Ovid: HEROIDES

Quam cuperem solitas, Hero, tibi ferre per undas
     accipe Leandri, dum venit ipse, manum.
Mittit Abydenus, quam mallet ferre, salutem,
     si cadat unda maris, Sesti puella, tibi.
si mihi di faciles si sunt in amore secundi,
     invitis oculis haec mea verba leges.

How I would wish to bring, Hero, to you across the waves the accustomed—
     accept the hand of Leander, while he himself comes.
The Abydenian sends a salutation, which he would rather carry,
     if the wave of the sea should fall, Sestian girl, to you.
if to me the gods are propitious, if they are favorable in love,
     with unwilling eyes you will read these my words.

sed non sunt faciles; nam cur mea vota morantur
     currere me nota nec patiuntur aqua?
ipsa vides caelum pice nigrius et freta ventis
     turbida perque cavas vix adeunda rates.
unus, et hic audax, a quo tibi littera nostra
     redditur, e portu navita movit iter;
adscensurus eram, nisi quod cum vincula prorae
     solveret, in speculis omnis Abydos erat.

but they are not propitious; for why do my vows delay me,
     nor do the familiar waters allow me to run?
you yourself see the sky blacker than pitch and the straits
     turbulent with winds, and the hollow ships scarcely to be approached.
one—and he audacious—by whom our letter is
     delivered to you, a mariner set his course from port;
I was about to embark, except that when he loosed the bonds of the prow,
     all Abydos was on the watchtowers.

non poteram celare meos, velut ante, parentes,
     quemque tegi volumus, non latuisset amor.
protinus haec scribens, 'felix, i, littera!' dixi,
     'iam tibi formosam porriget illa manum.
forsitan admotis etiam tangere labellis,
     rumpere dum niveo vincula dente volet.'
talibus exiguo dictis mihi murmure verbis,
     cetera cum charta dextra locuta mea est.

i could not conceal from my parents, as before,
     nor would the love we wish to be covered have lain hidden.
straightway, writing these things, I said, 'happy, go, letter!'
     'now to you she will stretch forth that beautiful hand.
perhaps even, with her little lips brought near, to touch it,
     while she will wish to break the bonds with her snowy tooth.'
with such words spoken by me in a slight murmur,
     the rest my right hand spoke along with my paper.

at quanto mallem, quam scriberet, illa nataret,
     meque per adsuetas sedula ferret aquas!
aptior illa quidem placido dare verbera ponto;
     est tamen et sensus apta ministra mei.
septima nox agitur, spatium mihi longius anno,
     sollicitum raucis ut mare fervet aquis.

but how much I would prefer that, rather than she should write, that she should swim,
     and, sedulous, would carry me through the accustomed waters!
that she indeed is more apt to give lashes to the placid deep;
     yet she too is a handmaid apt to my sense.
the seventh night is passing, a span longer to me than a year,
     as the anxious sea seethes with hoarse waters.

his ego si vidi mulcentem pectora somnum
     noctibus, insani sit mora longa freti.
rupe sedens aliqua specto tua litora tristis
     et, quo non possum corpore, mente feror.
lumina quin etiam summa vigilantia turre
     aut videt aut acies nostra videre putat.

if I have seen sleep soothing my breast
     in these nights, let there be a long delay of the mad strait.
sitting on some rock I gaze at your shores, sad,
     and, whither I cannot with the body, I am borne in mind.
nay even my eyes, vigilant from the highest tower,
     either see, or our gaze thinks it sees.

ter mihi deposita est in sicca vestis harena;
     ter grave temptavi carpere nudus iter:
obstitit inceptis tumidum iuvenalibus aequor
     mersit et adversis ora natantis aquis.
at tu, de rapidis inmansuetissime ventis,
     quid mecum certa proelia mente geris?
in me, si nescis, Borea, non aequora, saevis.

thrice for me the garment has been laid down on the dry sand;
     thrice I tried to take the heavy path naked:
the tumid sea stood in the way of my juvenile undertakings
     and with adverse waters it submerged the swimmer’s face.
but you, most untamed of the rapid winds,
     why do you wage decided battles with me, with a fixed mind?
upon me, if you do not know, Boreas, not the waters, you rage.

     quid faceres, esset ni tibi notus amor?
tam gelidus quod sis, num te tamen, improbe, quondam
     ignibus Actaeis incaluisse negas?
gaudia rapturo siquis tibi claudere vellet
     aerios aditus, quo paterere modo?

