Ovid: HEROIDES

Littera pervenit tua quo consuevit, Aconti
     et paene est oculis insidiata meis.
Pertimui scriptumque tuum sine murmure legi,
     iuraret ne quos inscia lingua deos.
et, puto, captasses iterum, nisi ut ipse fateris,
     promissam scires me satis esse semel.

Your letter reached the place to which it is accustomed, Acontius,
     and it almost laid an ambush for my eyes.
I grew afraid and read your script without a murmur,
     lest my unknowing tongue should swear some gods.
And, I think, you would have caught me again, unless, as you yourself confess,
     you knew that me, once promised, is enough once.

nec lectura fui, sed si tibi dura fuissem,
     aucta foret saevae forsitan ira deae.
omnia cum faciam, cum dem pia tura Dianae,
     illa tamen iusta plus tibi parte favet
utque cupis credi, memori te vindicat ira:
     talis in Hippolyto vix fuit illa suo.
at melius virgo favisset virginis annis,
     quos vereor paucos ne velit esse mihi.

nor was I about to read, but if I had been hard to you,
     perhaps the savage goddess’s ire would have been augmented.
although I do everything, although I give pious incense to Diana,
     she nevertheless favors you with more than a just share
and, as you desire to be believed, a mindful wrath vindicates you:
     such scarcely was she toward her own Hippolytus.
but the maiden would have more fittingly favored the years of a maiden,
     which I fear she may wish to be few for me.

languor enim causis non apparentibus haeret,
     adiuvor et nulla fessa medentis ope.
quam tibi nunc gracilem vix haec rescribere quamque
     pallida vix cubito membra levare putas?
nunc timor accedit, ne quis nisi conscia nutrix
     colloquii nobis sentiat esse vices.

for languor clings, with causes not apparent,
     and I am aided by no weary aid of the healer.
how slender do you now suppose me, whom these things scarcely
     allow to write this back to you, and how pallid to scarcely lift my limbs with my elbow?
now fear is added, lest anyone save the conscious nurse
     sense that there are turns of colloquy for us.

ante fores sedet haec quid agamque rogantibus intus,
     ut possim tuto scribere, 'dormit' ait.
mox, ubi, secreti longi causa optima, somnus
     credibilis tarda desinit esse mora,
iamque venire videt quos non admittere durum est,
     excreat et dicta dat mihi signa nota.
sicut erant, properans verba inperfecta relinquo,
     et tegitur trepido littera coepta sinu.

before the doors she sits, and to those inside asking what I am doing,
     that I may be able to write safely, she says, 'she is sleeping.'
soon, when sleep, the best cause for a long secrecy,
     ceases to be a believable delay by its slowness,
and now when she sees people coming whom it is hard not to admit,
     she clears her throat and gives me the well-known signs agreed by words.
just as they were, hurrying I leave the words unfinished,
     and the letter begun is hidden in a trembling bosom.

inde meos digitos iterum repetita fatigat;
quantus sit nobis adspicis ipse labor.
quo peream si dignus eras, ut vera loquamur;
sed melior iusto quamque mereris ego.

then, repeated again, it wearies my fingers;
you yourself behold how great the labor is for us.
by which—may I perish—if you were worthy, to speak true;
but I am better than what is just and than you merit.

ergo te propter totiens incerta salutis
     commentis poenas doque dedique tuis?
haec nobis formae te laudatore superbae
     contingit merces et placuisse nocet?
si tibi deformis, quod mallem, visa fuissem,
     culpatum nulla corpus egeret ope;
nunc laudata gemo, nunc me certamine vestro
     perditis et proprio vulneror ipsa bono.

therefore, on your account, so often amid uncertainties of safety,
     do I pay, and have paid, penalties for your contrivances?
is this the wage that befalls me for my proud beauty,
     with you as laudator, and does it hurt to have pleased?
if I had seemed to you deformed—which I would prefer—
     my body, being culpable, would need no aid;
now, praised, I groan; now by your contest
     you bring me to ruin, and I am wounded by my own good.

