Ovid: HEROIDES

Ecquid, ut adspecta est studiosae littera dextrae,
     Protinus est oculis cognita nostra tuis?
an, nisi legisses auctoris nomina Sapphus,
     hoc breve nescires unde veniret opus?
Forsitan et quare mea sint alterna requiras
     carmina, cum lyricis sim magis apta modis:
flendus amor meus est; elegiae flebile carmen;
     non facit ad lacrimas barbitos ulla meas.

Was it, as the letter of my studious right hand came into view,
     at once recognized by your eyes as mine?
or, unless you had read the name of the author, Sappho,
     would you not know whence this brief work came?
Perhaps too you ask why my songs are alternating,
     since I am more apt for lyric modes:
my love is to be wept; elegy is a tearful song;
     no barbitos fits my tears.

Uror ut indomitis ignem exercentibus Euris
     fertilis accensis messibus ardet ager.
arva Phaon celebrat diversa Typhoidos Aetnae;
     me calor Aetnaeo non minor igne tenet.
nec mihi, dispositis quae iungam carmina nervis,
     proveniunt; vacuae carmina mentis opus.

I burn, as, with indomitable Eurus winds exercising the fire,
     the fertile field blazes with its harvests kindled.
Phaon frequents fields far removed from Typhoean Etna;
     a heat no less than the Aetnean fire holds me.
Nor do the songs come to me which I might join to arranged strings;
     songs are the work of an empty mind.

nec me Pyrrhiades Methymniadesve puellae,
     nec me Lesbiadum cetera turba iuvant.
vilis Anactorie, vilis mihi candida Cydro,
     non oculis grata est Atthis ut ante meis
atque aliae centum, quas non sine crimine amavi.
     improbe, multarum quod fuit, unus habes!

nor do the maidens of Pyrrha or of Methymna please me,
     nor does the rest of the throng of the Lesbians delight me.
worthless Anactoria, worthless to me fair Cydro,
     Atthis is not pleasing to my eyes as before;
and a hundred others, whom I loved not without reproach.
     shameless one, what was of many, you alone possess!

Est in te facies, sunt apti lusibus anni,
     o facies oculis insidiosa meis!
sume fidem et pharetram—fies manifestus Apollo;
     accedant capiti cornua—Bacchus eris.
et Phoebus Daphnen, et Cnosida Bacchus amavit
     nec norat lyricos illa vel illa modos.

There is in you a face, there are years apt for play,
     O face insidious to my eyes!
take up the lyre and quiver—you will become manifest Apollo;
     let horns be added to your head—you will be Bacchus.
and Phoebus loved Daphne, and Bacchus loved the Cnosian,
     nor did either of them know lyric modes.

at mihi Pegasides blandissima carmina dictant;
     iam canitur toto nomen in orbe meum;
nec plus Alcaeus, consors patriaeque lyraeque
     laudis habet, quamvis grandius ille sonet.
si mihi difficilis formam natura negavit,
     ingenio formae damna repende meae.
sum brevis.

but to me the Pegasids dictate most charming songs;
     already my name is sung in the whole orb of the world;
nor does Alcaeus, partner in fatherland and in the lyre,
     have more praise, although he sounds more grandly.
if nature, unkind, has denied me form,
     by genius repay the damages of my form.
I am short.

at nomen, quod terras impleat omnes,
     est mihi: mensuram nominis ipsa fero.
candida si non sum, placuit Cepheia Perseo
     Andromede patriae fusca colore suae.
et variis albae iunguntur saepe columbae
     et niger a viridi turtur amatur ave.

but a name, which may fill all lands,
     is mine: I myself bear the measure of the name.
if I am not fair, the Cephean Andromeda pleased Perseus,
     dusky with the color of her own native land.
and white doves are often joined to variegated doves,
     and a black turtledove is loved by a green bird.

si nisi quae facie poterit te digna videri,
     nulla futura tua est, nulla futura tua est!
At mea cum legerem, sat iam formosa videbar:
     unam iurabas usque decere loqui.
cantabam, memini (meminerunt omnia amantes)
     oscula cantanti tu mihi rapta dabas.

if, unless she who by her face can seem worthy of you,
     none shall be yours, none shall be yours!
But when I was reading my verses, I already seemed fair enough:
     you kept swearing that it was decorous for one alone to speak.
I was singing, I remember (lovers remember everything)
     you were giving me stolen kisses as I sang.

