---
title: "Amores"
author: "Ovid"
translator: "Perseus Digital Library"
languages: [la, en]
shelf: "Classical Latin"
section: 3 of 6
url: https://scriptura.si/works/ovid-amores/3/
cite: "Ovid, tr. Perseus Digital Library, Amores, section 3. Scriptura (scriptura.si), https://scriptura.si/works/ovid-amores/3/"
---

# Amores

*Ovid, tr. Perseus Digital Library*

Love elegies for Corinna: jealousy, doors that will not open, and Cupid’s arrows.

> Latin: ed. Rudolf Ehwald, from the Perseus Digital Library (canonical-latinLit, phi0959.phi001, CC BY-SA 4.0).

> English: Perseus Digital Library, from the Perseus Digital Library (phi0959.phi001.perseus-eng2). Notes are not included.

> Rows follow the references the two texts share (books, chapters and sections), cut where both reach the end of a sentence.

## 3. Book II · poems 5–11

Source: https://scriptura.si/works/ovid-amores/3/ · cite a paragraph as https://scriptura.si/works/ovid-amores/3/#p-N

[¶0] Cupid, be gone! I can for beauty sigh,
But not be forc'd to wish each hour to die;
For so I wish whene'er my restless thoughts
Dwell on her falsehoods and repeated faults.
All other plagues know sometimes to be civil,
But woman is a sure, perpetual evil.
No pimp I bribe to prove thy perjur'd vows,
Nor intercepted once thy billet-doux.
0, cou dst thou but my arguments disprove!
A cause so good is here unwish'd in love.
Happy, who dares t' avow his censur'd flame,
And vindicate the secret tripping dame.
Blushless, tho' guilty, with uplifted eyes,
"'Tis false, my life, by yon bright Heaven," she cries.
Himself he fools, and madly feeds his grief,
Who from conviction seeks the sad relief.
Wretched I saw thy wantonness unsought,
By thee in sleep secure and eyeless thought;
With glances on each other how you hung!
How ev'ry nod had more than half a tongue!
How roll'd thy glowing eyes! how lewd they spoke!
E'en from thy artful fingers language broke;
While writing on the board with pens they vied,
And the spilt wine the want of ink supplied.
The silent speech too well I understood,
For to deceive a lover yet who could?
Tho' thou didst write in a laconic hand,
And words for sentences were taught to stand.
Now ended was the treat, and ev'ry guest
Indulg'd his ease, and lay compos'd to rest:
Your close, lascivious kisses then I spied,
And something more than lips to lips applied;
Such from a sister brothers ne'er receive,
But yielding fair ones to warm lovers give.
Not so Diana would to Phoebus press,
But Cytherea so her Mars would bless.
Too far provok'd, at last I cried aloud,
"On whom are pleasures, due to me, bestow'd?
I must not, will not, cannot bear this sight;
'Tis lawful, sure, to seize upon my right.
These raptures to us both in common are,
But whence, ye furies, claims a third his share?"
Enrag'd I spoke, and o'er her cheeks were spread
Swift newborn glories in a sudden red;
Such blushes on the bridal night adorn
The trembling virgin; such the rising morn.
So sweet a hue the lab'ring Cynthia shows,
Or the fair lily damask'd by the rose;
Or iv'ry, which time's yellow taint defies,
When twice enrich'd with proud Assyrian dies:
Such were her looks, and a diviner grace
Had never brighten'd that enchanting face.
She cast her eyes down on the humble ground;
Her eyes, so cast, an unknown sweetness found.
Mournful her looks; her mournful looks became
Shining thro' grief, and beautiful in shame.
I rush'd, resolv'd her golden locks to tear,
And with mad violence disrobe the fair;
But as I viewed her face, th' extended hand
Shrunk back, nor hearken'd to the harsh command.
Others protection seek by dint of arms,
Her only safeguard was—her wondrous charms.
I, who but late look'd insolently brave,
Fell from my height, and couch'd a suppliant slave:
I rav'd no longer at another's bliss,
But begg'd the transport of as sweet a kiss.
Smiling she said, " How grateful thy request!
If e'er my kisses please thee, take the best."
Oh, with what gust as from her soul they came!
Such might melt Jove, and stop the vengeful flame;
I fear'd my rival too enjoy'd the same.
These, better than from me she learn'd I thought,
Something taught new, alas! I wish'd untaught;
What most gave pleasure, that now stings the most;
Why were our darting tongues entirely lost?
Nor fret I thou in kissing shouldst excel,
And yet 'tis strange to know to kiss so well;
But ah! such lectures only could be read
By youthful tutors, and imbib'd abed.
That sage who'er these large improvements made,
Was by his pupil preciously repay'd.

