Tibullus: TIBVLLI ALIORVMQUE CARMINVM LIBRI TRES

Quisquis adest, faueat: fruges lustramus et agros,
    ritus ut a prisco traditus extat auo.
Bacche, ueni, dulcisque tuis e cornibus uua
    pendeat, et spicis tempora cinge, Ceres.
luce sacra requiescat humus, requiescat arator,
    et graue suspenso uomere cesset opus.

Whosoever is present, favor us: we lustrate the fruits and fields,
    that the rite handed down from the ancient grandfather may stand.
Bacchus, come, and may a grape hang from thy sweet horns
    and, Ceres, gird the temples with ears of grain.
Let the sacred earth rest in holy light, let the ploughman rest,
    and let the heavy work cease with the plough suspended.

soluite uincla iugis: nunc ad praesepia debent
    plena coronato stare boues capite.
omnia sint operata deo: non audeat ulla
    lanificam pensis imposuisse manum.
uos quoque abesse procul iubeo, discedat ab aris,
    cui tulit hesterna gaudia nocte Venus.

Loosen the bonds of the yokes: now to the mangers the oxen ought to go,
    full, to stand with crowned head.
Let all be wrought for the god: let no wool-spinner dare
    to lay her hand upon the spinning-tasks.
I also bid you be far away, let her depart from the altars,
    to whom Venus brought yesterday-night’s joys.

casta placent superis: pura cum ueste uenite
    et manibus puris sumite fontis aquam.
cernite, fulgentes ut eat sacer agnus ad aras
    uinctaque post olea candida turba comas.
di patrii, purgarnus agros, purgamus agrestes:
    uos mala de nostris pellite limitibus,
neu seges eludat messem fallacibus herbis,
    neu timeat celeres tardior agna lupos.

Chaste things please the gods above: come with a pure garment
    and with pure hands take the water of the spring.
behold, that the shining sacred lamb may go to the altars
    and that a white throng bind its hair behind the olive.
ancestral gods, we cleanse the fields, we cleanse the countryside:
    drive evils from our boundaries,
lest the crop mock the harvest with deceitful herbs,
    nor let the slower lamb fear the swift wolves.

tunc nitidus plenis confisus rusticus agris
    ingeret ardenti grandia ligna foco,
turbaque uernarum, saturi bona signa coloni,
    ludet et ex uirgis extruet ante casas.
euentura precor: uiden ut felicibus extis
    significet placidos nuntia fibra deos?
nunc mihi fumosos ueteris proferte Falernos
    consulis et Chio soluite uincla cado.

then the prosperous rustic, trusting in his full fields
    would heap great logs on the blazing hearth,
and the throng of spring-servants, the sated tillers bearing good omens,
    will sport and from twigs erect before the huts.
I pray for what is to come: do you see how the auspicious entrails,
    the messenger fibers, proclaim the gods to be placid?
Now bring me smoky old Falernian of the consul,
    and unloose the bonds from the Chian cask.

uina diem celebrent: non festa luce madere
    est rubor, errantes et male ferre pedes.
sed 'bene Messallam' sua quisque ad pocula dicat,
    nomen et absentis singula uerba sonent.
gentis Aquitanae celeber Messalla triumphis
    et magna intonsis gloria uictor auis,
huc ades aspiraque mihi, dum carmine nostro
    redditur agricolis gratia caelitibus.

wines celebrate the day: there is no shame in being soaked in festival light,
    in wandering and in bearing unsteady feet.
but let each, to his cups, say "bene Messallam,"
    and let the name and every word of the absent one resound.
Messalla, famed among the Aquitan people in triumphs
    and victorious ancestor, with great glory to the unshorn,
come here and breathe upon me, while by our song
    favor is restored to the farmers from the heavens.

rura cano rurisque deos. his uita magistris
    desueuit querna pellere glande famem:
illi compositis primum docuere tigillis
    exiguam uiridi fronde operire domum:
illi etiam tauros primi docuisse feruntur
    seruitium et plaustro supposuisse rotam.
tum uictus abiere feri, tum consita pomus,
    tum bibit inriguas fertilis hortus aquas,
aurea tum pressos pedibus dedit uua liquores
    mixtaque securo est sobria lympha mero.

rura cano rurisque deos. his vita magistris
    desueuit querna pellere glande famem:
illi compositis primum docuere tigillis
    exiguam viridi fronde operire domum:
illi etiam tauros primi docuisse feruntur
    servitium et plaustro supposuisse rotam.
tum victus abiere feri, tum consita pomus,
    tum bibit inriguas fertilis hortus aquas,
aurea tum pressos pedibus dedit uva liquores
    mixtaque securo est sobria lympha mero.

I sing the fields and the countryside gods. To these life taught the masters
    to drive off hunger at the quern with acorns:
they, having set up little beams, first taught
    to cover a modest house with green boughs:
they are also said to have first taught oxen
    to do service and to set a wheel beneath the cart.
then the wild beasts withdrew from the crops, then the planted orchard,
    then the fertile garden drinks its irrigating waters,
then the golden grape yielded juices pressed by the feet
    and sober water is mixed with carefree wine.

rura ferunt messes, calidi cum sideris aestu
    deponit flauas annua terra comas.
rure leuis uerno flores apis ingerit alueo,
    compleat ut dulci sedula melle fauos.
agricola adsiduo primum satiatus aratro
    cantauit certo rustica uerba pede
et satur arenti primum est modulatus auena
    carmen, ut ornatos diceret ante deos,
agricola et minio suffusus, Bacche, rubenti
    primus inexperta duxit ab arte choros.

the fields yield harvests, when with the hot fervor of the sky
    the annual earth lays down her golden locks.
from the countryside, in light spring, the bee brings flowers into her hollow,
    that she may fill the combs with diligent sweet honey.
the farmer, first sated by the unremitting plough,
    sang rustic words with steady foot,
and, full from the parching reed, first measured forth a song,
    that he might proclaim it before the adorned gods,
the farmer, smeared with red minium, O Bacchus, bright,
    first, unskilled in the art, led forth the choruses.

huic datus a pleno memorabile munus ouili
    dux pecoris curtas auxerat hircus opes.
rure puer uerno primum de flore coronam
    fecit et antiquis imposuit Laribus.
rure etiam teneris curam exhibitura puellis
    molle gerit tergo lucida uellus ouis.

