Ovid: HEROIDES

Quam mihi misisti verbis, Leandre, salutem
ut possim missam rebus habere, veni!
longa mora est nobis omnis, quae gaudia differt.
da veniam fassae; non patienter amo.

The greeting which you sent to me in words, Leander,
come, so that I may be able to have it, sent in realities!
Every delay is long for us, which defers joys.
grant pardon to one who has confessed; I do not love patiently.

urimur igne pari, sed sum tibi viribus impar:
     fortius ingenium suspicor esse viris.
ut corpus, teneris ita mens infirma puellis;
     deficiam, parvi temporis adde moram.
vos modo venando, modo rus geniale colendo
     ponitis in varia tempora longa mora.

we are burned by an equal fire, but I am to you unequal in forces:
     I suspect the ingenium is stronger in men.
as the body, so the mind is weak in tender girls;
     I shall fail—add a delay of a small time.
you, now by hunting, now by cultivating the genial countryside,
     set a long delay into various times.

aut fora vos retinent aut unctae dona palaestrae
     flectitis aut freno colla sequacis equi;
nunc volucrem laqueo, nunc piscem ducitis hamo,
     diluitur posito serior hora mero.
his mihi summotae, vel si minus acriter urar,
     quod faciam, superest praeter amare nihil.
quod superest facio, teque, o mea sola voluptas,
     plus quoque, quam reddi quod mihi possit, amo.

either the fora hold you, or to the gifts of the oiled palestra you turn,
     or with the bridle you bend the necks of the compliant horse;
now you lead the bird with a snare, now the fish you draw with a hook,
     the later hour is diluted with the wine set down.
by these I am kept away from you, or, if I burn less sharply,
     nothing remains for me to do except to love.
what remains I do, and you, O my only delight,
     I love even more than could be repaid to me.

aut ego cum cana de te nutrice susurro,
     quaeque tuum, miror, causa moretur iter;
aut mare prospiciens odioso concita vento
     corripio verbis aequora paene tuis;
aut ubi saevitiae paulum gravis unda remisit,
     posse quidem, sed te nolle venire, queror;
dumque queror lacrimae per amantia lumina manant,
     pollice quas tremulo conscia siccat anus.
saepe tui specto si sint in litore passus,
     impositas tamquam servet harena notas;
utque rogem de te et scribam tibi, siquis Abydo
     venerit aut, quaero, siquis Abydon eat.
quid referam, quotiens dem vestibus oscula, quas tu
     Hellespontiaca ponis iturus aqua?

or I whisper about you with the gray‑haired nurse,
     and I marvel what cause delays your journey;
or, looking out upon the sea stirred by an odious wind,
     I rebuke the waters with words almost yours;
or when the heavy wave has a little remitted its savagery,
     I complain that you could indeed come, but that you are unwilling;
and while I complain, tears flow through loving eyes,
     which the privy old woman dries with a trembling thumb.
often I look to see whether there are your footsteps on the shore,
     as though the sand might keep the imprinted marks;
and that I may ask about you and write to you, if anyone from Abydos
     should have come, or, I inquire, if anyone goes to Abydos.
what shall I relate, how often I give kisses to the garments which you
     put on when you are about to go upon the Hellespontine water?

sic ubi lux acta est et noctis amicior hora
     exhibuit pulso sidera clara die,
protinus in summa vigilantia lumina turre
     ponimus, adsuetae signa notamque viae,
tortaque versato ducentes stamina fuso
     feminea tardas fallimus arte moras.
quid loquar interea tam longo tempore, quaeris:
     nil nisi Leandri nomen in ore meo est.
'iamne putas exisse domo mea gaudia, nutrix,
     an vigilant omnes, et timet ille suos?

thus, when the light has been spent and an hour more friendly to night
     has displayed the bright stars with day driven away,
straightway we set watch-lights on the highest tower,
     signs and the mark of the accustomed way,
and, drawing twisted threads with the spindle turned,
     with feminine art we beguile the slow delays.
you ask what I talk of meanwhile for so long a time:
     nothing but Leander’s name is on my lips.
‘do you think now that my joys have gone out from the house, nurse,
     or are they all awake, and does he fear his own?’

