Ovid: AMORES

Hoc quoque conposui Paelignis natus aquosis,
ille ego nequitiae Naso poeta meae.
hoc quoque iussit Amor—procul hinc, procul este, severae!
non estis teneris apta theatra modis.

This too I have composed, born among the watery Pelignians,
I—that Naso, poet of my naughtiness.
This too Love ordered—far from here, far away, you stern ones!
you are not theaters apt for tender measures.

me legat in sponsi facie non frigida virgo,
    et rudis ignoto tactus amore puer;
atque aliquis iuvenum quo nunc ego saucius arcu
    agnoscat flammae conscia signa suae,
miratusque diu 'quo' dicat 'ab indice doctus
    conposuit casus iste poeta meos?'
Ausus eram, memini, caelestia dicere bella
    centimanumque Gyen—et satis oris erat—
cum male se Tellus ulta est, ingestaque Olympo
    ardua devexum Pelion Ossa tulit.
in manibus nimbos et cum Iove fulmen habebam,
    quod bene pro caelo mitteret ille suo—
Clausit amica fores! ego cum Iove fulmen omisi;
    excidit ingenio Iuppiter ipse meo.

let a not-cold virgin read me in the bridegroom’s face,
    and a raw boy touched by unknown love;
and let some one of the youths, by whose bow I am now wounded,
    recognize the telltale signs conscious of his own flame,
and, long amazed, let him say, ‘by what informer taught
    did this poet compose my fortunes?’
I had dared, I remember, to speak of celestial wars
    and the hundred-handed Gyes—and I had mouth enough—
when Tellus took ill vengeance on herself, and, with lofty Ossa heaped on Olympus,
    bore down-sloping Pelion atop it.
in my hands I had the clouds and, with Jove, the thunderbolt,
    which he would well send on behalf of his own sky—
my mistress shut the doors! I, with Jove, let the thunderbolt fall;
    Jupiter himself dropped out from my own genius.

Iuppiter, ignoscas! nil me tua tela iuvabant;
clausa tuo maius ianua fulmen habet.
blanditias elegosque levis, mea tela, resumpsi;
mollierunt duras lenia verba fores.

Jupiter, may you forgive! your weapons availed me nothing;
a closed door holds a thunderbolt greater than yours.
I resumed my weapons, blandishments and light elegies;
gentle words mollified the hard door-leaves.

carmina sanguineae deducunt cornua lunae,
    et revocant niveos solis euntis equos;
carmine dissiliunt abruptis faucibus angues,
    inque suos fontes versa recurrit aqua.
carminibus cessere fores, insertaque posti,
    quamvis robur erat, carmine victa sera est.
Quid mihi profuerit velox cantatus Achilles?

songs draw down the blood-red horns of the moon,
    and call back the snow-white horses of the departing sun;
by song serpents burst asunder with rent throats,
    and the water, turned back, runs again into its own springs.
to songs the doors yielded, and the bar inserted in the doorpost,
    though it was of oak, by song the bolt was conquered.
What has swift Achilles, sung in song, profited me?

    quid pro me Atrides alter et alter agent,
quique tot errando, quot bello, perdidit annos,
    raptus et Haemoniis flebilis Hector equis?
at facie tenerae laudata saepe puellae,
    ad vatem, pretium carminis, ipsa venit.
magna datur merces!

    what will the Atreides, the one and the other, do for me,
and he who by wandering lost as many years as by war,
    and Hector, lamentable, dragged by Haemonian horses?
but the girl, often praised for the beauty of her tender face,
    comes herself to the bard, the price of song.
a great reward is given!

heroum clara valete
nomina; non apta est gratia vestra mihi!
ad mea formosos vultus adhibete, puellae,
carmina, purpureus quae mihi dictat Amor!

famous names of heroes, farewell;
your grace is not apt for me!
to my songs, add your beautiful faces, girls,
which purpureous Love dictates to me!

Quem penes est dominam servandi cura, Bagoa,
dum perago tecum pauca, sed apta, vaca.
hesterna vidi spatiantem luce puellam
illa, quae Danai porticus agmen habet.
protinus, ut placuit, misi scriptoque rogavi.

Bagoas, with whom is the care of guarding my mistress,
while I run through with you a few, but apt, points, be at leisure.
yesterday I saw the girl strolling in the daylight
in that portico which has the procession of Danaus.
straightway, as she pleased me, I sent and in writing I asked.

    rescripsit trepida 'non licet!' illa manu;
et, cur non liceat, quaerenti reddita causa est,
    quod nimium dominae cura molesta tua est.
Si sapis, o custos, odium, mihi crede, mereri
    desine; quem metuit quisque, perisse cupit.
vir quoque non sapiens; quid enim servare laboret,
    unde nihil, quamvis non tueare, perit?

    she wrote back with a trembling hand, 'it is not permitted!';
and, when I asked why it is not permitted, a cause was returned,
    that your care for the mistress is too molesting.
If you are wise, O guard, believe me, cease to deserve hatred;
    everyone longs for the one he fears to have perished.
the husband too is not wise; for why should he labor to keep safe
    what from no quarter, even if you do not watch, perishes?

sed gerat ille suo morem furiosus amori
    et castum, multis quod placet, esse putet;
huic furtiva tuo libertas munere detur,
    quam dederis illi, reddat ut illa tibi.
conscius esse velis—domina est obnoxia servo;
    conscius esse times—dissimulare licet.
scripta leget secum—matrem misisse putato!

but let that madman humor his own furious love
    and think it chaste, which pleases many;
to this girl let furtive liberty be given by your gift,
    that which you will have given to her, let her give back to you.
be willing to be privy—the mistress is beholden to the slave;
    you fear to be privy—it is permitted to dissemble.
she will read writings to herself—suppose that her mother sent them!

venerit ignotus—postmodo notus erit.
ibit ad adfectam, quae non languebit, amicam:
visat! iudiciis aegra sit illa tuis.

let him come unknown—afterwards he will be known.
he will go to the afflicted mistress, who will not be languishing:
let him visit! let her be sick by your judgments.

si faciet tarde, ne te mora longa fatiget,
    inposita gremio stertere fronte potes.
nec tu, linigeram fieri quid possit ad Isim,
    quaesieris nec tu curva theatra time!
conscius adsiduos commissi tollet honores—
    quis minor est autem quam tacuisse labor?

if she does it slowly, lest a long delay weary you,
    you can snore with your brow placed upon your lap.
nor should you ask what can be done at linen-bearing Isis,
    nor should you fear the curved theaters!
the accomplice, for the thing committed, will receive constant honors—
    but what labor is smaller than to have kept silent?

ille placet versatque domum neque verbera sentit;
    ille potens—alii, sordida turba, iacent.
huic, verae ut lateant causae, finguntur inanes;
    atque ambo domini, quod probat una, probant.
cum bene vir traxit vultum rugasque coegit,
    quod voluit fieri blanda puella, facit.

that one pleases and turns the household and does not feel the lashes;
    that one is potent—others, a sordid crowd, lie low.
for him, so that the true causes may lie hidden, inane ones are feigned;
    and both masters approve what the one approves.
when the husband has well drawn his face and forced his wrinkles,
    he does what the blandishing girl wanted to be done.

Sed tamen interdum tecum quoque iurgia nectat,
et simulet lacrimas carnificemque vocet.
tu contra obiciens, quae tuto diluat illa,
et veris falso crimine deme fidem.
sic tibi semper honos, sic alta peculia crescent.

But yet let her sometimes weave quarrels with you as well,
and let her simulate tears and call you an executioner.
you, in turn, by objecting things which she may safely wash away,
and from true things remove credence by a false charge.
thus honor will always be yours, thus lofty peculium will grow.

haec fac, in exiguo tempore liber eris.
Adspicis indicibus nexas per colla catenas?
squalidus orba fide pectora carcer habet.

do these things; in a short time you will be free.
Do you behold chains knotted about necks by informers?
the squalid prison holds hearts bereft of good faith.

quaerit aquas in aquis et poma fugacia captat
    Tantalus—hoc illi garrula lingua dedit.
dum nimium servat custos Iunonius Io,
    ante suos annos occidit; illa dea est!
vidi ego conpedibus liventia crura gerentem,
    unde vir incestum scire coactus erat.

He seeks waters in the waters and tries to catch the fugitive fruits,
    Tantalus—this his garrulous tongue bestowed on him.
while the Iunonian keeper guards Io too much,
    he dies before his years; she is a goddess!
I myself have seen one wearing legs livid from shackles,
    whence the husband was compelled to know the unchastity.

poena minor merito. nocuit mala lingua duobus;
vir doluit, famae damna puella tulit.
crede mihi, nulli sunt crimina grata marito,
nec quemquam, quamvis audiat, illa iuvant.

the penalty is less than what is merited. a malicious tongue harmed two; the man grieved, the girl bore damages to her fame.
believe me, accusations are pleasing to no husband, nor do those things, although he hears them, help anyone.

seu tepet, indicium securas prodis ad aures;
    sive amat, officio fit miser ille tuo.
Culpa nec ex facili quamvis manifesta probatur;
    iudicis illa sui tuta favore venit.
viderit ipse licet, credet tamen ille neganti
    damnabitque oculos et sibi verba dabit.

whether he grows tepid, you betray the indication to carefree ears;
    or if he loves, by your officious service that man becomes wretched.
Nor is fault, although manifest, proved with ease;
    it comes safe under the favor of its own judge.
though he himself may have seen it, yet he will believe one denying
    and will condemn his eyes and delude himself with words.

adspiciat dominae lacrimas, plorabit et ipse,
    et dicet: 'poenas garrulus iste dabit!'
quid dispar certamen inis? tibi verbera victo
    adsunt, in gremio iudicis illa sedet.
Non scelus adgredimur, non ad miscenda coimus
    toxica, non stricto fulminat ense manus.

let him behold the mistress’s tears, he too will weep,
    and he will say: 'that garrulous fellow shall pay the penalties!'
why do you enter an unequal contest? for you, the vanquished, scourges are at hand,
    she sits in the judge’s lap.
we are not attacking a crime, we do not come together to mix poisons,
    nor does a hand fulminate with a drawn sword.

quaerimus, ut tuto per te possimus amare.
quid precibus nostris mollius esse potest?

we seek, that through you we may be able to love in safety.
what could be gentler than our prayers?