> Latin: Nullus amor tanti est — abeas, pharetrate Cupido! —
Ut mihi sint totiens maxima vota mori.
Vota mori mea sunt, cum te peccasse recordor,
O mihi perpetuum nata puella malum!
Non male deletae nudant tua facta tabellae,
Nec data furtive munera crimen habent.
O utinam arguerem sic, ut non vincere possem!
Me miserum! quare tam bona causa mea est?
Felix, qui quod amat defendere fortiter audet,
Cui sua 'non feci!' dicere amica potest.
Ferreus est nimiumque suo favet ille dolori,
Cui petitur victa palma cruenta rea.
Ipse miser vidi, cum me dormire putares,
Sobrius adposito crimina vestra mero.
Multa supercilio vidi vibrante loquentes;
Nutibus in vestris pars bona vocis erat.
Non oculi tacuere tui, conscriptaque vino
Mensa, nec in digitis littera nulla fuit.
Sermonem agnovi, quod non videatur, agentem
Verbaque pro certis iussa valere notis.
Iamque frequens ierat mensa conviva relicta;
Conpositi iuvenes unus et alter erant.
Inproba tum vero iungentes oscula vidi —
Illa mihi lingua nexa fuisse liquet —
Qualia non fratri tulerit germana severo,
Sed tulerit cupido mollis amica viro;
Qualia credibile est non Phoebo ferre Dianam,
Sed Venerem Marti saepe tulisse suo.
'Quid facis?' exclamo, 'quo nunc mea gaudia differs?
Iniciam dominas in mea iura manus!
Haec tibi sunt mecum, mihi sunt communia tecum —
In bona cur quisquam tertius ista venit?'
Haec ego, quaeque dolor linguae dictavit; at illi
Conscia purpureus venit in ora pudor,
Quale coloratum Tithoni coniuge caelum
Subrubet, aut sponso visa puella novo;
Quale rosae fulgent inter sua lilia mixtae,
Aut ubi cantatis Luna laborat equis,
Aut quod, ne longis flavescere possit ab annis,
Maeonis Assyrium femina tinxit ebur.
Hic erat aut alicui color ille simillimus horum,
Et numquam visu pulchrior illa fuit.
Spectabat terram — terram spectare decebat;
Maesta erat in vultu — maesta decenter erat.
Sicut erant, et erant culti, laniare capillos
Et fuit in teneras impetus ire genas —
Ut faciem vidi, fortes cecidere lacerti;
Defensa est armis nostra puella suis.
Qui modo saevus eram, supplex ultroque rogavi,
Oscula ne nobis deteriora daret.
Risit et ex animo dedit optima — qualia possent
Excutere irato tela trisulca Iovi;
Torqueor infelix, ne tam bona senserit alter,
Et volo non ex hac illa fuisse nota.
Haec quoque, quam docui, multo meliora fuerunt,
Et quiddam visa est addidicisse novi.
Quod nimium placuere, malum est, quod tota labellis
Lingua tua est nostris, nostra recepta tuis.
Nec tamen hoc unum doleo — non oscula tantum
Iuncta queror, quamvis haec quoque iuncta queror;
Illa nisi in lecto nusquam potuere doceri.
Nescio quis pretium grande magister habet.