iamne suas umeris illum deponere vestes,
     pallade iam pingui tinguere membra putas?'
adnuit illa fere; non nostra quod oscula curet,
     sed movet obrepens somnus anile caput.
postque morae minimum 'iam certe navigat,' inquam,
     'lentaque dimotis bracchia iactat aquis.'
paucaque cum tacta perfeci stamina terra
     an medio possis, quaerimus, esse freto.
et modo prospicimus, timida modo voce precamur,
     ut tibi det faciles utilis aura vias;
auribus incertas voces captamus et omnem
     adventus strepitum credimus esse tui.

do you think now that he is laying down his garments from his shoulders,
     and now already dipping his limbs in Pallas’s rich oil?'
she almost nods; not because she cares for our kisses,
     but creeping sleep moves the old woman’s head.
and after the least delay, I say, 'now surely he is sailing,
     and is tossing his pliant arms through the displaced waters.'
and when I have finished a few threads, the earth having been touched,
     we ask whether you can be in mid-strait.
and now we look out, now with timid voice we pray,
     that a serviceable breeze may grant you easy courses;
with our ears we catch uncertain voices, and every
     noise we believe to be that of your arrival.

sic ubi deceptae pars est mihi maxima noctis
     acta, subit furtim lumina fessa sopor.
forsitan invitus mecum tamen, improbe, dormis
     et, quamquam non vis ipse venire, venis.
nam modo te videor prope iam spectare natantem,
     bracchia nunc umeris umida ferre meis,
nunc dare quae soleo, madidis velamina membris,
     pectora nunc nostro iuncta fovere sinu
multaque praeterea linguae reticenda modestae
     quae fecisse iuvat, facta referre pudet.

thus, when the greatest part of my beguiled night is spent,
     sleep steals upon my weary eyes by stealth.
perhaps, unwilling, yet with me, shameless one, you sleep,
     and, although you yourself do not wish to come, you come.
for just now I seem already to behold you swimming nearby,
     now to bear your wet arms upon my shoulders,
now to give, as I am accustomed, coverings to your dripping limbs,
     now to warm your breast joined to my bosom,
and many things besides, to be kept back by a modest tongue—
     things which it delights to have done, but it shames to recount as done.

me miseram! brevis est haec et non vera voluptas;
nam tu cum somno semper abire soles.
firmius, o, cupidi tandem coeamus amantes,
nec careant vera gaudia nostra fide.

wretched me! this pleasure is brief and not true;
for you are always wont to depart with sleep.
more firmly, o, let us at last, amorous lovers, come together,
nor let our true joys be without fidelity.

cur ego tot viduas exegi frigida noctes?
cur totiens a me, lente morator, abes?
est mare, confiteor, non nunc tractabile nanti;
nocte sed hesterna lenior aura fuit.

Why have I passed so many widowed, chilly nights?
why so often are you absent from me, slow delayer?
the sea, I confess, is not now tractable for the swimmer;
but last night the breeze was gentler.

cur ea praeterita est? cur non ventura timebas?
tam bona cur periit, nec tibi rapta via est?

why was that passed by? why did you not fear what was to come?
why did so good a one perish, when the way had not been snatched from you?

protinus ut similis detur tibi copia cursus,
hoc melior certe, quo prior, illa fuit.
at cito mutata est pacati forma profundi.
tempore, cum properas, saepe minore venis.

Immediately, as soon as a similar opportunity of the course is granted to you,
that one was certainly better, by this: that it was earlier.
But the form of the pacified deep is quickly changed.
As to timing, when you hasten, you often come in less time.

hic, puto, deprensus nil quod querereris haberes
     meque tibi amplexo nulla noceret hiems.
certe ego tum ventos audirem laeta sonantes
     et numquam placidas esse precarer aquas.
quid tamen evenit, cur sis metuentior undae
     contemptumque prius nunc vereare fretum?

here, I think, if caught, you would have nothing to complain of
     and, with me in your embrace, no winter would harm you.
surely I then, glad, would hear the winds resounding
     and would never pray the waters to be placid.
what, however, has come to pass, that you are more fearful of the wave,
     and do you now fear the strait previously despised?

