Janus Secundus: Basia

Cum Venus Ascanium super alta Cythera tulisset,
      sopitum teneris imposuit violis,
albarum nimbos circumfuditque rosarum,
      et totum liquido sparsit odore locum:
mox veteres animo revocavit Adonidis ignes,
      notus et irrepsit ima per ossa calor.
O, quoties voluit circumdare colla nepotis!
      O, quoties, 'Talis,' dixit, 'Adonis erat'!
Sed placidam pueri metuens turbare quietem
      fixit vicinis basia mille rosis.

When Venus had borne Ascanios over high Cythera,
      she laid him asleep with tender violets,
and poured round about a cloud of white roses,
      and sprinkled the whole place with a liquid perfume:
soon she recalled the ancient fires of Adonis to his spirit,
      known and a heat crept into his deepest bones.
O, how often she longed to encircle the grandson’s neck!
      O, how often she said, “Such was Adonis”!
But, fearing to disturb the boy’s placid rest,
      she pressed a thousand kisses on the neighbouring roses.

Ecce calent illae, cupidaeque per ora Diones
      aura susurranti flamine lenta subit.
Quotque rosas tetigit, tot basia nata repente
      gaudia reddebant multiplicata deae.
At Cytherea, natans niveis per nubila cycnis,
      ingentis terrae coepit obire globum.

Behold, they grow warm, and the Diones, desirous, through their mouths
      feel the air glide on a whispering blast, gentle.
And as many roses as he touched, so many kisses suddenly born
      gave joys back to the goddess, multiplied.
But Cytherea, swimming on snowy swans through clouds,
      began to traverse the vast globe of the earth.

Triptolemique modo, fecundis oscula glebis
      sparsit, et ignotos ter dedit ore sonos.
Inde seges felix nata est mortalibus aegris,
      inde medela meis unica nata malis.
Salvete aeternum, miserae moderamina flammae,
      Humida de gelidis Basia nata rosis.

Like Triptolemus just now, he scattered kisses on the fertile glebe
      and thrice from his mouth gave unknown sounds.
From that a happy crop was born for ailing mortals,
      from that a sole remedy was born for my maladies.
Hail eternal, restraints of my miserable flame,
      moist kisses born from icy roses.

En ego sum, vestri quo Vate canentur honores,
nota Medusaei dum iuga montis erunt,
et memor Aeneadum, stirpisque disertus amatae,
mollia Romulidum verba loquetur Amor.

Behold, I am he by whom, with a Bard, your honors shall be sung,
while the ridges of the Medusan mount remain known,
and mindful of the Aeneads, and eloquent about the beloved stock,
Love will speak the soft words of the Romulids.

Basium 2

Kiss 2

Vicina quantum vitis lascivit in ulmo,
      et tortiles per ilicem
bracchia proceram stringunt immensa corymbi,
      tantum, Neaera, si queas
in mea nexilibus proserpere colla lacertis;
      tali, Neaera, si queam
candida perpetuum nexu tua colla ligare,
      iungens perenne basium;
tunc me nec Cereris, nec amici cura Lyaei,
      soporis aut amabilis,
Vita, tuo de purpureo divelleret ore:
      sed mutuis in osculis
defectos, ratis una duos portaret amantes
      ad pallidam Ditis domum.
Mox per odoratos campos, et perpetuum ver,
      produceremur in loca,
semper ubi, antiquis in amoribus, Heroinae
      Heroas inter nobiles,
aut ducunt choreas, alternave carmina laetae
      in valle cantant myrtea;
qua violisque, rosisque, et flavicomis narcissis
      umbraculis trementibus,
illudit lauri nemus, et crepitante susurro
      tepidi suave sibilant
aeternum Zephyri, nec vomere saucia tellus
      fecunda solvit ubera.
Turba beatorum nobis assurgeret omnis;
      inque herbidis sedilibus
inter Maeonidas prima nos sede locarent;
      Nec ulla amatricum Iovis
praerepto cedens indignaretur honore,
      nec nata Tyndaris Iove.

As much as a neighbouring vine revels upon an elm,
      and twisted tendrils through the holm-oak
embrace the lofty arms with huge clusters,
      so much, Neaera, if you could,
would creep upon my woven arms your neck with brawny limbs;
      so much, Neaera, if I could
bind your fair neck with an unbroken knot,
      joining an eternal kiss;
then neither Ceres’ care nor Lyaeus’ friendly watch,
      nor sleepy or delightful
Life would tear me from your purple mouth:
      but by mutual kisses
one raft would bear the two lovers, spent, together
      to pale Dis’s house.
Soon through fragrant fields, and perennial spring,
      we would be led forth to places
where always, in the old loves, heroines
      place heroes among the noble,
or lead dances, or in alternation sing glad songs
      in the myrtle vale;
where with violets, and roses, and yellow-haired narcissi
      with trembling little shades,
the grove of laurel plays, and with a crackling whisper
      the warm Zephyrs forever hiss sweetly, nor does the earth,
      wounded by the ploughshare, loosen her fruitful breasts.
A throng of the blessed would rise up for us all;
      and on grassy seats
they would place us first among the Maeonidæ;
      Nor would any of Jove’s lovers,
yielding her snatched honour, be displeased,
      nor one born of Tyndareus jealous of Jove.