III

Ei mihi, quod dominam nec vir nec femina servas
    mutua nec Veneris gaudia nosse potes!
qui primus pueris genitalia membra recidit,
    vulnera quae fecit, debuit ipse pati.
mollis in obsequium facilisque rogantibus esses,
    si tuus in quavis praetepuisset amor.

Ah me, that you, neither man nor woman, guard my mistress,
    nor are able to know the mutual joys of Venus!
he who first cut off boys’ genital members,
    the wounds he made he ought himself to have suffered.
you would be soft in obsequiousness and facile to those who ask,
    if your own love had pre-warmed in any woman.

non tu natus equo, non fortibus utilis armis;
bellica non dextrae convenit hasta tuae.
ista mares tractent; tu spes depone viriles.
sunt tibi cum domina signa ferenda tua.

you were not born for the horse, not useful for strong arms;
the warlike spear does not befit your right hand.
let males handle those; do you put aside virile hopes.
you have your own standards to be borne with your mistress.

hanc inple meritis, huius tibi gratia prosit;
    si careas illa, quis tuus usus erit?
Est etiam facies, sunt apti lusibus anni;
    indigna est pigro forma perire situ.
fallere te potuit, quamvis habeare molestus;
    non caret effectu, quod voluere duo.

Fill her with merits; let the grace of this one profit you;
    if you lack her, what will be your use?
There is also a face, and years apt for play;
    it is unworthy that beauty perish in slothful decay.
She could deceive you, although you are held troublesome;
    what two have willed does not lack effect.

aptius ut fuerit precibus temptasse, rogamus,
dum bene ponendi munera tempus habes.

that it is more apt to try with prayers, we ask,
while you have time for well-placing gifts.

Non ego mendosos ausim defendere mores
    falsaque pro vitiis arma movere meis.
confiteor—siquid prodest delicta fateri;
    in mea nunc demens crimina fassus eo.
odi, nec possum, cupiens, non esse quod odi;
    heu, quam quae studeas ponere ferre grave est!
Nam desunt vires ad me mihi iusque regendum;
    auferor ut rapida concita puppis aqua.

I would not dare to defend defective morals,
    nor to wield false arms on behalf of my vices.
I confess—if it profits to confess delicts;
    now, a madman, having owned my crimes, I proceed into my own charges.
I hate it, and, though desiring, I cannot not be what I hate;
    alas, how heavy it is to bear what you strive to lay aside!
For both strength is lacking to me, and the right for governing myself;
    I am carried off like a ship, stirred by swift water.

non est certa meos quae forma invitet amores—
    centum sunt causae, cur ego semper amem.
sive aliqua est oculos in humum deiecta modestos,
    uror, et insidiae sunt pudor ille meae;
sive procax aliqua est, capior, quia rustica non est,
    spemque dat in molli mobilis esse toro.
aspera si visa est rigidasque imitata Sabinas,
    velle, sed ex alto dissimulare puto.

there is no certain form that invites my loves—
    there are a hundred causes why I am always in love.
whether some woman has cast her modest eyes down to the ground,
    I burn, and that modesty is my snares;
or if some is procacious, I am captured, because she is not rustic,
    and she gives hope of being pliant on a soft couch.
if she has seemed rough and has imitated the rigid Sabines,
    I think she wants it, but to dissemble from deep within.

sive es docta, places raras dotata per artes;
    sive rudis, placita es simplicitate tua.
est, quae Callimachi prae nostris rustica dicat
    carmina—cui placeo, protinus ipsa placet.
est etiam, quae me vatem et mea carmina culpet—
    culpantis cupiam sustinuisse femur.

whether you are learned, you please, endowed with rare arts;
    or whether you are untrained, you are pleasing by your own simplicity.
there is one who says that the songs of Callimachus are rustic compared with ours—
    she to whom I am pleasing, straightway she herself pleases.
there is even one who blames me as a poet and blames my songs—
    I would desire to have sustained the thigh of the one who blames.

molliter incedit—motu capit; altera dura est—
    at poterit tacto mollior esse viro.
haec quia dulce canit flectitque facillima vocem,
    oscula cantanti rapta dedisse velim;
haec querulas habili percurrit pollice chordas—
    tam doctas quis non possit amare manus?
illa placet gestu numerosaque bracchia ducit
    et tenerum molli torquet ab arte latus—
ut taceam de me, qui causa tangor ab omni,
    illic Hippolytum pone, Priapus erit!

she proceeds softly—she captivates by her motion; another is hard—
    yet, once touched by a man, she can be softer.
this one, because she sings sweetly and most easily bends her voice,
    I should like to have given snatched kisses to her as she sings;
this one runs through the querulous strings with a skillful thumb—
    who would not be able to love hands so learned?
that one pleases by gesture and leads her arms in measured time
    and twists her tender flank by soft art—
not to speak of myself, who am touched by every cause,
    set Hippolytus there—he will be Priapus!

tu, quia tam longa es, veteres heroidas aequas
et potes in toto multa iacere toro.
haec habilis brevitate sua est. corrumpor utraque;
conveniunt voto longa brevisque meo.

you, because you are so tall, equal the heroines of old,
and you can lie at length over the whole couch.
this one is handy by her shortness. I am undone by both;
both tall and short suit my wish.

non est culta—subit, quid cultae accedere possit;
    ornata est—dotes exhibet ipsa suas.
candida me capiet, capiet me flava puella,
    est etiam in fusco grata colore Venus.
seu pendent nivea pulli cervice capilli,
    Leda fuit nigra conspicienda coma;
seu flavent, placuit croceis Aurora capillis.

she is not adorned—it occurs, what could be added to the adorned;
    she is ornamented—she herself exhibits her endowments.
a fair girl will capture me, a blonde girl will capture me,
    even in a dusky color Venus is pleasing.
whether dark hairs hang from a snow-white neck,
    Leda was conspicuous with black hair;
or if they are golden, Aurora was pleasing with saffron locks.

    omnibus historiis se meus aptat amor.
me nova sollicitat, me tangit serior aetas;
    haec melior, specie corporis illa placet.
Denique quas tota quisquam probet urbe puellas,
    noster in has omnis ambitiosus amor.

    to all histories my love adapts itself.
the new one stirs me, the more mature age touches me;
    this one is better, that one pleases by the appearance of the body.
finally, whatever girls anyone approves in the whole city,
    our ambitious love is for all of these.

Nullus amor tanti est—abeas, pharetrate Cupido!—
    ut mihi sint totiens maxima vota mori.
vota mori mea sunt, cum te peccasse recordor,
    o mihi perpetuum nata puella malum!
Non male deletae nudant tua facta tabellae,
    nec data furtive munera crimen habent.

No love is worth so much—be gone, quiver-bearing Cupid!—
    that so often my greatest vows are to die.
My vows are to die, when I recall that you have sinned,
    O girl born as my perpetual ill!
Not badly erased tablets lay bare your deeds,
    nor do gifts given furtively bear the charge.

o utinam arguerem sic, ut non vincere possem!
me miserum! quare tam bona causa mea est?

O would that I argued thus, so that I could not win!
Wretched me! Why is my cause so good?

felix, qui quod amat defendere fortiter audet,
    cui sua 'non feci!' dicere amica potest.
ferreus est nimiumque suo favet ille dolori,
    cui petitur victa palma cruenta rea.
Ipse miser vidi, cum me dormire putares,
    sobrius adposito crimina vestra mero.

Happy is he who dares to defend stoutly what he loves,
    for whom his own girlfriend can say, ‘I did not do it!’
He is iron-hearted and too much favors his own dolor,
    for whom, the accused woman vanquished, a bloody palm is sought.
I myself, wretched, saw—when you supposed me to be sleeping—
    sober, with unmixed wine set beside, your crimes.

multa supercilio vidi vibrante loquentes;
    nutibus in vestris pars bona vocis erat.
non oculi tacuere tui, conscriptaque vino
    mensa, nec in digitis littera nulla fuit.
sermonem agnovi, quod non videatur, agentem
    verbaque pro certis iussa valere notis.

I saw many things speaking with a quivering eyebrow;
    in your nods a good portion of voice was.
your eyes did not keep silent, and the table inscribed with wine,
    nor was there no letter on your fingers.
I recognized a discourse, carrying on so that it not be seen,
    and that pre-ordered words had force in place of fixed signs.

iamque frequens ierat mensa conviva relicta;
    conpositi iuvenes unus et alter erant.
inproba tum vero iungentes oscula vidi—
    illa mihi lingua nexa fuisse liquet—
qualia non fratri tulerit germana severo,
    sed tulerit cupido mollis amica viro;
qualia credibile est non Phoebo ferre Dianam,
    sed Venerem Marti saepe tulisse suo.
'Quid facis?' exclamo, 'quo nunc mea gaudia differs?

and now the throng of guests had gone, the table left;
    a youth or two were settled in place.
then indeed I saw shameless kisses being joined—
    it is clear to me that they were linked by tongue—
such as a sister would not have borne for a severe brother,
    but a soft girlfriend would have borne for a desirous man;
such as it is credible that Diana would not bear to Phoebus,
    but that Venus has often borne to her own Mars.
'What are you doing?' I exclaim, 'whither now do you defer my joys?

    iniciam dominas in mea iura manus!
haec tibi sunt mecum, mihi sunt communia tecum—
    in bona cur quisquam tertius ista venit?'
Haec ego, quaeque dolor linguae dictavit; at illi
    conscia purpureus venit in ora pudor,
quale coloratum Tithoni coniuge caelum
    subrubet, aut sponso visa puella novo;
quale rosae fulgent inter sua lilia mixtae,
    aut ubi cantatis Luna laborat equis,
aut quod, ne longis flavescere possit ab annis,
    Maeonis Assyrium femina tinxit ebur.
hic erat aut alicui color ille simillimus horum,
    et numquam visu pulchrior illa fuit.