nam memini, cum te saevum veniente minaxque
     non minus, aut multo non minus, aequor erat;
cum tibi clamabam: 'sic tu temerarius esto,
     ne miserae virtus sit tua flenda mihi.'
unde novus timor hic quoque illa audacia fugit?
     magnus ubi est spretis ille natator aquis?
sis tamen hoc potius, quam quod prius esse solebas,
     et facias placidum per mare tutus iter—
dummodo sis idem; dum sic, ut scribis, amemur
     flammaque non fiat frigidus illa cinis.

for I remember, when, with you coming, the sea was savage and menacing
     no less, or by much not less;
when I was shouting to you: 'so do you be rash,
     lest your valor be for me, wretched, a thing to be wept.'
whence this new fear—has even that boldness fled here too?
     where is that great swimmer who scorned the waters?
yet be this rather, than what you were wont to be before,
     and make a safe journey through the placid sea—
provided only you be the same; provided that, as you write, we be loved,
     and that flame not become that frigid ash.

non ego tam ventos timeo mea vota morantes,
     quam similis vento ne tuus erret amor,
ne non sim tanti, superentque pericula causam
     et videar merces esse labore minor.
interdum metuo, patria ne laedar et impar
     dicar Abydeno Thressa puella toro.
ferre tamen possum patientius omnia, quam si
     otia nescio qua paelice captus agis,
in tua si veniunt alieni colla lacerti
     fitque novus nostri finis amoris amor.

not so much do I fear the winds delaying my vows,
     as that your love, like the wind, may wander astray,
lest I be not of such worth, and the dangers outweigh the cause,
     and I seem a wage less than the labor.
at times I fear, lest my fatherland be injured, and that, unequal,
     a Thracian girl be called for an Abydenian bed.
yet I can bear all things more patiently than if,
     captured by I-know-not-what concubine, you spend your idleness,
if another’s upper arms come upon your neck,
     and a new love becomes the end of our love.

a, potius peream, quam crimine vulnerer isto,
fataque sint culpa nostra priora tua!
nec quia venturi dederis mihi signa doloris,
haec loquor aut fama sollicitata nova.
omnia sed vereor!

ah, may I rather perish than be wounded by that crime,
and may my fates, through my fault, be prior to yours!
nor because you have given me signs of coming grief
do I speak these things, or stirred by some new rumor.
but I fear everything!

quis enim securus amavit?
cogit et absentes plura timere locus.
felices illas, sua quas praesentia nosse
crimina vera iubet, falsa timere vetat.

for who ever loved securely?
the very place compels even the absent to fear more.
happy those women, whom their men’s presence bids
to know their true offenses, and forbids to fear false ones.

nos tam vana movet, quam facta iniuria fallit,
incitat et morsus error uterque pares.
o utinam venias! aut ut ventusve paterve
causaque sit certe femina nulla morae!

as much empty things move us, as a done injury deceives,
and each error incites equal bites.
o would that you might come! or that the wind or your father
be the cause—and let it be certain that no woman is the cause of the delay!

quodsi quam sciero, moriar, mihi crede, dolendo;
iamdudum pecca, si mea fata petis.
sed neque peccabis, frustraque ego terreor istis,
quoque minus venias, invida pugnat hiems.
me miseram!

but if I shall learn of any, I will die, believe me, from grieving;
sin at once, if you seek my fates.
but neither will you sin, and in vain am I terrified by those things,
and envious winter fights that you may come the less.
wretched me!

quanto planguntur litora fluctu,
     et latet obscura condita nube dies!
forsitan ad pontum mater pia venerit Helles
     mersaque roratis nata fleatur aquis;
an mare ab inviso privignae nomine dictum
     vexat in aequoream versa noverca deam?
non favet, ut nunc est, teneris locus iste puellis;
     hac Helle periit, hac ego laedor aqua.

how much the shores are beaten by the billow,
     and the day lies hidden, buried in a dark cloud!
perhaps to the sea the dutiful mother of Helle has come,
     and the daughter, submerged, is wept for in the dew-sprinkled waters;
or does the stepmother, turned into a sea-goddess, vex the sea
     named from the detested stepdaughter’s name?
as it is now, that place does not favor tender girls;
     by this water Helle perished, by this water I am hurt.