hoc quoque laudabas, omni tibi parte placebam
     sed tunc praecipue, cum fit Amoris opus.
tunc te plus solito lascivia nostra iuvabat
     crebraque mobilitas aptaque verba ioco
et quod, ubi amborum fuerat confusa voluptas,
     plurimus in lasso corpore languor erat.
Nunc tibi Sicelides veniunt nova praeda puellae.

you were praising this too; in every part I was pleasing to you
     but then especially, when the work of Love is done.
then my wantonness delighted you more than usual
     and frequent mobility and words apt for jest
and the fact that, when the pleasure of us both had been mingled,
     the very great languor was in the wearied body.
Now to you Sicilian maidens come, a new prey.

quid mihi cum Lesbo? Sicelis esse volo.
o vos erronem tellure remittite vestra,
Nisiades matres Nisiadesque nurus!

what have I to do with Lesbos? I wish to be with the Sicelides.
o you, send the wanderer back to your land,
Nisiad mothers and Nisiad daughters-in-law!

nec vos decipiant blandae mendacia linguae:
     quod vobis dicit, dixerat ante mihi.
tu quoque quae montes celebras, Erycina, Sicanos
     (nam tua sum) vati consule, diva, tuae!
an gravis inceptum peragit fortuna tenorem
     et manet in cursu semper acerba suo?

let not the lies of a coaxing tongue deceive you:
     what he says to you, he had said before to me.
you too, Erycina, who frequent the Sicilian mountains
     (for I am yours), counsel your own poetess, goddess!
or does grievous Fortune carry through the begun tenor
     and remain ever bitter in her course?

sex mihi natales ierant, cum lecta parentis
     ante diem lacrimas ossa bibere meas.
arsit inops frater meretricis captus amore
     mixtaque cum turpi damna pudore tulit.
factus inops agili peragit freta caerula remo,
     quasque male amisit, nunc male quaerit opes.

Six natal days had gone by for me, when the collected bones of my parent
     drank my tears before their day.
My brother, destitute, burned, captured by love of a harlot,
     and he bore losses mixed with vile shame.
Made destitute, he traverses the blue straits with a nimble oar,
     and the wealth he badly lost, he now badly seeks.

me quoque, quod monui bene multa fideliter, odit;
     hoc mihi libertas, hoc pia lingua dedit.
et tamquam desit, quae me sine fine fatiget,
     accumulat curas filia parva meas.
Ultima tu nostris accedis causa querelis;
     non agitur vento nostra carina suo.

me too he hates, because I advised many things well and faithfully;
     this freedom, this pious tongue gave me.
and as though there were lacking something to weary me without end,
     my little daughter accumulates my cares.
last you come as a cause to our complaints;
     our keel is not driven by its own wind.

ecce iacent collo sparsi sine lege capilli
nec premit articulos lucida gemma meos.
veste tegor vili, nullum est in crinibus aurum,
non Arabum noster dona capillus habet.
cui colar infelix aut cui placuisse laborem?

behold, scattered without rule, my hair lies about my neck
nor does a shining gem press my joints.
I am covered with a cheap garment, there is no gold in my hair,
my hair does not possess the gifts of the Arabs.
for whom should I, unlucky, be cherished, or for whom has it been a labor to have pleased?

     ille mei cultus unicus auctor abes.
molle meum levibusque cor est violabile telis
     et semper causa est, cur ego semper amem,
sive ita nascenti legem dixere Sorores
     nec data sunt vitae fila severa meae,
sive abeunt studia in mores artisque magistra
     ingenium nobis molle Thalia facit.
quid mirum, si me primae lanuginis aetas
     abstulit atque anni quos vir amare potest?

     he, the sole author of my adornment, is absent.
my heart is soft and violable by light darts,
     and there is always a cause why I always love,
whether the Sisters thus laid down a law for me at birth
     and no severe threads were given to my life,
or whether pursuits pass into habits, and Thalia, mistress of the art,
     makes my temperament soft.
what wonder, if the age of first down has carried me off,
     and along with it the years which a man can love?

hunc ne pro Cephalo raperes, Aurora, timebam!
     (et faceres sed te prima rapina tenet!)
hunc si conspiciat, quae conspicit omnia, Phoebe,
     iussus erit somnos continuare Phaon.
hunc Venus in caelum curru vexisset eburneo,
     sed videt et Marti posse placere suo.