Basium 3

Kiss 3

Da mihi suaviolum, dicebam, blanda puella;
      libasti labris mox mea labra tuis.
Inde, velut presso qui territus angue resultat,
      ora repente meo vellis ab ore procul.
Non hoc suaviolum dare, Lux mea, sed dare tantum
      est desiderium flebile suavioli.

Give me a little kiss, I was saying, coaxing girl;
      you tasted my lips, then my lips yours.
Thence, as one pressed who, scared by a snake, recoils,
      you would suddenly wish your mouth far from my mouth.
Not to give this little kiss, my Light, but merely to give —
      is the tearful desire of the little kiss.

Basium 4

Kiss 4

Non dat basia, dat Neaera nectar,
dat rores animae suaveolentes,
dat nardumque, thymumque, cinnamumque,
et mel, quale iugis legunt Hymetti,
aut in Cecropiis apes rosetis,
atque hinc virgineis et inde ceris
saeptum vimineo tegunt quasillo.
Quae si multa mihi voranda dentur,
immortalis in iis repente fiam,
magnorumque epulis fruar deorum.
Sed tu munere parce, parce tali,
aut mecum dea fac, Neaera, fias:
non mensas sine te volo deorum:
non si me rutilis praeesse regnis,
excluso Iove, di deaeque cogant.

She gives not kisses, Neaera gives nectar,
gives dews of the soul, sweet‑smelling,
gives nard and thyme and cinnamon,
and honey, such as on the ridges Hymettus gathers,
or in Cecropian rose‑beds the bees,
and thence with virginal wax and therewith wax
they cover the hive fenced with wicker quasillo.
If such many things to be devoured are granted me,
suddenly immortal in them I shall become,
and of the great gods’ feasts shall I enjoy.
But you withhold the gift, spare, spare such a gift,
or make me a goddess with you, Neaera, so you may be made;
I do not want the tables of the gods without you:
not even if I were to preside over glittering realms,
even if, Jove excluded, gods and goddesses should compel me.

Basium 5

Kiss 5

Dum me mollibus hinc et hinc lacertis
astrictum premis, imminensque toto
collo, pectore, lubricoque vultu,
dependes humeris, Neaera, nostris:
componensque meis labella labris,
et morsu petis, et gemis remorsa,
et linguam tremulam hinc et inde vibras,
et linguam querulam hinc et inde sugis,
aspirans animae suavis auram,
mollem, dulcisonam, humidam, meaeque
altricem miserae, Neaera, vitae:
hauriens animam meam caducam,
flagrantem, nimio vapore coctam,
coctam pectoris impotentis aestu,
eludisque meas, Neaera, flammas
flabro pectoris haurientis aestum;
O, iucunda mei caloris aura:
tunc dico, deus est Amor deorum,
et nullus deus est Amore maior
si quisquam tamen est Amore maior,
tu, tu sola mihi es, Neaera, maior.

While you press me, bound with soft arms here and there,
and looming over my whole neck, breast, and slippery visage,
you hang upon my shoulders, Neaera, mine:
and placing your little lips upon my lips,
you seek with a bite, and, bitten, you groan,
and you wag your trembling tongue here and there,
and you suck your plaintive tongue here and there,
inhaling the sweet breeze of life,—
soft, sweet-voiced, moist, and the nurse
of my wretched life, Neaera:
drawing in my failing soul,
blazing, cooked by excessive vapor,
cooked by the fever of my impotent breast,
and you elude my flames, Neaera,
with the puff that draws in the breast’s tide;
O, pleasant breeze of my heat:
then I say, Love is a god of gods,
and no god is greater than Love;
if anyone yet is greater in Love,
you, you alone are greater to me, Neaera.

Basium 6

Kiss 6

De meliore nota bis basia mille paciscens,
basia mille dedi, basia mille tuli.
Explesti numerum, fateor, iucunda Neaera;
expleri numero sed nequit ullus amor.
Quis laudet Cererem numeratis surgere aristis?

Bargaining twice for a better token I set the pact at a thousand kisses,
a thousand kisses I gave, a thousand kisses I received.
I filled the number, I confess, delightful Neaera;
yet no love can be filled by number.
Who will praise Ceres as she rises with counted ears?