    I will lay lordly hands upon my rights!
These things are yours with me, mine are common with you—
    into these goods why has any third one come?'
These things I said, and whatever pain dictated to my tongue; but on her
    a conscious purple blush came upon her face,
such as the sky, colored by Tithonus’s spouse, blushes,
    or a maiden seen by her new bridegroom;
such as roses gleam, mingled among their own lilies,
    or when the Moon labors with her bewitched horses,
or that hue which, lest it might grow yellow from long years,
    a Maeonian woman has dyed Assyrian upon ivory.
This was the color, or most similar to one of these,
    and never was she fairer to the sight.

spectabat terram—terram spectare decebat;
    maesta erat in vultu—maesta decenter erat.
sicut erant, et erant culti, laniare capillos
    et fuit in teneras impetus ire genas—
Ut faciem vidi, fortes cecidere lacerti;
    defensa est armis nostra puella suis.
qui modo saevus eram, supplex ultroque rogavi,
    oscula ne nobis deteriora daret.

she was looking at the earth—it was fitting to look at the earth;
    she was sad in countenance—sad she was becomingly.
to lacerate her hair as it was, and it was groomed,
    and there was an impulse to go at the tender cheeks—
When I saw her face, my strong arms fell;
    our girl was defended by her own arms.
I, who just now was savage, as a suppliant of my own accord I begged,
    that she not give to me kisses of an inferior sort.

risit et ex animo dedit optima—qualia possent
    excutere irato tela trisulca Iovi;
torqueor infelix, ne tam bona senserit alter,
    et volo non ex hac illa fuisse nota.
haec quoque, quam docui, multo meliora fuerunt,
    et quiddam visa est addidicisse novi.
quod nimium placuere, malum est, quod tota labellis
    lingua tua est nostris, nostra recepta tuis.

She laughed and from the heart gave the very best—such as could
    shake the three‑forked bolts from angry Jove;
I, unlucky, am racked, lest another has sensed things so good,
    and I wish those had not been of this stamp.
these too, which I taught, were by much the better,
    and she seemed to have learned in addition something new.
that they pleased too much is a bad sign—that your whole tongue
    is on my little lips, and mine received by yours.

nec tamen hoc unum doleo—non oscula tantum
iuncta queror, quamvis haec quoque iuncta queror;
illa nisi in lecto nusquam potuere doceri.
nescio quis pretium grande magister habet.

Nor yet do I grieve at this one thing—I do not complain only of kisses joined,
although I complain that these too were joined;
those things could be taught nowhere except in bed.
some teacher, I know not who, commands a great fee.

Psittacus, Eois imitatrix ales ab Indis,
    occidit—exequias ite frequenter, aves!
ite, piae volucres, et plangite pectora pinnis
    et rigido teneras ungue notate genas;
horrida pro maestis lanietur pluma capillis,
    pro longa resonent carmina vestra tuba!
quod scelus Ismarii quereris, Philomela, tyranni,
    expleta est annis ista querela suis;
alitis in rarae miserum devertere funus—
    magna, sed antiqua est causa doloris Itys.

The parrot, an imitative bird from the Eastern Indians,
    has perished—go in throngs to the obsequies, birds!
go, pious fliers, and beat your breasts with your wings,
    and with rigid talon mark your tender cheeks;
let the bristling plume be torn instead of mourners’ hair,
    let your songs resound in place of the long trumpet!
What crime of the Ismarian tyrant do you complain of, Philomela?
    that complaint has long since had its fill of years;
turn aside to the wretched funeral of a rare bird—
    great, but ancient is your cause of grief: Itys.

Omnes, quae liquido libratis in aere cursus,
    tu tamen ante alios, turtur amice, dole!
plena fuit vobis omni concordia vita,
    et stetit ad finem longa tenaxque fides.
quod fuit Argolico iuvenis Phoceus Orestae,
    hoc tibi, dum licuit, psittace, turtur erat.

All you who poise your courses in the liquid air,
    yet you before the others, turtledove, friend, lament!
a life was for you both full of every concord,
    and long and tenacious faith stood to the end.
what the Phocian youth was to Argolic Orestes,
    this to you, while it was permitted, parrot, the turtledove was.

Quid tamen ista fides, quid rari forma coloris,
    quid vox mutandis ingeniosa sonis,
quid iuvat, ut datus es, nostrae placuisse puellae?—
    infelix, avium gloria, nempe iaces!
tu poteras fragiles pinnis hebetare zmaragdos
    tincta gerens rubro Punica rostra croco.
non fuit in terris vocum simulantior ales—
    reddebas blaeso tam bene verba sono!

But what, however, is that fidelity, what the form of rare color,
    what the voice ingenious for changing tones,
what does it avail that, since you were given, you pleased our girl?—
    unhappy one, glory of birds, indeed you lie!
you could with your feathers dull fragile emeralds,
    bearing Punic beaks dyed with red saffron.
there was not on earth a bird more imitative of voices—
    you rendered words so well with a lisping sound!

Raptus es invidia—non tu fera bella movebas;
    garrulus et placidae pacis amator eras.
ecce, coturnices inter sua proelia vivunt;
    forsitan et fiunt inde frequenter anus.
plenus eras minimo, nec prae sermonis amore
    in multos poteras ora vacare cibos.

You were snatched by envy—you were not stirring savage wars;
    you were garrulous and a lover of placid peace.
behold, quails live amid their own battles;
    and perhaps from that they even frequently grow old.
you were filled with the very least, nor, because of love of discourse,
    could you keep your mouth free for many foods.

nux erat esca tibi, causaeque papavera somni,
    pellebatque sitim simplicis umor aquae.
vivit edax vultur ducensque per aera gyros
    miluus et pluviae graculus auctor aquae;
vivit et armiferae cornix invisa Minervae—
    illa quidem saeclis vix moritura novem;
occidit illa loquax humanae vocis imago,
    psittacus, extremo munus ab orbe datum!
optima prima fere manibus rapiuntur avaris;
    inplentur numeris deteriora suis.

the nut was food for you, and poppies the causes of sleep,
    and the moisture of simple water drove away thirst.
the greedy vulture lives, and the kite leading circles through the air,
    and the jackdaw, announcer of rain;
the crow too lives, hateful to war-bearing Minerva—
    that one indeed scarcely to die in nine ages;
that chatterbox image of the human voice has perished,
    the parrot, a gift given from the farthest orb!
the best things are generally first snatched by avaricious hands;
    the worse are filled up with their numbers.

tristia Phylacidae Thersites funera vidit,
    iamque cinis vivis fratribus Hector erat.
Quid referam timidae pro te pia vota puellae—
    vota procelloso per mare rapta Noto?
septima lux venit non exhibitura sequentem,
    et stabat vacuo iam tibi Parca colo.

sad funerals of the Phylacides Thersites saw,
    and Hector was now ash while his brothers still lived.
why should I recount the pious vows of the timid girl for you—
    vows snatched across the sea by the stormy South Wind?
the seventh light came, not about to show a following one,
    and the Fate already stood for you with her distaff empty.

nec tamen ignavo stupuerunt verba palato;
    clamavit moriens lingua: 'Corinna, vale!'
Colle sub Elysio nigra nemus ilice frondet,
    udaque perpetuo gramine terra viret.
siqua fides dubiis, volucrum locus ille piarum
    dicitur, obscenae quo prohibentur aves.
illic innocui late pascuntur olores
    et vivax phoenix, unica semper avis;
explicat ipsa suas ales Iunonia pinnas,
    oscula dat cupido blanda columba mari.

nor yet were the words benumbed on an idle palate;
    dying, his tongue cried out: 'Corinna, farewell!'
Beneath the Elysian hill a grove leafs with black ilex,
    and the moist earth is green with perpetual grass.
if there is any credence to doubtful things, that place is said
    to be of pious birds, where obscene birds are forbidden.
there far and wide the innocent swans graze,
    and the long‑lived Phoenix, ever a single bird;
the Juno‑bird herself unfurls her own feathers,
    and the coaxing dove gives kisses to her eager mate.

psittacus has inter nemorali sede receptus
    convertit volucres in sua verba pias.
Ossa tegit tumulus—tumulus pro corpore magnus—
    quo lapis exiguus par sibi carmen habet:
"colligor ex ipso dominae placuisse sepulcro;
    ora fuere mihi plus ave docta loqui".

the parrot, received among these in a woodland seat,
    converted the pious birds into his own words.
A mound covers the bones—a mound great for the body—
    on which a small stone has a poem equal to itself:
"I am inferred from the mistress’s very tomb to have pleased her;
    my lips were taught to speak more than a bird."

VII

Ergo sufficiam reus in nova crimina semper?
    ut vincam, totiens dimicuisse piget.
sive ego marmorei respexi summa theatri,
    eligis e multis, unde dolere velis;
candida seu tacito vidit me femina vultu,
    in vultu tacitas arguis esse notas.

