbling.
- Whom Ilia pleased, though in her looks grief revelled,
- Her cheeks were scratched, her goodly hairs dishevelled.
- She, wailing Mar's sin and her uncle's crime,
- Strayed barefoot through sole places on a time.
- Her, from his swift waves, the bold flood perceived,
- And from the mid ford his hoarse voice upheaved,
- Saying, “Why sadly tread'st my banks upon,
- Ilia sprung from Idæan Laomedon?
- Where's thy attire? why wanderest here alone?
- To stay thy tresses white veil hast thou none?
- Why weep'st and spoil'st with tears thy watery eyes?
- And fiercely knock'st thy breast that open lies?
- His heart consists of flint and hardest steel,
- That seeing thy tears can any joy then feel.
- Fear not: to thee our court stands open wide,
- There shalt be loved: Ilia, lay fear aside.
- Thou o'er a hundred nymphs or more shalt reign,
- For five score nymphs or more our floods contain.
- Nor, Roman stock, scorn me so much, I crave;
- Gifts than my promise greater thou shalt have.”
- This said he: she her modest eyes held down;
- Her woful bosom a warm shower did drown.
- Thrice she prepared to fly, thrice she did stay,
- By fear deprived of strength to run away.
- Yet rending with enragèd thumb her tresses,
- Her trembling mouth these unmeet sounds expresses.
- “O would in my forefathers' tomb deep laid,
- My bones had been while yet I was a maid:
- Why being a vestal am I wooed to wed,
- Deflowered and stainèd in unlawful bed?
- Why stay I? men point at me for a whore:
- Shame, that should make me blush, I have no more
- This said; her coat hoodwinked her fearful eyes,
- And into water desperately she flies.
- 'Tis said the slippery stream held up her breast,
- And kindly gave her what she likèd best.
- And I believe some wench thou hast affected,
- But woods and groves keep your faults undetected.
- While thus I speak the waters more abounded,
- And from the channel all abroad surrounded.
- Mad stream, why dost our mutual joys defer?
- Clown, from my journey why dost me deter?
- How would'st thou flow wert thou a noble flood?
- If thy great fame in every region stood?
- Thou hast no name, but com'st from snowy mountains,
- No certain house thou hast, nor any fountains;
- Thy springs are nought but rain and melted snow,
- Which wealth cold winter doth on thee bestow.
- Either thou art muddy in mid-winter tide,
- Or full of dust dost on the dry earth slide.
- What thirsty traveller ever drunk of thee?
- Who said with grateful voice, “Perpetual be!”
- Harmful to beasts, and to the fields thou proves,
- Perchance these others, me mine own loss moves.
- To this I fondly loves of floods told plainly,
- I shame so great names to have used so vainly.
- I know not what expecting, I erewhile,
- Named Achelous, Inachus, and Nile.
- But for thy merits I wish thee, white stream,
- Dry winters aye, and suns in heat extreme.
Quod ab amica receptus, cum ea coire non potuit conqueritur.
- Either she was foul, or her attire was bad,
- Or she was not the wench I wished to have had.
- Idly I lay with her, as if I loved not,
- And like a burden grieved the bed that moved not.
- Though both of us performed our true intent,
- Yet could I not cast anchor where I meant.
- She on my neck her ivory arms did throw,
- Her arms far whiter than the Scythian snow.
- And eagerly she kissed me with her tongue,
- And under mine her wanton thigh she flung,
- Yea, and she soothed me up, and called me “Sir,”
- And used all speech that might provoke and stir.
- Yet like as if cold hemlock I had drunk,
- It mockèd me, hung down the head and sunk.
- Like a dull cipher, or rude block I lay,
- Or shade, or body was I, who can say?
- What will my age do, age I cannot shun,
- Seeing in my prime my force is spent and done?
- I blush, that being youthful, hot, and lusty,
- I prove neither youth nor man, but old and rusty.
- Pure rose she, like a nun to sacrifice,
- Or one that with her tender brother lies.
- Yet boarded I the golden Chie twice,
- And Libas, and the white-cheeked Pitho thrice.
- Corinna craved it in a summer's night,
- And nine sweet bouts had we before daylight.
- What, waste my limbs through some Thessalian charms?
- May spells and drugs do silly souls such harms?
- With virgin wax hath some imbast my joints?