Gramen in irrigua quis numeravit humo?
Quis tibi, Bacche, tulit pro centum vota racemis?
Agricolamve deum mille poposcit apes?

Who counted the grass in irrigated ground?
Who brought to you, Bacchus, vows for a hundred racemes?
Or did a thousand bees demand the farmer as a god?

Cum pius irrorat sitientes Iuppiter agros,
      deciduae guttas non numeramus aquae.
Sic quoque, cum ventis concussus inhorruit aër,
      sumpsit et irata Iuppiter arma manu,
grandine confusa terras et caerula pulsat,
      securus sternat quot sata, quotve locis.
Seu bona, seu mala sunt, veniunt uberrima caelo:
      maiestas domui convenit illa Iovis.

When pious Jupiter waters the thirsty fields,
      we do not count the falling drops of water.
So likewise, when the air, struck by winds, shuddered,
      angry Jupiter took up weapons in his hand,
with hail mingled he smites the lands and the blue skies,
      secure he lays low how many crops, and in which places.
Whether they are good or evil, most abundant things come from heaven:
      that majesty suits the house of Jove.

Tu quoque cum dea sis, diva formosior illa
      concha per aequoreum quam vaga ducit iter,
basia cur numero caelestia dona coërces?
      Nec numeras gemitus, dura puella, meos?
Nec lacrimas numeras, quae per faciemque sinumque
      duxerunt rivos semper euntis aquae?

You too, though you are a goddess — that goddess more fair than the shell
      which wandering makes its way across the sea — why do you curb with number
kisses, heavenly gifts?      Do you not reckon my groans, hard-hearted girl?
Do you not count the tears, which have drawn streams over both my face and fold,
      of water ever flowing?

Si numeras lacrimas, numeres licet oscula, sed si
non numeras lacrimas, oscula ne numeres;
et mihi da, miseri solatia vana doloris,
innumera innumeris basia pro lacrimis.

If you count tears, you may count kisses, but if
you do not count tears, do not number kisses;
and give to me, consolations vain of a wretched grief,
innumerable kisses for the countless tears.

Basium 7

Kiss 7

Centum basia centies,
centum basia millies,
mille basia millies,
et tot milia millies,
quot guttae Siculo mari,
      quot sunt sidera caelo,
istis purpureis genis,
istis turgidulis labris,
ocellisque loquaculis,
ferrem continuo impetu,
      o formosa Neaera!
Sed dum totus inhaereo
conchatim roseis genis,
conchatim rutilis labris,
ocellisque loquaculis,
non datur tua cernere
labra, non roseas genas,
ocellosque loquaculos,
      molles nec mihi risus;
qui, velut nigra discutit
caelo nubila Cynthius,
pacatumque per aethera
gemmatis in equis micat,
      flavo lucidus orbe,
sic nutu eminus aureo
et meis lacrimas genis,
et curas animo meo,
      et suspiria pellunt.
Heu, quae sunt oculis meis
nata proelia cum labris?

A hundred kisses a hundred times,
a hundred kisses a thousand times,
a thousand kisses a thousand times,
and so many thousands a thousand times,
as many as drops in the Sicilian sea,
      as many as the stars in the sky,
upon those purple cheeks,
upon those swollen little lips,
and upon those talkative little eyes,
I would bear them forth with unceasing impulse,
      O beautiful Neaera!
But while I cling wholly
shell-like to your rosy cheeks,
shell-like to your reddish-gold lips,
and to your talkative little eyes,
it is not granted that you see
my lips, nor your rosy cheeks,
nor your talkative little eyes,
      nor my soft smiles;
he who, as Cynthia scatters black clouds from the sky,
and over peaceful ether flashes on gem-bedecked steeds,
      bright with his golden orb,
thus from afar with a golden nod
both drives away the tears from my cheeks,
and my cares from my spirit,
      and my sighs. Ah, what battles are born
for my eyes with my lips?

Ergo ego mihi vel Iovem
rivalem potero pati?
Rivales oculi mei
non ferunt mea labra.

Therefore can I even endure Jove as my rival?
My rival eyes
do not endure my lips.

Basium 8

Kiss 8

Quis te furor, Neaera,
inepta, quis iubebat
sic involare nostram,
sic vellicare linguam
ferociente morsu?
An, quas tot unus abs te
pectus per omne gesto
penetrabiles sagittas,
parum videntur; istis
ni dentibus protervis,
exerceas nefandum
membrum nefas in illud,
quo saepe sole primo,
quo saepe sole sero,
quo per diesque longas,
noctesque amarulentas,
laudes tuas canebam?
Haec est, iniqua, nescis?