dum neque tu cedis, nec se putat ille secundum,
     tu votis obstas illius, ille tuis,
ipsa velut navis iactor, quam certus in altum
     propellit Boreas, aestus et unda refert.
cumque dies caris optata parentibus instat,
     immodicus pariter corporis ardor inest.
nunc mihi coniugii tempus crudelis ad ipsum
     Persephone nostras pulsat acerba fores.

while neither you yield, nor does he think himself second,
     you stand in the way of his vows, he of yours,
I myself am tossed like a ship, which sure Boreas drives
     out into the deep, and the tide and the wave carry back.
and when the day desired by my dear parents presses on,
     there is likewise an immoderate ardor of the body.
now, at the very time of marriage, cruel Persephone
     bitterly beats upon our doors.

iam pudet et timeo, quamvis mihi conscia non sim,
     offensos videar ne meruisse deos.
accidere haec aliquis casu contendit, et alter
     acceptum superis hunc negat esse virum;
neve nihil credas in te quoque dicere famam,
     facta veneficiis pars putat ista tuis.
causa latet, mala nostra patent; vos pace movetis
     aspera submota proelia, plector ego.

now I am ashamed and I fear, though I am not conscious to myself of guilt,
     lest I seem to have merited the gods offended.
someone contends these things occur by chance, and another
     denies that this man is accepted by the gods above;
and lest you believe that report says nothing against you as well,
     a part thinks those deeds have been wrought by your poisonings.
the cause lies hidden, our evils are patent; you, with peace removed, set in motion
     harsh battles; I am punished.

dic mihi nunc, solitoque tibi ne decipe more;
     quid facies odio, sic ubi amore noces?
si laedis quod amas, hostem sapienter amabis;
     me, precor, ut serves, perdere velle velis!
aut tibi iam nulla est speratae cura puellae,
     quam ferus indigna tabe perire sinis,
aut dea si frustra pro me tibi saeva rogatur,
     quid mihi te iactas?

tell me now, and do not deceive me by your customary manner of yours;
     what will you do in hatred, when thus you harm by love?
if you wound what you love, you will wisely love an enemy;
     me, I pray, in order that you may save, be willing to will to destroy!
either now you have no care for the hoped-for girl,
     whom, fierce one, you allow to perish with unworthy consumption,
or if the savage goddess is asked by you in vain on my behalf,
     why do you vaunt yourself to me?

gratia nulla tua est.
elige, quid fingas: non vis placare Dianam.
immemor es nostri; non potes—illa tui est.

no favor is yours.
choose what you will feign: you do not wish to placate Diana.
you are unmindful of me; you cannot—that is your office.

vel numquam mallem vel non mihi tempore in illo
esset in Aegaeis cognita Delos aquis.
tunc mea difficili deducta est aequore navis
et fuit ad coeptas hora sinistra vias.
quo pede processi?

I would rather either never, or not for me at that time,
had Delos been known in the Aegean waters.
Then my ship was launched on a difficult sea
and the hour was sinister for the ways undertaken.
With what foot did I advance?

quo me pede limine movi?
picta citae tetigi quo pede texta ratis?
bis tamen adverso redierunt carbasa vento:
mentior, a demens!

with which foot did I move from the threshold?
with which foot did I touch the woven textiles of the painted swift raft?
twice, however, the canvas returned with an adverse wind:
I lie—ah, madman!

ille secundus erat.
ille secundus erat qui me referebat euntem
quique parum felix impediebat iter.
atque utinam constans contra mea vela fuisset!

that was a favorable wind.
that was a favorable wind which was bearing me back as I was going
and which, not very propitious, was impeding the journey.
and would that it had been constant against my sails!

     sed stultum est venti de levitate queri.
mota loci fama properabam visere Delon
     et facere ignava puppe videbar iter.
quam saepe ut tardis feci convicia remis
     questaque sum vento lintea parca dari.

     but it is foolish to complain about the wind’s levity.
moved by the fame of the place I was hastening to visit Delos
     and I seemed to be making the journey on an idle ship.
how often I hurled invective at the slow oars
     and I complained that scant linen-sails were being given to the wind.