- And pierced my liver with sharp needle-points?
- Charms change corn to grass and make it die:
- By charms are running springs and fountains dry.
- By charms mast drops from oaks, from vines grapes fall,
- And fruit from trees when there's no wind at all.
- Why might not then my sinews be enchanted?
- And I grow faint as with some spirit haunted?
- To this, add shame: shame to perform it quailed me.
- And was the second cause why vigour failed me.
- My idle thoughts delighted her no more,
- Than did the robe or garment which she wore.
- Yet might her touch make youthful Pylius fire,
- And Tithon livelier than his years require.
- Even her I had, and she had me in vain,
- What might I crave more, if I ask again?
- I think the great gods grieved they had bestowed,
- This benefit: which lewdly I foreslowed.
- I wished to be received in, in I get me.
- To kiss, I kiss; to lie with her, she let me.
- Why was I blest? why made king to refuse it?
- Chuff-like had I not gold and could not use it?
- So in a spring thrives he that told so much,
- And looks upon the fruits he cannot touch.
- Hath any rose so from a fresh young maid,
- As she might straight have gone to church and prayed?
- Well, I believe, she kissed not as she should,
- Nor used the sleight and cunning which she could.
- Huge oaks, hard adamants might she have moved,
- And with sweet words caus[ed] deaf rocks to have loved,
- Worthy she was to move both gods and men,
- But neither was I man nor livèd then.
- Can deaf ears take delight when Phæmius sings?
- Or Thamyris in curious painted things?
- What sweet thought is there but I had the same?
- And one gave place still as another came.
- Yet notwithstanding, like one dead it lay,
- Drooping more than a rose pulled yesterday.
- Now, when he should not jet, he bolts upright,
- And craves his task, and seeks to be at fight.
- Lie down with shame, and see thou stir no more.
- Seeing thou would'st deceive me as before.
- Thou cozenest me: by thee surprised am I,
- And bide sore loss with endless infamy.
- Nay more, the wench did not disdain a whit
- To take it in her hand, and play with it.
- But when she saw it would by no means stand,
- But still drooped down, regarding not her hand,
- “Why mock'st thou me,” she cried, “or being ill,
- Who bade thee lie down here against thy will?
- Either thou art witched with blood of frogs new dead,
- Or jaded cam'st thou from some other's bed.”
- With that, her loose gown on, from me she cast her;
- In skipping out her naked feet much graced her.
- And lest her maid should know of this disgrace,
- To cover it, spilt water in the place.
Quod ab amica non recipiatur, dolet.
- What man will now take liberal arts in hand,
- Or think soft verse in any stead to stand?
- Wit was sometimes more precious than gold;
- Now poverty great barbarism we hold.
- When our books did my mistress fair content,
- I might not go whither my papers went.
- She praised me, yet the gate shut fast upon her,
- I here and there go, witty with dishonour.
- See a rich chuff, whose wounds great wealth inferred,
- For bloodshed knighted, before me preferred.
- Fool, can'st thou him in thy white arms embrace?
- Fool, can'st thou lie in his enfolding space?
- Know'st not this head a helm was wont to bear?
- This side that serves thee, a sharp sword did wear.
- His left hand, whereon gold doth ill alight,
- A target bore: blood-sprinkled was his right.
- Can'st touch that hand wherewith some one lies dead?
- Ah, whither is thy breast's soft nature fled?
- Behold the signs of ancient fight, his scars!
- Whate'er he hath, his body gained in wars.
- Perhaps he'll tell how oft he slew a man,
- Confessing this, why dost thou touch him than?
- I, the pure priest of Phœbus and the Muses,
- At thy deaf doors in verse sing my abuses.
- Not what we slothful know, let wise men learn,
- But follow trembling camps and battles stern,
- And for a good verse draw the first dart forth:
- Homer without this shall be nothing worth.
- Jove, being admonished gold had sovereign power,
- To win the maid came in a golden shower.
- Till then, rough was her father, she severe,
- The posts of brass, the walls of iron were.
- But when in gifts the wise adulterer came,
- She held her lap ope to receive the same.
- Yet when old Saturn heaven's rule possest,
- All gain in darkness the deep earth supprest.
- Gold, silver, iron's heavy weight, and brass,
- In hell were harboured; here was found no mass.