To him, given from the full sheepfold a memorable gift,
    the leader of the flock, a billy-goat, had increased his meagre wealth.
In the country, in spring at first the boy made a garland from a flower
    and placed it on the ancient Lares. In the countryside likewise, to show care for the tender girls,
    the bright fleece of a sheep, soft, he wears upon his back.

hinc et femineus labor est, hinc pensa colusque,
    fusus et adposito pollice uersat opus:
atque aliqua adsiduae textrix operata mineruae
    cantat, et a pulso tela sonat latere.
ipse quoque inter agros interque armenta Cupido
    natus et indomitas dicitur inter equas.
illic indocto primum se exercuit arcu:
    ei mihi, quam doctas nunc habet ille manus!

From here too is feminine labor, from here the spindles and the distaff,
    the spindle with the thumb applied turns the work;
and some weaver, worked by industrious Minerva,
    sings, and the shuttle sounds from the beaten shuttle-side.
Cupid himself also, born among the fields and among the herds,
    is said to be amid untamed mares.
there he first practised himself on an unskilled bow:
    ah me, how skilled now are his hands!

nec pecudes, uelut ante, petit: fixisse puellas
    gestit et audaces perdomuisse uiros.
hic iuueni detraxit opes, hic dicere iussit
    limen ad iratae uerba pudenda senem:
hoc duce custodes furtim transgressa iacentes
    ad iuuenem tenebris sola puella uenit
et pedibus praetemptat iter suspensa timore,
    explorat caecas cui manus ante uias.
a miseri, quos hic grauiter deus urget!

nor does she seek cattle, as before: she longs to have nailed down girls and to have subdued bold men. here she stripped wealth from a youth, here she ordered an old man to speak shameful words at the threshold to the angry woman: with this guide, the girl, having secretly crossed the sleeping guards, came alone to the youth in the darkness
and with her feet she feels the way, suspended by fear, and tests the blind places where her hand goes before the paths. ah wretches, whom here the god presses hard!

at ille
    felix, cui placidus leniter adflat Amor.
sancte, ueni dapibus festis, sed pone sagittas
    et procul ardentes hinc precor abde faces.
uos celebrem cantate deum pecorique uocate
    uoce: palam pecori, clam sibi quisque uocet.

But he
    happy, to whom gentle Love breathes softly.
Come, holy one, to festive banquets, but lay aside your arrows
    and far from here, I beg, hide the burning torches.
You, celebrate; sing the god and summon the flock with your voice
    — call openly to the flock, and let each secretly call to himself.

aut etiam sibi quisque palam: nam turba iocosa
    obstrepit et Phrygio tibia curua sono.
ludite: iam Nox iungit equos, currumque sequuntur
    matris lasciuo sidera fulua choro,
postque uenit tacitus furuis circumdatus alis
    Somnus et incerto Somnia nigra pede.

or even each openly to himself: for the jocose throng
    roars and the Phrygian pipe with its curved tone.
Play on: now Night harnesses her horses, and the chariot is followed
    by the mother’s tawny stars in a wanton chorus,
and after comes silent Sleep, wrapped about with dusky wings
    and black Dreams with an uncertain foot.

Dicamus bona uerba: uenit Natalis ad aras:
    quisquis ades, lingua, uir mulierque, faue.
urantur pia tura focis, urantur odores
    quos tener e terra diuite mittit Arabs.
ipse suos Clenius adsit uisurus honores,
    cui decorent sanctas mollia serta comas.

Let us say good words: Natalis comes to the altars:
    whoever you are present, tongue, man and woman, favor.
pious incense is burned on the hearths, perfumes are burned
    which the wealthy Arab sends from the tender land.
may Clenius himself be present to see his own honors,
    to whom soft garlands may adorn his sacred hair.

illius puro destillent tempora nardo,
atque satur libo sit madeatque mero,
adnuat et, Cornute, tibi, quodcumque rogabis.
en age (quid cessas? adnuit ille) roga.

may his temples drip with pure nard,
and may he be sated with the libation and soaked with wine,
may he nod assent, and, Cornute, to you, whatever you shall ask.
come now (what do you hesitate? he has nodded) ask.

auguror, uxoris fidos optabis amores:
    iam reor hoc ipsos edidicisse deos.
nec tibi malueris, totum quaecumque per orbem
    fortis arat ualido rusticus arua boue,
nec tibi, gemmarum quidquid felicibus Indis
    nascitur, Eoi qua maris unda rubet.
uota cadunt: utinam strepitantibus aduolet alis
    flauaque coniugio uincula portet Amor,
uincula quae maneant semper dum tarda senectus
    inducat rugas inficiatque comas.