     what would you do, were love not known to you?
Though you are so gelid, do you nevertheless, shameless one,
     deny that you once have grown hot with Actaean fires?
if someone wished to shut to you the aerial approaches, as you were about to snatch your joys,
     in what way would you endure it?

parce, precor, facilemque move moderatius auram!
imperet Hippotades sic tibi triste nihil!
vana peto; precibusque meis obmurmurat ipse
quasque quatit, nulla parte coercet aquas.

spare me, I pray, and move an easy breeze more moderately!
so may Hippotades impose nothing grim upon you!
I ask vain things; and he himself murmurs against my prayers,
and the waters which he lashes he restrains in no part.

nunc daret audaces utinam mihi Daedalus alas!
Icarium quamvis hinc prope litus abest.
quidquid erit, patiar, liceat modo corpus in auras
tollere, quod dubia saepe pependit aqua.

now—if only Daedalus would grant me audacious wings!
though the Icarian shore is not far from here.
whatever it will be, I will endure; only let it be permitted to lift my body into the air,
which has often hung in dubious water.

interea, dum cuncta negant ventique fretumque,
     mente agito furti tempora prima mei.
nox erat incipiens—namque est meminisse voluptas—
     cum foribus patriis egrediebar amans.
nec mora, deposito pariter cum veste timore
     iactabam liquido bracchia lenta mari.

meanwhile, while all things refuse, both the winds and the strait,
     I revolve in mind the first moments of my theft.
night was beginning—for indeed it is a pleasure to remember—
     when from my father’s doors I, a lover, was going forth.
no delay; with fear laid aside together with my garment,
     I was tossing my pliant arms on the liquid sea.

luna fere tremulum praebebat lumen eunti
     ut comes in nostras officiosa vias.
hanc ego suspiciens, 'faveas, dea candida,' dixi,
     'et subeant animo Latmia saxa tuo.
non sinit Endymion te pectoris esse severi;
     flecte, precor, vultus ad mea furta tuos!

the moon was almost offering a tremulous light to me as I went
     as an obliging companion upon our ways.
gazing up at her, I said, 'be favorable, bright goddess,'
     'and let the Latmian rocks rise up in your mind.
Endymion does not allow you to be stern of heart;
     turn, I pray, your face toward my thefts!'

tu dea mortalem caelo delapsa petebas;
     vera loqui liceat!—quam sequor ipsa dea est.
neu referam mores caelesti pectore dignos,
     forma nisi in veras non cadit illa deas.
a Veneris facie non est prior ulla tuaque;
     neve meis credas vocibus, ipsa vide!

you, goddess, having slipped down from heaven, were seeking a mortal;
     let it be permitted to speak truth!—she whom I pursue is herself a goddess.
nor need I recount morals worthy of a celestial breast,
     her beauty does not fall short among true goddesses.
none is superior to the visage of Venus—and to yours;
     nor need you trust my words; see for yourself!

quantum, cum fulges radiis argentea puris,
     concedunt flammis sidera cuncta tuis,
tanto formosis formosior omnibus illa est;
     si dubitas, caecum, Cynthia, lumen habes.'
haec ego vel certe non his diversa locutus
     per mihi cedentes sponte ferebar aquas.
unda repercussae radiabat imagine lunae
     et nitor in tacita nocte diurnus erat.
nullaque vox usquam, nullum veniebat ad aures
     praeter dimotae corpore murmur aquae.

so much, when you shine, silvery with pure rays,
     do all the stars concede to your flames,
by so much is she more beautiful than all the beautiful;
     if you doubt, Cynthia, you have a blind light.'
these things I— or at least not different from these— having spoken,
     was borne along through waters yielding to me of their own accord.
the wave was radiating with the reflected image of the moon,
     and the sheen in the silent night was diurnal.
and no voice anywhere, no sound came to my ears
     except the murmur of the water displaced by my body.

Alcyones solae memores Ceycis amati
     nescio quid visae sunt mihi dulce queri.
iamque fatigatis umero sub utroque lacertis
     fortiter in summas erigor altus aquas.
ut procul adspexi lumen, 'meus ignis in illo est:
     illa meum,' dixi, 'litora lumen habent.'
et subito lassis vires rediere lacertis,
     visaque quam fuerat mollior unda mihi.