Therefore shall I suffice, a defendant, for new crimes always?
    grant that I prevail, it irks me to have fought so often.
whether I looked back to the top of the marble theater,
    you choose out of many what you wish to grieve at;
or if a fair woman saw me with a quiet countenance,
    you allege that there are silent marks in her face.

siquam laudavi, misero petis ungue capillos;
si culpo, crimen dissimulare putas.
sive bonus color est, in te quoque frigidus esse,
seu malus, alterius dicor amore mori.
Atque ego peccati vellem mihi conscius essem!

if I have praised any woman, you seek my hair with your wretched nail;
if I blame, you think I dissimulate the crime.
whether my color is good, you say that I am frigid even toward you,
or if bad, I am said to be dying with love for another.
And would that I were conscious of a sin!

    aequo animo poenam, qui meruere, ferunt;
nunc temere insimulas credendoque omnia frustra
    ipsa vetas iram pondus habere tuam.
adspice, ut auritus miserandae sortis asellus
    adsiduo domitus verbere lentus eat!
Ecce novum crimen!

    with an even mind the penalty those who have deserved it bear;
now you accuse rashly, and by believing everything in vain
    you yourself forbid your wrath to have weight.
look, how the long‑eared little ass of pitiable lot
    tamed by assiduous lash goes slow!
Behold a new crime!

sollers ornare Cypassis
    obicitur dominae contemerasse torum.
di melius, quam me, si sit peccasse libido,
    sordida contemptae sortis amica iuvet!
quis Veneris famulae conubia liber inire
    tergaque conplecti verbere secta velit?

Cypassis, skillful to adorn, is charged with having defiled her mistress’s couch.
May the gods grant better; rather, if there be a desire to have sinned, let a sordid girlfriend of despised lot please me!
What free man would wish to enter into connubial unions with the handmaid of Venus
and to embrace backs scored by the lash?

adde, quod ornandis illa est operata capillis
    et tibi perdocta est grata ministra manu—
scilicet ancillam, quae tam tibi fida, rogarem!
    quid, nisi ut indicio iuncta repulsa foret?
per Venerem iuro puerique volatilis arcus,
    me non admissi criminis esse reum!

add, that she has been employed in adorning your hair
    and for you she is thoroughly taught, a pleasing ministering hand—
of course I would ask the maidservant who is so faithful to you!
    what, except that a repulse would be coupled with her disclosure?
by Venus I swear and by the boy’s winged bow,
    that I am not guilty of a crime committed!

VIII

Ponendis in mille modos perfecta capillis,
    comere sed solas digna, Cypassi, deas,
et mihi iucundo non rustica cognita furto,
    apta quidem dominae, sed magis apta mihi—
quis fuit inter nos sociati corporis index?
    sensit concubitus unde Corinna tuos?
num tamen erubui?

Perfect for setting hair in a thousand modes,
    yet worthy to comb only goddesses, Cypassis,
and to me known by a delightful, not rustic theft,
    fit indeed for the mistress, but more fit for me—
what was the index between us of the conjoined body?
    whence did Corinna sense your couplings?
did I, however, blush?

num, verbo lapsus in ullo,
    furtivae Veneris conscia signa dedi?
Quid, quod in ancilla siquis delinquere possit,
    illum ego contendi mente carere bona?
Thessalus ancillae facie Briseidos arsit;
    serva Mycenaeo Phoebas amata duci.

Did I, by a lapse in any word,
    give conscious signs of furtive Venus? What of this, that if anyone could be delinquent with a handmaid,
    I contended that that man lacked a good mind? The Thessalian burned for the face of the handmaid Briseis;
    a slave-girl, a Phoebas, was loved by the Mycenaean leader.

nec sum ego Tantalide maior, nec maior Achille;
    quod decuit reges, cur mihi turpe putem?
Ut tamen iratos in te defixit ocellos,
    vidi te totis erubuisse genis;
at quanto, si forte refers, praesentior ipse
    per Veneris feci numina magna fidem!
tu, dea, tu iubeas animi periuria puri
    Carpathium tepidos per mare ferre Notos!

nor am I greater than the Tantalid, nor greater than Achilles;
    what has befitted kings, why should I deem disgraceful for me?
Yet when he fixed angry little eyes on you,
    I saw you blush in all your cheeks;
but how much, if perhaps you recall, more present in person I myself
    pledged my faith—by the great numina of Venus!
you, goddess—do you bid that the perjuries of a pure mind
    the warm South Winds carry through the Carpathian sea!

Pro quibus officiis pretium mihi dulce repende
concubitus hodie, fusca Cypassi, tuos!
quid renuis fingisque novos, ingrata, timores?
unum est e dominis emeruisse satis.

In return for which services pay back to me a sweet price—
your embraces today, dusky Cypassis!
Why do you refuse and fashion new fears, ungrateful one?
it is enough to have earned favor with one of your masters.

quod si stulta negas, index anteacta fatebor,
et veniam culpae proditor ipse meae,
quoque loco tecum fuerim, quotiensque, Cypassi,
narrabo dominae, quotque quibusque modis!

but if, foolish girl, you deny it, as an informer I will confess the things done before,
and I myself, the betrayer of my own fault, will obtain pardon,
and in what place I have been with you, and how often, Cypassis,
I will tell my mistress, how many and by what modes!

IXa

O numquam pro re satis indignande Cupido,
    o in corde meo desidiose puer—
quid me, qui miles numquam tua signa reliqui,
    laedis, et in castris vulneror ipse meis?
cur tua fax urit, figit tuus arcus amicos?
    gloria pugnantes vincere maior erat.

O Cupid, never sufficiently to be condemned in proportion to the matter,
    o idle boy in my heart—
why me, who as a soldier never abandoned your standards,
    do you wound, and am I myself wounded in my own camp?
why does your torch burn, your bow transfix friends?
    greater was the glory to conquer those who fight.

Quid? non Haemonius, quem cuspide perculit, heros
confossum medica postmodo iuvit ope?
venator sequitur fugientia; capta relinquit
semper et inventis ulteriora petit.

What? Did not the Haemonian hero, the man whom he struck with his spear,
later aid, though run through, with medical help?
the hunter follows the fleeing; he leaves what is captured,
and always, though things are found, he seeks further ones.

nos tua sentimus, populus tibi deditus, arma;
pigra reluctanti cessat in hoste manus.
quid iuvat in nudis hamata retundere tela
ossibus? ossa mihi nuda relinquit amor.

We, your people devoted to you, feel your arms;
the sluggish hand slackens against the resisting enemy.
what does it profit to blunt barbed weapons
on naked bones? Love leaves me with bones laid bare.

tot sine amore viri, tot sunt sine amore puellae!—
    hinc tibi cum magna laude triumphus eat.
Roma, nisi inmensum vires promosset in orbem,
    stramineis esset nunc quoque tecta casis.
Fessus in acceptos miles deducitur agros;
    mittitur in saltus carcere liber equus;
longaque subductam celant navalia pinum,
    tutaque deposito poscitur ense rudis.

so many men without love, so many girls are without love!—
    hence may a triumph go to you with great praise.
Rome, unless she had put forth her forces into the immense orb,
    would even now be roofed with straw-built huts.
The weary soldier is led away into allotted fields;
    the horse, free from the prison, is sent into the forest glades;
and the dockyards hide the long pine hauled up,
    and, the sword laid down, the safe wooden practice-sword is asked for.

me quoque, qui totiens merui sub amore puellae,
defunctum placide vivere tempus erat.

for me too, who so often have served my term under a girl’s love,
it was time, discharged, to live peacefully.

IXb

'Vive' deus 'posito' siquis mihi dicat 'amore!'
    deprecer—usque adeo dulce puella malum est.
cum bene pertaesum est, animoque relanguit ardor,
    nescio quo miserae turbine mentis agor.
ut rapit in praeceps dominum spumantia frustra
    frena retentantem durior oris equus;
ut subitus, prope iam prensa tellure, carinam
    tangentem portus ventus in alta rapit—
sic me saepe refert incerta Cupidinis aura,
    notaque purpureus tela resumit Amor.

'Live,' a god, 'with love put aside!' if anyone should say to me—
    I would pray it away—so sweet an evil is the girl.
when I am thoroughly weary, and the ardor has slackened in my spirit,
    I am driven by I know not what whirlwind of a wretched mind.
as a horse, hard of mouth, snatches headlong his master,
    while he vainly holds back the foaming reins;
as a sudden wind, with the ground now almost grasped, snatches into the deep
    the keel touching the harbor—
so often does the uncertain breeze of Cupid carry me back,
    and crimson Love resumes his well-known darts.

Fige, puer! positis nudus tibi praebeor armis;
    hic tibi sunt vires, hac tua dextra facit;
huc tamquam iussae veniunt iam sponte sagittae—
    vix illis prae me nota pharetra sua est!
infelix, tota quicumque quiescere nocte
    sustinet et somnos praemia magna vocat!

Pierce, boy! with my arms laid aside I am proffered to you naked;
    here lie your strengths; in this your right hand accomplishes;
hither, as though commanded, the arrows now come of their own accord—
    their own quiver is scarcely known to them in preference to me!
unhappy the man, whoever endures to keep quiet for a whole night
    and calls slumbers great prizes!

stulte, quid est somnus, gelidae nisi mortis imago!
longa quiescendi tempora fata dabunt.
me modo decipiant voces fallacis amicae;
sperando certe gaudia magna feram.

fool, what is sleep, if not the image of gelid death!
long times for resting the Fates will give.
only let the voices of a deceptive girlfriend deceive me;
by hoping surely I shall bear great joys.

et modo blanditias dicat, modo iurgia nectat;
    saepe fruar domina, saepe repulsus eam.
Quod dubius Mars est, per te, privigne Cupido, est;
    et movet exemplo vitricus arma tuo.
tu levis es multoque tuis ventosior alis,
    gaudiaque ambigua dasque negasque fide.

and now let her speak blandishments, now let her weave quarrels;
    often I shall enjoy my mistress, often be repulsed by her.
That Mars is dubious, through you, step-son Cupid, it is;
    and the stepfather moves arms by your example.
you are light and far more windswept than your own wings,
    and you both give and deny joys with ambiguous faith.

si tamen exaudis, pulchra cum matre, Cupido,
indeserta meo pectore regna gere!
accedant regno, nimium vaga turba, puellae!
ambobus populis sic venerandus eris.

if, however, you hearken, Cupid, with your beautiful mother,
wield your realms in my breast, not deserted!
let girls, a too-wandering throng, accede to the realm!
thus you will be venerable to both peoples.