[¶1] Alas! poor Poll, my Indian talker, dies!
Go, birds, and celebrate his obsequies;
Go, birds, and beat your breasts, your faces tear,
And pluck your gaudy plumes instead of hair;
Let doleful tunes the frighted forest wound,
And your sad notes supply the trumpet's sound.
Why, Philomel, dost mourn the Thracian rage?
It is enough, thy grief at last assuage;
His crimson faults are now grown white with age.
Now mourn this bird; the cause of all thy woe
Was great, 'tis true, but it was long ago.
Mourn, all ye wing'd inhabitants of air,
But you, my turtle, take the greatest share;
You too liv'd constant friends and free from strife
Your kindness was entire, and long as life:
What Pylades to his Orestes vow'd.
To thee, poor Poll, thy friendly turtle show'd,
And kept his love as long as fate allow'd.
But, ah! what did thy faith, thy plumes, and tail,
And what thy pretty speaking art, avail?
And what that thou wert giv'n, and pleas'd my miss,
Since now the bird's unhappy glory dies?
A lovely verdant green grac'd ev'ry quill,
The deepest vivid red did paint thy bill;
In speaking thou didst ev'ry bird excel,
None prattled, and none lisp'd the words so well.
'Twas envy only sent this fierce disease;
Thou wert averse to war, and liv'dst in peace,
A talking harmless thing, and lov'dst thine ease.
The fighting quails still live 'midst all their strife,
And even that, perhaps, prolongs their life.
Thy meat was little, and thy prattling tongue
Would ne'er permit to make thy dinner long:
Plain fountain water all thy drink allow'd,
And nut and poppy-seed were all thy food.
The preying vultures and the kites remain,
And the unlucky crow still caws for rain;
The chough still lives 'midst fierce Minerva's hate,
And scarce nine hundred years conclude her fate;
But my poor Poll now hangs his sickly head,
My Poll, my present from the east, is dead.
Best things are sooner snatch'd by cov'tous fate,
To worse she freely gives a longer date;
Thersites brave Achilles' fate surviv'd,
And Hector fell, whilst all his brothers liv'd.
Why should I tell what vows Corinna made?
How oft she begg'd thy life, how oft she pray'd?
The seventh day came, and now the Fates begin
To end the thread, they had no more to spin;
Yet still he talk'd, and when death nearer drew,
His last breath said, "Corinna, now adieu!"
There is a shady cypress grove below,
And thither (if such doubtful things we know)
The ghosts of pious birds departed go;
'Tis water'd well, and verdant all the year,
And birds obscene do never enter there;
There harmless swans securely take their rest,
And there the single Phoenix builds her nest;
Proud peacocks there display their gaudy train,
And billing turtles coo o'er all the plain:
To these dark shades my parrot's soul shall go,
And with his talk divert the birds below;
Whilst here his bones enjoy a noble grave,
A little marble, and an epitaph:-
"In talking I did ev'ry bird excel,
And my tomb proves my mistress lov'd me well."

> Latin: Psittacus, Eois imitatrix ales ab Indis,
Occidit — exequias ite frequenter, aves!
Ite, piae volucres, et plangite pectora pinnis
Et rigido teneras ungue notate genas;
Horrida pro maestis lanietur pluma capillis,
Pro longa resonent carmina vestra tuba!
Quod scelus Ismarii quereris, Philomela, tyranni,
Expleta est annis ista querela suis;
Alitis in rarae miserum devertere funus —
Magna, sed antiqua est causa doloris Itys.
Omnes, quae liquido libratis in aere cursus,
Tu tamen ante alios, turtur amice, dole!
Plena fuit vobis omni concordia vita,
Et stetit ad finem longa tenaxque fides.
Quod fuit Argolico iuvenis Phoceus Orestae,
Hoc tibi, dum licuit, psittace, turtur erat.
Quid tamen ista fides, quid rari forma coloris,
Quid vox mutandis ingeniosa sonis,
Quid iuvat, ut datus es, nostrae placuisse puellae? —
Infelix, avium gloria, nempe iaces!
Tu poteras fragiles pinnis hebetare zmaragdos
Tincta gerens rubro Punica rostra croco.
Non fuit in terris vocum simulantior ales —
Reddebas blaeso tam bene verba sono!
Raptus es invidia — non tu fera bella movebas;
Garrulus et placidae pacis amator eras.
Ecce, coturnices inter sua proelia vivunt;
Forsitan et fiunt inde frequenter anus.
Plenus eras minimo, nec prae sermonis amore
In multos poteras ora vacare cibos.
Nux erat esca tibi, causaeque papavera somni,
Pellebatque sitim simplicis umor aquae.
Vivit edax vultur ducensque per aera gyros
Miluus et pluviae graculus auctor aquae;
Vivit et armiferae cornix invisa Minervae —
Illa quidem saeclis vix moritura novem;
Occidit illa loquax humanae vocis imago,
Psittacus, extremo munus ab orbe datum!
Optima prima fere manibus rapiuntur avaris;
Inplentur numeris deteriora suis.
Tristia Phylacidae Thersites funera vidit,
Iamque cinis vivis fratribus Hector erat.
Quid referam timidae pro te pia vota puellae —
Vota procelloso per mare rapta Noto?
Septima lux venit non exhibitura sequentem,
Et stabat vacuo iam tibi Parca colo.
Nec tamen ignavo stupuerunt verba palato;
Clamavit moriens lingua: 'Corinna, vale!'
Colle sub Elysio nigra nemus ilice frondet,
Udaque perpetuo gramine terra viret.
Siqua fides dubiis, volucrum locus ille piarum
Dicitur, obscenae quo prohibentur aves.
Illic innocui late pascuntur olores
Et vivax phoenix, unica semper avis;
Explicat ipsa suas ales Iunonia pinnas,
Oscula dat cupido blanda columba mari.
Psittacus has inter nemorali sede receptus
Convertit volucres in sua verba pias.
Ossa tegit tumulus — tumulus pro corpore magnus —
Quo lapis exiguus par sibi carmen habet:
Colligor ex ipso dominae placuisse sepulcro.
Ora fuere mihi plus ave docta loqui.

