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TRANSLATIONS FROM OVID

SAPPHO TO PHAON

FROM THE FIFTEENTH OF OVID’S EPISTLES

Written, according to Pope, in 1707. First published in Tonson’s Ovid, 1712.

- Say, lovely Youth, that dost my heart command,
- Can Phaon’s eyes forget his Sappho’s hand?
- Must then her name the wretched writer prove,
- To thy remembrance lost, as to thy love?
- Ask not the cause that I new numbers choose,
- The lute neglected and the lyric Muse;
- Love taught my tears in sadder notes to flow,
- And tuned my heart to elegies of woe.
- I burn, I burn, as when thro’ ripen’d corn
- By driving winds the spreading flames are borne!10
- Phaon to Ætna’s scorching fields retires,
- While I consume with more than Ætna’s fires!
- No more my soul a charm in music finds;
- Music has charms alone for peaceful minds.
- Soft scenes of solitude no more can please;
- Love enters there, and I’m my own disease.
- No more the Lesbian dames my passion move,
- Once the dear objects of my guilty love;
- All other loves are lost in only thine,
- O youth, ungrateful to a flame like mine!
- Whom would not all those blooming charms surprise,21
- Those heav’nly looks, and dear deluding eyes?
- The harp and bow would you like Phœbus bear,
- A brighter Phœbus Phaon might appear;
- Would you with ivy wreathe your flowing hair,
- Not Bacchus’ self with Phaon could compare:
- Yet Phœbus lov’d, and Bacchus felt the flame,
- One Daphne warm’d, and one the Cretan dame;
- Nymphs that in verse no more could rival me,
- Than ev’n those Gods contend in charms with thee.30
- The Muses teach me all their softest lays,
- And the wide world resounds with Sappho’s praise.
- Tho’ great Alcæus more sublimely sings,
- And strikes with bolder rage the sounding strings,
- No less renown attends the moving lyre,
- Which Venus tunes, and all her loves inspire;
- To me what Nature has in charms denied,
- Is well by Wit’s more lasting flames supplied.
- Tho’ short my stature, yet my name extends
- To Heav’n itself, and earth’s remotest ends.40
- Brown as I am, an Ethiopian dame
- Inspired young Perseus with a gen’rous flame;
- Turtles and doves of diff’rent hues unite,
- And glossy jet is pair’d with shining white.
- If to no charms thou wilt thy heart resign,
- But such as merit, such as equal thine,
- By none, alas! by none thou canst be mov’d,
- Phaon alone by Phaon must be lov’d!
- Yet once thy Sappho could thy cares employ,
- Once in her arms you centred all your joy:
- No time the dear remembrance can remove,51
- For oh! how vast a memory has Love!
- My music, then, you could for ever hear,
- And all my words were music to your ear.
- You stopp’d with kisses my enchanting tongue,
- And found my kisses sweeter than my song.
- In all I pleas’d, but most in what was best;
- And the last joy was dearer than the rest.
- Then with each word, each glance, each motion fired,
- You still enjoy’d, and yet you still desired,
- Till, all dissolving, in the trance we lay,61
- And in tumultuous raptures died away.
- The fair Sicilians now thy soul inflame;
- Why was I born, ye Gods, a Lesbian dame?
- But ah, beware, Sicilian nymphs! nor boast
- That wand’ring heart which I so lately lost;
- Nor be with all those tempting words abused,
- Those tempting words were all to Sappho used.
- And you that rule Sicilia’s happy plains,
- Have pity, Venus, on your poet’s pains!70
- Shall fortune still in one sad tenor run,
- And still increase the woes so soon begun?
- Inured to sorrow from my tender years,
- My parents’ ashes drank my early tears:
- My brother next, neglecting wealth and fame,
- Ignobly burn’d in a destructive flame:
- An infant daughter late my griefs increas’d,
- And all a mother’s cares distract my breast.
- Alas! what more could Fate itself impose,
- But thee, the last, and greatest of my woes?80
- No more my robes in waving purple flow,
- Nor on my hand the sparkling diamonds glow;
- No more my locks in ringlets curl’d diffuse
- The costly sweetness of Arabian dews,
- Nor braids of gold the varied tresses bind,