et iam transieram Myconon, iam Tenon et Andron,
     inque meis oculis candida Delos erat;
quam procul ut vidi, 'quid me fugis, insula' dixi
     'laberis in magno numquid ut ante mari?'
institeram terrae, cum iam prope luce peracta
     demere purpureis sol iuga vellet equis.
quos idem solitos postquam revocavit ad ortus,
     comuntur nostrae matre iubente comae.
ipsa dedit gemmas digitis et crinibus aurum
     et vestes umeris induit ipsa meis.

and now I had passed Myconos, now Tenos and Andros,
     and bright-white Delos was within my eyes;
when I saw her from afar, I said, 'why do you flee me, island—
     do you slip upon the great sea perhaps as before?'
I had set foot on the land, when, with the light now nearly accomplished,
     the Sun wished to remove the yokes from his purple horses.
after the same one recalled them, accustomed to their risings, to the East,
     our locks are combed at our mother’s bidding.
she herself gave gems to my fingers and gold to my hair,
     and she herself put garments upon my shoulders.

protinus egressae superis, quibus insula sacra est,
     flava salutatis tura merumque damus;
dumque parens aras votivo sanguine tingit
     sectaque fumosis ingerit exta focis,
sedula me nutrix altas quoque ducit in aedes
     erramusque vago per loca sacra pede;
et modo porticibus spatior modo munera regum
     miror et in cunctis stantia signa locis.
miror et innumeris structam de cornibus aram
     et de qua pariens arbore nixa dea est
et quae praeterea—neque enim meminive libetve
     quidquid ibi vidi dicere—Delos habet.
forsitan haec spectans a te spectabar, Aconti,
     visaque simplicitas est mea posse capi.

straightway, having disembarked, to the gods above, to whom the island is sacred,
     having greeted them, we give golden incense and unmixed wine;
and while my mother stains the altars with votive blood
     and thrusts the cut entrails into the smoky hearths,
my diligent nurse also leads me into the lofty halls,
     and we wander with a roving foot through the sacred places;
and now I stroll through the porticoes, now I marvel at the gifts of kings,
     and at the statues standing in all the places.
I marvel too at the altar built from numberless horns,
     and at the tree on which the goddess, in labor, is leaning,
and at whatever else— for I neither remember nor do I care
     to tell whatever I saw there—Delos holds.
perhaps, as I was looking at these things, I was being looked at by you, Acontius,
     and my simplicity, once seen, seemed able to be ensnared.

in templum redeo gradibus sublime Dianae—
tutior hoc ecquis debuit esse locus?
mittitur ante pedes malum cum carmine tali—
ei mihi! iuravi nunc quoque paene tibi!

I return into the temple, high on Diana’s steps—
should any place have been safer than this?
an apple is sent before my feet with such a charm—
alas for me! even now I almost swore to you!

sustulit hoc nutrix mirataque 'perlege' dixit.
     insidias legi, magne poeta, tuas.
nomine coniugii dicto confusa pudore,
     sensi me totis erubuisse genis,
luminaque in gremio veluti defixa tenebam,
     lumina propositi facta ministra tui.

my nurse picked this up and, amazed, said, 'Read it through.'
     I read your snares, great poet.
at the name of marriage spoken, confused with modesty,
     I felt that I had blushed with all my cheeks,
and I kept my eyes, as if fastened, down in my lap,
     my eyes made the minister of your design.

improbe, quid gaudes aut quae tibi gloria parta est?
     quidve vir elusa virgine laudis habes?
non ego constiteram sumpta peltata securi,
     qualis in Iliaco Penthesilea solo;
nullus Amazonio caelatus balteus auro,
     sicut ab Hippolyta, praeda relata tibi est.