[¶2] And must I still be guilty, still untrue,
And when old crimes are purg'd, still charg'd with new?
What tho' at last my cause I clearly gain?
Yet I'm asham'd so oft to strive in vain,
And when the prize will scarce reward the pain.
If at the play I in fop-corner sit,
And with a squinting eye gloat o'er the pit,
Or view the boxes, you begin to fear,
And fancy straight some rival beauty there.
If any looks on me, you think you spy
A private assignation in her eye;
A silent soft discourse in ev'ry grace,
And tongues in all the features of her face.
If I praise any one, you tear your hair,
Show frantic tricks, and rage with wild despair;
If discommend, 0 then 'tis all deceit,
I strive to cloak my passion by the cheat.
If I look well, I then neglect your charms,
Lie dull and lazy in your active arms;
If weak my voice, if pale my looks appear,
0 then I languish for another fair.
Would I did sin, and you with cause complain,
For when we strive to shun, yet strive in vain,
'Tis comfort sure to have deserv'd the pain.
But sure fond fancies now such heats engage,
Your cred'lous peevish humour spoils your rage.
In frequent chidings I no force can see,
You frown too often to prevail with me;
The ass grows dull by stripes; the constant blow
Beats off his briskness, and he moves but slow.
But now I'm lavish of my kind embrace,
And Moll, forsooth, supplies her lady's place!
Kind love, forbid that I should stoop so low;
What! unto mean, ignoble beauties bow?
A chambermaid! no faith, my love flies high;
My quarry is a miss of quality.
Fye, who would clasp a slave? who joy to feel
Her hands of iron and her sides of steel?
'Twill damp an eager thought, 'twill check my mind,
To feel those knobs the lash hath left behind.
Besides, she dresses well, with lovely grace
She sets thy tow'r, and does adorn thy face;
Thy nat'ral beauty all her hearts improve,
And make me more enamour'd of my love.
Then why should I tempt her, and why betray
Thy useful slave, and have her turn'd away?
I swear by Venus, by love's darts and bow,
(A desp'rate oath, you must believe me now,)
I am not guilty, I've not broke my vow!

> Latin: Ergo sufficiam reus in nova crimina semper?
Ut vincam, totiens dimicuisse piget.
Sive ego marmorei respexi summa theatri,
Eligis e multis, unde dolere velis;
Candida seu tacito vidit me femina vultu,
In vultu tacitas arguis esse notas.
Siquam laudavi, misero petis ungue capillos;
Si culpo, crimen dissimulare putas.
Sive bonus color est, in te quoque frigidus esse,
Seu malus, alterius dicor amore mori.
Atque ego peccati vellem mihi conscius essem!
Aequo animo poenam, qui meruere, ferunt;
Nunc temere insimulas credendoque omnia frustra
Ipsa vetas iram pondus habere tuam.
Adspice, ut auritus miserandae sortis asellus
Adsiduo domitus verbere lentus eat!
Ecce novum crimen! sollers ornare Cypassis
Obicitur dominae contemerasse torum.
Di melius, quam me, si sit peccasse libido,
Sordida contemptae sortis amica iuvet!
Quis Veneris famulae conubia liber inire
Tergaque conplecti verbere secta velit?
Adde, quod ornandis illa est operata capillis
Et tibi perdocta est grata ministra manu —
Scilicet ancillam, quae tam tibi fida, rogarem!
Quid, nisi ut indicio iuncta repulsa foret?
Per Venerem iuro puerique volatilis arcus,
Me non admissi criminis esse reum!

