And let the troops which shall thy chariot follow,

"Iö, a strong man conquer'd this wench," hollow.

Let the sad captive foremost, with locks spread On her white neck, but for hurt cheeks, be led.

Meeter it were her lips were blue with kissing, And on her neck a wanton'st mark not missing.

But, though I like a swelling flood was driven,
And as a prey unto blind anger given,
Was't not enough the fearful wench to chide?
Nor thunder, in rough threatenings, haughty
pride?

Nor shamefully her coat pull o'er her crown,
Which to her waist her girdle still kept down?
But cruelly, her tresses having rent,

My nails to scratch her lovely cheeks I bent. Sighing she stood: her bloodless white looks shew'd

Like marble from the Parian mountains hew'd; Her half-dead joints and trembling limbs I

saw,

Like poplar leaves blown with a stormy flaw,‡
Or slender ears with gentle Zephyr shaken,
Or waters'§ tops with the warm south-wind

taken;

And down her cheeks the trickling tears did flow,

Like water gushing from consuming snow.
Then first I did perceive I had offended;

ELEGIA VIII.*

Execratur lenam quæ puellam suam meretricis arte instituebat.

THERE is, whoe'er will know a bawd aright, Give ear, there is an old trot, Dipsas hight.+ Her name comes from the thing: she, being wise,+

Sees not the Morn on rosy horses rise.

She magic arts and Thessal charms doth know, And makes large streams back to their fountains flow.

She knows with grass, with threads on wrung§ wheels spun,

And what with mares' rank humour may be done.

When she will, clouds the darken'd heaven obscure;

When she will, day shines every where most

pure.

If I have faith, I saw the stars drop blood;
The purple moon with sanguine visage stood.
Her I suspect among night's spirits to fly,
And her old body in birds' plumes to lie :
Fame saith as I suspect; and in her eyes
Two eye-balls shine, and double light thence
flies.

Great-grandsires from their ancient graves she chides,

And with long charms the solid earth divides.
She draws chaste women to incontinence,
Nor doth her tongue want harmful eloquence.

said,

While closely hid betwixt two doors I laid. "Mistress, thou know'st thou hast a blest youth pleas'd:

He stay'd, and on thy looks his gazes seiz'd.
And why shouldst not please? none thy face
exceeds:

Ay me, thy body hath no worthy weeds!
As thou art fair, would thou wert fortunate !
Wert thou rich, poor || should not be my state.
Th' opposed star of Mars hath done thee harm:
Now Mars is gone, Venus thy side doth warın,
And brings good fortune; a rich lover plants
His love on thee, and can supply thy wants.

Such is his form as may with thine compare: Would he not buy thee,* thou for him shouldst care."

She blush'd.-"Red shame becomes white cheeks:

but this,

If feign'd, doth well; if true, it doth amiss.
When on thy lap thine eyes thou dost deject,
Each one according to his gifts respect.
Perhaps the Sabines rude, when Tatius reign'd,
To yield their love to more than one disdain'd.
Now Mars doth rage abroad without all pity,
And Venus rules in her Æneas' city:

Fair women play: † she's chaste whom none will have,

Or, but for bashfulness, herself would crave.
Shake off these wrinkles that thy front assault;
Wrinkles in beauty is a grievous fault.
Penelope in bows her youths' strength tried;
Of horn the bow was that approv'd‡ their side.
Time flying slides hence closely,§ and deceives

us,

And with swift horses the swift year soon leaves us.

Brass shines with use; good garments would be

worn;

Houses, not dwelt in, are with filth forlorn.
Beauty, not exercis'd, with age is spent ;
Nor one or two men are sufficient.

Many to rob is more sure, and less hateful;
From dog-kept flocks come preys to wolves most
grateful.

Behold, what gives the poet but new verses?
And thereof many thousand he rehearses.
The poet's god, array'd in robes of gold,

Of his gilt harp the well-tun'd strings doth hold.
Let Homer yield to such as presents bring:
Trust me, to give, it is a witty thing.T
Nor, so thou mayst obtain a wealthy prize,
The vain name ** of inferior slaves despise.
Nor let the arms of ancient lines++ beguile thee:
Poor lover, with thy grandsires I exile thee.
Who seeks, for being fair, a night to have,
What he will give, with greater instance crave.

Make a small price, while thou thy nets dost lay, Lest they should fly; being ta'en, the tyrant play.

Dissemble so, as lov'd he may be thought,

And take heed lest he gets that love for nought.
Deny him oft: feign now thy head doth ache;
And Isis now will shew what 'scuse to make.
Receive him soon, lest patient use he gain,*
Or lest his love, oft beaten back, should wane.
To beggars shut, to bringers ope thy + gate;
Let him within hear barr'd-out lovers prate.
And, as first wrong'd, the wrongèd sometimes
banish;

Thy fault, with his fault so repuls'd, will vanish.
But never give a spacious time to ire;
Anger delay'd doth oft to hate retire.
And let thine eyes constrainèd learn to weep,
That this or that man‡ may thy cheeks moist
keep.