- That fly disorder’d with the wanton wind:
- For whom should Sappho use such arts as these?
- He’s gone, whom only she desired to please!
- Cupid’s light darts my tender bosom move;
- Still is there cause for Sappho still to love:90
- So from my birth the sisters fix’d my doom,
- And gave to Venus all my life to come;
- Or, while my Muse in melting notes complains,
- My yielding heart keeps measure to my strains.
- By charms like thine which all my soul have won,
- Who might not—ah! who would not be undone?
- For those Aurora Cephalus might scorn,
- And with fresh blushes paint the conscious morn.
- For those might Cynthia lengthen Phaon’s sleep,99
- And bid Endymion nightly tend his sheep.
- Venus for those had rapt thee to the skies;
- But Mars on thee might look with Venus’ eyes.
- O scarce a youth, yet scarce a tender boy!
- O useful time for lovers to employ!
- Pride of thy age, and glory of thy race,
- Come to these arms, and melt in this embrace!
- The vows you never will return, receive;
- And take, at least, the love you will not give.
- See, while I write, my words are lost in tears!
- The less my sense, the more my love appears.110
- Sure ’t was not much to bid one kind adieu
- (At least to feign was never hard to you):
- ‘Farewell, my Lesbian love,’ you might have said;
- Or coldly thus, ‘Farewell, O Lesbian maid!’
- No tear did you, no parting kiss receive,
- Nor knew I then how much I was to grieve.
- No lover’s gift your Sappho could confer,
- And wrongs and woes were all you left with her.
- No charge I gave you, and no charge could give,
- But this, ‘Be mindful of our loves, and live.’120
- Now by the Nine, those powers ador’d by me,
- And Love, the God that ever waits on thee,
- When first I heard (from whom I hardly knew)
- That you were fled, and all my joys with you,
- Like some sad statue, speechless, pale, I stood,
- Grief chill’d my breast, and stopt my freezing blood;
- No sigh to rise, no tear had power to flow,
- Fix’d in a stupid lethargy of woe:
- But when its way th’ impetuous passion found,
- I rend my tresses, and my breast I wound;
- I rave, then weep; I curse, and then complain;131
- Now swell to rage, now melt in tears again.
- Not fiercer pangs distract the mournful dame,
- Whose first-born infant feeds the funeral flame.
- My scornful brother with a smile appears,
- Insults my woes, and triumphs in my tears;
- His hated image ever haunts my eyes;
- ‘And why this grief? thy daughter lives,’ he cries,
- Stung with my love, and furious with despair,
- All torn my garments, and my bosom bare,
- My woes, thy crimes, I to the world proclaim,141
- Such inconsistent things are Love and Shame!
- ’T is thou art all my care and my delight,
- My daily longing, and my dream by night:
- O night more pleasing than the brightest day,
- When fancy gives what absence takes away,
- And, dress’d in all its visionary charms,
- Restores my fair deserter to my arms!
- Then round your neck in wanton wreaths I twine;
- Then you, methinks, as fondly circle mine:
- A thousand tender words I hear and speak;151
- A thousand melting kisses give and take:
- Then fiercer joys—I blush to mention these,
- Yet, while I blush, confess how much they please.
- But when, with day, the sweet delusions fly,
- And all things wake to life and joy but I,
- As if once more forsaken, I complain,
- And close my eyes to dream of you again:
- Then frantic rise, and like some fury rove
- Thro’ lonely plains, and thro’ the silent grove;160
- As if the silent grove, and lonely plains,
- That knew my pleasures, could relieve my pains.
- I view the grotto, once the scene of love,
- The rocks around, the hanging roofs above,
- That charm’d me more, with native moss o’ergrown,
- Than Phrygian marble, or the Parian stone:
- I find the shades that veil’d our joys before;
- But, Phaon gone, those shades delight no more.
- Here the press’d herbs with bending tops betray
- Where oft entwin’d in am’rous folds we lay;170
- I kiss that earth which once was press’d by you,
- And all with tears the with’ring herbs bedew.