[¶3] Dear, skilful Betty, who dost far excel
My lady's other maids in dressing well;
Dear Betty, fit to be preferred above
To Juno's chamber, or the queen of love;
Genteel, well-bred, not rustically coy,
Not easy to deny desired joy;
Thro' whose soft eyes still secret wishes shine,
Fit for thy mistress' use, but more for mine;
Who, Betty, did the fatal secret see?
Who told Corinna you were kind to me!
Yet when she chid me for my kind embrace,
Did any guilty blush spread o'er my face!
Did I betray thee, maid, or could she spy
The least confession in my conscious eye!
Not that I think it a disgrace to prove
Stol'n sweets, or make a chambermaid my love;
Achilles wanton'd in Briseis' arms,
Atrides bow'd to fair Cassandra's charms:
Sure I am less than these,-then what can bring
Disgrace to me, that so became a king!
But when she look'd on you, poor harmless maid,
You blush'd, and all the kind intrigue betray'd;
Yet still I vow'd, I made a stout defence,
I swore, and look'd as bold as innocence;
"Damme,—egad!" all that, and—"let me die!"'
Kind Venus, do not hear my perjury;
Kind Venus, stop thy ears when lovers lie.
Now, Betty, how will you my oaths requite?
Come, pr'ythee let's compound for more delight;
Faith, I am easy, and but ask a night.
What! start at the proposal? how! deny
Pretend fond fears of a discovery?
Refuse, lest some sad chance the thing betray?
Is this your kind, your damn'd obliging way?
Well, deny on; I'll lie, I'll swear no more;
Corinna now shall know thou art a whore.
I'll tell, since you my fair address forbid,
How often, when, and where, and what we did!
O Love! how cold and slow to take my part,
Thou idle wanderer about my heart!
Why thy old faithful soldier wilt thou see
Oppress'd in thy own tents? they murder me;
Thy flames consume, thy arrows pierce thy friends;
Rather on foes pursue more noble ends.
Achilles' sword would certainly bestow
A cure as certain as it gave the blow.
Hunters, who follow flying game, give o'er
When the prey's caught, hope still leads on before;
We, thine own slaves, feel thy tyrannic blows.
While thy tame hand's unmov'd against thy foes.
On men disarm'd, how can you gallant prove?
And I was long ago disarm'd by love.
Millions of dull men live, and scornful maids;
We'll own love valiant when he these invades.
Rome from each corner of the wide world snatch'd
A laurel, or't had been to this day thatch'd;
But the old soldier has his resting-place,
And the good batter'd horse is turn'd to grass:
The harass'd whore, who liv'd a wretch to please,
Has leave to be a bawd, and take her ease.
For me then, who have truly spent my blood,
Love, in thy service, and so boldly stood
In Celia's trenches, were't not wisely done,
E'en to retire, and live at peace at home?
No-might I gain a godhead to disclaim
My glorious title to my endless flame,
Divinity with scorn I would forswear,
Such sweet, dear, tempting devils women are.
Whene'er those flames grow faint, I quickly find
A fierce black storm pour down upon my mind;
Headlong I'm hurl'd like horsemen who in vain
Their fury-flaming coursers would restrain.
As ships, just when the harbour they attain,
Are snatch'd by sudden blasts to sea again,
So Love's fantastic storms reduce my heart,
Half rescu'd, and the god resumes his dart.
Strike here, this undefended bosom wound,
And for so brave a conquest be renown'd.
Shafts fly so fast to me from ev'ry part,
You'll scarce discern the quiver from my heart.
What wretch can bear a livelong night's dull rest,
Or think himself in lazy slumbers blest?
Fool-is not sleep the image of pale death?
There's time for rest when fate has stopp'd your breath.
Me may my soft deluding dear deceive,
I'm happy in my hopes, while I believe:
Now let her flatter, then as fondly chide,
Often may I enjoy, oft be denied.
With doubtful steps the god of war does move,
By thy example, in ambiguous love.
Blown to and fro, like down from thy own wing,
Who knows when joy or anguish thou wilt bring?
Yet at thy mother's and thy slave's request,
Fix an eternal empire in my breast;
And let th' inconstant charming sex,
Whose wilful scorn does lovers vex,
Submit their hearts before thy throne;
The vassal world is then thy own.