Nor, if thou cozen'st one, dread to forswear;
Venus to mock'd men lends a senseless ear.
Servants fit for thy purpose thou must hire,
To teach thy lover what thy thoughts desire.
Let them ask somewhat: many asking little,
Within a while great heaps grow of a tittle.
And sister, § nurse, and mother spare him not:
By many hands great wealth is quickly got.
When causes fail thee to require a gift,
By keeping of thy birth make but a shift.
Beware lest he, unrivall'd, loves secure :
Take strife away, love doth not well endure.
On all the bed men's tumbling let him view,
And thy neck with lascivious marks made blue.
Chiefly shew him the gifts which others send:
If he gives nothing, let him from thee wend.
When thou hast so much as he gives no more,
Pray him to lend what thou mayst ne'er restore.
Let thy tongue flatter, while thy mind harm
works:

Under sweet honey deadly poison lurks.
If this thou dost, to me by long use known,
(Nor let my words be with the winds hence
blown,)

usum."

* lest patient use he gain] "ut nullum patiendi colligat thy] So ed. B.-Ed. C "the."

That this or that man] Our author read "Ut... ille vel ille."

§ And sister, &c.] i. e. And let sister, &c.

On all the bed men's tumbling let him view] Old eds. "On all the beds men," &c.-"Ille viri toto videat vestigia lecto."

If this thou dost, &c.] "Hæc si præstiteris, usu mihi cognita longo."

Oft thou wilt say, 'Live well;'* thou wilt pray oft,

That my dead bones may in their grave lie soft."
As thus she spake, my shadow me betray'd:
With much ado my hands I scarcely stay'd,
But her blear eyes, bald scalp's thin hoary fleeces,
And rivell'd cheeks, I would have pull'd a-pieces.
The gods send thee no house, a poor old age,
Perpetual thirst, and winter's lasting rage!

ELEGIA IX.t

Ad Atticum, amantem non oportere desidiosum esse, sicuti nec militem.

ALL lovers war, and Cupid hath his tent:
Attic, all lovers are to war far sent.
What age fits Mars, with Venus doth agree:
'Tis shame for eld‡ in war or love to be.
What years in soldiers captains do require,
Those in their lovers pretty maids desire.

Both of them watch: each on the hard earth sleeps ;

His mistress' doors this, that his captain's keeps.
Soldiers must travel far: the wench forth send,§
Her valiant lover follows without end.
Mounts, and rain-doubled floods he passeth over,
And treads the deserts snowy heaps do || cover.
Going to sea, east winds he doth not chide,
Nor to hoist sail attends fit time and tide.
Who but a soldier or a lover's bold,

The keepers' hands and corps-du-gard to pass,
The soldier's and poor lover's work e'er was,
Doubtful is war and love: the vanquish'd rise;
And who thou never think'st should fall down,
lies.

Therefore whoe'er love slothfulness doth call,
Let him surcease ;* love tries wit best of all.
Achilles burn'd, Briseis being ta'en away:
Trojans, destroy the Greek wealth, while you

may.

Hector to arms went from his wife's embraces,
And on Andromache his helmet laces.
Great Agamemnon was, men say, amaz'd,

On Priam's loose-tress'd daughter when he gaz'd.
Mars in the deed the blacksmith's net did stable;
In heaven was never more notorious fable.
Myself was dull and faint, to sloth inclin'd;
Pleasure and ease had mollified my mind.
A fair maid's care expell'd this sluggishness,
And to her tents will'd me myself address.
Since mayst thou see me watch, and night-wars

move:

He that will not grow slothful, let him love.

ELEGIA X.+

Ad puellam, ne pro amore præmia poscat. SUCH as the cause was of two husbands' war, Whom Trojan ships fetch'd from Europa far; Such as was Leda, whom the god deluded,

Will you for gain have Cupid sell himself?
He hath no bosom, where to hide base pelf.
Love and Love's son are with fierce arms at t
odds;

To serve for pay beseems not wanton gods.
The whore stands to be bought for each man's
money,

And seeks vile wealth by selling of her coney.
Yet greedy bawd's command she curseth still,
And doth, constrain'd, what you do of good will.
Take from irrational beasts a precedent:
'Tis shame their wits should be more excellent.
The mare asks not the horse, the cow the bull,
Nor the mild ewe gifts from the rain doth pull.
Ouly a woman gets spoils from a man,
Farms out herself on nights for what she can;
And lets § what both delight, what both desire,
Making her joy according to her hire.