I suppose you will desire a wife's faithful loves:
    now I think the gods themselves have taught this.
nor would it be worse for you, whatever throughout the whole orb
    a hardy rustic ploughs the fields with a vigorous ox,
nor for you, whatever of gems is born in the fortunate Indies
    where the Eastern sea's wave grows red.
vows fall: would that, with rustling wings, Love might fly up
    and bear the golden bonds of marriage,
bonds which may remain always while slow old age
    brings on wrinkles and dyes the hair.

haec ueniat, Natalis, auis prolemque ministret,
ludat et ante tuos turba nouella pedes.

May this come, Natalis, and may a grandmother supply progeny,
and may a new little throng play before your feet.

III

Rura meam, Cornute, tenent uillaeque puellam:
    ferreus est, heu heu, quisquis in urbe manet.
ipsa Venus latos iam nunc migrauit in agros,
    uerbaque aratoris rustica discit Amor.
o ego, cum aspicerem dominam, quam fortiter illic
    uersarem ualido pingue bidente solum
agricolaeque modo curuum sectarer aratrum,
    dum subigunt steriles arua serenda boues!

My farms, Cornute, and the villas hold my girl:
    iron-hearted is he, alas alas, whoever remains in the city.
Venus herself has now migrated into the broad fields,
    and Love learns the rustic words of the ploughman.
O me, when I would behold my mistress, how bravely there
    I turned over the rich soil with a sturdy two-pronged bident,
and at times chased the farmer’s curved plough,
    while oxen subdue the barren fields to be sown!

nec quererer quod sol graciles exureret artus,
    laederet et teneras pussula rupta manus.
pauit et Admeti tauros formosus Apollo,
    nec cithara intonsae profueruntue comae,
nec potuit curas sanare salubribus herbis:
    quidquid erat medicae uicerat artis amor.
ipse deus solitus stabulis expellere uaccas
   . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
et miscere nouo docuisse coagula lacte,
    lacteus et mixtis obriguisse liquor.

nor would I complain that the sun burned my slender limbs,
    and that a broken pussula harmed my tender hands.
and handsome Apollo fed Admetus’s bulls,
    nor did the lyre or the unshorn locks avail,
nor could salubrious herbs cure my cares:
    whatever was, the love of the medical art had conquered.
the god himself, accustomed to drive cows from the stalls
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
and to teach to mix curds in new milk,
    and the milky liquid to thicken when mixed.

tunc fiscella leui detexta est uimine iunci,
    raraque per nexus est uia facta sero.
o quotiens illo uitulum gestante per agros
    dicitur occurrens erubuisse soror!
o quotiens ausae, caneret dum ualle sub alta,
    rumpere mugitu carmina docta boues!

then a little basket was plaited of the light withe of reed,
    and late a path was made through the sparse interlacings.
O how oft, that one bearing the calf through the fields,
    is the sister said to have blushed at meeting him!
O how oft, having dared, while she sang down in the high valley,
    to mingle her learned songs with the lowing of oxen!

saepe duces trepidis petiere oracula rebus,
    uenit et a templis inrita turba domum:
saepe horrere sacros doluit Latona capillos,
    quos admirata est ipsa nouerca prius.
quisquis inornatumque caput crinesque solutos
    aspiceret, Phoebi quaereret ille comam.
Delos ubi nunc, Phoebe, tua est, ubi Delphica Pytho?

Often leaders sought oracles for their anxious affairs,
    and a crowd came back home from the temples unavailing:
often Latona was pained that her sacred hair stood on end,
    which the stepmother herself had admired before.
whoever beheld the unadorned head and the loose locks,
    would seek the tress of Phoebus.
Where now, Phoebe, is your Delos, where is Delphic Pytho?

    nempe Amor in parua te iubet esse casa.
felices olim, Veneri cum fertur aperte
    seruire aeternos non puduisse deos.
fabula nunc ille est: sed cui sua cura puella est,
    fabula sit mauult quam sine amore deus.

    indeed Love bids that you be in a small casa.
once happy, it is said, when the immortal gods openly served Venus without shame.
    that now is a tale: but he whose girl is his care
    would rather be a tale than be a god without love.

at tu, quisquis is es, cui tristi fronte Cupido
    imperat ut nostra sint tua castra domo
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
    ferrea non uenerem sed praedam saecula laudant:
praeda tamen multis est operata malis.
    praeda feras acies cinxit discordibus armis:
hinc cruor, hinc caedes mors propiorque uenit.
    praeda uago iussit geminare pericula ponto,
bellica cum dubiis rostra dedit ratibus.

at tu, quisquis is es, cui tristi fronte Cupido
    imperat ut nostra sint tua castra domo
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
    ferrea non venerem sed praedam saecula laudant:
praeda tamen multis est operata malis.
    praeda feras acies cinxit discordibus armis:
hinc cruor, hinc caedes mors propiorque venit.
    praeda vago iussit geminare pericula ponto,
bellica cum dubiis rostra dedit ratibus.

but you, whoever you are, to whom Cupid with a sullen brow commands that your camps be ours at home
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
    the ages praise not Venus but iron spoil:
yet the booty has wrought evils for many.
    the spoil girded fierce ranks with discordant arms:
hence bloodshed, hence slaughter, and death draws near.
    the booty bade dangers be doubled on the wandering sea,
when warlike prows were set upon wavering ships.