I was afraid, Aurora, that you might carry off this one in place of Cephalus!
     (and you would do so, but your first rapine holds you!)
If Phoebe, who beholds all things, should catch sight of this one,
     Phaon will be ordered to continue his sleep.
Venus would have conveyed this one into heaven in her ivory chariot,
     but she sees that he can also please her own Mars.

o nec adhuc iuvenis, nec iam puer, utilis aetas,
     o decus atque aevi gloria magna tui,
huc ades inque sinus, formose, relabere nostros:
     non ut ames oro, me sed amare sinas!
Scribimus et lacrimis oculi rorantur obortis;
     adspice quam sit in hoc multa litura loco.
si tam certus eras hinc ire, modestius isses,
     et modo dixisses "Lesbi puella, vale!"
non tecum lacrimas, non oscula nostra tulisti;
     denique non timui, quod dolitura fui.

O neither yet a young man, nor now a boy, a useful age,
     O ornament and great glory of your own age,
come hither and, handsome one, glide back into my bosom:
     not that you love, I pray, but that you allow me to love!
I write, and my eyes are bedewed with tears that have sprung up;
     look how many erasures there are in this place.
If you were so certain to go away from here, you should have gone more modestly,
     and at least you would have said, "Girl of Lesbos, farewell!"
you carried off with you neither my tears nor our kisses;
     in fine, I did not fear what I was going to grieve over.

nil de te mecum est, nisi tantum iniuria. nec tu,
admoneat quod te, pignus amantis habes.
non mandata dedi.

nothing of you is with me, except only the injury. nor do you,
to admonish you, have a pledge of a lover.
I gave no mandates.

neque enim mandata dedissem
     ulla, nisi ut nolles immemor esse mei.
per tibi qui numquam longe discedit Amorem
     perque novem iuro, numina nostra, deas,
cum mihi nescio quis "fugiunt tua gaudia" dixit
     nec me flere diu, nec potuisse loqui;
et lacrimae deerant oculis et verba palato,
     adstrictum gelido frigore pectus erat.
postquam se dolor invenit nec pectora plangi
     nec puduit scissis exululare comis,
non aliter quam si nati pia mater adempti
     portet ad exstructos corpus inane rogos.

for neither would I have given any mandates
     at all, except that you should be unwilling to be unmindful of me.
by Love who never departs far from you I swear to you,
     and by the nine, our divinities, the goddesses, I swear,
when someone, I know not who, said to me, "your joys are fleeing,"
     I could neither weep for long nor could I speak;
both tears were lacking to my eyes and words to my palate,
     my heart was constricted with icy cold.
after grief found itself, neither was I ashamed that the breast be beaten
     nor to ululate with hair torn,
not otherwise than if the pious mother of a stolen-away son
     were carrying the empty body to the piled-up pyres.

gaudet et e nostro crescit maerore Charaxus
frater et ante oculos itque reditque meos.
utque pudenda mei videatur causa doloris,
"quid dolet haec? certe filia vivit!" ait.

he rejoices, and from our mourning my brother Charaxus grows,
and before my eyes he goes and returns.
and so that the cause of my dolor may seem shameful,
"what does she grieve? surely her daughter lives!" he says.

non veniunt in idem pudor atque amor; omne videbat
     vulgus; eram lacero pectus aperta sinu.
Tu mihi cura, Phaon; te somnia nostra reducunt—
     somnia formoso candidiora die.
illic te invenio, quamvis regionibus absis;
     sed non longa satis gaudia somnus habet.

modesty and love do not come together; the whole vulgar crowd saw; my chest was lacerated, my bosom open.
     You are my care, Phaon; my dreams bring you back—
     dreams brighter than a fair day.
there I find you, although you are absent in regions;
     but sleep does not hold its joys long enough.

saepe tuos nostra cervice onerare lacertos,
     saepe tuae videor supposuisse meos.
oscula cognosco, quae tu committere lingua
     aptaque consueras accipere, apta dare.
blandior interdum verisque simillima verba
     eloquor et vigilant sensibus ora meis;—
ulteriora pudet narrare, sed omnia fiunt—
     et iuvat—et siccae non licet esse mihi.

often to burden my neck with your arms,
     often I seem to have placed mine beneath yours.
I recognize the kisses, which you were accustomed to join with the tongue
     and apt to receive, apt to give.
I sometimes blandish, and words most very like to truths
     I utter, and my lips keep vigil with my senses;—
—I am ashamed to tell the further things, but all things occur—
     and it delights—and it is not permitted for me to be dry.