- For thee the fading trees appear to mourn,
- And birds defer their songs till thy return:
- Night shades the groves, and all in silence lie,
- All but the mournful Philomel and I:
- With mournful Philomel I join my strain,
- Of Tereus she, of Phaon I complain.
- A spring there is, whose silver waters show,
- Clear as a glass, the shining sands below:
- A flowery lotos spreads its arms above,181
- Shades all the banks, and seems itself a grove;
- Eternal greens the mossy margin grace,
- Watch’d by the sylvan genius of the place.
- Here as I lay, and swell’d with tears the flood,
- Before my sight a wat’ry virgin stood:
- She stood and cried, ‘O you that love in vain!
- Fly hence, and seek the fair Leucadian main.
- There stands a rock, from whose impending steep
- Apollo’s fane surveys the rolling deep;190
- There injur’d lovers, leaping from above,
- Their flames extinguish, and forget to love.
- Deucalion once with hopeless fury burn’d;
- In vain he lov’d, relentless Pyrrha scorn’d;
- But when from hence he plunged into the main,
- Deucalion scorn’d, and Pyrrha lov’d in vain.
- Haste, Sappho, haste, from high Leucadia throw
- Thy wretched weight, nor dread the deeps below!’
- She spoke, and vanish’d with the voice—I rise,
- And silent tears fall trickling from my eyes.200
- I go, ye Nymphs! those rocks and seas to prove;
- How much I fear, but ah, how much I love!
- I go, ye Nymphs! where furious love inspires,
- Let female fears submit to female fires.
- To rocks and seas I fly from Phaon’s hate,
- And hope from seas and rocks a milder fate.
- Ye gentle gales, beneath my body blow,
- And softly lay me on the waves below!
- And thou, kind Love, my sinking limbs sustain, }
- Spread thy soft wings, and waft me o’er the main,210 }
- Nor let a lover’s death the guiltless flood profane; }
- On Phœbus’ shrine my harp I’ll then bestow,
- And this inscription shall be placed below:
- ‘Here she who sung, to him that did inspire,
- Sappho to Phœbus consecrates her lyre;
- What suits with Sappho, Phœbus, suits with thee;
- The Gift, the Giver, and the God agree.’
- But why, alas! relentless youth, ah why
- To distant seas must tender Sappho fly?
- Thy charms than those may far more powerful be,220
- And Phœbus’ self is less a God to me.
- Ah! canst thou doom me to the rocks and sea,
- Oh! far more faithless and more hard than they?
- Ah! canst thou rather see this tender breast
- Dash’d on these rocks than to thy bosom press’d?
- This breast which once, in vain! you liked so well
- Where the Loves play’d, and where the Muses dwell.
- Alas! the Muses now no more inspire;
- Untuned my lute, and silent is my lyre.229
- My languid numbers have forgot to flow,
- And fancy sinks beneath a weight of woe.
- Ye Lesbian virgins, and ye Lesbian dames,
- Themes of my verse, and objects of my flames,
- No more your groves with my glad songs shall ring,
- No more these hands shall touch the trembling string:
- My Phaon’s fled, and I those arts resign;
- (Wretch that I am, to call that Phaon mine!)
- Return, fair youth, return, and bring along
- Joy to my soul, and vigour to my song:239
- Absent from thee, the poet’s flame expires;
- But ah! how fiercely burn the lover’s fires!
- Gods! can no prayers, no sighs, no numbers move
- One savage heart, or teach it how to love?
- The winds my prayers, my sighs, my numbers bear,
- The flying winds have lost them all in air!
- Oh when, alas! shall more auspicious gales
- To these fond eyes restore thy welcome sails!
- If you return—ah, why these long delays?
- Poor Sappho dies while careless Phaon stays.
- O launch thy bark, nor fear the wat’ry plain;250
- Venus for thee shall smooth her native main.
- O launch thy bark, secure of prosp’rous gales;
- Cupid for thee shall spread the swelling sails.
- If you will fly—(yet ah! what cause can be,
- Too cruel youth, that you should fly from me?)
- If not from Phaon I must hope for ease,
- Ah let me seek it from the raging seas:
- To raging seas unpitied I ’ll remove,
- And either cease to live or cease to love!