The sport being such, as both alike sweet try it,
Why should one sell it, and the other buy it?
Why should I lose, and thou gain, by the pleasure
Which man and woman reap in equal measure?
Knights of the post || of perjuries make sale,
The unjust judge for bribes becomes a stale.
'Tis shame sold tongues the guilty should defend,
Or great wealth from a judgment-seat ascend.
'Tis shame to grow rich by bed-merchandize, ¶
Or prostitute thy beauty for bad price.
Thanks worthily are due for things unbought;
For beds ill-hir'd we are indebted nought.
The hirer payeth all; his rent discharg'd,
From further duty he rests then enlarg'd.
Fair dames, forbear rewards for nights to crave:
Ill-gotten goods good end will never have.
The Sabine gauntlets were too dearly won,
That unto death did press the holy nun.
The son slew her that forth to meet him went,
And a rich necklace caus'd that punishment.
Yet think no scorn to ask a wealthy churl;
He wants no gifts ** into thy lap to hurl.
Take cluster'd grapes from an o'erladen vine;
May + bounteous love Alcinous' fruit resign.

And to give signs dull wit to thee is odious.
Corinna clips § me oft by thy persuasion:
Never to harm me made thy faith evasion.
Receive these lines; them to my mistress carry;
Be sedulous; let no stay cause thee tarry.
Nor flint nor iron are in thy soft breast,
But pure simplicity in thee doth rest.
And 'tis suppos'd Love's bow hath wounded thee:
Defend the ensigns of thy war in me.

If what I do, she asks, say "Hope for night;"
The rest my hand doth in my letters write.
Time passeth while I speak: give her my writ;
But see that forthwith she peruseth it.

I charge thee, mark her eyes and front in reading:
By speechless looks we guess at things succeeding.
Straight being read, will¶ her to write much back:
I hate fair paper should writ matter lack.
Let her make verses, and some blotted letter
On the last edge to stay mine eyes the better.
What need she tire ** her hand to hold the quill?
Let this word, "Come," alone the tables fill.
Then with triumphant laurel will I grace them,
And in the midst of Venus' temple place them,
Subscribing, that to her I consecrate

My faithful tables, being vile maple late.

* mine] So ed. B.-Ed. C "my."

wast] i. e. waste,-for the rhyme.

Blegia XI.] Not in ed. A.

clips] i. e embraces.

But] Our poet's copy of Ovid had “Sed tibi," &c. will] i. e. bid.

** tire] Old eds. "try."-"lassare."

ELEGIA XII.*

Tabellas quas miserat execratur quod amica noctem negabat.

BEWAIL my chance: the sad book is return'd;
This day denial hath my sport adjourn'd.
Presages are not vain: when she departed,
Napè, by stumbling on the threshold, started.
Going out again, pass forth the door more wisely,
And somewhat higher bear thy foot precisely.
Hence, luckless tables! funeral wood, be flying!
And thou, the wax, stuff'd full with notes denying!
Which I think gather'd from cold hemlock's
flower,

Wherein bad honey Corsic bees did pour:
Yet, as if mix'd with red lead, thou wert ruddy;
That colour rightly did appear so bloody.
As evil wood, thrown in the highways, lie,
Be broke with wheels of chariots passing by!
And him that hew'd you out for needful uses,
I'll prove had hands impure with all abuses.
Poor wretches on the tree themselves did strangle;
There sat the hangman for men's necks to angle;
To hoarse screech-owls foul shadows it allows;
Vultures and Furies † nestled in the boughs.
To these my love I foolishly committed,
And then with sweet words to my mistress
fitted.

More fitly had they § wrangling bonds contain'd,
From barbarous lips of some attorney strain'd.
Among day-books and bills they had lain better,
In which the merchant wails his bankrupt debtor.
Your name approves || you made for such-like
things:

The number two no good divining brings.
Angry, I pray that rotten age you wracks,
And sluttish white-mould overgrow the wax!

Now in her tender arms I sweetly bide;

If ever, now well lies she by my side.
The air is cold, and sleep is sweetest now,
And birds send forth shrill notes from every

bough.

Whither runn'st thou, that men and women love not?

Hold in thy rosy horses, that they move not.
Ere thou rise, stars teach seamen where to sail ;
But when thou com'st, they of their courses
fail.

Poor travellers, though tir'd, rise at thy sight,
And soldiers make them ready to the fight.
The painful hind by thee to field is sent;
Slow oxen early in the yoke are pent.
Thou cozen'st boys of sleep, and dost betray

them

To pedants that with cruel lashes pay them.
Thou mak'st the surety to the lawyer run,
That with one word hath nigh himself undone.
The lawyer and the client hate thy view,
Both whom thou raisest up to toil anew.
By thy means women of their rest are barr'd;
Thou sett'st § their labouring hands to spin and

card.

All could I bear: but that the wench should rise, Who can endure, save him with whom noue lies?

How oft wish'd I night would not give thee place,
Nor morning stars shun thy uprising face!
How oft that either wind would break thy coach,
Or steeds might fall, forc'd with thick clouds'
approach!

Whither go'st thou, hateful nymph? Memnon

the elf