Wicked man, why do you rejoice, or what glory has been gained for you?
     Or what praise, as a man, do you have from a maiden tricked?
I had not taken my stand, pelta and axe taken up,
     such as Penthesilea on Ilian soil;
no belt chased with Amazonian gold,
     as from Hippolyta, has been brought back to you as booty.

verba quid exultas tua si mihi verba dederunt
     sumque parum prudens capta puella dolis?
Cydippen pomum, pomum Schoeneida cepit;
     tu nunc Hippomenes scilicet alter eris?
at fuerat melius, si te puer iste tenebat,
     quem tu nescio quas dicis habere faces,
more bonis solito spem non corrumpere fraude;
     exoranda tibi, non capienda fui.

why do you exult in your words, if words have tricked me,
     and I, a girl too little prudent, was captured by your wiles?
an apple took Cydippe, an apple took the daughter of Schoeneus;
     are you now, forsooth, to be another Hippomenes?
but it would have been better, if that boy were holding you,
     whom you say has I‑know‑not‑what torches,
not, in the custom usual to good men, to corrupt hope by fraud;
     I ought to have been won by entreaty, not taken by force.

cur, me cum peteres, ea non profitenda putabas,
     propter quae nobis ipse petendus eras?
cogere cur potius quam persuadere volebas,
     si poteram audita condicione capi?
quid tibi nunc prodest iurandi formula iuris
     linguaque praesentem testificata deam?

why, when you were seeking me, did you think those things should not be professed,
     because of which you yourself ought to have been sought by me?
why did you wish rather to coerce than to persuade,
     if I could be won upon hearing the terms?
what now does the juridical formula of swearing profit you,
     and a tongue that attested the goddess as present?

quae iurat mens est. nil coniuravimus illa;
illa fidem dictis addere sola potest.
consilium prudensque animi sententia iurat
et nisi iudicii vincula nulla valent.

It is the mind that swears. We swore nothing with her;
she alone can add faith to words.
Counsel and the prudent judgment of the spirit is what swears,
and unless the bonds of judgment exist, no bonds avail.

si tibi coniugium volui promittere nostrum,
     exige polliciti debita iura tori.
sed si nil dedimus praeter sine pectore vocem,
     verba suis frustra viribus orba tenes.
non ego iuravi, legi iurantia verba;
     vir mihi non isto more legendus eras.

if I wished to promise to you our conjugal union,
     exact the due rights of the promised marriage-bed.
but if we gave nothing except a voice without heart,
     you hold words, bereft of their own force, in vain.
i did not swear; i read words that swear;
     a husband was not to be chosen for me in that manner.

decipe sic alias, succedat epistula pomo;
     si valet hoc magnas ditibus aufer opes;
fac iurent reges sua se tibi regna daturos
     sitque tuum toto quidquid in orbe placet!
maior es hoc ipsa multo, mihi crede, Diana,
     si tua tam praesens littera numen habet.
cum tamen haec dixi, cum me tibi firma negavi,
     cum bene promissi causa peracta mei est,
confiteor, timeo saevae Latoidos iram
     et corpus laedi suspicor inde meum.

deceive thus others; let the epistle succeed the apple;
     if this has power, carry off great wealth from the rich;
make kings swear that they will give you their kingdoms,
     and let whatever in the whole orb pleases be yours!
you are much greater than Diana herself by this, believe me,
     if your letter bears such present numen.
yet when I have said these things, when I have steadfastly denied myself to you,
     when the cause of my promise has been well accomplished,
I confess, I fear the wrath of the savage Letoid,
     and I suspect that from that my body will be injured.

nam quare, quotiens socialia sacra parantur,
     nupturae totiens languida membra cadunt?
ter mihi iam veniens positas Hymenaeus ad aras
     fugit, et a thalami limine terga dedit
vixque manu pigra totiens infusa resurgunt
     lumina, vix moto corripit igne faces.
saepe coronatis stillant unguenta capillis
     et trahitur multo splendida palla croco.

for why, whenever the wedding rites are prepared,
     do the languid limbs of the bride-to-be so often collapse?
thrice now Hymenaeus, coming to the set altars,
     has fled, and turned his back from the threshold of the bridal chamber;
and scarcely do my eyes, so often steeped, rise with a sluggish hand,
     scarcely, when the fire is stirred, does he seize the torches.
often unguents drip from my garlanded hair,
     and a splendid palla is drawn along, rich with much saffron.

cum tetigit limen, lacrimas mortisque timorem
     cernit et a cultu multa remota suo,
proicit ipse sua deductas fronte coronas
     spissaque de nitidis tergit amoma comis;
et pudet in tristi laetum consurgere turba,
     quique erat in palla, transit in ora rubor.
at mihi, vae miserae! torrentur febribus artus
     et gravius iusto pallia pondus habent.