THE FABLE OF DRYOPE[ ]

FROM THE NINTH BOOK OF OVID’S METAMORPHOSES

- She said, and for her lost Galanthis sighs;
- When the fair consort of her son replies:
- ‘Since you a servant’s ravish’d form bemoan,
- And kindly sigh for sorrows not your own,
- Let me (if tears and grief permit) relate
- A nearer woe, a sister’s stranger fate.
- No nymph of all Œchalia could compare
- For beauteous form with Dryope the fair,
- Her tender mother’s only hope and pride
- (Myself the offspring of a second bride).10
- This nymph compress’d by him who rules the day,
- Whom Delphi and the Delian isle obey,
- Andræmon lov’d; and bless’d in all those charms
- That pleas’d a God, succeeded to her arms.
- ‘A lake there was with shelving banks around,
- Whose verdant summit fragrant myrtles crown’d.
- These shades, unknowing of the fates, she sought,
- And to the Naiads flowery garlands brought:
- Her smiling babe (a pleasing charge) she prest
- Within her arms, and nourish’d at her breast.20
- Not distant far a wat’ry lotos grows;
- The spring was new, and all the verdant boughs
- Adorn’d with blossoms, promis’d fruits that vie
- In glowing colours with the Tyrian dye.
- Of these she cropp’d, to please her infant son,
- And I myself the same rash act had done:
- But, lo! I saw (as near her side I stood)
- The violated blossoms drop with blood;
- Upon the tree I cast a frightful look;
- The trembling tree with sudden horror shook.30
- Lotis the nymph (if rural tales be true)
- As from Priapus’ lawless lust she flew,
- Forsook her form, and, fixing here, became
- A flowery plant, which still preserves her name.
- ‘This change unknown, astonish’d at the sight,
- My trembling sister strove to urge her flight;
- And first the pardon of the Nymphs implor’d,
- And those offended sylvan Powers ador’d:
- But when she backward would have fled, she found
- Her stiff’ning feet were rooted in the ground:40
- In vain to free her fasten’d feet she strove,
- And as she struggles only moves above;
- She feels th’ encroaching bark around her grow
- By quick degrees, and cover all below:
- Surprised at this, her trembling hand she heaves
- To rend her hair; her hand is fill’d with leaves:
- Where late was hair the shooting leaves are seen
- To rise, and shade her with a sudden green.
- The child Amphissus, to her bosom prest,
- Perceiv’d a colder and a harder breast,50
- And found the springs, that ne’er till then denied
- Their milky moisture, on a sudden dried.
- I saw, unhappy! what I now relate,
- And stood the helpless witness of thy fate;
- Embraced thy boughs, thy rising bark delay’d,
- There wish’d to grow, and mingle shade with shade.
- ‘Behold Andræmon and th’ unhappy sire
- Appear, and for their Dryope inquire:
- A springing tree for Dryope they find,
- And print warm kisses on the panting rind;
- Prostrate, with tears, their kindred plant bedew,61
- And close embrace as to the roots they grew.
- The face was all that now remain’d of thee,
- No more a woman, nor yet quite a tree;
- Thy branches hung with humid pearls appear,
- From ev’ry leaf distils a trickling tear;
- And straight a voice, while yet a voice remains,
- Thus thro’ the trembling boughs in sighs complains.
- ‘If to the wretched any faith be giv’n,
- I swear by all th’ unpitying powers of Heav’n,70
- No wilful crime this heavy vengeance bred;
- In mutual innocence our lives we led:
- If this be false, let these new greens decay, }
- Let sounding axes lop my limbs away, }
- And crackling flames on all my honours prey. }
- But from my branching arms this infant bear;
- Let some kind nurse supply a mother’s care;
- And to his mother let him oft be led,
- Sport in her shades, and in her shades be fed.
- Teach him, when first his infant voice shall frame80
- Imperfect words, and lisp his mother’s name,
- To hail this tree, and say with weeping eyes,
- “Within this plant my hapless parent lies:”
- And when in youth he seeks the shady woods,
- Oh! let him fly the crystal lakes and floods,
- Nor touch the fatal flowers; but, warn’d by me,
- Believe a Goddess shrined in every tree.
- My sire, my sister, and my spouse, farewell!
- If in your breasts or love or pity dwell,
- Protect your plant, nor let my branches feel90
- The browsing cattle or the piercing steel.
- Farewell! and since I cannot bend to join
- My lips to yours, advance at least to mine.
- My son, thy mother’s parting kiss receive,
- While yet thy mother has a kiss to give.
- I can no more; the creeping rind invades
- My closing lips, and hides my head in shades:
- Remove your hands; the bark shall soon suffice
- Without their aid to seal these dying eyes.’
- ‘She ceas’d at once to speak and ceas’d to be,100
- And all the Nymph was lost within the tree;
- Yet latent life thro’ her new branches reign’d
- And long the plant a human heat retain’d.’