at tibi flammarum memori, Neptune, tuarum
     nullus erat ventis impediendus amor:
si neque Amymone nec, laudatissima forma,
     criminis est Tyro fabula vana tui,
lucidaque Alcyone Calyceque Hecataeone nata,
     et nondum nexis angue Medusa comis
flavaque Laudice caeloque recepta Celaeno
     et quarum memini nomina lecta mihi.
has certe pluresque canunt, Neptune, poetae
     molle latus lateri conposuisse tuo.
cur igitur, totiens vires expertus amoris,
     adsuetum nobis turbine claudis iter?

but for you, Neptune, mindful of your own flames,
     there was no love to be impeded by winds:
if neither Amymone nor Tyro—most lauded in form—
     is a vain fable of your crime,
and bright Alcyone and Calyce, daughter of Hecataeus,
     and Medusa with her hair not yet entwined with serpent,
and flaxen-haired Laudice and Celaeno received into the sky,
     and those whose names I recall as read by me.
These, surely, and more the poets sing, Neptune, to have joined
     their soft flank to your flank.
Why then, so often experienced in the forces of love,
     do you close for us our accustomed route with a whirlwind?

parce, ferox, latoque mari tua proelia misce;
     seducit terras haec brevis unda duas.
te decet aut magnas magnum iactare carinas
     aut etiam totis classibus esse trucem;
turpe deo pelagi iuvenem terrere natantem
     gloriaque est stagno quolibet ista minor.
nobilis ille quidem est et clarus origine, sed non
     a tibi suspecto ducit Ulixe genus.

Spare us, ferocious one, and mingle your battles on the broad sea;
     this brief wave separates two lands.
It befits you, great as you are, either to toss great keels,
     or even to be truculent against whole fleets;
it is disgraceful for the god of the sea to terrify a youth swimming,
     and such glory is smaller than in any stagnant pool.
He indeed is noble and illustrious by origin, but not
     does he draw his lineage from Ulysses, suspect to you.

da veniam servaque duos. natat ille; sed isdem
corpus Leandri, spes mea pendet aquis.
sternuit etn lumen—posito nam scribimus illo—
sternuit et nobis prospera signa dedit.

grant pardon and preserve two. he swims; but on these same
waters leander’s body—my hope—depends.
the lamp too sneezed—for we are writing with it set down—
it sneezed and gave us favorable signs.

ecce, merum nutrix faustos instillat in ignes
     'cras' que 'erimus plures' inquit et ipsa bibit.
effice nos plures evicta per aequora lapsus,
     o penitus toto corde recepte mihi!
in tua castra redi, socii desertor amoris;
     ponuntur medio cur mea membra toro?

look, the nurse instills neat wine into the auspicious fires
     and says, 'tomorrow,' and 'we shall be more,' and she herself drinks.
make us more, you, having glided through the conquered waters,
     O you received by me deep within my whole heart!
return to your camp, deserter of allied love;
     why are my limbs set in the middle of the bed?

quod timeas, non est! auso Venus ipsa favebit
sternet et aequoreas aequore nata vias.
ire libet medias ipsi mihi saepe per undas,
sed solet hoc maribus tutius esse fretum.

there is nothing for you to fear! Venus herself will favor the one who dares
and, born from the sea, will level the sea-ways.
I myself often wish to go straight through the midst of the waves,
but this strait is wont to be safer for males.

nam cur hac vectis Phrixo Phrixique sorore
     sola dedit vastis femina nomen aquis?
forsitan ad reditum metuas ne tempora desint,
     aut gemini nequeas ferre laboris onus.
at nos diversi medium coeamus in aequor
     obviaque in summis oscula demus aquis
atque ita quisque suas iterum redeamus ad urbes;
     exiguum sed plus quam nihil illud erit.

for why, when by this Phrixus and Phrixus’s sister were borne,
     did a woman alone give a name to the vast waters?
perhaps you fear that time may be lacking for the return,
     or that you cannot bear the burden of a twin labor.
but let us, coming from different sides, meet in the middle of the level sea
     and give meeting kisses upon the surface waters,
and thus let each of us again return to our own cities;
     a small thing, but more than nothing will that be.

vel pudor hic utinam, qui nos clam cogit amare,
vel timidus famae cedere vellet amor!
nunc male res iunctae, calor et reverentia pugnant.
quid sequar, in dubio est; haec decet, ille iuvat.