- But better things it gave, corn without ploughs,
- Apples, and honey in oaks' hollow boughs.
- With strong ploughshares no man the earth did cleave,
- The ditcher no marks on the ground did leave.
- Nor hanging oars the troubled seas did sweep,
- Men kept the shore and sailed not into deep.
- Against thyself, man's nature, thou wert cunning,
- And to thine own loss was thy wit swift running.
- Why gird'st thy cities with a towerèd wall,
- Why let'st discordant hands to armour fall?
- What dost with seas? with th' earth thou wert content;
- Why seek'st not heaven, the third realm, to frequent?
- Heaven thou affects: with Romulus, temples brave,
- Bacchus, Alcides, and now Cæsar have.
- Gold from the earth instead of fruits we pluck;
- Soldiers by blood to be enriched have luck.
- Courts shut the poor out; wealth gives estimation.
- Thence grows the judge, and knight of reputation.
- All, they possess: they govern fields and laws,
- They manage peace and raw war's bloody jaws.
- Only our loves let not such rich churls gain:
- 'Tis well if some wench for the poor remain.
- Now, Sabine-like, though chaste she seems to live,
- One her commands, who many things can give.
- For me, she doth keeper and husband fear,
- If I should give, both would the house forbear.
- If of scorned lovers God be venger just,
- O let him change goods so ill-got to dust.
Tibulli mortem deflet.
- If Thetis and the Morn their sons did wail,
- And envious Fates great goddesses assail;
- Sad Elegy, thy woful hairs unbind:
- Ah, now a name too true thou hast I find.
- Tibullus, thy work's poet, and thy fame,
- Burns his dead body in the funeral flame.
- Lo, Cupid brings his quiver spoilèd quite,
- His broken bow, his firebrand without light
- How piteously with drooping wings he stands,
- And knocks his bare breast with self-angry hands.
- The locks spread on his neck receive his tears,
- And shaking sobs his mouth for speeches bears.
- So at æneas' burial, men report,
- Fair-faced Iülus, he went forth thy court.
- And Venus grieves, Tibullus' life being spent,
- As when the wild boar Adon's groin had rent.
- The gods' care we are called, and men of piety,
- And some there be that think we have a deity.
- Outrageous death profanes all holy things,
- And on all creatures obscure darkness brings.
- To Thracian Orpheus what did parents good?
- Or songs amazing wild beasts of the wood?
- Where Linus by his father Phœbus laid,
- To sing with his unequalled harp is said.
- See Homer from whose fountain ever filled
- Pierian dew to poets is distilled:
- Him the last day in black Avern hath drowned:
- Verses alone are with continuance crowned.
- The work of poets lasts: Troy's labour's fame,
- And that slow web night's falsehood did unframe.
- So Nemesis, so Delia famous are,
- The one his first love, th' other his new care.
- What profit to us hath our pure life bred?
- What to have lain alone in empty bed?
- When bad Fates take good men, I am forbod
- By secret thoughts to think there is a God.
- Live godly, thou shalt die; though honour heaven,
- Yet shall thy life be forcibly bereaven.
- Trust in good verse, Tibullus feels death's pains,
- Scarce rests of all what a small urn contains.
- Thee, sacred poet, could sad flames destroy?
- Nor fearèd they thy body to annoy?
- The holy god's gilt temples they might fire,
- That durst to so great wickedness aspire.
- Eryx' bright empress turned her looks aside,
- And some, that she refrained tears, have denied.
- Yet better is't, than if Corcyra's Isle,
- Had thee unknown interred in ground most vile.
- Thy dying eyes here did thy mother close,
- Nor did thy ashes her last offerings lose.
- Part of her sorrow here thy sister bearing,
- Comes forth, her unkembed locks asunder tearing.
- Nemesis and thy first wench join their kisses
- With thine, nor this last fire their presence misses.
- Delia departing, “Happier loved,” she saith,
- “Was I: thou liv'dst, while thou esteem'dst my faith.”
- Nemesis answers, “What's my loss to thee?
- His fainting hand in death engraspèd me.”
- If aught remains of us but name and spirit,
- Tibullus doth Elysium's joy inherit.
- Their youthful brows with ivy girt to meet him,
- With Calvus learned Catullus comes, and greet him;
- And thou, if falsely charged to wrong thy friend,
- Gallus, that car'dst not blood and life to spend.