Only the Halcyons, mindful of beloved Ceyx,
     seemed to me to be sweetly lamenting I know not what.
and now, with my upper arms wearied beneath each shoulder,
     stoutly I lift myself up to the top of the deep waters.
when from afar I caught sight of a light, 'my fire is in that:
     'those shores,' I said, 'hold my light.'
and suddenly strength returned to my weary arms,
     and the wave seemed to me softer than it had been.

frigora ne possim gelidi sentire profundi,
     qui calet in cupido pectore, praestat amor.
quo magis accedo propioraque litora fiunt,
     quoque minus restat, plus libet ire mihi.
cum vero possum cerni quoque, protinus addis
     spectatrix animos, ut valeamque facis.

so that I may not be able to feel the cold of the icy deep,
     love, which is hot in my desirous breast, provides.
the more I approach and the nearer the shores become,
     and the less remains, the more I want to go.
and when indeed I can also be seen, immediately you,
     spectatress, add courage, and you make me able.

nunc etiam nando dominae placuisse laboro,
     atque oculis iacto bracchia nostra tuis.
te tua vix prohibet nutrix descendere in altum;
     hoc quoque enim vidi, nec mihi verba dabas.
nec tamen effecit, quamvis retinebat euntem,
     ne fieret prima pes tuus udus aqua.

now even by swimming I labor to have pleased my mistress,
     and I cast my arms for your eyes.
your nurse scarcely prevents you from descending into the deep;
     for I saw this too, nor were you giving me words.
and yet she did not effect, although she was holding you back as you were going,
     that your first foot should not become wet with water.

excipis amplexu feliciaque oscula iungis—
     oscula, di magni, trans mare digna peti!
eque tuis demptos umeris mihi tradis amictus
     et madidam siccas aequoris imbre comam.
cetera nox et nos et turris conscia novit
     quodque mihi lumen per vada monstrat iter.

you receive me with an embrace and you join felicitous kisses—
     kisses, great gods, worthy to be sought across the sea!
and from your shoulders you hand to me the mantles taken off
     and you dry my hair, wet with the sea’s shower.
the rest the night and we and the tower privy to it know,
     and the light that shows me my path through the shallows.

non magis illius numerari gaudia noctis
     Hellespontiaci quam maris alga potest;
quo brevius spatium nobis ad furta dabatur,
     hoc magis est cautum, ne foret illud iners.
iamque fugatura Tithoni coniuge noctem
     praevius Aurorae Lucifer ortus erat;
oscula congerimus properata sine ordine raptim
     et querimur parvas noctibus esse moras.
atque ita cunctatus monitu nutricis amaro
     frigida deserta litora turre peto.

no more can the joys of that night be numbered
     than the seaweed of the Hellespontine sea;
the shorter a span was granted us for thefts,
     the more care was taken that it not prove inert.
and now Lucifer, forerunner of Aurora, Tithonus’s spouse,
     had risen, about to put night to flight;
we heap up kisses, hastened, without order, in a hurry,
     and we complain that the delays for nights are small.
and so, lingering at the bitter admonition of the nurse,
     from the tower I make for the cold, deserted shores.

digredimur flentes repetoque ego virginis aequor
     respiciens dominam, dum licet, usque meam.
siqua fides vero est, veniens hinc esse natator,
     cum redeo, videor naufragus esse mihi.
hoc quoque, si credes: ad te via prona videtur;
     a te cum redeo, clivus inertis aquae.

we depart weeping, and I again seek the maiden’s sea,
     looking back at my lady, while it is permitted, all the way.
if there is any faith in truth, coming hence I am a swimmer;
     when I return, I seem to myself to be shipwrecked.
this too, if you will believe: the way toward you seems sloping downward;
     from you, when I return, it is an uphill slope of inert water.

invitus repeto patriam; quis credere possit?
invitus certe nunc moror urbe mea.
ei mihi!