Tu mihi, tu certe, memini, Graecine, negabas
    uno posse aliquem tempore amare duas.
per te ego decipior, per te deprensus inermis—
    ecce, duas uno tempore turpis amo!
utraque formosa est, operosae cultibus ambae;
    artibus in dubio est haec sit an illa prior.

You, to me—you surely, I remember, Graecinus—were denying
    that someone could love two at one time.
through you I am deceived, through you caught defenseless—
    behold, disgracefully I love two at one time!
each is beautiful, both elaborate in their toilettes;
    in arts it is in doubt whether this one or that is prior.

pulchrior hac illa est, haec est quoque pulchrior illa;
et magis haec nobis, et magis illa placet!
erro, velut ventis discordibus acta phaselos,
dividuumque tenent alter et alter amor.
quid geminas, Erycina, meos sine fine dolores?

that one is more beautiful than this; this one also is more beautiful than that;
and this one pleases me more, and that one pleases me more!
I go astray, like a skiff driven by discordant winds,
and each love, the one and the other, holds me divided.
why do you, Erycina, double my pains without end?

    non erat in curas una puella satis?
quid folia arboribus, quid pleno sidera caelo,
    in freta collectas alta quid addis aquas?
Sed tamen hoc melius, quam si sine amore iacerem—
    hostibus eveniat vita severa meis!

    was not one girl enough for my cares?
what are leaves to trees, what stars to a sky already full,
    why do you add collected waters into the deep straits?
But yet this is better than if I were lying without love—
    may a severe life befall my enemies!

hostibus eveniat viduo dormire cubili
    et medio laxe ponere membra toro!
at mihi saevus amor somnos abrumpat inertes,
    simque mei lecti non ego solus onus!
me mea disperdat nullo prohibente puella—
    si satis una potest, si minus una, duae!

may it befall my enemies to sleep in a widowed bed
    and to place their limbs loosely in the middle of the couch!
but for me let savage love break off inert sleeps,
    and let me not be the only burden of my bed!
let my own girl destroy me, with no one forbidding—
    if one can suffice, if one is not enough, then two!

sufficiam—graciles, non sunt sine viribus artus;
    pondere, non nervis corpora nostra carent;
et lateri dabit in vires alimenta voluptas.
    decepta est opera nulla puella mea;
saepe ego lascive consumpsi tempora noctis,
    utilis et forti corpore mane fui.
felix, quem Veneris certamina mutua perdunt!

I shall suffice—my limbs are slender, not without strength;
    my body lacks weight, not sinews;
and pleasure will give to my flank nourishment for strength.
    no girl has been deceived in my service;
often I lasciviously consumed the hours of the night,
    and in the morning I was serviceable, with a sturdy body.
happy he whom the mutual contests of Venus undo!

    di faciant, leti causa sit ista mei!
Induat adversis contraria pectora telis
    miles et aeternum sanguine nomen emat.
quaerat avarus opes et, quae lassarit arando,
    aequora periuro naufragus ore bibat.

    may the gods bring it to pass—let that be the cause of my death!
Let the soldier set his contrary breast against adverse weapons,
    and buy an eternal name with blood.
let the miser seek wealth, and, which he has wearied by plowing,
    shipwrecked, let him drink with a perjured mouth the level waters.

at mihi contingat Veneris languescere motu,
cum moriar, medium solvar et inter opus;
atque aliquis nostro lacrimans in funere dicat:
'conveniens vitae mors fuit ista tuae!'

but may it befall me to languish with the motion of Venus,
when I die, may I be dissolved in the midst and in the very work;
and let someone, weeping at my funeral, say:
'that death was fitting to your life!'

Prima malas docuit mirantibus aequoris undis
    Peliaco pinus vertice caesa vias,
quae concurrentis inter temeraria cautes
    conspicuam fulvo vellere vexit ovem.
o utinam, nequis remo freta longa moveret,
    Argo funestas pressa bibisset aquas!
Ecce, fugit notumque torum sociosque Penates
    fallacisque vias ire Corinna parat.

First to the wondering waves of the sea
    the pine cut from the Pelian peak taught paths,
which, rash amid the converging crags,
    carried the sheep conspicuous with the golden fleece.
o would that no one stirred the long waters with an oar,
    that the Argo, weighed down, had drunk the baneful waters!
Behold, she flees the familiar bed and the shared household gods,
    and Corinna prepares to go by deceitful routes.

quam tibi, me miserum, Zephyros Eurosque timebo
    et gelidum Borean egelidumque Notum!
non illic urbes, non tu mirabere silvas;
    una est iniusti caerula forma maris.
nec medius tenuis conchas pictosque lapillos
    pontus habet; bibuli litoris illa mora est.

how, wretched me, I will fear for you the Zephyrs and the Eurus
    and the gelid Boreas and the tepid Notus!
there are no cities there; you will not marvel at forests;
    there is one cerulean form of the unjust sea.
nor does the mid-sea hold delicate shells and painted pebbles;
    that lingering is of the bibulous shore.

litora marmoreis pedibus signate, puellae;
    hactenus est tutum—cetera caeca via est.
et vobis alii ventorum proelia narrent;
    quas Scylla infestet, quasve Charybdis aquas;
et quibus emineant violenta Ceraunia saxis;
    quo lateant Syrtes magna minorque sinu.
haec alii referant ad vos; quod quisque loquetur,
    credite!

mark the shores with your marble feet, girls;
    up to this point it is safe—the rest is a blind way.
and let others for you narrate the battles of the winds;
    what waters Scylla infests, and which Charybdis;
and on which rocks the violent Ceraunian heights stand out;
    where the Great and Lesser Syrtes lie hidden in a bay.
let others report these things to you; whatever each will say,
    believe!

credenti nulla procella nocet.
Sero respicitur tellus, ubi fune soluto
    currit in inmensum panda carina salum;
navita sollicitus cum ventos horret iniquos
    et prope tam letum, quam prope cernit aquam.
quod si concussas Triton exasperet undas,
    quam tibi sit toto nullus in ore color!

to the one who believes, no tempest harms.
Late is the land looked back upon, when with the rope loosened
    the bowed keel runs into the boundless swell;
the sailor, anxious, shudders at hostile winds
    and sees death as near as he sees the water near.
but if Triton should roughen the shaken waves,
    how there would be no color at all in your whole face!

tum generosa voces fecundae sidera Ledae
    et 'felix,' dicas 'quem sua terra tenet!'
Tutius est fovisse torum, legisse libellos,
    Threiciam digitis increpuisse lyram.
at, si vana ferunt volucres mea dicta procellae,
    aequa tamen puppi sit Galatea tuae!
vestrum crimen erit talis iactura puellae,
    Nereidesque deae Nereidumque pater.

then you will invoke the noble stars of fecund Leda
    and say, 'happy the man whom his own land holds!'
It is safer to have cherished the couch, to have read little books,
    to have made the Thracian lyre ring with your fingers.
but if winged squalls bear my words vainly away,
    still may Galatea be fair to your stern!
it will be your fault, the loss of such a girl,
    O Nereid goddesses and the father of the Nereids.

vade memor nostri vento reditura secundo;
    inpleat illa tuos fortior aura sinus!
tum mare in haec magnus proclinet litora Nereus;
    huc venti spirent, huc agat aestus aquas!
ipsa roges, Zephyri veniant in lintea pleni,
    ipsa tua moveas turgida vela manu!

Go, mindful of me, to return with a favorable wind;
    let a stronger breeze fill your sails!
Then may great Nereus incline the sea to these shores;
    here let the winds blow, hither let the tide drive the waters!
You yourself ask that the Zephyrs come full into the canvas,
    you yourself set in motion your swollen sails with your hand!

primus ego adspiciam notam de litore puppim,
    et dicam: 'nostros advehit illa deos!'
excipiamque umeris et multa sine ordine carpam
    oscula. pro reditu victima vota cadet;
inque tori formam molles sternentur harenae,
    et cumulus mensae quilibet esse potest.
Illic adposito narrabis multa Lyaeo—
    paene sit ut mediis obruta navis aquis;
dumque ad me properas, neque iniquae tempora noctis
    nec te praecipites extimuisse Notos.

I first shall espy the familiar stern from the shore,
    and I shall say: 'that one conveys our gods!'
and I will catch you up on my shoulders and pluck many kisses
    without order. For the return a vowed victim shall fall;
and in the shape of a couch soft sands will be strewn,
    and any heap can serve as a table.
There, with Lyaeus set in place, you will narrate many things—
    how the ship was almost overwhelmed in mid-waters;
and while you were hastening to me, that neither the hours of unfriendly night
    nor the headlong Notus-winds did you dread.

omnia pro veris credam, sint ficta licebit—
cur ego non votis blandiar ipse meis?
haec mihi quamprimum caelo nitidissimus alto
Lucifer admisso tempora portet equo!

I will credit all things as truths, though they be fictions—
why should I not myself blandish my own vows?
let the most shining Lucifer from the high heaven
bring me these times, his horse at full gallop!

XII

Ite triumphales circum mea tempora laurus!
    vicimus: in nostro est, ecce, Corinna sinu,
quam vir, quam custos, quam ianua firma, tot hostes,
    servabant, nequa posset ab arte capi!
haec est praecipuo victoria digna triumpho,
    in qua, quaecumque est, sanguine praeda caret.