- With these thy soul walks: souls if death release,
- The godly sweet Tibullus doth increase.
- Thy bones, I pray, may in the urn safe rest,
- And may th' earth's weight thy ashes naught molest.
Ad Cererem, conquerens quod ejus sacris cum amica concumbere non permittatur.
- Come were the times of Ceres' sacrifice;
- In empty bed alone my mistress lies.
- Golden-haired Ceres crowned with ears of corn,
- Why are our pleasures by thy means forborne?
- Thee, goddess, bountiful all nations judge,
- Nor less at man's prosperity any grudge.
- Rude husbandmen baked not their corn before,
- Nor on the earth was known the name of floor.
- On mast of oaks, first oracles, men fed;
- This was their meat, the soft grass was their bed.
- First Ceres taught the seed in fields to swell,
- And ripe-eared corn with sharp-edged scythes to fell.
- She first constrained bulls' necks to bear the yoke,
- And untilled ground with crooked ploughshares broke.
- Who thinks her to be glad at lovers' smart,
- And worshipped by their pain and lying apart?
- Nor is she, though she loves the fertile fields,
- A clown, nor no love from her warm breast yields.
- Be witness Crete (nor Crete doth all things feign),
- Crete proud that Jove her nursery maintain.
- There he who rules the world's star-spangled towers,
- A little boy, drunk teat-distilling showers.
- Faith to the witness Jove's praise doth apply;
- Ceres, I think, no known fault will deny.
- The goddess saw Iasion on Candian Ide,
- With strong hand striking wild beasts' bristled hide.
- She saw, and as her marrow took the flame,
- Was divers ways distract with love and shame.
- Love conquered shame, the furrows dry were burned,
- And corn with least part of itself returned.
- When well-tossed mattocks did the ground prepare,
- Being fit-broken with the crooked share,
- And seeds were equally in large fields cast,
- The ploughman's hopes were frustrate at the last.
- The grain-rich goddess in high woods did stray,
- Her long hair's ear-wrought garland fell away.
- Only was Crete fruitful that plenteous year;
- Where Ceres went, each place was harvest there
- Ida, the seat of groves, did sing with corn,
- Which by the wild boar in the woods was shorn.
- Law-giving Minos did such years desire,
- And wished the goddess long might feel love's fire.
- Ceres, what sports to thee so grievous were,
- As in thy sacrifice we them forbear?
- Why am I sad, when Proserpine is found,
- And Juno-like with Dis reigns under ground?
- Festival days ask Venus, songs, and wine,
- These gifts are meet to please the powers divine.
Ad amicam a cujus amore discedere non potest.
- Long have I borne much, mad thy faults me make;
- Dishonest love, my wearied breast forsake!
- Now have I freed myself, and fled the chain,
- And what I have borne, shame to bear again.
- We vanquish, and tread tamed love under feet,
- Victorious wreaths at length my temples greet.
- Suffer, and harden: good grows by this grief,
- Oft bitter juice brings to the sick relief.
- I have sustained, so oft thrust from the door,
- To lay my body on the hard moist floor.
- I know not whom thou lewdly didst embrace,
- When I to watch supplied a servant's place.
- I saw when forth a tirèd lover went,
- His side past service, and his courage spent,
- Yet this is less than if he had seen me;
- May that shame fall mine enemies' chance to be.
- When have not I, fixed to thy side, close laid?
- I have thy husband, guard, and fellow played.
- The people by my company she pleased;
- My love was cause that more men's love she seized.
- What, should I tell her vain tongue's filthy lies,
- And, to my loss, god-wronging perjuries?
- What secret becks in banquets with her youths,
- With privy signs, and talk dissembling truths?
- Hearing her to be sick, I thither ran,
- But with my rival sick she was not than.
- These hardened me, with what I keep obscure:
- Some other seek, who will these things endure.
- Now my ship in the wishèd haven crowned,
- With joy hears Neptune's swelling waters sound.
- Leave thy once-powerful words, and flatteries,
- I am not as I was before, unwise.
- Now love and hate my light breast each way move,
- But victory, I think, will hap to love.
- I'll hate, if I can; if not, love 'gainst my will,
- Bulls hate the yoke, yet what they hate have still.