    praedator cupit immensos obsidere campos,
ut multa innumera iugera pascat oue:
    cui lapis externus curae est, urbisque tumultu
portatur ualidis mille columna iugis,
    claudit et indomitum moles mare, lentus ut intra
neglegat hibernas piscis adesse minas.
    at mihi laeta trahant Samiae conuiuia testae
fictaque Cumana lubrica terra rota.
    heu heu diuitibus uideo gaudere puellas:
iam ueniant praedae, si Venus optat opes:
    ut mea luxuria Nemesis fluat utque per urbem
incedat donis conspicienda meis.

    the plunderer desires to besiege immense fields,
to pasture many innumerable acres with sheep:
    to whom foreign stone is a care, and by the tumult of the city
a thousand columns are carried to the strong ridges,
    and a mass shuts off even the untamed sea, so slow within
that the fish neglect the coming winter dangers.
    but may joyful Samian cups draw me to banquets
and fashioned Cumanean clay on the slippery wheel.
    ah, ah, I see girls rejoicing for the rich:
let spoils now come, if Venus desires wealth:
    that my luxury may flow like Nemesis and that it may stride through the city
to be seen, conspicuous by my gifts.

    illa gerat uestes tenues, quas femina Coa
texuit, auratas disposuitque uias:
    illi sint comites fusci, quos India torret
Solis et admotis inficit ignis equis:
    illi selectos certent praebere colores
Africa puniceum purpureumque Tyros.
    nota loquor: regnum ipse tenet, quem saepe coegit
barbara gypsatos ferre catasta pedes.
    at tibi, dura seges, Nemesim quae abducis ab urbe,
persoluat nulla semina Terra fide.

    let her wear thin garments, which the Coan woman wove, and lay out gilded ways:
    let dark companions be hers, whom India scorches with the sun
and whose steeds are stained by applied fire:
    let them strive to display chosen colors—Africa’s punic red and Tyre’s purple.
    I speak what is known: he himself holds the kingdom, whom barbarian feet have often driven
to bear gypsum‑laden burdens on their feet.
    but to you, hard crop, who carry Nemesis away from the city,
may no seed be paid to you by the Earth in good faith.

    et tu, Bacche tener, iucundae consitor uuae,
tu quoque deuotos, Bacche, relinque lacus.
    haud impune licet formosas tristibus agris
abdere: non tanti sunt tua musta, pater.
    o ualeant fruges, ne sint modo rure puellae:
glans alat et prisco more bibantur aquae.

    and you, gentle Bacchus, planter of the pleasant vine,
tu quoque deuotos, Bacche, relinque lacus.
    it is not permitted to hide the fair ones in gloomy fields
unpunished: your musts are not worth so much, O father.
    O may the crops flourish, so long as the girls are not merely country-bred:
let the acorn feed, and let waters be drunk in the ancient manner.

    glans aluit ueteres, et passim semper amarunt:
quid nocuit sulcos non habuisse satos?
    tunc, quibus aspirabat Amor, praebebat aperte
mitis in umbrosa gaudia ualle Venus.
    nullus erat custos, nulla exclusura dolentes
ianua: si fas est, mos precor ille redi.

    the acorn nourished the ancients, and everywhere they always loved it:
quid nocuit sulcos non habuisse satos?
    then, for those whom Love breathed upon, mild Venus openly offered
joys in the shady valley.
    there was no guardian, no door to exclude the grieving:
if it be right, I pray that that custom return.

   . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
horrida uillosa corpora ueste tegant.
    nunc si clausa mea est, si copia rara uidendi,
heu miserum, laxam quid iuuat esse togam?
    ducite: ad imperium dominae sulcabimus agros:
non ego me uinclis uerberibusque nego.

   . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
let dreadful, hairy bodies be covered with a garment.
    now if my house is shut, if the plenty of seeing is rare,
alas wretched me, what pleasure is there in wearing a loose toga?
    lead on: to the command of the mistress we will plough the fields:
I do not refuse myself to chains and to lashes.

Hic mihi seruitium uideo dominamque paratam:
    iam mihi, libertas illa paterna, uale.
seruitium sed triste datur, teneorque catenis,
    et numquam misero uincla remittit Amor,
et seu quid merui seu nil peccauimus, urit.
    uror, io, remoue, saeua puella, faces.

Here I see servitude for me and a mistress prepared:
    now farewell to that paternal liberty of mine.
but a sad servitude is given, and I am held in chains,
    and Love never loosens the bonds for the wretched one,
and whether I have deserved anything or we have sinned nothing, he burns.
    I am burned, io, remove, cruel girl, the torches.

o ego ne possim tales sentire dolores,
    quam mallem in gelidis montibus esse lapis,
stare uel insanis cautes obnoxia uentis,
    naufraga quam uasti tunderet unda maris!
nunc et amara dies et noctis amarior umbra est:
    omnia nam tristi tempora felle madent.
nec prosunt elegi nec carminis auctor Apollo:
    illa caua pretium flagitat usque manu.

o that I might not be able to feel such pains,
    how I would rather be a stone on the icy mountains,
stand or some crag subject to the raging winds,
    rather than be shipwrecked and be lashed by the wave of the vast sea!
now the day is bitter and the shadow of night is more bitter:
    for all seasons alike soak in sorrowful gall.
neither elegy avails nor Apollo, author of the song:
    that hollow hand continually demands its due.

ite procul, Musae, si non prodestis amanti:
    non ego uos, ut sint bella canenda, colo,
nec refero Solisque uias et qualis, ubi orbem
    compleuit, uersis Luna recurrit equis.
ad dominam faciles aditus per carmina quaero:
    ite procul, Musae, si nihil ista ualent.
at mihi per caedem et facinus sunt dona paranda,
    ne iaceam clausam flebilis ante domum:
aut rapiam suspensa sacris insignia fanis:
    sed Venus ante alios est uiolanda mihi.