Go, triumphal laurels, circle my temples!
    we have conquered: behold, Corinna is in our embrace,
whom her husband, her guard, the firm door, so many foes,
    were guarding, lest she could be taken by any art!
this is a victory worthy of a preeminent triumph,
    in which, whatever it be, the booty is bloodless.

non humiles muri, non parvis oppida fossis
    cincta, sed est ductu capta puella meo!
Pergama cum caderent bello superata bilustri,
    ex tot in Atridis pars quota laudis erat?
at mea seposita est et ab omni milite dissors
    gloria, nec titulum muneris alter habet.

not low walls, not towns girded by small ditches
    have been taken, but a girl has been captured by my command!
when Pergama were falling, overcome in a ten-year war,
    what portion of praise, amid so many, was among the Atreidae?
but my glory is set apart and shares no lot with any soldier,
    nor does another hold the title of the service.

me duce ad hanc voti finem, me milite veni;
ipse eques, ipse pedes, signifer ipse fui.
nec casum fortuna meis inmiscuit actis—
huc ades, o cura parte Triumphe mea!
Nec belli est nova causa mei.

with me as leader, with me as soldier, I came to this end of my vow;
I myself horseman, I myself foot-soldier, I myself was standard-bearer.
nor did Fortune mix chance with my acts—
come hither, O Triumph, my care in part!
Nor is there a new cause of my war.

nisi rapta fuisset
    Tyndaris, Europae pax Asiaeque foret.
femina silvestris Lapithas populumque biformem
    turpiter adposito vertit in arma mero;
femina Troianos iterum nova bella movere
    inpulit in regno, iuste Latine, tuo;
femina Romanis etiamnunc urbe recenti
    inmisit soceros armaque saeva dedit.
Vidi ego pro nivea pugnantes coniuge tauros;
    spectatrix animos ipsa iuvenca dabat.

unless the Tyndarid had been seized,
    there would be peace for Europe and Asia.
a woman, the woodland Lapiths and the biform people
    shamefully turned to arms by the set-out unmixed wine;
a woman drove the Trojans to set new wars in motion again
    in your realm, just Latinus;
a woman, even then with the city still new,
    sent fathers-in-law in upon the Romans and gave cruel arms.
I myself saw bulls fighting for a snow-white consort;
    the heifer herself, as a spectator, was giving spirit.

me quoque, qui multos, sed me sine caede, Cupido
iussit militiae signa movere suae.

Me also—Cupid, who has ordered many, but me without slaughter—has ordered to move the standards of his military service.

XIII

Dum labefactat onus gravidi temeraria ventris,
    in dubio vitae lassa Corinna iacet.
illa quidem clam me tantum molita pericli
    ira digna mea; sed cadit ira metu.
sed tamen aut ex me conceperat—aut ego credo;
     est mihi pro facto saepe, quod esse potest.

While, rash, she shakes loose the burden of a gravid belly,
    Corinna, weary, lies with her life in doubt.
she indeed, without my knowledge, having undertaken so great a peril,
    worthy of my ire; but ire falls through fear.
but yet either she had conceived from me—or I believe so;
    for me, what can be is often in place of fact.

Isi, Paraetonium genialiaque arva Canopi
    quae colis et Memphin palmiferamque Pharon,
quaque celer Nilus lato delapsus in alveo
    per septem portus in maris exit aquas,
per tua sistra precor, per Anubidis ora verendi—
    sic tua sacra pius semper Osiris amet,
pigraque labatur circa donaria serpens,
    et comes in pompa corniger Apis eat!
huc adhibe vultus, et in una parce duobus!
    nam vitam dominae tu dabis, illa mihi.

Isis, Paraetonium and the genial fields of Canopus
    whom you inhabit, and Memphis and palm-bearing Pharos,
and where the swift Nile, having glided down in a broad channel,
    through seven ports goes forth into the waters of the sea,
by your sistrums, I pray, by the visage of reverend Anubis—
    thus may pious Osiris always love your sacred rites,
and may the sluggish serpent glide around the donaries,
    and horn-bearing Apis go as companion in the procession!
Turn your face hither, and in one spare two!
    for you will grant life to my mistress, she to me.

saepe tibi sedit certis operata diebus,
    qua cingit laurus Gallica turma tuas.
Tuque laborantes utero miserata puellas,
    quarum tarda latens corpora tendit onus,
lenis ades precibusque meis fave, Ilithyia!
    digna est, quam iubeas muneris esse tui.

Often she sat for you on appointed days,
    where the Gallic laurel girds your towers.
And you, having pitied girls laboring in the womb,
    whose slow, hidden burden stretches their bodies,
be gentle, come, and favor my prayers, Ilithyia!
    she is worthy to be one whom you bid to be the recipient of your gift.

ipse ego tura dabo fumosis candidus aris,
    ipse feram ante tuos munera vota pedes.
adiciam titulum: 'servata Naso Corinna!'
    tu modo fac titulo muneribusque locum.
Si tamen in tanto fas est monuisse timore,
    hac tibi sit pugna dimicuisse satis!

I myself, shining white, will give incense on the smoky altars,
    I myself will bear the vowed gifts before your feet.
I will add an inscription: ‘Corinna saved by Naso!’
    only do you make room for the inscription and the gifts.
If, however, in so great a fear it is lawful to have admonished,
    let it be enough for you to have fought this fight!

XIV

Quid iuvat inmunes belli cessare puellas,
    nec fera peltatas agmina velle sequi,
si sine Marte suis patiuntur vulnera telis,
    et caecas armant in sua fata manus?
Quae prima instituit teneros convellere fetus,
    militia fuerat digna perire sua.
scilicet, ut careat rugarum crimine venter,
    sternetur pugnae tristis harena tuae?

What does it profit for girls immune from war to be idle,
    nor to wish to follow the fierce ranks of peltasts,
if without Mars they suffer wounds from their own weapons,
    and arm blind hands against their own fates?
She who first instituted the wrenching away of tender offspring,
    was worthy to perish by her own warfare.
Surely, so that the belly may be without the reproach of wrinkles,
    will the sad arena of your battle be strewn?

si mos antiquis placuisset matribus idem,
    gens hominum vitio deperitura fuit,
quique iterum iaceret generis primordia nostri
    in vacuo lapides orbe, parandus erat.
quis Priami fregisset opes, si numen aquarum
    iusta recusasset pondera ferre Thetis?
Ilia si tumido geminos in ventre necasset,
    casurus dominae conditor Urbis erat;
si Venus Aenean gravida temerasset in alvo,
    Caesaribus tellus orba futura fuit.

if the same custom had pleased the ancient mothers,
    the race of men would have been doomed to perish by vice,
and he who would again cast the primordia of our race as stones
    into an empty orb would have had to be readied.
who would have broken Priam’s wealth, if Thetis,
    the divinity of the waters, had refused to bear just weights?
if Ilia had killed the twins in her swelling belly,
    the founder of the City—destined to fall to a mistress—would have been lost;
if Venus had violated Aeneas in her gravid womb,
    the earth would have been bereft of the Caesars.

tu quoque, cum posses nasci formosa, perisses,
    temptasset, quod tu, si tua mater opus;
ipse ego, cum fuerim melius periturus amando,
    vidissem nullos matre negante dies.
Quid plenam fraudas vitem crescentibus uvis,
    pomaque crudeli vellis acerba manu?
sponte fluant matura sua—sine crescere nata;
    est pretium parvae non leve vita morae.

you too, though you could be born fair, would have perished,
    if your mother had attempted the work which you attempt;
I myself, though I would more fitly have perished by loving,
    would have seen no days, my mother denying.
Why do you defraud the full vine of its growing grapes,
    and pluck unripe fruits with a cruel hand?
let the ripe things flow of their own accord—allow the born one to grow;
    for life, the price of a small delay is not light.

vestra quid effoditis subiectis viscera telis,
    et nondum natis dira venena datis?
Colchida respersam puerorum sanguine culpant
    aque sua caesum matre queruntur Ityn;
utraque saeva parens, sed tristibus utraque causis
     iactura socii sanguinis ulta virum.
dicite, quis Tereus, quis vos inritet Iason
    figere sollicita corpora vestra manu?

why do you dig out your own vitals with weapons thrust beneath,
    and give grim poisons to those not yet born?
they fault the Colchian spattered with the blood of boys,
    and they complain of Itys cut down by his own mother;
each a savage parent, but each for sorrowful causes—
    avenging herself on the man by the loss of shared blood.
tell me, what Tereus, what Jason incites you
    to transfix your own bodies with an anxious hand?

hoc neque in Armeniis tigres fecere latebris,
    perdere nec fetus ausa leaena suos.
at tenerae faciunt, sed non inpune, puellae;
    saepe, suos utero quae necat, ipsa perit.
ipsa perit, ferturque rogo resoluta capillos,
    et clamant 'merito!' qui modo cumque vident.

Not even in Armenian lairs have tigers done this,
    nor has the lioness dared to destroy her own offspring.
But tender girls do it—yet not with impunity;
    often she who kills her own in the uterus perishes herself.
She herself perishes, and is borne to the pyre with hair loosened,
    and those who see, whoever they are, cry ‘deservedly!’

Ista sed aetherias vanescant dicta per auras,
et sint ominibus pondera nulla meis!
di faciles, peccasse semel concedite tuto,
et satis est; poenam culpa secunda ferat!

But let those words vanish into the ethereal airs,
and let there be no weight to my omens!
kindly gods, grant that to have erred once be safe,
and that is enough; let a second fault bear the penalty!

Anule, formosae digitum vincture puellae,
    in quo censendum nil nisi dantis amor,
munus eas gratum! te laeta mente receptum
    protinus articulis induat illa suis;
tam bene convenias, quam mecum convenit illi,
    et digitum iusto commodus orbe teras!
Felix, a domina tractaberis, anule, nostra;
    invideo donis iam miser ipse meis.

Little ring, you who are to bind the finger of a beautiful girl,
    in which nothing is to be assessed except the giver’s love,
go as a welcome gift! received with a glad mind
    let her at once put you upon her own joints;
may you suit as well as she suits me,
    and, well-fitting, encircle the finger with a just circle!
Happy one, you will be handled by our mistress, little ring;
    already I, wretched, envy my own gifts.

o utinam fieri subito mea munera possem
    artibus Aeaeae Carpathiive senis!
tunc ego, cum cupiam dominae tetigisse papillas
    et laevam tunicis inseruisse manum,
elabar digito quamvis angustus et haerens,
    inque sinum mira laxus ab arte cadam.
idem ego, ut arcanas possim signare tabellas,
    neve tenax ceram siccaque gemma trahat,
umida formosae tangam prius ora puellae—
    tantum ne signem scripta dolenda mihi.