- I fly her lust, but follow beauty's creature,
- I loathe her manners, love her body's feature.
- Nor with thee, nor without thee can I live,
- And doubt to which desire the palm to give.
- Or less fair, or less lewd would thou might'st be
- Beauty with lewdness doth right ill agree.
- Her deeds gain hate, her face entreateth love;
- Ah, she doth more worth than her vices prove!
- Spare me, oh, by our fellow bed, by all
- The gods, who by thee, to be perjured fall.
- And by thy face to me a power divine,
- And by thine eyes, whose radiance burns out mine!
- Whate'er thou art, mine art thou: choose this course,—
- Wilt have me willing, or to love by force?
- Rather I'll hoist up sail, and use the wind,
- That I may love yet, though against my mind.
Dolet amicam suam ita suis carminibus innotuisse ut rivales multos sibi pararit.
- What day was that, which all sad haps to bring,
- White birds to lovers did not always sing?
- Or is I think my wish against the stars?
- Or shall I plain some god against me wars?
- Who mine was called, whom I loved more than any,
- I fear with me is common now to many.
- Err I? or by my books is she so known?
- 'Tis so: by my wit her abuse is grown.
- And justly: for her praise why did I tell?
- The wench by my fault is set forth to sell.
- The bawd I play, lovers to her I guide:
- Her gate by my hands is set open wide.
- 'Tis doubtful whether verse avail or harm,
- Against my good they were an envious charm
- When Thebes, when Troy, when Cæsar should be writ,
- Alone Corinna moves my wanton wit.
- With Muse opposed, would I my lines had done,
- And Phœbus had forsook my work begun!
- Nor, as use will not poets' record hear,
- Would I my words would any credit bear.
- Scylla by us her father's rich hair steals,
- And Scylla's womb mad raging dogs conceals.
- We cause feet fly, we mingle hares with snakes,
- Victorious Perseus a winged steed's back takes.
- Our verse great Tityus a huge space outspreads,
- And gives the viper-curlèd dog three heads.
- We make Enceladus use a thousand arms,
- And men enthralled by mermaid's singing charms.
- The east winds in Ulysses' bags we shut,
- And blabbing Tantalus in mid-waters put.
- Niobe flint, Callist we make a bear,
- Bird-changèd Progne doth her Itys tear.
- Jove turns himself into a swan, or gold,
- Or his bull's horns Europa's hand doth hold.
- Proteus what should I name? teeth, Thebes' first seed?
- Oxen in whose mouths burning flames did breed?
- Heaven-star, Electra, that bewailed her sisters?
- The ships, whose godhead in the sea now glisters?
- The sun turned back from Atreus' cursèd table?
- And sweet-touched harp that to move stones was able?
- Poets' large power is boundless and immense,
- Nor have their words true history's pretence.
- And my wench ought to have seemed falsely praised,
- Now your credulity harm to me hath raised.
De Junonis festo.
- When fruit-filled Tuscia should a wife give me,
- We touched the walls, Camillus, won by thee.
- The priests to Juno did prepare chaste feasts,
- With famous pageants, and their home-bred beasts.
- To know their rites well recompensed my stay,
- Though thither leads a rough steep hilly way.
- There stands an old wood with thick trees dark-clouded
- Who sees it grants some deity there is shrouded.
- An altar takes men's incense and oblation,
- An altar made after the ancient fashion.
- Here, when the pipe with solemn tunes doth sound,
- The annual pomp goes on the covered ground.
- White heifers by glad people forth are led,
- Which with the grass of Tuscan fields are fed,
- And calves from whose feared front no threatening flies,
- And little pigs. base hogsties' sacrifice,
- And rams with horns their hard heads wreathèd back
- Only the goddess-hated goat did lack,
- By whom disclosed, she in the high woods took,
- Is said to have attempted flight forsook.
- Now is the goat brought through the boys with darts,
- And give[n] to him that the first wound imparts.
- Where Juno comes, each youth and pretty maid,
- Show large ways, with their garments there displayed.
- Jewels and gold their virgin tresses crown,
- And stately robes to their gilt feet hang down.
- As is the use, the nuns in white veils clad,
- Upon their heads the holy mysteries had.
- When the chief pomp comes, loud the people hollow,
- And she her vestal virgin priests doth follow.