Go far off, Muses, if you have not aided a lover:
    I do not worship you that beautiful things be sung,
nor do I recount the ways of the Sun and what sort, where he filled the orb
    whence the Moon, her horses turned, runs back.
I seek easy approaches to my mistress through songs:
    Go far off, Muses, if those things avail nothing.
But for me, through slaughter and crime gifts must be prepared,
    lest I lie shut up, lamentable, before the house:
or I will snatch the emblems suspended in sacred shrines:
    but Venus above all must be violated on my account.

illa malum facinus suadet dominamque rapacem
    dat mihi: sacrilegas sentiat illa manus.
o pereat quicumque legit uiridesque smaragdos
    et niueam Tyrio murice tingit ouem.
addit auaritiae causas et Coa puellis
    uestis et e Rubro lucida concha mari.

illa malum facinus suadet dominamque rapacem
    dat mihi: sacrilegas sentiat illa manus.
o pereat quicumque legit viridesque smaragdos
    et niveam Tyrio murice tingit ouem.
addit auaritiae causas et Coa puellis
    uestis et e Rubro lucida concha mari.

that wicked deed urges me on and gives me a rapacious mistress;
    may that hand feel itself sacrilegious.
O may he perish who gathers green emeralds
    and dyes a snow-white fleece with Tyrian purple.
He adds as causes of avarice a Coan garment for girls
    and a shell shining from the Red Sea.

haec fecere malas: hinc clauim ianua sensit
    et coepit custos liminis esse canis.
sed pretium si grande feras, custodia uicta est
    nec prohibent claues et canis ipse tacet.
heu quicumque dedit fomlam caelestis auarae,
    quale bonum multis attulit ille malis!

These things wrought evils: hence the door felt the bolt
    and the guardian of the threshold began to be a dog.
but if you bring a large price, the guard is overcome
    nor do keys restrain, and the dog himself is silent.
alas, whoever gave form to the heavenly greedy one,
    what a boon he brought to many evils!

hinc fletus rixaeque sonant, haec denique causa
    fecit ut infamis nunc deus erret Amor.
at tibi, quae pretio uictos excludis amantes,
    eripiant partas uentus et ignis opes:
quin tua tunc iuuenes spectent incendia laeti,
    nec quisquam flammae sedulus addat aquam.
seu ueniet tibi mors, nec erit qui lugeat ullus
    nec qui det maestas munus in exsequias.

from this come tears and quarrels sound, and this at last was the cause
    that now the infamous god Amor wanders astray.
but for you, who by a price exclude lovers conquered,
    may wind and fire snatch away the riches you have won:
nay may then your youths gladly behold the fires,
    and may no one dutifully add water to the flame.
or if death shall come to you, there will be none to mourn at all
    nor any to give a sorrowful gift at the funeral rites.

at bona quae nec auara fuit, centum licet annos
    uixerit, ardentem flebitur ante rogum:
atque aliquis senior ueteres ueneratus amores
    annua constructo serta dabit tumulo
et 'bene' discedens dicet 'placideque quiescas,
    terraque securae sit super ossa leuis.'
uera quidem moneo, sed prosunt quid mihi uera?
    illius est nobis lege colendus amor.
quin etiam sedes iubeat si uendere auitas,
    ite sub imperium sub titulumque, Lares.

but the good things which she was not avaricious for, though she may live a hundred years
    will be bewailed while burning before the pyre:
and some aged man, venerating ancient loves,
    will give year-built garlands to the tomb
and, departing, will say 'farewell' and 'may you rest quietly,
    and may light earth lie upon the bones of the secure.'
Truly I warn, but what do true things profit me?
    that love of hers is to be cultivated by us by law.
Nay even let the estate command if the ancestral seats be sold,
    go under authority and under title, O Lares.

quidquid habet Circe, quidquid Medea ueneni,
    quidquid et herbarum Thessala terra gerit,
et quod, ubi indomitis gregibus Venus adflat amores,
    hippomanes cupidae stillat ab inguine equae,
si modo me placido uideat Nemesis mea uultu,
    mille alias herbas misceat illa, bibam.

whatever Circe possesses, whatever Medea of poison,
    whatever also the Thessalian earth bears of herbs,
and what, where Venus breathes loves upon untamed herds,
    the hippomanes of desire drips from the mare’s flank,
if only my Nemesis should see me with a placid countenance,
    let her mix a thousand other herbs, I will drink.

Phoebe, faue: nouus ingreditur tua templa sacerdos:
    huc age cum cithara carminibusque ueni.
nunc te uocales impellere pollice chordas,
    nunc precor ad laudes flectere uerba meas.
ipse triumphali deuinctus tempora lauro,
    dum cumulant aras, ad tua sacra ueni.