What madness seized you, Neaera,
inept one, what ordered you
thus to dart upon my mouth,
thus to titillate my tongue
with a ferocious bite?
Or do those so many arrows,
which, one from you, my breast throughout bore,
piercing, seem too few; unless with those
insolent teeth you should exercise the accursed
member in that place,
to which often at first light,
to which often at late light,
to which through long days,
and bitter nights,
I used to sing your praises? Are you unaware of this, unkind one?

Haec illa lingua nostra est,
quae tortiles capillos,
quae pactulos ocellos,
quae lacteas papillas,
quae colla mollicella
venustulae Neaerae,
molli per astra versu,
ultra Iovis calores,
caelo incidente, vexit:
quae te meam salutem,
quae te meamque vitam,
animae meaeque florem,
et te meos amores,
et te meos lepores,
et te meam Dionen,
et te meam columbam,
albamque turturillam,
Venere invidente, dixit.
An vero, an est id ipsum
quod te iuvat, superba,
inferre vulnus illi,
quam laesione nulla,
formosa, posse nosti
ira tumere tanta,
quin semper hos ocellos,
quin semper haec labella,
et, qui sibi salaces
malum dedere dentes,
inter suos cruores
balbutiens recantet?
O, vis superba formae!

This is that tongue of ours,
which your curled locks,
which your little Pacts of eyes,
which your milky breasts,
which your soft little neck
of charming Neaera,
in a soft verse through the stars,
beyond Jupiter’s heats,
with heaven leaning down, conveyed:
which called you my salvation,
which called you my life,
the bloom of my soul,
and you my loves,
and you my charms,
and you my Dione,
and you my dove,
and the white turtledove,
with Venus envying, it said. Or truly, is it that very thing
which delights you, proud one,
to inflict a wound upon her,
which by no injury,
beautiful one, do you know
anger can so swell,
nay always these little eyes,
nay always these little lips,
and he, whose lustful
teeth gave themselves the harm,
among his own bloods
stammering, will he recant?
O, the proud power of beauty!

Basium 9

KISS 9

Non semper udum da mihi basium,
nec iuncta blandis sibila risibus,
nec semper in meum recumbe
implicitum moribunda collum.

Do not always give me a moist kiss,
nor hissing sounds joined to bland smiles,
nor ever recline upon my neck
your neck entwined, swooning.

Mensura rebus est sua dulcibus.
Ut quodque mentes suavius afficit,
fastidium sic triste secum
limite proximiore ducit.

There is a measure for sweet things.
As each thing more sweetly affects the minds,
so a sad satiety with it
brings its limit nearer.

Cum te rogabo ter tria basia,
tu deme septem, nec nisi da duo,
utrumque nec longum nec udum:
qualia teligero Diana

When I will ask you thrice for three kisses,
you take away seven, and grant no more than two,
each neither long nor wet:
such as arrow‑bearing Diana

dat casta fratri, qualia dat patri
experta nullos nata Cupidines;
mox e meis lasciva ocellis
curre procul natitante planta.

she gives chaste gifts to her brother, the kind that no newly‑born, untried Cupid gives to his father;
then from my wanton little eyes
run away far with your swimming foot.

Et te remotis in penetralibus,
et te latebris, abdito in intimis,
sequar latebras usque in imas,
in penetrale sequar repostum;

And thee in remote penetralia,
and thee in hiding-places, hidden in the innermost,
I will follow the hiding-places even to the lowest,
into the penetral I will follow the repositum;

praedamque victor fervidus in meam
utrimque heriles iniiciens manus,
raptabo ut imbellem columbam
unguibus accipiter recurvis.

and, hot with victory, flinging both ancestral hands upon my prey,
I will snatch the unwarlike dove
like a hawk with recurved talons.

Tu deprecantes victa dabis manus,
haerensque totis pendula bracchiis,
placare me septem iocosis
basiolis cupies inepta.

You, conquered, will give supplicating hands,
and clinging, suspended on both arms,
you will seek to placate me with seven merry
little kisses, you foolish one.

Errabis; illud crimen ut eluam,
septena iungam basia septies,
atque hoc catenatis lacertis
impediam fugitiva collum;

You err; that crime, so that I may wash it away,
I will join sevenfold kisses seven times,
and with chainèd arms
I will restrain your fleeing neck;

dum, persolutis omnibus osculis,
iurabis omnes per Veneres tuas,
te saepius poenas easdem
crimine velle pari subire.

while, all kisses having been paid,
you will swear by all your Veneres,
that you oftentimes wish to suffer the same
penalties for an equal crime.