> Latin: Ponendis in mille modos perfecta capillis,
Comere sed solas digna, Cypassi, deas,
Et mihi iucundo non rustica cognita furto,
Apta quidem dominae, sed magis apta mihi —
Quis fuit inter nos sociati corporis index?
Sensit concubitus unde Corinna tuos?
Num tamen erubui? num, verbo lapsus in ullo,
Furtivae Veneris conscia signa dedi?
Quid, quod in ancilla siquis delinquere possit,
Illum ego contendi mente carere bona?
Thessalus ancillae facie Briseidos arsit;
Serva Mycenaeo Phoebas amata duci.
Nec sum ego Tantalide maior, nec maior Achille;
Quod decuit reges, cur mihi turpe putem?
Ut tamen iratos in te defixit ocellos,
Vidi te totis erubuisse genis;
At quanto, si forte refers, praesentior ipse
Per Veneris feci numina magna fidem!
Tu, dea, tu iubeas animi periuria puri
Carpathium tepidos per mare ferre Notos!
Pro quibus officiis pretium mihi dulce repende
Concubitus hodie, fusca Cypassi, tuos!
Quid renuis fingisque novos, ingrata, timores?
Unum est e dominis emeruisse satis.
Quod si stulta negas, index anteacta fatebor,
Et veniam culpae proditor ipse meae,
Quoque loco tecum fuerim, quotiensque, Cypassi,
Narrabo dominae, quotque quibusque modis!
O numquam pro re satis indignande Cupido,
O in corde meo desidiose puer —
Quid me, qui miles numquam tua signa reliqui,
Laedis, et in castris vulneror ipse meis?
Cur tua fax urit, figit tuus arcus amicos?
Gloria pugnantes vincere maior erat.
Quid? non Haemonius, quem cuspide perculit, heros
Confossum medica postmodo iuvit ope?
Venator sequitur fugientia; capta relinquit
Semper et inventis ulteriora petit.
Nos tua sentimus, populus tibi deditus, arma;
Pigra reluctanti cessat in hoste manus.
Quid iuvat in nudis hamata retundere tela
Ossibus? ossa mihi nuda relinquit amor.
Tot sine amore viri, tot sunt sine amore puellae! —
Hinc tibi cum magna laude triumphus eat.
Roma, nisi inmensum vires promosset in orbem,
Stramineis esset nunc quoque tecta casis.
Fessus in acceptos miles deducitur agros;
Mittitur in saltus carcere liber equus;
Longaque subductam celant navalia pinum,
Tutaque deposito poscitur ense rudis.
Me quoque, qui totiens merui sub amore puellae,
Defunctum placide vivere tempus erat.
'Vive' deus 'posito' siquis mihi dicat 'amore!'
Deprecer — usque adeo dulce puella malum est.
Cum bene pertaesum est, animoque relanguit ardor,
Nescio quo miserae turbine mentis agor.
Ut rapit in praeceps dominum spumantia frustra
Frena retentantem durior oris equus;
Ut subitus, prope iam prensa tellure, carinam
Tangentem portus ventus in alta rapit —
Sic me saepe refert incerta Cupidinis aura,
Notaque purpureus tela resumit Amor.
Fige, puer! positis nudus tibi praebeor armis;
Hic tibi sunt vires, hac tua dextra facit;
Huc tamquam iussae veniunt iam sponte sagittae —
Vix illis prae me nota pharetra sua est!
Infelix, tota quicumque quiescere nocte
Sustinet et somnos praemia magna vocat!
Stulte, quid est somnus, gelidae nisi mortis imago!
Longa quiescendi tempora fata dabunt.
Me modo decipiant voces fallacis amicae;
Sperando certe gaudia magna feram.
Et modo blanditias dicat, modo iurgia nectat;
Saepe fruar domina, saepe repulsus eam.
Quod dubius Mars est, per te, privigne Cupido, est;
Et movet exemplo vitricus arma tuo.
Tu levis es multoque tuis ventosior alis,
Gaudiaque ambigua dasque negasque fide.
Si tamen exaudis, pulchra cum matre, Cupido,
Indeserta meo pectore regna gere!
Accedant regno, nimium vaga turba, puellae!
Ambobus populis sic venerandus eris.

[¶4] What you affirm'd, my friend, is prov'd untrue,
That none at once could madly dote on two.
Deceiv'd, unarm'd, we Cupid soon o'ercame,
And I glow shameless with a double flame.
They both are fair, both dress'd so nicely well,
That the pre-eminence is hard to tell.
Sometimes for this, sometimes for that I burn,
And each more beauteous sparkles in her turn.
Each claims my passion, and my heart divides
As to and fro the doubtful galliot rides.
Here driven by winds, and there redriven by tides.
Why doubly chain'd? was not a single fair
Enough to load me with perpetual care?
Why are more leaves brought to the shady wood,
Stars to the sky, or waters to the flood?
Yet better so than not to love at all;
Still on my foes may such dull blessings fall.
May they, insipidly supine, be spread
Along the middle of a widowed bed;
While I with sprightliness love's vigil's keep,
Stretch'd out for something far more sweet than sleep.
Others from ruin fly, to mine I run,
To be by women pleasingly undone,
Longing for two, since undestroy'd by one.
Still let my slender limbs for love suffice;
I want no nerves, but want the bulky size.
My limbs, tho' lean are not in vain display'd;
From me no female ever rose a maid.
Oft have I, when a luscious night was spent,
Saluted morn, nor cloy'd nor impotent.
Happy, who gasps in love his latest breath;
Give me, ye gods, so softly sweet a death!
Let the rough warriors grapple on the plain,
And with their blood immortal honour gain;
Let the vile miser plough for wealth the deep,
And, shipwrek'd in the unfatbom'd waters, sleep
May Venus grant me but my last desire,
In the full height of rapture to expire.
Perhaps some friend, with kindly dew supplied,
Weeping will say, "As Ovid liv'd, he died."