Phoebe, favour: a new priest enters your temples:
    come hither with lyre and songs.
now, I pray, urge the vocal strings with your thumb,
    now I beseech you to turn my words to praises.
I myself, bound with triumphant laurel about my temples,
    while they heap the altars, come to your sacred rites.

sed nitidus pulcherque ueni: nunc indue uestem
    sepositam, longas nunc bene pecte comas,
qualem te memorant Saturno rege fugato
    uictori laudes concinuisse Ioui.
tu procul euentura uides, tibi deditus augur
    scit bene quid fati prouida cantet auis;
tuque regis sortes, per te praesentit haruspex,
    lubrica signauit cum deus exta notis;
te duce Romanos numquam frustrata Sibylla,
    abdita quae senis fata canit pedibus.
Phoebe, sacras Messalinum sine tangere chartas
    uatis, et ipse precor quid canat illa doce.

but come bright and fair: now don the robe
    put aside, now well-comb your long locks,
such as they tell of you when Saturn, king, driven forth,
    in victor’s praises sang to Jupiter.
you behold events to come from afar, an augur devoted to you
    knows well what the provident bird of fate will sing;
and you the king’s lots, through you the presenting haruspex foreknows,
    when the god has marked the slippery entrails with signs;
with you as leader the Sibyl never fails the Romans,
    she who with the old man’s feet sings the hidden fates.
Phoebe, without touching the sacred Messalinian sheets of the prophetess
    teach me, I pray, and yourself tell what she sings.

haec dedit Aeneae sortes, postquam ille parentem
    dicitur et raptos sustinuisse Lares
nec fore credebat Romam, cum maestus ab alto
    Ilion ardentes respiceretque deos.
(Romulus aeternae nondum formauerat urbis
    moenia, consorti non habitanda Remo;
sed tunc pascebant herbosa Palatia uaccae
    et stabant humiles in Iouis arce casae.
lacte madens illic suberat Pan ilicis umbrae
    et facta agresti lignea falce Pales,
pendebatque uagi pastoris in arbore uotum,
    garrula siluestri fistula sacra deo,
fistula cui semper decrescit harundinis ordo:
    nam calamus cera iungitur usque minor.

These oracles were given to Aeneas, after he is said to have borne his parent
    and the kidnapped Lares and did not believe there would be Rome, when sorrowful from on high
    he looked back on Ilion and the burning gods.
(Romulus had not yet formed the walls
    of the eternal city, walls not to be dwelt in with his partner Remus;
but then grassy Palatia fed with cows
    and humble huts stood on Jove’s citadel.
Pan, dripping with milk, was present there under the ilex’s shade
    and Pales had been made with a rustic wooden sickle,
and a wandering shepherd’s vow hung on a tree,
    a chatty woodland pipe sacred to the god,
a pipe whose row of reeds always diminishes:
    for the reed is joined to wax and is made ever shorter.

at qua Velabri regio patet, ire solebat
    exiguus pulsa per uada linter aqua.
illa saepe gregis diti placitura magistro
    ad iuuenem festa est uecta puella die,
cum qua fecundi redierunt munera ruris,
    caseus et niueae candidus agnus ouis.)
'Impiger Aenea, uolitantis frater Amoris,
    Troica qui profugis sacra uehis ratibus,
iam tibi Laurentes adsignat Iuppiter agros,
    iam uocat errantes hospita terra Lares.
illic sanctus eris cum te ueneranda Numici
    unda deum caelo miserit indigetem.

But where the Velabrian region lies open, a small skiff used to go
    driven through the shallow ford by the water.
That girl, often pleasing to the master of the rich flock,
    was borne on a festive day to the young man,
with whom the fruitful countryside’s gifts returned,
    cheese and the white lamb of the snowy sheep.)
'Active Aeneas, brother of winged Love,
    you who carry Trojan sacred things in your fugitive boats,
now Jupiter assigns the Laurentian fields to you,
    now the hospitable land calls the wandering Lares.
There you will be holy when the venerable wave of Numicius
    shall have sent you a native god from heaven.'

ecce super fessas uolitat Victoria puppes;
    tandem ad Troianos diua superba uenit.
ecce mihi lucent Rutulis incendia castris:
    iam tibi praedico, barbare Turne, necem.
ante oculos Laurens castrum murusque Lauini est
    Albaque ab Ascanio condita Longa duce.

Behold, over the weary sterns Victory flutters;
    at last the proud goddess has come to the Trojans.
Behold, to me the fires gleam in the Rutulian camp:
    now I foretell to you, barbarian Turnus, death.
Before his eyes is the Laurentine camp and the wall of Lavinium;
    and Alba Longa, founded by Ascanius as leader.

te quoque iam uideo, Marti placitura sacerdos
    Ilia, Vestales deseruisse focos,
concubitusque tuos furtim uittasque iacentes
    et cupidi ad ripas arma relicta dei.
carpite nunc, tauri, de septem montibus herbas
    dum licet: hic magnae iam locus urbis erit.
Roma, tuum nomen terris fatale regendis,
    qua sua de caelo prospicit arua Ceres,
quaque patent ortus et qua fluitantibus undis
    Solis anhelantes abluit amnis equos.

I already now see you too, Ilia, priestess pleasing to Mars,
    the Vestal hearths abandoned,
your secret embraces and the fillets lying discarded
    and the eager god’s arms left at the river‑banks.
Crop now, bulls, the herbs from the seven hills
    while it is allowed: here will now be the site of a great city.
Rome, your name fated for ruling the lands,
    where Ceres from heaven watches her own fields,
and where the risings lie open and where a river with flowing waves
    washes the Sun’s panting horses.

Troia quidem tunc se mirabitur et sibi dicet
    uos bene tam longa consuluisse uia.
uera cano: sic usque sacras innoxia laurus
    uescar, et aeternum sit mihi uirginitas.'
haec cecinit uates et te sibi, Phoebe, uocauit,
    iactauit fusas et caput ante comas.---
quidquid Amalthea, quidquid Marpesia dixit
    Herophile, Phyto Graia quod admonuit,
quaeque Aniena sacras Tiburs per flumina sortes
    portarat sicco pertuleratque sinu---
haec fore dixerunt belli mala signa cometen,
    multus ut in terras deplueretque lapis.
atque tubas atque arma ferunt strepitantia caelo
    audita et lucos praecinuisse fugam:
ipsum etiam Solem defectum lumine uidit
    iungere pallentes nubilus annus equos:
et simulacra deum lacrimas fudisse tepentes
    fataque uocales praemonuisse boues.