At cum se Titan ostendit et omnia secum,
     tam cito me somnos destituisse queror;
antra nemusque peto, tamquam nemus antraque prosint:
     conscia deliciis illa fuere meis.
illuc mentis inops, ut quam furialis Enyo
     attigit, in collo crine iacente feror.
antra vident oculi scabro pendentia tofo,
     quae mihi Mygdonii marmoris instar erant:
invenio silvam, quae saepe cubilia nobis
     praebuit et multa texit opaca coma.

But when Titan shows himself and all things with him,
     so quickly I complain that sleep has deserted me;
I seek caves and the grove, as though the grove and caves could profit:
     those were privy to my delights.
Thither, bereft of mind, like one whom frenzied Enyo has touched,
     with hair lying on my neck, I am borne.
My eyes see caves hanging with rough tufa,
     which to me were in the likeness of Mygdonian marble:
I find the woodland, which often provided couches for us
     and covered many things with its dark tresses.

at non invenio dominum silvaeque meumque.
vile solum locus est—dos erat ille loci.
cognovi pressas noti mihi caespitis herbas;
de nostro curvum pondere gramen erat.

but I do not find the master, both of the wood and mine as well.
the place is vile soil—he was the dowry of the place.
I recognized the pressed grasses of turf known to me;
the grass was curved from our weight.

incubui tetigique locum qua parte fuisti;
     grata prius lacrimas combibit herba meas.
quin etiam rami positis lugere videntur
     frondibus et nullae dulce queruntur aves.
sola virum non ulta pie maestissima mater
     concinit Ismarium Daulias ales Ityn.

I leaned over and touched the place where you had been;
     the grass gratefully first drank my tears.
Nay even the branches seem to mourn, their leaves laid down
     and no birds utter a sweet complaint.
only the most sorrowful mother, not having piously avenged her husband,
     the Daulian bird, sings of Ismarian Itys.

ales Ityn, Sappho desertos cantat amores;
     hactenus, ut media cetera nocte, silent.
Est nitidus vitroque magis perlucidus omni
     fons sacer; hunc multi numen habere putant.
quem supra ramos expandit aquatica lotos,
     una nemus, tenero caespite terra viret.

the bird sings Ityn, Sappho sings deserted loves;
     thus far, as in the rest of the middle night, all else is silent.
There is a shining and more pellucid than any glass
     sacred spring; many think it has a divinity.
whom above the aquatic lotus spreads its branches,
     as one, the grove is green, the earth grows verdant with tender turf.

hic ego cum lassos posuissem flebilis artus,
     constitit ante oculos Naias una meos;
constitit et dixit: "quoniam non ignibus aequis
     ureris, Ambracia est terra petenda tibi.
Phoebus ab excelso, quantum patet, adspicit aequor:
     Actiacum populi Leucadiumque vocant.
hinc se Deucalion Pyrrhae succensus amore
     misit, et illaeso corpore pressit aquas.

here I, when I had laid down my weary limbs in lament,
     one Naiad stood before my eyes;
she stood and said: "since you are not burned by equal fires,
     Ambracia is the land to be sought by you.
Phoebus from on high, as far as it extends, looks upon the sea:
     the peoples call it Actian and Leucadian.
from here Deucalion, enkindled with love for Pyrrha,
     cast himself, and with unharmed body pressed the waters."

nec mora, versus amor fugit lentissima mersi
pectora; Deucalion igne levatus erat.
hanc legem locus ille tenet. pete protinus altam
Leucada nec saxo desiluisse time!"
Ut monuit, cum voce abiit.

no delay, reversed love flees the very slow heart of the immersed;
Deucalion had been relieved of the fire.
that place holds this law. Seek at once lofty Leucas,
and do not fear to have leapt down from the rock!"
As she admonished, she went away with her voice.

ego frigida surgo
nec lacrimas oculi continuere mei.
ibimus, o nymphe, monstrataque saxa petemus;
sit procul insano victus amore timor.
quidquid erit, melius quam nunc erit.

i rise cold
nor did my eyes hold back tears.
we shall go, o nymph, and we shall seek the rocks shown;
let fear, overcome by insane love, be far away.
whatever will be, will be better than now.

