"

Nemesis answers, "What's my loss to thee? His fainting hand in death engrasped me.' If aught remains of us but name and spirit, Tibullus doth Elysium's joy inherit. Their youthful brows with ivy girt to meet him,

With Calvus learned Catullus comes, and greet him,

And thou, if falsely charged to wrong thy friend,

Gallus, that car'dst not blood and life to spend,

With these thy soul walks: souls if death release,

The godly sweet Tibullus doth increase. Thy bones, I pray, may in the urn safe rest, And may th' earth's weight thy ashes naught molest.

On mast of oaks, first oracles, men fed, This was their meat, the soft grass was their bed.

First Ceres taught the seed in fields to swell, And ripe-eared corn with sharp-edged | scythes to fell.

She first constrained bulls' necks to bear the yoke,

And untilled ground with crooked ploughshares broke.

Who thinks her to be glad at lovers' smart, And worshipped by their pain and lying apart?

Nor is she, though she loves the fertile fields,

A clown, nor no love from her warm breast yields:

Be witness Crete (nor Crete doth all things feign)

Faith to the witness Jove's praise doth apply;

Ceres, I think, no known fault will deny. The goddess Iasion saw on Candian Ide, With strong hand striking wild beasts' bristled hide.

She saw, and as her marrow took the flame, Was divers ways distract with love and shame.

Love conquered shame, the furrows dry were burned,

And corn with least part of itself returned. When well-tossed mattocks did the ground prepare,

Being fit-broken with the crooked share, And seeds were equally in large fields cast, The ploughman's hopes were frustrate at the last.

The grain-rich goddess in high woods did stray,

Her long hair's ear-wrought garland fell away.

Only was Crete fruitful that plenteous year, Where Ceres went, each place was harvest there.

Ida, the seat of groves, did sing with corn, Which by the wild boar in the woods was shorn.

Law-giving Minos did such years desire, And wished the goddess long might feel love's fire.

Ceres, what sports to thee so grievous were,
As in thy sacrifice we them forbear?
Why am I sad, when Proserpine is found,
And Juno-like with Dis reigns under ground?
Festival days ask Venus, songs, and wine,
These gifts are meet to please the powers
divine.

ELEGIA XI.

Ad amicam a cujus amore discedere non potest. Long have I borne much, mad thy faults me make;

Dishonest love, my wearied breast forsake! Now have I freed myself, and fled the chain, And what I have borne, shame to bear again.

We vanquish, and tread tamed love under feet,

Victorious wreaths at length my temples greet.

Suffer, and harden: good grows by this grief,

I know not whom thou lewdly didst embrace, When I to watch supplied a servant's place,

I saw when forth a tirèd lover went,
His side past service, and his courage spent.
Yet this is less, than if he had seen me ;
May that shame fall mine enemies' chance
to be.

When have not I, fixed to thy side, close layed?

I have thy husband, guard, and fellow played.

The people by my company she pleased; My love was cause that more men's love she seized.

What, should I tell her vain tongue's filthy lies,

And, to my loss, god-wronging perjuries? What secret becks in banquets with her youths,

With privy signs, and talk dissembling truths?

Hearing her to be sick, I thither ran,
But with my rival sick she was not then.
These hardened me, with what I keep
obscure :

Some other seek, who will these things endure.

Now my ship in the wished haven crowned, With joy hears Neptune's swelling waters sound.

Leave thy once powerful words, and flatteries,

I am not as I was before, unwise.

ELEGIA XII.

Dolet amicam suam ita suis carminibus innotuisse ut rivales multos sibi pararit.

What day was that, which all sad haps to bring,

White birds to lovers did not always sing?
Or is I think my wish against the stars?
Or shall I plain some god against me wars?
Who mine was called, whom I loved more
than any,

I fear with me is common now to many.
Err I? or by my books is she so known?
'Tis so by my wit her abuse is grown.
And justly for her praise why did I tell?
The wench by my fault is set forth to sell.
The bawd I play, lovers to her I guide:
Her gate by my hands is set open wide.
'Tis doubtful whether verse avail or harm,
Against my good they were an envious charm.
When Thebes, when Troy, when Cæsar
should be writ,

Alone Corinna moves my wanton wit. With Muse opposed, would I my lines had done,

And Phoebus had forsook my work begun! Nor, as use will not poets' record hear, Would I my words would any credit bear. Scylla by us her father's rich hair steals, And Scylla's womb mad raging dogs conceals.

move,

But victory, I think will hap to love.

I'll hate, if I can; if not, love 'gainst my will,

Bulls hate the yoke, yet what they hate have still.

I fly her lust, but follow beauty's creature,
I loathe her manners, love her body's feature.
Nor with thee, nor without thee can I live,
And doubt to which desire the palm to give.
Or less fair, or less lewd would thou might'st
be:

Beauty with lewdness doth right ill agree.
Her deeds gain hate, her face entreateth love,
Ah, she doth more worth than her vices
prove!

Spare me, oh, by our fellow bed, by all
The gods, who by thee, to be perjured fall.
And by thy face to me a power divine,
And by thine eyes whose radiance burns out
mine!

Whate'er thou art, mine art thou: choose

this course,

Wilt have me willing, or to love by force. Rather I'll hoist up sail, and use the wind, That I may love yet, though against my mind.

snakes,

Victorious Perseus a winged steed's back takes.