Troy indeed then will wonder at herself and will say to herself
    "you have well contrived a road so long."
I speak truth: thus ever may I feed on harmless laurel
    and may virginity be everlasting for me."
Thus sang the seeress and called you her own, Phoebe,
    she shook her distaffs and held her head before her hair.---
Whatever Amalthea, whatever Marpesian said
    what the Greek Herophile warned Phyto,
and which Anienian oracles bore sacred lots through Tibur’s rivers
    and had borne them in a dry bosom ---
these foretold that these would be ill signs of war from the comet,
    that much stone would be rained down upon the lands.
And they report trumpets and arms clashing from the sky
    having been heard, and that the groves had foretold flight:
even the Sun itself saw a failing of light
    and a cloudy year yoke pale horses:
and the images of the gods poured warm tears
    and the fates with voices warned the lowing oxen.

haec fuerant olim: sed tu iam mitis, Apollo,
    prodigia indomitis merge sub aequoribus,
et succensa sacris crepitet bene laurea flammis,
    omine quo felix et sacer annus erit.
laurus ubi bona signa dedit, gaudete coloni;
    distendet spicis horrea plena Ceres,
oblitus et musto feriet pede rusticus uuas,
    dolia dum magni deficiantque lacus:
ac madidus baccho sua festa Palilia pastor
    concinet: a stabulis tunc procul este lupi.
ille leuis stipulae sollemnis potus aceruos
    accendet, flammas transilietque sacras.

These things had once been: but you now, gentle Apollo,
    sink the prodigies beneath the indomitable seas,
and the laurel, kindled on the sacred rites, crackles duly with flames,
    by which omen the year will be happy and sacred.
Where the laurel gave good signs, rejoice, ye colonists;
    Ceres will fill the granaries full of ears,
and the rustic, forgetful even of must, will tread the grapes with his foot,
    while great jars and ample vats shall not be lacking:
and the shepherd, drenched in Bacchus, will chant his Palilia festivals
    —from the stalls then, be far away, O wolves.
He, with a light draught, will kindle the customary stacks of straw,
    and will leap the sacred flames.

et fetus matrona dabit, natusque parenti
    oscula comprensis auribus eripiet,
nec taedebit auum paruo aduigilare nepoti
    balbaque cum puero dicere uerba senem.
tunc operata deo pubes discumbet in herba,
    arboris antiquae qua leuis umbra cadit,
aut e ueste sua tendent umbracula sertis
    uincta, coronatus stabit et ipse calix.
at sibi quisque dapes et festas extruet alte
    caespitibus mensas caespitibusque torum.

and the matron will give offspring, and the newborn will snatch kisses clasped to the parent's ears,
    nor will it weary the grandfather to keep watch for the little grandson
    and the old man to speak halting words with the boy. tunc the youth, having served the god, will recline on the grass,
    where the light shade of an ancient tree falls,
or from her robe they will stretch awnings bound with garlands,
    crowned, and even the cup itself will stand crowned. but each will set up for himself feasts and lofty festive
    tables on turf and a couch on turf.

ingeret hic potus iuuenis maledicta puellae,
    postmodo quae uotis inrita facta uelit:
nam ferus ille suae plorabit sobrius idem
    et se iurabit mente fuisse mala.
pace tua pereant arcus pereantque sagittae,
    Phoebe, modo in terris erret inermis Amor.
ars bona: sed postquam sumpsit sibi tela Cupido,
    heu heu quam multis ars dedit ista malum!

This drink would pour upon the youth the girl's maledictions,
    which soon would wish its vows made void:
for that same fierce man, when sober, will bewail himself
    and will swear that in his mind he was madly wrong.
may your bows perish and may your arrows perish,
    Phoebe, provided Love now wander unarmed on the earth.
skill is good: but after Cupid took weapons for himself,
    alas, alas, what evil that skill has wrought for so many!

et mihi praecipue, iaceo cum saucius annum
    et (faueo morbo cum iuuat ipse dolor)
usque cano Nemesim, sine qua uersus mihi nullus
    uerba potest iustos aut reperire pedes.
at tu, nam diuum seruat tutela poetas,
    praemoneo, uati parce, puella, sacro,
ut Messalinum celebrem, cum praemia belli
    ante suos currus oppida uicta feret,
ipse gerens laurus: lauro deuinctus agresti
    miles 'io' magna uoce 'triumphe' canet.
tunc Messalla meus pia det spectacula turbae
    et plaudat curru praetereunte pater.

and especially for me, I lie wounded for a year
    and (I favour the sickness when the pain itself delights)
I ever sing Nemesis, without whom no verse for me
    can find just words or discover fitting feet.
but you, for the guardianship of the gods preserves poets,
    I forewarn, spare the seer, O sacred girl,
that Messalinus famed, when as the prizes of war
    before his own he will bear chariots and conquered towns,
bearing the laurel himself: with a rustic laurel bound
    the soldier will cry 'io' and with a great voice 'triumph' will sing.
then my Messalla will grant pious spectacles to the crowd
    and the father will applaud the passing chariot.

adnue: sic tibi sint intonsi, Phoebe, capilli,
sic tua perpetuo sit tibi casta soror.

Grant it: so may your hair be unshorn for you, Phoebe,
so may your sister be chaste to you forever.