Basium 10

Kiss 10

Non sunt certa meam moveant quae basia mentem,
      uda labris udis conseris, uda iuvant;
nec sua basiolis non est quoque gratia siccis,
      fluxit ab his tepidus saepe sub ossa vapor.
Dulce quoque est oculis nutantibus oscula ferre,
      auctoresque sui demeruisse mali:
sive genis totis, totive incumbere collo,
      seu niveis umeris, seu sinui niveo,
et totas livore genas, collumque notare,
      candidulosque humeros, candidulumque sinum;
seu labris querulis titubantem sugere linguam,
      et miscere duas iuncta per ora animas,
inque peregrinum diffundere corpus utramque,
      languet in extremo cum moribundus amor.
Me breve, me longum capiet, laxumque, tenaxque,
      seu mihi das, seu do, lux, tibi basiolum.

The kisses that move my mind are not fixed,
      you mingle wet ones with wet lips, wet ones please;
nor is there likewise no grace in little dry kisses,
      from these a tepid breath oft flowed under the bones.
Sweet too it is to bear kisses to fluttering eyes,
      and that their authors have merited ill:
whether upon whole cheeks, or to lean upon the whole neck,
      whether on snowy shoulders, or on a snowy bosom,
and to mark all cheeks with a bruise, and the neck,
      and the rather-white shoulders, and the rather-white bosom;
or to suck the trembling tongue with complaining lips,
      and to mingle two souls joined through the mouths,
and to pour each body out into the foreign other,
      love grows faint at the end, dying.
It will seize me briefly, it will seize me long, lax and tenacious,
      whether you give to me, or I give to you, light, a little kiss to you.

Qualia sed sumes, nunquam mihi talia redde:
      diversis varium ludat uterque modis.
At quem deficiet varianda figura priorem,
      legem submissis audiat hanc oculis,
ut, quot utrimque prius data sint, tot basia solus
      dulcia victori det, totidemque modis.

But whatever sorts you choose, never return such things to me:
      let each one play varied in diverse modes.
But when a changing figure shall fail to match the former,
      let him hear this law with eyes cast down,
that, as many as were first given on each side, so many kisses alone
      let him give sweetly to the victor, and in just as many modes.

Basium 11

Kiss 11

Basia lauta nimis quidam me iungere dicunt,
      qualia rugosi non didicere patres.
Ergo, ego cum cupidis stringo tua colla lacertis,
      Lux mea, basiolis immoriorque tuis,
anxius exquiram quid de me quisque loquatur?
      Ipse quis, aut ubi sim, vix meminisse vacat.

Some say to join to me far too many polished kisses,
      of a sort our wrinkled fathers never learned.
Therefore I, when I clasp your neck with desirous arms,
      my Light, and perish upon your little kisses,
shall I anxiously inquire what each one says of me?
      Who I am, or where I am, there is scarcely leisure even to remember.

Audiit, et risit formosa Neaera, meumque
      hinc collum nivea cinxit et inde manu;
basiolumque dedit, quo non lascivius umquam
      inseruit Marti Cypria blanda suo;
et, 'quid,' ait, 'metuis turbae decreta severae?
      Causa meo tantum competit ista foro.'

She heard, and fair Neaera laughed, and therewith girded my neck
      with her snowy hand here and with the other hand there;
and she gave a little kiss, by which never more wantonly
      did the Cyprian press her charm upon Mars;
and, "what," she said, "do you fear the decrees of a stern crowd?
      That cause pertains only to my forum."

Basium 12

KISS 12

Quid vultus removetis hinc pudicos,
matronaeque, puellulaeque castae?
Non hic furta deum iocosa canto,
monstrosasve libidinum figuras;
nulla hic carmina mentulata, nulla
quae non discipulos ad integellos
hirsutus legat in schola magister.
Inermes cano basiationes,
castus Aonii chori sacerdos.

Why do you turn your faces away from here, modest ones,
both matrons and little chaste girls?
I do not here sing the playful thefts of the gods,
nor the monstrous phallic shapes of lusts;
no phallic songs here, none
which a shaggy schoolmaster would not lead his pupils
toward the chaste; inermes I sing of kisses,
a chaste priest of the Aonian choir.

Sed vultus adhibent modo huc protervos
matronaeque, puellulaeque cunctae,
ignari quia forte mentulatum
verbum diximus, evolante voce.
Ite hinc, ite procul, molesta turba,
matronaeque, puellulaeque turpes;
quanto castior est Neaera nostra,
quae certe sine mentula libellum
mavult, quam sine mentula poetam.

But you now turn your faces away, insolent ones,
all matrons and little chaste girls,
ignorant because by chance we said a mentula-word
with the voice flying forth.
Go hence, go far off, troublesome crowd,
matrons and foul little girls;
how much chaster is our Neaera,
who certainly prefers a little book without a mentula
to a poet without a mentula.