VERTUMNUS AND POMONA

FROM THE FOURTEENTH BOOK OF OVID’S METAMORPHOSES

- The fair Pomona flourish’d in his reign;
- Of all the virgins of the sylvan train
- None taught the trees a nobler race to bear,
- Or more improv’d the vegetable care.
- To her the shady grove, the flowery field,
- The streams and fountains no delights could yield;
- ’T was all her joy the ripening fruits to tend,
- And see the boughs with happy burdens bend.
- The hook she bore instead of Cynthia’s spear.
- To lop the growth of the luxuriant year,10
- To decent form the lawless shoots to bring,
- And teach th’ obedient branches where to spring.
- Now the cleft rind inserted grafts receives,
- And yields an offspring more than Nature gives;
- Now sliding streams the thirsty plants renew,
- And feed their fibres with reviving dew.
- These cares alone her virgin breast employ,
- Averse from Venus and the nuptial joy.
- Her private orchards, wall’d on every side,
- To lawless sylvans all access denied.20
- How oft the Satyrs and the wanton Fauns,
- Who haunt the forests or frequent the lawns,
- The God whose ensign scares the birds of prey,
- And old Silenus, youthful in decay,
- Employ’d their wiles and unavailing care
- To pass the fences, and surprise the Fair?
- Like these Vertumnus own’d his faithful flame,
- Like these rejected by the scornful dame.
- To gain her sight a thousand forms he wears;
- And first a reaper from the field appears:30
- Sweating he walks, while loads of golden grain
- O’ercharge the shoulders of the seeming swain:
- Oft o’er his back a crooked scythe is laid,
- And wreaths of hay his sunburnt temples shade:
- Oft in his harden’d hand a goad he bears,
- Like one who late unyoked the sweating steers:
- Sometimes his pruning-hook corrects the vines,
- And the loose stragglers to their ranks confines:
- Now gath’ring what the bounteous year allows,
- He pulls ripe apples from the bending boughs:40
- A soldier now, he with his sword appears;
- A fisher next, his trembling angle bears:
- Each shape he varies, and each art he tries,
- On her bright charms to feast his longing eyes.
- A female form at last Vertumnus wears, }
- With all the marks of rev’rend age appears, }
- His temples thinly spread with silver hairs: }
- Propp’d on his staff, and stooping as he goes,
- A painted mitre shades his furrow’d brows.
- The God in this decrepit form array’d,50 }
- The gardens enter’d, and the fruit survey’d; }
- And, ‘Happy you!’ he thus address’d the maid, }
- ‘Whose charms as far all other nymphs outshine,
- As other gardens are excell’d by thine!’
- Then kiss’d the Fair; (his kisses warmer grow
- Than such as women on their sex bestow)
- Then placed beside her on the flowery ground,
- Beheld the trees with autumn’s bounty crown’d.
- An elm was near, to whose embraces led,
- The curling vine her swelling clusters spread:60
- He view’d her twining branches with delight,
- And prais’d the beauty of the pleasing sight.
- ‘Yet this tall elm, but for this vine,’ he said,
- “Had stood neglected, and a barren shade;
- And this fair vine, but that her arms surround
- Her married elm, had crept along the ground.
- Ah! beauteous maid! let this example move
- Your mind, averse from all the joys of love.
- Deign to be lov’d, and every heart subdue!
- What Nymph could e’er attract such crowds as you?70