- Such was the Greek pomp, Agamemnon dead;
- Which fact and country wealth Halesus fled;
- And having wandered now through sea and land,
- Built walls high towered with a prosperous hand.
- He to th' Hetrurians Juno's feast commended:
- Let me and them by it be aye befriended.
Ad amicam, si peccatura est, ut occulte peccet.
- Seeing thou art fair, I bar not thy false playing,
- But let not me, poor soul, know of thy straying.
- Nor do I give thee counsel to live chaste,
- But that thou would'st dissemble, when 'tis past.
- She hath not trod awry, that doth deny it.
- Such as confess have lost their good names by it.
- What madness is't to tell night-pranks by day?
- And hidden secrets openly to bewray?
- The strumpet with the stranger will not do,
- Before the room be clear and door put-to.
- Will you make shipwreck of your honest name,
- And let the world be witness of the same?
- Be more advised, walk as a puritan,
- And I shall think you chaste, do what you can.
- Slip still, only deny it when 'tis done,
- And, before folk, immodest speeches shun.
- The bed is for lascivious toyings meet,
- There use all tricks, and tread shame under feet.
- When you are up and dressed, be sage and grave,
- And in the bed hide all the faults you have.
- Be not ashamed to strip you, being there,
- And mingle thighs, yours ever mine to bear.
- There in your rosy lips my tongue entomb,
- Practise a thousand sports when there you come.
- Forbear no wanton words you there would speak,
- And with your pastime let the bedstead creak;
- But with your robes put on an honest face,
- And blush, and seem as you were full of grace.
- Deceive all; let me err; and think I'm right,
- And like a wittol think thee void of slight.
- Why see I lines so oft received and given?
- This bed and that by tumbling made uneven?
- Like one start up your hair tost and displaced,
- And with a wanton's tooth your neck new-rased.
- Grant this, that what you do I may not see;
- If you weigh not ill speeches, yet weigh me.
- My soul fleets when I think what you have done,
- And thorough every vein doth cold blood run.
- Then thee whom I must love, I hate in vain,
- And would be dead, but dead with thee remain.
- I'll not sift much, but hold thee soon excused.
- Say but thou wert injuriously accused.
- Though while the deed be doing you be took,
- And I see when you ope the two-leaved book,
- Swear I was blind, deny if you be wise,
- And I will trust your words more than mine eyes
- From him that yields, the palm is quickly got,
- Teach but your tongue to say, “I did it not,”
- And being justified by two words, think
- The cause acquits you not, but I that wink.
Ad Venerem, quod elegis finem imponat.
- Tender Loves' mother a new poet get,
- This last end to my Elegies is set.
- Which I, Peligny's foster-child, have framed,
- Nor am I by such wanton toys defamed.
- Heir of an ancient house, if help that can,
- Not only by war's rage made gentleman.
- In Virgil Mantua joys: in Catull Verone;
- Of me Peligny's nation boasts alone;
- Whom liberty to honest arms compelled,
- When careful Rome in doubt their prowess held.
- And some guest viewing watery Sulmo's walls,
- Where little ground to be enclosed befalls,
- “How such a poet could you bring forth?” says:
- “How small soe'er, I'll you for greatest praise.”
- Both loves, to whom my heart long time did yield,
- Your golden ensigns pluck out of my field.
- Horned Bacchus graver fury doth distil,
- A greater ground with great horse is to till.
- Weak Elegies, delightful Muse, farewell;
- A work that, after my death, here shall dwell.
- “Quin ego me memini, dum custos saevus abiret, Ancillae missam delituisse sinu.”
- “Prima tuae movi felicia semina mentis.”
- Marlowe's copy read “novi.”)
- (“Invidiæ” here means “discredit, odium.”)
- “Omnia possideant, illis Campusque Forumque
- Serviat; hi pacem crudaque bella gerant.”
- “Aelinon in silvis idem pater, aelinon, altis Dicitur invita concinuisse lyra.”
- “Quod tibi secubitus tristes, dea flava, fuissent, Hoc cogor sacris nunc ego ferre tuis”
- Marlowe appears to have read “Qui tibi concubitus,” &c.
- “Quis fuit ille dies quo tristia semper amanti Omina non albae concinuistis aves?”
- “Flere genis electra tuas, auriga, sorores?”
- “Et fuerint oculis probra videnda meis.”