when he touched the threshold, he perceives tears and fear of death
     and many things removed from his accustomed adornment,
he himself throws down his garlands drawn down over his brow
     and wipes the thick amomum from his shining hair;
and it shames the joyful crowd to rise in sadness,
     and the blush which was in the mantle passes into their faces.
but for me—woe, wretched!—my limbs are parched with fevers
     and the cloaks have a weight heavier than is just.

nostraque plorantes video super ora parentes
     et face pro thalami fax mihi mortis adest.
parce laboranti, picta dea laeta pharetra,
     daque salutiferam iam mihi fratris opem.
turpe tibi est, illum causas depellere leti,
     te contra titulum mortis habere meae.

and I see my parents weeping over my face
     and, instead of the torch of the bridal chamber, the torch of death is at hand for me.
spare one struggling, goddess glad with painted quiver,
     and grant me now the health-bringing help of your brother.
it is shameful for you that he should drive away the causes of death,
     while you, on the contrary, bear the title of my death.

numquid, in umbroso cum velles fonte lavari,
     imprudens vultus ad tua labra tuli?
praeteriive tuas de tot caelestibus aras,
     ave mea spreta est vestra parente parens?
nil ego peccavi, nisi quod periuria legi
     inque parum fausto carmine docta fui.

Was it perhaps, when you wished to bathe in a shady spring,
     unwitting, that I brought my face to your lips?
Or did I pass by your altars among so many of the celestials,
     or has my parent been spurned by your parent?
I have done nothing wrong, except that I read perjuries
     and I was schooled in a not very auspicious song.

tu quoque pro nobis, si non mentiris amorem,
     tura feras; prosint quae nocuere manus!
cur, qui succenses quod adhuc tibi pacta puella
     non tua sit, fieri ne tua possit, agis?
omnia de viva tibi sunt speranda; quid aufert
     saeva mihi vitam, spem tibi diva mei?

you also on our behalf, if you do not falsify your love,
     bring incense; may the hands which harmed be of use!
why do you, who are incensed that the girl pledged to you
     is not yet yours, act so that she may not be able to become yours?
everything from one alive is to be hoped by you; what does
     the goddess, cruel to me, take away?—my life, and for you the hope of me.

nec tu credideris illum, cui destinor uxor,
     aegra superposita membra fovere manu.
adsidet ille quidem, quantum permittitur ipsi;
     sed meminit nostrum virginis esse torum.
iam quoque nescio quid de se sensisse videtur;
     nam lacrimae causa saepe latente cadunt,
et minus audacter blanditur et oscula rara
     applicat et timido me vocat ore suam.

nor should you believe that he, to whom I am destined as a wife,
     warms my ailing limbs with a hand laid upon them.
he indeed sits beside me, as much as is permitted to him;
     but he remembers that our couch is a virgin’s.
even now too he seems to have sensed I know not what about himself;
     for tears often fall with the cause hidden,
and he coaxes less audaciously and applies rare kisses,
     and with a timid mouth he calls me his.

nec miror sensisse, notis cum prodar apertis;
     in dextrum vertor, cum venit ille, latus
nec loquor, et tecto simulatur lumine somnus
     captantem tactus reicioque manum.
ingemit et tacito suspirat pectore, me quod
     offensam, quamvis non mereatur, habet.
ei mihi, quod gaudes et te iuvat ista voluntas!

nor do I marvel that he has sensed it, since I am betrayed by open signs;
     I turn to the right side when that man comes;
nor do I speak, and sleep is simulated with the light covered,
     and I reject his hand as it grasps at touches.
he groans and from a silent breast he sighs, because
     he has me offended, although he does not deserve it.
ah me, that you rejoice, and that will of yours delights you!

     ei mihi, quod sensus sum tibi fassa meos!
tu mihi siqua foret, tu nostra iustius ira,
     qui mihi tendebas retia, dignus eras.
scribis, ut invalidum liceat tibi visere corpus:
     es procul a nobis, et tamen inde noces.

     alas for me, that I have confessed my feelings to you!
if I had any anger against you, you would more justly be the object of our wrath,
     you who were setting nets for me, were deserving.
you write that it may be permitted for you to visit my invalid body:
     you are far from us, and yet even from there you harm.

mirabar quare tibi nomen Acontius esset;
quod faciat longe vulnus, acumen habes.
certe ego convalui nondum de vulnere tali,
ut iaculo scriptis eminus icta tuis.
quid tamen huc venias?