Basium 13

Kiss 13

Languidus e dulci certamine, Vita, iacebam
      exanimis, fusa per tua colla manu.
Omnis in arenti consumptus spiritus ore
      flamine non poterat cor recreare novo.
Iam Styx ante oculos, et regna carentia sole,
      luridaque annosi cymba Charontis erat:
cum tu suaviolum educens pulmonis ab imo
      afflasti siccis irriguum labiis:
suaviolum Stygia quod me de valle reduxit,
      et iussit vacua currere nave senem.

Languid from a sweet contest, Vita, I lay
      breathless, my hand poured across your neck.
All my spirit, consumed in a parching mouth,
      could not by a gust renew the heart anew.
Now Styx before my eyes, and realms devoid of sun,
      and the lurid skiff of aged Charon was there:
when you, drawing a little sweet breath from the lowest lung,
      breathed upon it with lips moistening the dry:
the little sweet breath which from the Stygian valley restored me,
      and ordered the empty boat to bear the old man away.

Erravi, vacua non remigat ille carina,
      flebilis ad manes iam natat umbra mea.
Pars animae, mea Vita, tuae hoc in corpore vivit,
      et dilapsuros sustinet articulos;
quae tamen impatiens in pristina iura reverti
      saepe per arcanas nititur aegra vias.
Ac, nisi dilecta per te foveatur ab aura,
      iam collabentes deserit articulos.

I have wandered; that empty keel does not ply its oars back,
      my plaintive shadow now floats to the Manes.
A part of the soul, my Vita, lives in your body,
      and sustains the joints about to slip away;
which, however, impatient to return to its former right,
      often, sick, strives along secret paths.
And, unless the beloved be cherished by you and warmed by a breeze,
      it now abandons the collapsing joints.

Ergo age, labra meis innecte tenacia labris,
assidueque duos spiritus unus alat;
donec, inexpleti post taedia sera furoris,
unica de gemino corpore vita fluet.

Therefore now, bind thy tenacious lips to my lips,
and continually let one spirit nourish two;
until, after the late tediums of unfulfilled fury,
one sole life shall flow from the twin body.

Basium 14

Kiss 14

Quid profers mihi flammeum labellum?
Non te, non volo basiare, dura,
duro marmore durior Neaera.
Tanti istas ego ut osculationes
imbelles faciam, superbe, vestras,
ut, nervo toties rigens supino,
pertundam tunicas meas, tuasque;
et, desiderio furens inani,
tabescam, miser, aestuante vena?

Why do you hold out a flaming little lip to me?
I will not kiss you, no, I do not wish to, hard one,
Neaera, harder than hard marble.
That I should make those kisses of yours
feeble, proud one, so very many?
That, my sinew strained so often on my back,
I should pier my tunic and yours;
and, raging with vain desire,
shrink away, wretch, with a seething vein?

Quo fugis? Remane, nec hos ocellos,
nec nega mihi flammeum labellum:
Te iam, te volo basiare, mollis,
molli mollior anseris medulla.

Whither do you flee? Stay, and do not withhold those little eyes,
nor deny me a flame‑colored little lip:
You now, you I wish to kiss, soft one,
softer in softness than the soft marrow of a goose.

Basium 15

Kiss 15

Adducto puer Idalius post tempora nervo
      stabat in exitium, pulchra Neaera, tuum.
Cum frontem, sparsosque videns in fronte capillos,
      luminaque argutis irrequieta notis,
flammeolasque genas, et dignas matre papillas,
      iecit ab ambigua tela remissa manu:
inque tuas cursu effusus pueriliter ulnas,
      mille tibi fixit basia, mille modis,
quae succos tibi myrteolos, Cypriosque liquores
      pectoris afflarunt usque sub ima tui;
iuravitque deos omnes, Veneremque parentem,
      nil tibi post umquam velle movere mali.
Et miremur adhuc cur tam tua basia fragrent?

The Idalian boy, with the bowstring drawn behind his temples,
      stood ready for your ruin, fair Neaera.
When, seeing your brow and the hairs scattered upon your forehead,
      and your eyes restless with keen glances,
and the little flames of your cheeks, and nipples worthy of a mother,
      he let fly an ambiguous shaft from his relaxed hand:
and, poured forth in a boyish rush upon your arms,
      he fixed on you a thousand kisses, a thousand ways,
which myrtle juices and Cyprian liquids
      blew down even to the lowest part of your breast;
and he swore by all the gods, and by Venus the progenitor,
      that he would never after wish to move harm toward you.
And should we still wonder why your kisses are so fragrant?

Duraque cur miti semper amore vaces?

And why, hard one, are you always unresponsive to gentle love?