O would that I could suddenly become my gifts
    by the arts of the Aeaean or the Carpathian old man!
then I, when I long to have touched my mistress’s nipples
    and to have inserted my left hand into her tunics,
I would slip from the finger, though narrow and clinging,
    and, loosened by wondrous art, I would fall into her bosom.
Likewise I, so that I may be able to seal secret little tablets,
    and lest the tenacious signet and the dry gem drag the wax,
I will first touch the moist lips of the beautiful girl—
    only let me not seal writings that must be lamented by me.

si dabor ut condar loculis, exire negabo,
    adstringens digitos orbe minore tuos.
non ego dedecori tibi sum, mea vita, futurus,
    quodve tener digitus ferre recuset, onus.
me gere, cum calidis perfundes imbribus artus,
    damnaque sub gemmam fer pereuntis aquae—
sed, puto, te nuda mea membra libidine surgent,
    et peragam partes anulus ille viri.

If I am given to be stowed in little caskets, I will refuse to go out,
    tightening your digits with a smaller orb.
I shall not be for disgrace to you, my life, nor a burden
    which a tender digit would refuse to bear.
Wear me, when you drench your limbs with hot showers,
    and bear beneath the gem the damages of the perishing water—
but, I think, at you naked my members will rise with libido,
    and that ring will carry out the parts of a man.

Inrita quid voveo? parvum proficiscere munus;
illa datam tecum sentiat esse fidem!

Why do I vow in vain? Set out, small gift;
let her feel that the pledged faith is with you!

XVI

Pars me Sulmo tenet Paeligni tertia ruris—
    parva, sed inriguis ora salubris aquis.
sol licet admoto tellurem sidere findat,
    et micet Icarii stella proterva canis,
arva pererrantur Paeligna liquentibus undis,
    et viret in tenero fertilis herba solo.
terra ferax Cereris multoque feracior uvis;
    dat quoque baciferam Pallada rarus ager;
perque resurgentes rivis labentibus herbas
    gramineus madidam caespes obumbrat humum.

Part of me Sulmo holds, the third of the Paelignian countryside—
    small, but a region healthful with irrigating waters.
though the sun, with its near-approached star, may split the earth,
    and the overbold star of the Icarian Dog may flash,
the Paelignian fields are traversed by liquid waves,
    and fertile grass is green upon the tender soil.
land fruitful for Ceres and much more fruitful in grapes;
    the open field too gives the berry-bearing Pallas;
and over the herbs rising again as the rills glide
    the grassy sod casts shade upon the drenched ground.

At meus ignis abest. verbo peccavimus uno!—
quae movet ardores est procul; ardor adest.
non ego, si medius Polluce et Castore ponar,
in caeli sine te parte fuisse velim.

But my fire is absent. We have sinned in a single word!—
she who moves the ardors is far away; the ardor is present.
Not I, even if I were placed between Pollux and Castor,
would wish to have been in a part of heaven without you.

solliciti iaceant terraque premantur iniqua,
    in longas orbem qui secuere vias!—
aut iuvenum comites iussissent ire puellas,
    si fuit in longas terra secanda vias!
tum mihi, si premerem ventosas horridus Alpes,
    dummodo cum domina, molle fuisset iter.
cum domina Libycas ausim perrumpere Syrtes
    et dare non aequis vela ferenda Notis.

Let the anxious lie and be pressed by the uneven earth,
    they who have cut the orb on long roads!—
or would that the girls had been ordered to go as companions of the youths,
    if the land had to be cleft for long roads!
then for me, if I were pressing the windy, rugged Alps,
    so long as with my mistress, the journey would have been soft.
with my mistress I would dare to burst through the Libyan Syrtes
    and to give the sails to be borne by the not-fair South Winds.

non quae virgineo portenta sub inguine latrant,
    nec timeam vestros, curva Malea, sinus;
non quae submersis ratibus saturata Charybdis
    fundit et effusas ore receptat aquas.
Quod si Neptuni ventosa potentia vincat,
    et subventuros auferat unda deos,
tu nostris niveos umeris inpone lacertos;
    corpore nos facili dulce feremus onus.
saepe petens Hero iuvenis transnaverat undas;
    tum quoque transnasset, sed via caeca fuit.

not the portents that bark beneath a virginal groin,
    nor would I fear your bays, curved Malea;
not the Charybdis glutted with sunken ships
    that pours forth and with her mouth takes back the outpoured waters.
But if the windy power of Neptune should prevail,
    and the wave should take away the gods who would come to our aid,
do you place your snow-white arms upon my shoulders;
    with an easy body I will carry the sweet burden.
often, seeking Hero, the youth had swum across the waves;
    then too he would have swum across, but the way was blind.

At sine te, quamvis operosi vitibus agri
    me teneant, quamvis amnibus arva natent,
et vocet in rivos currentem rusticus undam,
    frigidaque arboreas mulceat aura comas,
non ego Paelignos videor celebrare salubres,
    non ego natalem, rura paterna, locum—
sed Scythiam Cilicasque feros viridesque Britannos,
    quaeque Prometheo saxa cruore rubent.
Ulmus amat vitem, vitis non deserit ulmum;
    separor a domina cur ego saepe mea?
at mihi te comitem iuraras usque futuram—
    per me perque oculos, sidera nostra, tuos!

But without you, although fields laborious with vines
    may hold me, although fields float with streams,
and the rustic calls the running wave into rills,
    and a cool breeze soothes the arboreal tresses,
I do not seem to celebrate the salubrious Paelignians,
    I do not [seem to celebrate] my natal place, my paternal fields—
but Scythia and the fierce Cilicians and the green Britons,
    and the rocks that are reddened with Promethean gore.
The elm loves the vine, the vine does not desert the elm;
    why am I often separated from my mistress?
and yet you had sworn to me that you would be my companion always—
    by me and by your eyes—our stars—your eyes!

verba puellarum, foliis leviora caducis,
    inrita, qua visum est, ventus et unda ferunt.
Siqua mei tamen est in te pia cura relicti,
    incipe pollicitis addere facta tuis,
parvaque quamprimum rapientibus esseda mannis
    ipsa per admissas concute lora iubas!
at vos, qua veniet, tumidi, subsidite, montes,
    et faciles curvis vallibus este, viae!

the words of girls, lighter than leaves that fall,
    vain, the wind and the wave bear them whithersoever it pleases.
If there is any dutiful care for me left in you,
    begin to add deeds to your promises,
and as soon as possible the little carriage with racing ponies
    yourself, over their flung-forward manes, shake the reins!
but you, where she will come, swollen mountains, subside,
    and be easy, O roads, in your curved valleys!

XVII

Siquis erit, qui turpe putet servire puellae,
    illo convincar iudice turpis ego!
sim licet infamis, dum me moderatius urat,
    quae Paphon et fluctu pulsa Cythera tenet.
atque utinam dominae miti quoque praeda fuissem
    formosae quoniam praeda futurus eram!

If there be anyone who deems it shameful to serve a girl,
    by that judge I shall be convicted as base!
although I be infamous, so long as she burns me more moderately,
    she who holds Paphos and wave-beaten Cythera.
and would that I had been prey also to a gentle mistress,
    since I was destined to be prey to a beautiful one!

dat facies animos. facie violenta Corinna est—
me miserum! cur est tam bene nota sibi?

A face gives courage. By her face Corinna is overbold—
poor me! why is she so well known to herself?

scilicet a speculi sumuntur imagine fastus,
    nec nisi conpositam se prius illa videt!
Non, tibi si facies animum dat et omina regni—
    o facies oculos nata tenere meos!—
collatum idcirco tibi me contemnere debes;
    aptari magnis inferiora licet.
traditur et nymphe mortalis amore Calypso
    capta recusantem detinuisse virum.

Of course haughtiness is taken from the image of the mirror,
    nor does she see herself unless first composed!
No—if your face gives you spirit and omens of reign—
    O face born to hold my eyes!—
therefore you ought not to despise me, compared with you;
    it is permitted that inferior things be fitted to great ones.
It is handed down also that the nymph Calypso, captured by love for a mortal,
    detained a man who resisted.

creditur aequoream Pthio Nereida regi,
    Egeriam iusto concubuisse Numae,
Vulcano Venerem, quamvis incude relicta
    turpiter obliquo claudicet ille pede.
carminis hoc ipsum genus inpar; sed tamen apte
    iungitur herous cum breviore modo.
tu quoque me, mea lux, in quaslibet accipe leges;
    te deceat medio iura dedisse foro.

It is believed that the sea Nereid lay with the Phthian king,
    that Egeria lay with just Numa,
Venus with Vulcan, although, the anvil set aside,
    he shamefully limps with an oblique foot.
this very genre of song is unequal; yet aptly
    the heroic is joined with the briefer mode.
you too, my light, accept me under whatever laws you please;
    it would befit you to have given laws in the middle forum.

Non tibi crimen ero, nec quo laetere remoto;
    non erit hic nobis infitiandus amor.
sunt mihi pro magno felicia carmina censu,
    et multae per me nomen habere volunt;
novi aliquam, quae se circumferat esse Corinnam.
    ut fiat, quid non illa dedisse velit?

I shall not be a crime to you, nor something whose removal you would rejoice in;
    this love will not need to be denied by us.
I have, in place of great wealth, felicitous songs,
    and many want through me to have a name;
I know some woman who parades herself as being Corinna.
    so that it may be so, what would she not wish to have given?

sed neque diversi ripa labuntur eadem
frigidus Eurotas populiferque Padus,
nec nisi tu nostris cantabitur ulla libellis;
ingenio causas tu dabis una meo.

But nor do the banks of different rivers glide the same—
the chilly Eurotas and the poplar-bearing Po,
nor, unless it be you, will anyone be sung in my little books;
you alone will give causes to my genius.