Unwillingly I return to my fatherland; who could believe it?
Unwillingly, certainly, now I linger in my city.
Alas for me!

cur animis iuncti secernimur undis
unaque mens, tellus non habet una duos?
vel tua me Sestus, vel te mea sumat Abydos;
tam tua terra mihi, quam tibi nostra placet.
cur ego confundor, quotiens confunditur aequor?

why, joined in spirits, are we separated by waves
and, with one mind, does not one land hold two?
either let your Sestus take me, or let my Abydos take you;
your land pleases me as much as ours pleases you.
why am I confounded, whenever the sea is confounded?

     cur mihi causa levis, ventus, obesse potest?
iam nostros curvi norunt delphines amores
     ignotum nec me piscibus esse reor.
iam patet attritus solitarum limes aquarum,
     non aliter multa quam via pressa rota.

     why can a light cause—the wind—be able to harm me?
now the curved dolphins know our loves
     nor do I think I am unknown to the fishes.
now the worn track of the solitary waters lies open,
     not otherwise than a road pressed by a wheel.

quod mihi non esset nisi sic iter, ante querebar;
     at nunc per ventos hoc quoque deesse queror.
fluctibus immodicis Athamantidos aequora canent
     vixque manet portu tuta carina suo;
hoc mare, cum primum de virgine nomina mersa,
     quae tenet, est nanctum, tale fuisse puto.
est satis amissa locus hic infamis ab Helle est,
     utque mihi parcat, nomine crimen habet.

what I used to complain of before, that there was no journey for me except thus;
     but now I complain that even this too is lacking through the winds.
with immoderate billows the seas of the daughter of Athamas will whiten,
     and scarcely does a keel remain safe in its own harbor;
this sea—when first, from the maiden whom it holds, it obtained its submerged name—
     I think was such. it is enough, with Helle lost, this place is infamous from Helle is,
     and, that it may spare me, it has a crime in its very name.

invideo Phrixo, quem per freta tristia tutum
     aurea lanigero vellere vexit ovis;
nec tamen officium pecoris navisve requiro,
     dummodo, quas findam corpore, dentur aquae.
arte egeo nulla; fiat modo copia nandi,
     idem navigium, navita, vector ero
nec sequor aut Helicen aut qua Tyros utitur Arcton;
     publica non curat sidera noster amor.
Andromedan alius spectet claramque Coronam
     quaeque micat gelido Parrhasis Ursa polo;
at mihi quod Perseus et cum Iove Liber amarunt,
     indicium dubiae non placet esse viae.

I envy Phrixus, whom through the sad straits the sheep, with golden fleece, carried safe;
     nor yet do I require the office of beast or of ship,
but only that waters be given which I may cleave with my body.
     I need no art; only let there be opportunity for swimming,
I myself will be the same ship, sailor, and passenger;
     nor do I follow either Helice or the Arctos which Tyre employs;
our love does not care for public stars.
     Let another gaze at Andromeda and the bright Crown,
and the Parrhasian Bear which glitters in the gelid pole;
     but for me, that which Perseus and Liber with Jove have loved
does not please to be the indication of a dubious way.

est aliud lumen, multo mihi certius istis,
     non errat tenebris quo duce noster amor;
hoc ego dum spectem, Colchos et in ultima Ponti
     quaque viam fecit Thessala pinus eam
et iuvenem possim superare Palaemona nando
     morsaque quem subito reddidit herba deum.
saepe per adsiduos languent mea bracchia motus,
     vixque per immensas fessa trahuntur aquas.
his ego cum dixi: 'pretium non vile laboris,
     iam dominae vobis colla tenenda dabo,'
protinus illa valent, atque ad sua praemia tendunt,
     ut celer Eleo carcere missus equus.

there is another light, much more certain to me than those,
     under whose guidance our love does not err in darkness;
so long as I gaze on this, to the Colchians and to the farthest parts of the Pontus
     and wherever the Thessalian pine made a way, that way I will go,
and I could outstrip by swimming the youth Palaemon
     and him whom a nibbled herb suddenly made a god.
often through assiduous motions my arms grow faint,
     and scarcely, weary, are they dragged through the immense waters.
when I have said to them: ‘no base price of the labor—
     I will now give you my mistress’s neck to be held,’
straightway they are strong, and they tend toward their proper prizes,
     as a swift horse sent from the Eleian starting-gate.

ipse meos igitur servo, quibus uror, amores
     teque, magis caelo digna puella, sequor.
digna quidem caelo, sed adhuc tellure morare,
     aut dic, ad superos et mihi qua sit iter!
hic es et exigue misero contingis amanti,
     cumque mea fiunt turbida mente freta.

therefore I preserve my loves, by which I am inflamed, and I follow you, girl more worthy of heaven.
worthy indeed of heaven, but for now abide upon earth, or tell what route there may be for me to the supernal ones!
you are here and you touch the wretched lover but slightly,
and the straits become turbid together with my mind.

quid mihi, quod lato non separor aequore, prodest?
num minus haec nobis tam brevis obstat aqua?
an malim, dubito, toto procul orbe remotus
cum domina longe spem quoque habere meam.