Basium 16

Kiss 16

Latonae niveo sidere blandior,
et stella Veneris pulchrior aurea,
da mi basia centum,
da tot basia, quot dedit

More charming than Latona’s snowy star,
and more beautiful than Venus’s golden star,
give me a hundred kisses,
give as many kisses as she gave

vati multivolo Lesbia, quot tulit;
quot blandae veneres, quotque cupidines
et labella pererrant,
et genas roseas tuas;

to the multivocal prophetess Lesbia, as many as she has taken;
as many charming Venuses, and as many cupidities,
and little lips that wander,
and your rosy cheeks;

quot vitas oculis, quotque neces geris,
quot spes, quotque metus, quotque perennibus
mista gaudia curis,
et suspiria amantium.

as many lives as you bear in your eyes, and as many deaths you endure,
as many hopes, and as many fears, and as many perennial
mixed joys with cares,
and the sighs of lovers.

Da, quam multa meo spicula pectori
insevit volucris dira manus dei:
et quam multa pharetra
conservavit in aurea.

Give, how many darts into my breast the winged one, the dread hand of the god, has planted;
and how many she has kept in her golden quiver.

Adde et blanditias, verbaque publica,
et cum suavicrepis murmura sibilis,
risu non sine grato,
gratis non sine morsibus.

Add also flatteries, and public words,
and with soft-creeping, hissing murmurs,
with a smile not without a charm,
gifts not without bites.

Quales Chaoniae garrula motibus
alternant tremulis rostra columbulae,
cum se dura remittit
primis bruma Favoniis.

Such as the Chaonian little-dove with chattering motions
alternates its trembling bills,
when harsh winter yields
to the first West-winds.

Incumbensque meis mentis inops genis,
huc illuc oculos volve natatiles,
exsanguemque lacertis
dic te sustineam meis.

And leaning upon my cheeks, bereft of mind,
turn your swimming eyes this way and that,
and with bloodless arms
say that I support you.

Stringam nexilibus te te ego bracchiis,
frigentem calido pectore comprimam
et vitam tibi longi
reddam afflamine basii;

I will bind you with woven nexuses in my arms,
I will press your chill against my warm breast
and to you a life of long duration
I will restore by the flame of a kiss;

Donec succiduum me quoque spiritu
istis roscidulis linquet in osculis,
labentemque lacertis,
dicam, collige me tuis.

Until my succiduum breath too in those dewy kisses
shall leave me, and slipping from my arms,
I will say, gather me with yours.

Stringes nexilibus me, mea, bracchiis,
mulcebis tepido pectore frigidum,
et vitam mihi longi af-
flabis rore suavii.

You will bind me with woven bonds, my own, in your arms,
you will soothe the cold one with a warm breast,
and with the long sweet dew
you will breathe life into me.

Sic aevi, mea Lux, tempora floridi
carpamus simul; en iam miserabiles
curas aegra senectus
et morbos trahet, et necem.

Thus of life’s florid seasons, my Light, let us pluck them together;
behold now miserable cares
sick old age will draw on
and will draw maladies, and death.

Basium 17

Kiss 17

Qualem purpureo diffundit mane colorem
      quae rosa nocturnis roribus immaduit;
matutina rubent Dominae sic oscula nostrae,
      basiolis, longa nocte, rigata meis:
quae circum facies niveo candore coronat,
      virginis ut violam cum tenet alba manus.
Tale novum seris cerasum sub floribus ardet,
      aestatemque, et ver cum simul arbor habet.
Me miscrum!

What purple color the morning pours forth
      which the rose with nocturnal dews has wetted;
so blushing are our lady’s morning kisses,
      little basiolæ, bedewed on my long night:
which about her face crowns with snowy whiteness,
      as the white hand of a virgin holds a violet.
Such a new cherry late burns beneath the blossoms,
      and the tree has summer, and spring at once.
Wretched me!

quare, cum flagrantissima iungis
      oscula, de thalamo cogor abire tuo?
O, saltem labris serva hunc, formosa, ruborem,
      dum tibi me referet noctis opaca quies.
Si tamen interea cuiusquam basia carpent,
      illa meis fiant pallidiora genis.

why, when you join most burning      kisses, am I compelled to depart from your thalamus?
O, at least preserve this redness on your lips, beautiful one,
      while the night's shadowy quiet shall bring me back to you.
If yet meanwhile any should pluck kisses from another,
      let those become paler than my cheeks.