XVIII

Carmen ad iratum dum tu perducis Achillen
    primaque iuratis induis arma viris,
nos, Macer, ignava Veneris cessamus in umbra,
    et tener ausuros grandia frangit Amor.
saepe meae 'tandem' dixi 'discede' puellae—
    in gremio sedit protinus illa meo.
saepe 'pudet!' dixi—lacrimis vix illa retentis
    'me miseram!

While you conduct a song to wrathful Achilles
    and fit the first arms upon the men under oath,
we, Macer, idle in the lazy shade of Venus,
    and tender Love breaks those about to dare grand things.
often I said to my girl, 'at last, depart'—
    she at once sat in my lap.
often I said 'shame!'—she, with tears scarcely restrained,
    'poor me!

iam te' dixit 'amare pudet?'
inplicuitque suos circum mea colla lacertos
    et, quae me perdunt, oscula mille dedit.
vincor, et ingenium sumptis revocatur ab armis,
    resque domi gestas et mea bella cano.
Sceptra tamen sumpsi, curaque tragoedia nostra
    crevit, et huic operi quamlibet aptus eram.

“now,” she said, “are you ashamed to love?”
and she entwined her own arms around my neck,
    and she gave a thousand kisses, which undo me.
I am conquered, and my genius is recalled from the arms assumed,
    and I sing deeds done at home and my own wars.
Yet I took up the scepters, and our Tragedy
    grew a care, and for this work I was however apt.

risit Amor pallamque meam pictosque cothurnos
    sceptraque privata tam cito sumpta manu.
hinc quoque me dominae numen deduxit iniquae,
    deque cothurnato vate triumphat Amor.
Quod licet, aut artes teneri profitemur Amoris—
    ei mihi, praeceptis urgeor ipse meis!—
aut, quod Penelopes verbis reddatur Ulixi,
    scribimus et lacrimas, Phylli relicta, tuas,
quod Paris et Macareus et quod male gratus Iason
    Hippolytique parens Hippolytusque legant,
quodque tenens strictum Dido miserabilis ensem
    dicat et Aoniae Lesbis amata lyrae.

Love laughed—at my pallium and painted cothurnus-boots,
    and at the scepters so quickly taken up by a private hand.
Hence too the numen of my unjust mistress has led me down,
    and over the buskined bard Love triumphs.
What is permitted: either we profess the arts of tender Amor—
    ah me, I am pressed by my own precepts!—
or what would be rendered back by Penelope’s words to Ulysses
    we write; and, Phyllis, forsaken, your tears;
what Paris and Macareus, and what the ill-grateful Jason,
    and Hippolytus’s parent and Hippolytus may read;
and what the pitiable Dido, holding a drawn sword,
    might say, and the Lesbian beloved of the Aonian lyre.

Quam cito de toto rediit meus orbe Sabinus
    scriptaque diversis rettulit ille locis!
candida Penelope signum cognovit Ulixis;
    legit ab Hippolyto scripta noverca suo.
iam pius Aeneas miserae rescripsit Elissae,
    quodque legat Phyllis, si modo vivit, adest.

How quickly did my Sabinus return from the whole world,
    and he brought back writings from diverse places!
fair Penelope recognized the sign of Ulysses;
    the stepmother read writings from her own Hippolytus.
now pious Aeneas has written back to wretched Elissa,
    and that which Phyllis may read, if only she lives, is here.

tristis ad Hypsipylen ab Iasone littera venit;
    det votam Phoebo Lesbis amata lyram.
Nec tibi, qua tutum vati, Macer, arma canenti
    aureus in medio Marte tacetur Amor.
et Paris est illic et adultera, nobile crimen,
    et comes extincto Laodamia viro.

a sad letter came to Hypsipyle from Jason;
    let the beloved of Lesbos give the vowed lyre to Phoebus.
Nor for you, where it is safe for the vates, Macer, singing of arms,
    is golden Love silenced in the midst of Mars.
and Paris is there and the adulteress, a noble crime,
    and Laodamia a companion to her extinguished husband.

si bene te novi, non bella libentius istis
dicis, et a vestris in mea castra venis.

if I know you well, you do not speak of wars more willingly than of these,
and from your own you come into my camp.

XIX

Si tibi non opus est servata, stulte, puella,
    at mihi fac serves, quo magis ipse velim!
quod licet, ingratum est; quod non licet acrius urit.
    ferreus est, siquis, quod sinit alter, amat
speremus pariter, pariter metuamus amantes,
    et faciat voto rara repulsa locum.

If you have no need of a guarded girl, fool, at least make it that you keep her for me, so that I myself may desire the more!
    What is licit is unpleasing; what is illicit burns more keenly.
He is iron, if anyone loves what another permits.
    Let us hope alike, alike let us fear, we lovers,
and let a rare repulse make room for a vow.
    and let a rare repulse make room for a vow.

quo mihi fortunam, quae numquam fallere curet?
nil ego, quod nullo tempore laedat, amo!
Viderat hoc in me vitium versuta Corinna,
quaque capi possem, callida norat opem.

what use to me is Fortune, who never cares to deceive?
i love nothing that never hurts!
Cunning Corinna had seen this vice in me,
and, crafty, she knew by what aid i might be captured.

a, quotiens sani capitis mentita dolores
    cunctantem tardo iussit abire pede!
a, quotiens finxit culpam, quantumque licebat
    insonti, speciem praebuit esse nocens!
sic ubi vexarat tepidosque refoverat ignis,
    rursus erat votis comis et apta meis.

Ah, how often, feigning pains with a sound head,
    she bade me, lingering, depart with tardy step!
Ah, how often she fashioned fault, and, so far as it was permitted
    to one innocent, she offered the semblance of being guilty!
Thus, when she had vexed me and had re-warmed my tepid fires,
    again she was gracious to my vows and apt to my wishes.

quas mihi blanditias, quam dulcia verba parabat
    oscula, di magni, qualia quotque dabat!
Tu quoque, quae nostros rapuisti nuper ocellos,
    saepe time simulans, saepe rogata nega;
et sine me ante tuos proiectum in limine postis
    longa pruinosa frigora nocte pati.
sic mihi durat amor longosque adolescit in annos;
    hoc iuvat; haec animi sunt alimenta mei.

what blandishments for me, how sweet words she prepared—
    kisses, great gods, of what sort and how many she gave!
You too, who have lately snatched away my little eyes,
    often pretending fear, often, when entreated, refuse;
and allow me, cast down before your door-posts upon the threshold,
    to suffer long pruinous frosts in the night.
thus for me love endures and grows up into long years;
    this delights; these are the aliments of my spirit.

pinguis amor nimiumque patens in taedia nobis
    vertitur et, stomacho dulcis ut esca, nocet.
si numquam Danaen habuisset aenea turris,
    non esset Danae de Iove facta parens;
dum servat Iuno mutatam cornibus Io,
    facta est, quam fuerat, gratior illa Iovi.
quod licet et facile est quisquis cupit, arbore frondis
    carpat et e magno flumine potet aquam.

plump love and too much lying open turns for us into tedium, and, like food sweet to the stomach, it harms.
    if a brazen tower had never held Danae, Danae would not have been made a mother by Jove;
while Juno keeps guard over Io changed into a horned heifer,
    she became more pleasing to Jove than she had been.
what is permitted and easy—whoever desires it, let him pluck leaves from a tree
    and drink water from a great river.

siqua volet regnare diu, deludat amantem.
ei mihi, ne monitis torquear ipse meis!
quidlibet eveniat, nocet indulgentia nobis—
quod sequitur, fugio; quod fugit, ipse sequor.

if any woman wishes to reign long, let her delude her lover.
ah me, lest I myself be tormented by my own warnings!
whatever may come to pass, indulgence harms us—
what follows, I flee; what flees, I myself follow.

At tu, formosae nimium secure puellae,
    incipe iam prima claudere nocte forem.
incipe, quis totiens furtim tua limina pulset,
    quaerere, quid latrent nocte silente canes,
quas ferat et referat sollers ancilla tabellas,
    cur totiens vacuo secubet ipsa toro.
mordeat ista tuas aliquando cura medullas,
    daque locum nostris materiamque dolis.

But you, girl too secure in your beauty,
    begin now to close the door at the first nightfall.
begin to inquire who so often stealthily knocks at your threshold,
    to ask why the dogs bark in the silent night,
what tablets the adroit handmaid bears and brings back,
    why so often she herself lies apart on an empty couch.
let that concern at some point bite your marrow,
    and give room and material for our wiles.

ille potest vacuo furari litore harenas,
    uxorem stulti siquis amare potest.
iamque ego praemoneo: nisi tu servare puellam
    incipis, incipiet desinere esse mea!
multa diuque tuli; speravi saepe futurum,
    cum bene servasses, ut bene verba darem.

he can steal the sands from an empty shore,
    if anyone can love a fool’s wife.
and now I fore-warn: unless you begin to guard the girl
    you begin, she will begin to cease to be mine!
much and for a long time I have borne; I have often hoped it would come to pass,
    that, when you had guarded well, I might give you fair words.

lentus es et pateris nulli patienda marito;
at mihi concessi finis amoris erit!
Scilicet infelix numquam prohibebor adire?
nox mihi sub nullo vindice semper erit?

You are slow and you allow things not to be suffered by any husband;
but for me there will be an end of permitted love!
Surely, wretched, shall I never be prohibited to approach?
will night for me always be under no guardian?

nil metuam? per nulla traham suspiria somnos?
nil facies, cur te iure perisse velim?

Shall I fear nothing? shall I draw no sighs through my slumbers?
Will you do nothing for which I might by right wish you to have perished?

quid mihi cum facili, quid cum lenone marito?
corrumpit vitio gaudia nostra suo.
quin alium, quem tanta iuvat patientia, quaeris?

What have I to do with an easy husband—what with a pimp of a husband?
He corrupts our joys by his own vice.
Why not seek another, whom such patience pleases?

me tibi rivalem si iuvat esse, veta!

if it pleases you that I be your rival, veto it!