Castra Macer sequitur: tenero quid fiet Amori?
sit comes et collo fortiter arma gerat?
et seu longa uirum terrae uia seu uaga ducent
aequora, cum telis ad latus ire uolet?

Macer follows the camp: what will become of tender Love?
shall he be a companion and bravely bear arms about his neck?
and whether long roads of the land or wandering seas will lead the man
when he wishes to go with weapons to the flank?

ure, puer, quaeso, tua qui ferus otia liquit,
    atque iterum erronem sub tua signa uoca.
quod si militibus parces, erit hic quoque miles,
    ipse leuem galea qui sibi portet aquam.
castra peto, ualeatque Venus ualeantque puellae:
    et mihi sunt uires et mihi laeta tuba est.

Burn, boy, I beg, you who in your fierceness abandon leisure,
    and again call me wandering under your standards.
But if you spare the soldiers, this man too will be a soldier,
    he himself who with a light helmet carries water for himself.
I make for the camp; may Venus be strong and may the girls be strong:
    and I have strength, and to me the trumpet is joyful.

magna loquor, sed magnifice mihi magna locuto
excutiunt clausae fortia uerba fores.
iuraui quotiens rediturum ad limina numquam!
cum bene iuraui, pes tamen ipse redit.

I speak of great things, but having magnificently spoken great things for myself
closed doors cast out my strong words.
How often have I sworn never to return to the thresholds!
though I have sworn solemnly, yet the very foot returns.

acer Amor, fractas utinam tua tela sagittas,
    si licet, extinctas aspiciamque faces!
tu miserum torques, tu me mihi dira precari
    cogis et insana mente nefanda loqui.
iam mala finissem leto, sed credula uitam
    spes fouet et fore cras semper ait melius.

keen Love, would that your weapons, your broken shafts,
    if it were permitted, and the torches extinguished I might behold!
you torment wretched me, you force me to pray dire things for myself
    and with a crazed mind to speak accursed words.
I would by now have ended my evils in death, but credulous life
    hope cherishes, and always says that tomorrow will be better.

spes alit agricolas, spes sulcis credit aratis
    semina quae magno faenore reddat ager:
haec laqueo uolucres, haec captat harundine pisces,
    cum tenues hamos abdidit ante cibus:
spes etiam ualida solatur compede uinctum:
    crura sonant ferro, sed canit inter opus:
spes facilem Nemesim spondet mihi, sed negat illa.
    ei mihi, ne uincas, dura puella, deam.
parce, per immatura tuae precor ossa sororis:
    sic bene sub tenera parua quiescat humo.

hope nourishes the farmers, hope trusts the seed to furrowed ploughs
    which the field may return with great profit:
this one snares birds with a noose, this one catches fish with a rod,
    when he has hidden slender hooks before the bait:
hope even comforts him bound with a strong fetter:
    his legs ring with iron, but she sings amid the toil:
hope promises me an easy Nemesis, but she denies it.
    ah me, may you not prevail, hard girl, O goddess.
spare me, I beg by the untimely bones of your sister:
    thus may she rest well beneath the tender little earth.

illa mihi sancta est, illius dona sepulcro
    et madefacta meis serta feram lacrimis,
illius ad tumulum fugiam supplexque sedebo
    et mea cum muto fata querar cinere.
non feret usque suum te propter flere clientem:
    illius ut uerbis, sis mihi lenta ueto,
ne tibi neglecti mittant mala somnia manes,
    maestaque sopitae stet soror ante torum,
qualis ab excelsa praeceps delapsa fenestra
    uenit ad infernos sanguinolenta lacus.
desino, ne dominae luctus renouentur acerbi:
    non ego sum tanti, ploret ut illa semel.

she is holy to me, to her tomb I will bear gifts
    and garlands drenched in my tears,
to her tumulus I will flee and sit suppliant
    and with mute ash will bewail my fate.
she will not endure you always as a client to be wept for:
    for her, in words, be stubborn toward me—I forbid it,
lest the shades of the neglected send you evil dreams,
    and the sorrowful, lulled sister stand before the couch,
just as one headlong fallen from a high window
    comes to the infernal lakes bloodstained.
I cease, lest my mistress’s bitter mourning be renewed:
    I am not of such worth that she should weep but once.

nec lacrimis oculos digna est foedare loquaces:
    lena nocet nobis, ipsa puella bona est.
lena necat miserum Phryne furtimque tabellas
    occulto portans itque reditque sinu:
saepe, ego cum dominae dulces a limine duro
    agnosco uoces, haec negat esse domi:
saepe, ubi nox mihi promissa est, languere puellam
    nuntiat aut aliquas extimuisse minas.
tunc morior curis, tunc mens mihi perdita fingit,
    quisue meam teneat, quot teneatue modis:
tunc tibi, lena, precor diras: satis anxia uiuas,
    mouerit e uotis pars quotacumque deos.

nor is she worthy to defile her speaking eyes with tears:
    the lena (procuress) harms us; the girl herself is good.
lena kills wretched Phryne and, furtively bearing the tablets,
    carries them in a hidden bosom and goes and returns:
often, when I recognise the lady’s sweet voices from the hard threshold,
    I recognise them, she denies being at home:
often, when night is promised to me, she announces the girl to be languid
    or reports that she has been afraid of some threats.
then I die of anxieties, then my mind, lost, invents,
    who holds my girl, and by how many modes she is held:
then I pray to you, lena, dreadful things: may you live sufficiently anxious,
    may you move, out of my vows, whatever portion of the gods you can.