Basium 18

Kiss 18

Cum labra nostrae cerneret puellae,
inclusa circo candidae figurae,
ut si quis ornet, arte curiosa,
corallinis eburna signa baccis,
flevisse fertur Cypris et gemendo
lascivientes convocasse Amores,
et 'quid iuvat,' dixisse, 'purpuratis
vicisse in Ida Palladem labellis,
et pronubam magni Iovis sororem,
sub arbitro pastore; cum Neaera
haec antecellat arbitro Poeta?
At vos furentes ite in hunc poetam,
et dira plenis tela de pharetris
in illius medullulas tenellas,
pectusque per, iecurque per iocosum,
distringite acres perstrepente cornu.
At illa nullo pertepescat igne,
sed tacta pectus plumbea sagitta,
torpescat imas congelata venas.'
Evenit, imis uror in medullis,
et torrido iecur liquescit igne:
tu fulta pectus asperis pruinis
et caute, quales aut maris Sicani,
aut Adriae unda tundit aestuosa,
secura ludis impotentem amantem.

When he beheld the lips of my girl,
enclosed within the circle of her white form,
as if one were adorning, with curious art,
the ivory marks with coral berries,
Cypris is said to have wept and, groaning,
to have summoned the wanton Loves,
and to have said, "What profit is it,
to have triumphed over Pallas on Ida with purple lips,
and to have been the bridesmaid of great Jupiter's sister,
under a shepherd as arbiter; when does Neaera excel these things judged by the Poet?
But you, raging ones, go at this poet,
and with deadly shafts from full quivers
into his tender marrows,
and through his breast, and through his liver in jest,
distend the keen heart with a trumpeting horn.
But let that woman not be pierced by any fire,
but touched, let her breast be struck by a leaden arrow,
let she grow numb, her deepest veins congealed."'
It happened: I burn in my inmost marrows,
and my liver liquefies with scorching fire:
you, your breast supported by harsh frosts
and cautious, such as either the Sicanian sea
or an Adriatic wave batters with surge,
play secure, an impotent lover.

Ingrata! propter ista labra rubra
laudata plector? Heu, misella, nescis
cur oderis: nec ira quid deorum
effrena possit, et furor Diones.

Ungrateful one! Am I punished because I was praised for those red lips?
Alas, poor girl, you do not know why you are hated:
nor what unbridled anger of the gods,
and what Dionean fury can do.

Duros remitte, mollicella, fastus;
istoque dignos ore sume mores;
et, quae meorum causa sunt dolorum,
mellita labris necte labra nostris;
haurire possis ut mei pusillum
praecordiis ex intimis veneni,
et mutuis languere victa flammis.
At nec deos, nec tu time Dionen:
formosa divis imperat puella.

Relent your harsh pride, little soft one;
and assume the manners worthy of that mouth;
and, since you are the cause of my pains,
bind your honeyed lips to my lips;
so that you may be able to draw up a tiny part
of my poison from the inmost precordia,
and, conquered, languish in mutual flames. At fear neither the gods nor Dione:
the beautiful girl commands the gods.

Basium 19

Kiss 19

Mellilegae volucres, quid adhuc thyma cana, rosasque,
      et rorem vernae nectareum violae
lingitis; aut florem late spirantis anethi?
      Omnes ad dominae labra venite meae.
Illa rosas spirant omnes, thymaque omnia sola,
      et succum vernae nectareum violae.

Honey-loving birds, why still do you lick gray thyme, and roses,
      and the dew of the spring violet’s nectar?
or the flower of the widely-breathing fennel?
      All, come to my mistress’s lips, come to mine.
She breathes forth all roses, and thyme alone,
      and the sap of the spring violet’s nectar.

Inde procul dulces aurae funduntur anethi,
      narcissi veris illa madent lacrimis,
Oebaliique madent iuvenis fragrante cruore,
      qualis uterque liquor cum cecidisset erat,
Nectareque aetherio medicatus, et aëre puro,
      impleret fetu versicolore solum.
Sed me, iure meo libantem mellea labra,
      ingratae socium ne prohibete favis.
Non etiam totas avidae distendite cellas,
      arescant dominae ne semel ora meae,
basiaque impressans siccis sitientia labris,
      garrulus indicii triste feram pretium.

Thereupon from afar sweet airs of aneth are poured forth,
      the narcissi of spring are bathed in tears,
and the youths of Oebalus drip with fragrant gore,
      such as each stream became when it had fallen,
and, medicated with ethereal nectar, and with pure air,
      would fill the soil with variegated offspring.
But do not, while I lawfully taste my honeyed lips,
      forbid me to be companion to ungracious hives.
Nor also swell the greedy cells wholly,
      lest the mistress’s mouths grow parched at once,
and, imprinting kisses on my dry, thirsty lips,
      chatty, I shall bear the sad reward of discovery.

Heu, non et stimulis compungite molle labellum:
ex oculis stimulos vibrat et illa pares.
Credite, non ullum patietur vulnus inultum:
leniter innocuae mella legatis apes.

Ah, do not also prick that soft little lip with your goads:
from her eyes she too shakes forth stings, and matches them.
Believe me, no wound will remain unavenged:
gently, O bees, bear honey to the harmless mistress.