Would that either this modesty, which compels us to love in secret,
or love, timid of fame, were willing to yield!
Now, ill-joined, heat and reverence are at war.
What I should follow is in doubt; this befits, that delights.

ut semel intravit Colchos Pagasaeus Iason,
     impositam celeri Phasida puppe tulit;
ut semel Idaeus Lacedaemona venit adulter,
     cum praeda rediit protinus ille sua.
tu quam saepe petis quod amas, tam saepe relinquis,
     et quotiens grave sit puppibus ire, natas.
sic tamen, o iuvenis, tumidarum victor aquarum,
     sic facito spernas, ut vereare, fretum.

as soon as the Pagasaean Jason entered Colchis,
     he bore the Phasian maiden, set upon the swift ship;
as soon as the Idaean adulterer came to Lacedaemon,
     he straightway returned with his own prey.
you, as often as you seek what you love, so often you leave it,
     and whenever it is burdensome for ships to go, you swim.
yet thus, o youth, conqueror of the swollen waters,
     do thus: despise the strait, yet fear it.

arte laboratae merguntur ab aequore naves;
tu tua plus remis bracchia posse putas?
quod cupis, hoc nautae metuunt, Leandre, natare;
exitus hic fractis puppibus esse solet.
me miseram!

ships wrought by art are sunk beneath the sea;
do you think your arms can do more than oars?
what you desire, Leander—to swim—this sailors fear;
this outcome is wont to be with shattered sterns.
wretched me!

cupio non persuadere quod hortor
     sisque, precor, monitis fortior ipse meis;
dummodo pervenias excussaque saepe per undas
     inicias umeris bracchia lassa meis.
sed mihi, caeruleas quotiens obvertor ad undas,
     nescio quid pavidum frigore pectus habet.
nec minus hesternae confundor imagine noctis,
     quamvis est sacris illa piata meis.

I desire not to persuade you of what I urge
     and be, I pray, yourself stronger than my monitions;
so long as you arrive, and, your arms often shaken through the waves,
     you cast your weary arms upon my shoulders.
but for me, as often as I turn toward the cerulean waves,
     my breast has, I know not what, a fearfulness from the cold.
nor am I less confounded by the image of last night,
     although that has been propitiated by my sacred rites.

namque sub aurora iam dormitante lucerna
     somnia quo cerni tempore vera solent,
stamina de digitis cecidere sopore remissis
     collaque pulvino nostra ferenda dedi.
hic ego ventosas nantem delphina per undas
     cernere non dubia sum mihi visa fide:
quem postquam bibulis illisit fluctus harenis,
     unda simul miserum vitaque deseruit.
quidquid id est, timeo; nec tu mea somnia ride
     nec nisi tranquillo bracchia crede mari.

for indeed under dawn, with the lamp now dozing,
     at the time when dreams are wont to be seen true,
the threads fell from my fingers, relaxed by sleep,
     and I gave my neck to the pillow to be borne.
here I seemed to myself to discern a dolphin swimming through the windy waves
     with no doubtful faith:
whom, after a wave dashed him against the bibulous sands,
     the wave at once deserted, and life deserted the wretch as well.
whatever it is, I fear; nor you laugh at my dreams,
     nor trust your arms save to a tranquil sea.

si tibi non parcis, dilectae parce puellae,
     quae numquam nisi te sospite sospes ero.
spes tamen est fractis vicinae pacis in undis;
     tu placidas toto pectore finde vias.
interea, quoniam nanti freta pervia non sunt,
     leniat invisas littera missa moras.

If you do not spare yourself, spare the beloved girl,
     who will never be safe unless you are safe.
Yet there is hope of neighboring peace in the broken waves;
     do you cleave placid ways with your whole heart.
Meanwhile, since for the swimmer the straits are not pervious,
     let a letter sent soothe the hateful delays.