aura, subito—
     et mea non magnum corpora pondus habent.
tu quoque, mollis Amor, pinnas suppone cadenti,
     ne sim Leucadiae mortua crimen aquae.
inde chelyn Phoebo, communia munera, ponam,
     et sub ea versus unus et alter erunt:
"grata lyram posui tibi, Phoebe, poetria Sappho:
     convenit illa mihi, convenit illa tibi."
Cur tamen Actiacas miseram me mittis ad oras,
     cum profugum possis ipse referre pedem?

breeze, suddenly—
     and my body does not have great weight. you too, Soft Love, set your pinions beneath one falling,
     lest I, dead, be the reproach of the Leucadian water. thereafter I will set the chelys-lyre for Phoebus, our shared gifts,
     and beneath it there shall be one verse and another:
“welcome, I have placed the lyre for you, Phoebus—Sappho the poetess:
     it suits me, it suits you.”
Why, however, do you send wretched me to the Actian shores,
     when you yourself can bring back the fugitive foot?

tu mihi Leucadia potes esse salubrior unda;
     et forma et meritis tu mihi Phoebus eris.
an potes, o scopulis undaque ferocior omni,
     si moriar, titulum mortis habere meae?
a quanto melius tecum mea pectora iungi,
     quam saxis poterant praecipitanda dari!

you can be for me a more health-giving Leucadian wave;
     both in beauty and in merits you will be my Phoebus.
or can you, O more ferocious than rocks and than every wave,
     if I should die, bear the title of my death?
how much better that my heart be joined with you,
     than to be given to be hurled headlong upon the rocks!

haec sunt illa, Phaon, quae tu laudare solebas
visaque sunt totiens ingeniosa tibi.
nunc vellem facunda forem! dolor artibus obstat
ingeniumque meis substitit omne malis.

these are those very things, Phaon, which you were wont to praise
and so often seemed ingenious to you.
now I would that I were eloquent! grief stands in the way of the arts
and all my genius has halted, checked by my ills.

non mihi respondent veteres in carmina vires;
     plectra dolore tacent muta, dolore lyra est.
Lesbides aequoreae, nupturaque nuptaque proles,
     Lesbides, Aeolia nomina dicta lyra,
Lesbides, infamem quae me fecistis amatae,
     desinite ad citharas turba venire meas!
abstulit omne Phaon, quod vobis ante placebat,
     me miseram!

the old strengths do not answer me in song;
     the plectra, through pain, are silent, mute; through pain the lyre is.
lesbian seaborne maidens, the to‑be‑wed and wed progeny,
     lesbian maidens, names spoken by the Aeolian lyre,
lesbian maidens, you who, beloved, have made me infamous,
     cease, throng, to come to my citharas!
phaon has carried off everything that formerly pleased you,
     wretched me!

dixi quam modo paene: "meus."
efficite ut redeat. vates quoque vestra redibit.
ingenio vires ille dat, ille rapit.

I almost just now said: “mine.”
Bring it about that he return. Your vates too will return.
He gives strength to my genius, he snatches it away.

Ecquid ago precibus pectusve agreste movetur,
     an riget et Zephyri verba caduca ferunt?
qui mea verba ferunt, vellem tua vela referrent;
     hoc te, si saperes, lente, decebat opus.
sive redis, puppique tuae votiva parantur
     munera, quid laceras pectora nostra mora?

Do I accomplish anything with prayers, or is your rustic heart moved,
     or does it stand rigid and do the Zephyrs bear my falling words away?
Those who bear my words, I would that they would bear back your sails;
     this task, if you were wise, befitted you—slowly.
Whether you are returning, and votive gifts are being prepared for your stern,
     gifts—why do you tear our breast, delay?

solve ratem! Venus orta mari mare praestat amanti.
aura dabit cursum—tu modo solve ratem!

cast off the ship! Venus, arisen from the sea, makes the sea favorable to the lover.
the breeze will give the course—only cast off the ship!

ipse gubernator residens in puppe Cupido;
     ipse dabit tenera vela legetque manu.
sive iuvat longe fugisse Pelasgida Sappho
     (nec tamen invenies, cur ego digna fugi)
hoc saltem miserae crudelis epistula dicat,
     ut mihi Leucadiae fata petantur aquae.

the helmsman himself, Cupid, sitting in the stern;
     he himself will set the sails and furl them with a tender hand.
whether it delights you to have fled far from Pelasgian Sappho
     (and yet you will not find why I was worthy to be fled from)
let your cruel letter at least say this to the wretched woman,
     that for me the fates of the Leucadian waters be sought.