> Latin: Tu mihi, tu certe, memini, Graecine, negabas
Uno posse aliquem tempore amare duas.
Per te ego decipior, per te deprensus inermis —
Ecce, duas uno tempore turpis amo!
Utraque formosa est, operosae cultibus ambae;
Artibus in dubio est haec sit an illa prior.
Pulchrior hac illa est, haec est quoque pulchrior illa;
Et magis haec nobis, et magis illa placet!
Erro, velut ventis discordibus acta phaselos,
Dividuumque tenent alter et alter amor.
Quid geminas, Erycina, meos sine fine dolores?
Non erat in curas una puella satis?
Quid folia arboribus, quid pleno sidera caelo,
In freta collectas alta quid addis aquas?
Sed tamen hoc melius, quam si sine amore iacerem —
Hostibus eveniat vita severa meis!
Hostibus eveniat viduo dormire cubili
Et medio laxe ponere membra toro!
At mihi saevus amor somnos abrumpat inertes,
Simque mei lecti non ego solus onus!
Me mea disperdat nullo prohibente puella —
Si satis una potest, si minus una, duae!
Sufficiam — graciles, non sunt sine viribus artus;
Pondere, non nervis corpora nostra carent;
Et lateri dabit in vires alimenta voluptas.
Decepta est opera nulla puella mea;
Saepe ego lascive consumpsi tempora noctis,
Utilis et forti corpore mane fui.
Felix, quem Veneris certamina mutua perdunt!
Di faciant, leti causa sit ista mei!
Induat adversis contraria pectora telis
Miles et aeternum sanguine nomen emat.
Quaerat avarus opes et, quae lassarit arando,
Aequora periuro naufragus ore bibat.
At mihi contingat Veneris languescere motu,
Cum moriar, medium solvar et inter opus;
Atque aliquis nostro lacrimans in funere dicat:
'Conveniens vitae mors fuit ista tuae!'

[¶5] Poem 11, in which the poet prays that his Mistress will be safe as she travels by sea, is not here translated.
Io Triumphe! I have won the prize,
For in my arms the fair Corinna lies.
Nor jealous husband, nor a guardian's care,
Nor door defended with a double bar,
Could fence against a lover's artifice,
For in my arms the fair Corinna lies.
With reason of my victory I boast,
The conquest gain'd, and yet no blood is lost;
I scal'd no walls, I pass'd no ditch profound,
Safe were my wars, and all without a wound.
My only work a charming girl to gain;
The pleasure well rewards the little pain.
Ten years the Greeks did in one siege employ,
But levell'd were, at length, the walls of Troy;
What glory was there by th' Atrides won,
So many chiefs before a single town!
Not thus did I my pleasant toils pursue,
And the whole glory to myself is due;
Myself was horse and foot, myself alone
The captain and the soldier was in one,
And fought beneath no banner but my own.
Whether by strength I combated, or wile,
Fortune did ever on my actions smile;
I only owe my triumph to my care,
And by my patience only won the fair.
Nor was my cause of quarrel new; the same
Set Europe and proud Asia in a flame.
For Helen, ravish'd by the Dardan boy,
Was the war wag'd that sunk the pride of Troy;
The Centaurs double form'd, half man, half beast,
Defil'd with horrid war the nuptial feast;
Inflam'd by wine and woman's magic charms,
They turn'd the jolly face of joy to arms.
'Twas woman urg'd the strife; a second fair
Involv'd the Trojans in a second war.
What wreck, what ruin, did a Woman bring
On peaceful Latium, and its pious king!
When Rome was young and in her infant state
What woes did woman to our sires create!
Into what peril was that city brought,
When Sabine fathers for their daughters fought!
Two lusty bulls I in the meads have view'd
In combat join'd, and by their side there stood
A milk-white heifer, who provok'd the fight,
By each contended, but the conqueror's right;
She gives them courage, her they both regard,
As one that caus'd the war, and must reward.
Compell'd by Cupid in his host to list
(And who that has a heart can love resist?)
His soldier I have been, without the guilt
Of blood, in any of our battles spilt;
For him I've fought, as many more have done,
And many rivals met, but murder'd none.