- Not she whose beauty urged the Centaur’s arms,
- Ulysses’ queen, nor Helen’s fatal charms.
- Ev’n now, when silent scorn is all they gain,
- A thousand court you, tho’ they court in vain,
- A thousand Sylvans, Demigods, and Gods,
- That haunt our mountains and our Alban woods.
- But if you ’ll prosper, mark what I advise,
- Whom age and long experience render wise,
- And one whose tender care is far above
- All that these lovers ever felt of love80
- (Far more than e’er can by yourself be guess’d);
- Fix on Vertumnus, and reject the rest:
- For his firm faith I dare engage my own;
- Scarce to himself himself is better known.
- To distant lands Vertumnus never roves;
- Like you, contented with his native groves;
- Nor at first sight, like most, admires the Fair; }
- For you he lives; and you alone shall share }
- His last affection as his early care. }
- Besides, he’s lovely far above the rest,90
- With youth immortal, and with beauty blest.
- Add, that he varies every shape with ease,
- And tries all forms that may Pomona please.
- But what should most excite a mutual flame,
- Your rural cares and pleasures are the same.
- To him your orchard’s early fruits are due
- (A pleasing off’ring when ’t is made by you);
- He values these; but yet, alas! complains
- That still the best and dearest gift remains.
- Not the fair fruit that on yon branches glows100
- With that ripe red th’ autumnal sun bestows;
- Nor tasteful herbs that in these gardens rise,
- Which the kind soil with milky sap supplies;
- You, only you, can move the God’s desire.
- O crown so constant and so pure a fire!
- Let soft compassion touch your gentle mind;
- Think ’t is Vertumnus begs you to be kind:
- So may no frost, when early buds appear,
- Destroy the promise of the youthful year;
- Nor winds, when first your florid orchard blows,110
- Shake the light blossoms from their blasted boughs!’
- This, when the various God had urged in vain,
- He straight assumed his native form again:
- Such, and so bright an aspect now he bears,
- As when thro’ clouds th’ emerging sun appears,
- And thence exerting his refulgent ray,
- Dispels the darkness, and reveals the day.
- Force he prepared, but check’d the rash design;
- For when, appearing in a form divine,
- The Nymph surveys him, and beholds the grace120
- Of charming features and a youthful face,
- In her soft breast consenting passions move,
- And the warm maid confess’d a mutual love.

[Page 63.]The Fable of Dryope. Upon occasion of the death of Hercules, his mother Alcmena recounts her misfortunes to Iole, who answers with a relation of those of her own family, in particular the transformation of her sister Dryope, which is the subject of the ensuing Fable. (Pope.)

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TRANSLATIONS FROM OVID - Alexander Pope, The Complete Poetical Works of Alexander Pope [1903]

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TRANSLATIONS FROM OVID

SAPPHO TO PHAON FROM THE FIFTEENTH OF OVID’S EPISTLES

THE FABLE OF DRYOPE[ ]FROM THE NINTH BOOK OF OVID’S METAMORPHOSES

VERTUMNUS AND POMONA FROM THE FOURTEENTH BOOK OF OVID’S METAMORPHOSES

SAPPHO TO PHAON

FROM THE FIFTEENTH OF OVID’S EPISTLES

THE FABLE OF DRYOPE[ ]

FROM THE NINTH BOOK OF OVID’S METAMORPHOSES

VERTUMNUS AND POMONA

FROM THE FOURTEENTH BOOK OF OVID’S METAMORPHOSES