I was marveling why your name was Acontius;
you have an acumen that makes a wound from far off.
surely I have not yet convalesced from such a wound,
as if struck at a distance by the javelin of your writings.
yet why do you come here?

sane miserabile corpus,
ingenii videas magna tropaea tui!
concidimus macie; color est sine sanguine, qualem
in pomo refero mente fuisse tuo.
candida nec mixto sublucent ora rubore.

surely a pitiable body,
you may behold the great trophies of your ingenuity!
I am laid low by emaciation; my color is without blood, such as
I recall in my mind to have been in your apple.
nor do my fair cheeks gleam with mingled blush.

     forma novi talis marmoris esse solet;
argenti color est inter convivia talis,
     quod tactum gelidae frigore pallet aquae.
si me nunc videas, visam prius esse negabis;
     'arte nec est' dices 'ista petita mea.'
promissique fidem, ne sim tibi iuncta, remittes
     et cupies illud non meminisse deam.
forsitan et facies iurem ut contraria rursus,
     quaeque legam mittes altera verba mihi.

     the form of new marble is usually such;
the color of silver among banquets is such,
     which, when touched by the chill of icy water, grows pallid.
if you were to see me now, you would deny that you had seen me before;
     'nor was that sought by my art,' you will say.
and you will remit the good faith of the promise, so that I not be joined to you,
     and you will wish that the goddess not remember that thing.
perhaps too you will make me swear the contrary again,
     and you will send other words for me to read.

sed tamen adspiceres vellem prout ipse rogabas,
     et discas sponsae languida membra tuae!
durius ut ferro iam sit tibi pectus, Aconti,
     tu veniam nostris vocibus ipse petas.
ne tamen ignores: ope qua revalescere possim,
     quaeritur a Delphis fata canente deo.

but yet I would that you look, as you yourself were asking,
     and learn the languid limbs of your betrothed!
even if now your breast is harder than iron, Acontius,
     you yourself would seek pardon for my words.
lest, however, you be unaware: by what help I might grow strong again,
     it is being sought at Delphi from the god who sings the fates.

is quoque nescio quam, nunc ut vaga fama susurrat,
neglectam queritur testis habere fidem.
hoc deus, hoc vates, hoc edita carmina dicunt:
a, desunt voto numina nulla tuo!
unde tibi favor hic?

he too, I know not how, as roving rumor now whispers,
complains that the witness’s credence is neglected.
this the god says, this the vates says, this the published songs declare:
ah, no numina are lacking to your vow!
whence comes this favor to you?

nisi si nova forte reperta est,
     quae capiat magnos littera lecta deos.
teque tenente deos numen sequor ipsa deorum
     doque libens victas in tua vota manus;
fassaque sum matri deceptae foedera linguae
     lumina fixa tenens plena pudoris humo.
cetera cura tua est plus hoc quoque virgine factum;
     non timuit tecum quod mea charta loqui.

unless perhaps some new thing has by chance been discovered,
     a letter, once read, that takes captive the mighty gods.
and with you holding the gods, I myself follow the numen of the gods,
     and gladly I give, conquered, my hands into your vows;
and I have confessed to my deceived mother the pacts of my tongue,
     holding my eyes fixed on the soil, full of modesty.
the rest is your care; even this has been more than maidenly—
     my page did not fear to speak with you what it spoke.

iam satis invalidos calamo lassavimus artus;
et manus officium longius aegra negat.
quid nisi, si cupio mihi iam contingere tecum,
restat, ut adscribat littera nostra "Vale!"

by now we have wearied enough my feeble limbs with the pen;
and my ailing hand refuses its duty any longer.
what remains, unless, if I now desire to come to be with you,
it remains that our letter append "Farewell!"