> Latin: Prima malas docuit mirantibus aequoris undis
Peliaco pinus vertice caesa vias,
Quae concurrentis inter temeraria cautes
Conspicuam fulvo vellere vexit ovem.
O utinam, nequis remo freta longa moveret,
Argo funestas pressa bibisset aquas!
Ecce, fugit notumque torum sociosque Penates
Fallacisque vias ire Corinna parat.
Quam tibi, me miserum, Zephyros Eurosque timebo
Et gelidum Borean egelidumque Notum!
Non illic urbes, non tu mirabere silvas;
Una est iniusti caerula forma maris.
Nec medius tenuis conchas pictosque lapillos
Pontus habet; bibuli litoris illa mora est.
Litora marmoreis pedibus signate, puellae;
Hactenus est tutum — cetera caeca via est.
Et vobis alii ventorum proelia narrent;
Quas Scylla infestet, quasve Charybdis aquas;
Et quibus emineant violenta Ceraunia saxis;
Quo lateant Syrtes magna minorque sinu.
Haec alii referant ad vos; quod quisque loquetur,
Credite! credenti nulla procella nocet.
Sero respicitur tellus, ubi fune soluto
Currit in inmensum panda carina salum;
Navita sollicitus cum ventos horret iniquos
Et prope tam letum, quam prope cernit aquam.
Quod si concussas Triton exasperet undas,
Quam tibi sit toto nullus in ore color!
Tum generosa voces fecundae sidera Ledae
Et 'felix,' dicas 'quem sua terra tenet!'
Tutius est fovisse torum, legisse libellos,
Threiciam digitis increpuisse lyram.
At, si vana ferunt volucres mea dicta procellae,
Aequa tamen puppi sit Galatea tuae!
Vestrum crimen erit talis iactura puellae,
Nereidesque deae Nereidumque pater.
Vade memor nostri vento reditura secundo;
Inpleat illa tuos fortior aura sinus!
Tum mare in haec magnus proclinet litora Nereus;
Huc venti spirent, huc agat aestus aquas!
Ipsa roges, Zephyri veniant in lintea pleni,
Ipsa tua moveas turgida vela manu!
Primus ego adspiciam notam de litore puppim,
Et dicam: 'nostros advehit illa deos!'
Excipiamque umeris et multa sine ordine carpam
Oscula. pro reditu victima vota cadet;
Inque tori formam molles sternentur harenae,
Et cumulus mensae quilibet esse potest.
Illic adposito narrabis multa Lyaeo —
Paene sit ut mediis obruta navis aquis;
Dumque ad me properas, neque iniquae tempora noctis
Nec te praecipites extimuisse Notos.
Omnia pro veris credam, sint ficta licebit —
Cur ego non votis blandiar ipse meis?
Haec mihi quamprimum caelo nitidissimus alto
Lucifer admisso tempora portet equo!
Ite triumphales circum mea tempora laurus!
Vicimus: in nostro est, ecce, Corinna sinu,
Quam vir, quam custos, quam ianua firma, tot hostes,
Servabant, nequa posset ab arte capi!
Haec est praecipuo victoria digna triumpho,
In qua, quaecumque est, sanguine praeda caret.
Non humiles muri, non parvis oppida fossis
Cincta, sed est ductu capta puella meo!
Pergama cum caderent bello superata bilustri,
Ex tot in Atridis pars quota laudis erat?
At mea seposita est et ab omni milite dissors
Gloria, nec titulum muneris alter habet.
Me duce ad hanc voti finem, me milite veni;
Ipse eques, ipse pedes, signifer ipse fui.
Nec casum fortuna meis inmiscuit actis —
Huc ades, o cura parte Triumphe mea!
Nec belli est nova causa mei. nisi rapta fuisset
Tyndaris, Europae pax Asiaeque foret.
Femina silvestris Lapithas populumque biformem
Turpiter adposito vertit in arma mero;
Femina Troianos iterum nova bella movere
Inpulit in regno, iuste Latine, tuo;
Femina Romanis etiamnunc urbe recenti
Inmisit soceros armaque saeva dedit.
Vidi ego pro nivea pugnantes coniuge tauros;
Spectatrix animos ipsa iuvenca dabat.
Me quoque, qui multos, sed me sine caede, Cupido
Iussit militiae signa movere suae.