What profit is it to me that I am not separated by a broad sea?
Is this water, so narrow, any the less an obstacle to us?
Or should I prefer—I hesitate—to be far away, removed from the whole world,
to have my hope, along with my lady, far off as well.

quo propius nunc es, flamma propiore calesco
     et res non semper, spes mihi semper adest.
paene manu quod amo, tanta est vicinia, tango;
     saepe sed, heu, lacrimas hoc mihi 'paene' movet!
velle quid est aliud fugientia prendere poma
     spemque suo refugi fluminis ore sequi?

the nearer you are now, I grow warm with a nearer flame
     and the reality is not always, hope is always present to me.
what I love I almost touch with my hand—so great is the vicinity;
     but often, alas, this “almost” moves tears for me!
what is wishing other than to grasp the fleeing apples
     and to pursue hope at the mouth of a river that draws back on its own?

ergo ego te numquam, nisi cum volet unda, tenebo
     et me felicem nulla videbit hiems,
cumque minus firmum nil sit quam ventus et unda,
     in ventis et aqua spes mea semper erit?
aestus adhuc tamen est. quid, cum mihi laeserit aequor
     Plias et Arctophylax Oleniumque pecus?

So shall I never hold you, except when the wave wills it,
     and no winter will see me happy,
and since nothing is less firm than wind and wave,
     will my hope always be in winds and water?
Yet it is still summer. What then, when for me the sea has been injured
     by the Pleiad and Arctophylax and the Olenian herd?

aut ego non novi, quam sim temerarius, aut me
     in freta non cautus tum quoque mittet Amor;
neve putes id me, quod abest, promittere, tempus,
     pignora polliciti non tibi tarda dabo.
sit tumidum paucis etiam nunc noctibus aequor;
     ire per invitas experiemur aquas.
aut mihi continget felix audacia salvo
     aut mors solliciti finis amoris erit.

either I do not know how rash I am, or Love, not cautious, will then also send me into the seas;
     and lest you think that I promise you what is lacking—time—,
     I will not give you tardy pledges of my promise.
let the sea be swollen for a few nights yet;
     we will try to go through unwilling waters.
or happy audacity will befall me, with me safe,
     or death will be the end of my anxious love.

optabo tamen ut partis expellar in illas
     et teneant portus naufraga membra tuos.
flebis enim tactuque meum dignabere corpus
     et 'mortis,' dices, 'huic ego causa fui!'
scilicet interitus offenderis omine nostri,
     litteraque invisa est hac mea parte tibi.
desino; parce queri.

i will nevertheless opt that i be cast out into those parts
     and that your ports may hold my shipwrecked limbs.
you will weep, indeed, and you will deign to touch my body
     and you will say, 'of this death, i was the cause!'
of course you are offended by the omen of my destruction,
     and my letter is hateful to you in this part of mine.
i cease; forbear to complain.

sed ut et mare finiat iram,
     accedant, quaeso, fac tua vota meis.
pace brevi nobis opus est, dum transferor isto;
     cum tua contigero litora, perstet hiems!
istic est aptum nostrae navale carinae
     et melius nulla stat mea puppis aqua.

but so that the sea too may finish its wrath,
     bring it about, I beg, that your vows accede to mine.
we have need of brief peace, while I am transferred thither;
     when I have touched your shores, let winter persist!
there is a naval dock apt for our keel there,
     and in no water does my ship stand better.

illic me claudat Boreas, ubi dulce morari est;
     tunc piger ad nandum, tunc ego cautus ero
nec faciam surdis convicia fluctibus ulla
     triste nataturo nec querar esse fretum.
me pariter venti teneant tenerique lacerti,
     per causas istic impediarque duas
cum patietur hiems, remis ego corporis utar;
     lumen in adspectu tu modo semper habe.
interea pro me pernoctet epistula tecum,
     quam precor ut minima prosequar ipse mora.

there let Boreas shut me in, where it is sweet to linger;
     then I shall be slow to swim, then I shall be cautious
nor will I make any invective against deaf waves,
     nor complain that the strait is grim for one about to swim.
let the winds hold me, and tender arms hold me as well,
     and let me be impeded there for two causes;
when winter will allow, I will use the oars of my body;
     only do you always keep a light in sight.
meanwhile let a letter spend the night with you on my behalf,
     which I pray that I myself may follow with the least delay.