Our verse great Tityus, a huge space outspreads,

And gives the viper-curlèd dog three heads. We make Enceladus use a thousand arms, And men enthralled by mermaid's singing

charms.

The east winds in Ulysses' bags we shut,
And blabbing Tantalus in mid-waters put.
Niobe flint, Callist we make a bear,
Bird-changed Progne doth her Itys tear.
Jove turns himself into a swan, or gold,
Or his bull's horns Europa's hand doth hold.
Proteus what should I name? teeth, Thebes'
first seed?

Oxen in whose mouths burning flames did breed?

Heaven-star, Electra, that bewailed her sisters?

The ships, whose godhead in the sea now glisters?

The sun turned back from Atreus' cursed table?

And sweet touched harp that to move stones was able?

When fruit-filled Tuscia should a wife give me,

We touched the walls, Camillus, won by thee. The priests to Juno did prepare chaste feasts,

With famous pageants, and their home-bred beasts.

To know their rites, well recompensed my stay,

Though thither leads a rough steep hilly way. There stands an old wood with thick trees dark clouded:

Who sees it grants some deity there is shrouded.

An altar takes men's incense and oblation, An altar made after the ancient fashion. Here, when the pipe with solemn tunes doth sound,

The annual pomp goes on the covered ground.

White heifers by glad people forth are led, Which with the grass of Tuscan fields are fed.

And calves from whose feared front no threatening flies,

And little pigs, base hogsties' sacrifice, And rams with horns their hard heads wreathed back;

Only the goddess-hated goat did lack. By whom disclosed, she in the high woods took,

Is said to have attempted flight forsook. Now is the goat brought through the boys with darts,

And given to him that the first wound imparts.

Where Juno comes, each youth and pretty maid,

Show large ways, with their garments there displayed.

Jewels, and gold their virgin tresses crown, And stately robes to their gilt feet hang down.

As is the use, the nuns in white veils clad, Upon their heads the holy mysteries had. When the chief pomp comes, loud the people hollow;

And she her vestal virgin priests doth follow.

Such was the Greek pomp, Agamemnon dead;

Which fact and country wealth, Halesus fled. And having wandered now through sea and land,

Built walls high towered with a prosperous hand.

He to the Hetrurians Juno's feast commended :

Let me and them by it be aye befriended.

ELEGIA XIV.

Ad amicam, si peccatura est, ut occulte peccet. Seeing thou art fair, I bar not thy false playing,

But let not me poor soul know of thy straying. Nor do I give thee counsel to live chaste, But that thou would'st dissemble, when 'tis past.

She hath not trod awry, that doth deny it. Such as confess have lost their good names by it.

What madness is't to tell night-pranks by day?

And hidden secrets openly to bewray?
The strumpet with the stranger will not do,
Before the room be clear, and door put-to.
Will you make shipwreck of your honest

name,

And let the world be witness of the same?
Be more advised, walk as a puritan,
And I shall think you chaste, do what you

can.

Slip stili, only deny it when 'tis done,
And, before folk, immodest speeches shun.
The bed is for lascivious toyings meet,
There use all tricks, and tread shame under
feet.

When you are up and dressed, be sage and grave,

And in the bed hide all the faults you have. Be not ashamed to strip you, being there, And mingle thighs, yours ever mine to bear. There in your rosy lips my tongue entomb, Practise a thousand sports when there you

come.

Forbear no wanton words you there would speak,

And with your pastime let the bedstead creak But with your robes put on an honest face, And blush and seem as you were full of

grace.

Deceive all; let me err; and think I'm right, And like a wittol think thee void of slight. Why see I lines so oft received and given ? This bed and that by tumbling made uneven?

Like one start up your hair tost and displaced,

And with a wanton's tooth your neck newrased.

Grant this, that what you do I may not see; If you weigh not ill speeches, yet weigh me. My soul fleets when I think what you have done,

And thorough every vein doth cold blood

run.

Then thee whom I must love, I hate in vain,

And would be dead, but dead with thee remain.

I'll not sift much, but hold thee soon excused,

Say but thou wert injuriously accused. Though while the deed be doing you be took,

And I see when you ope the two-leaved book,

Swear I was blind; deny, if you be wise, And I will trust your words more than mine eyes.

From him that yields, the palm is quickly got, Teach but your tongue to say, "I did it not,"

And being justified by two words, think The cause acquits you not, but I that wink.

ELEGIA XV.

Ad Venerem, quod elegis finem imponat. Tender love's mother a new poet get, This last end to my Elegies is set. Which I Peligny's foster-child have framed. (Nor am I by such wanton toys defamed.) Heir of an ancient house, if help that can, Not only by war's rage made gentleman. In Virgil Mantua joys: in Catull Verone, Of me Peligny's nation boasts alone; Whom liberty to honest arms compelled, When careful Rome in doubt their prowess held.

And some guest viewing watery Sulmo's walls,

Where little grounds to be inclosed befalls; "How such a poet could you bring forth,"

says:

"How small soe'er, I'll you for greatest praise."

Both loves, to whom my heart long time did yield,

Your golden ensigns pluck out of my field,
Horned Bacchus graver fury doth distil,
A greater ground with great horse is to till.
Weak Elegies, delightful Muse, farewell;
A work, that after my death, here shall dwell