Gods! You were beautiful and charming, and my unhappy destiny pushed me on; my eyes remained continually fixed upon your's. Base man, you too clearly perceived it; for who was ever discrete enough to hide love? A flame that betrays itself by its own light. In the mean time the law of victory is laid down, that you train to the unusual plough the unbroken necks of the fierce bulls. These bulls, sacred to Mars, were not only terrible by their horns: they breathed out streams of flame. Their feet were guarded with brazen hoofs; plates of brass also covered their nostrils, which were rendered black by their glowing breath. You are farther required to scatter over the wide fields, with devoted hand, seed that will suddenly bring forth a harvest of men, who will attack you with their self-born darts; a crop fatal to the laborer. Your last and greatest toil is, artfully to elude the eyes of the watchful dragon; eyes, unacquainted with the power of sleep. Here Æetes ended. You all rise up sad; the table is removed, and stripped of the purple carpets.
Hic Ephyren bimarem, Scythia tenus ille nivosaOmne tenet, Ponti qua plaga laeva iacet.Accipis hospitio iuvenes, Aeeta, Pelasgos,Et premitis pictos, corpora Graia, toros.Tunc ego te vidi, tunc coepi scire, quid esses;Illa fuit mentis prima ruina meae.Et vidi et perii; nec notis ignibus arsi,Ardet ut ad magnos pinea taeda deos.Et formosus eras, et me mea fata trahebant;Abstulerant oculi lumina nostra tui.Perfide, sensisti — quis enim bene celat amorem?Eminet indicio prodita flamma suo.Dicitur interea tibi lex ut dura ferorumInsolito premeres vomere colla boum.Martis erant tauri plus quam per cornua saevi,Quorum terribilis spiritus ignis erat;Aere pedes solidi praetentaque naribus aera,Nigra per adflatus haec quoque facta suos.
Where was then the kingdom you receive as a dowry with Creusa? how little was your father-in-law, or the daughter of mighty Creon then in your thoughts? You left us thoughtful: I followed your departing steps with eyes moistened in tears; and my tongue in a soft accent bade you farewell. When with a heart fatally wounded I had retired to my quiet bed, the whole night was spent in shedding floods of tears. The fierce bulls and threatening crop of armed men stood before my eyes; but most I was haunted by the image of the watchful dragon. On the one side was love, on the other fear: but fear served only to augment my love. It was now morning, when my darling sister entered my chamber, and found me lying upon my face, my hair disheveled, and the bed under me wet with my tears. She entreats me in behalf of the Argonauts: one asks, and another shall reap the fruit: she craves that aid which I freely grant to the young son of Æson. There is a grove where a darksome shade is formed by pitch-trees and leafy oaks; scarcely can the rays of the sun find admittance. Here had long
Semina praeterea populos genitura iuberisSpargere devota lata per arva manu,Qui peterent natis secum tua corpora telis;Illa est agricolae messis iniqua suo.Lumina custodis succumbere nescia somno,Ultimus est aliqua decipere arte labor.Dixerat Aeetes; maesti consurgitis omnes,Mensaque purpureos deserit alta toros.Quam tibi tunc longe regnum dotale CreusaeEt socer et magni nata Creontis erat!Tristis abis; oculis abeuntem prosequor udis,Et dixit tenui murmure lingua: 'vale!'Ut positum tetigi thalamo male saucia lectum,Acta est per lacrimas nox mihi, quanta fuit;Ante oculos taurique meos segetesque nefandae,Ante meos oculos pervigil anguis erat.Hinc amor, hinc timor est; ipsum timor auget amorem.
been, and still was, a temple sacred to Diana, with a golden statue of the goddess, the work of a barbarian artist. Perhaps, as you have forgotten me, so have you also the place. Thither we came; when thus you addressed me with your deluding tongue: "Fortune has given you the disposal and command of my lot; my life and death are in your hands. If you glory in the possession of power, it is enough that you can destroy: but to preserve me in danger will do you greater honor. I implore you by my distresses, which your art alone can succour; by your race, and the majesty of your all-seeing grandfather; by the deity and sacred mysteries of the threefold goddess, and whatever other Gods this nation adores; amiable virgin, take pity on me; take pity on my companions, and bind me eternally to you by your good offices! If you disdain not to give up your heart to a Grecian youth, (but why should I flatter myself that the Gods will be so favorable and indulgent?) sooner may my soul vanish
Mane erat, et thalamo cara recepta sororDisiectamque comas adversaque in ora iacentemInvenit, et lacrimis omnia plena meis.Orat opem Minyis. alter petit, impetrat alter:Aesonio iuveni quod rogat illa, damus.Est nemus et piceis et frondibus ilicis atrum;Vix illuc radiis solis adire licet.Sunt in eo — fuerant certe — delubra Dianae;Aurea barbarica stat dea facta manu.Noscis? an exciderunt mecum loca? venimus illuc.Orsus es infido sic prior ore loqui:'Ius tibi et arbitrium nostrae fortuna salutisTradidit, inque tua est vitaque morsque manu.Perdere posse sat est, siquem iuvet ipsa potestas;Sed tibi servatus gloria maior ero.
into air, than any besides Medea be received a partner of my bed. May Juno, who presides over the marriage-bed, bear witness to this oath, and the goddess in whose marble temple we are." These declarations (and how small a part is this of what you promised?) made too great an impression upon the mind of an innocent credulous maid; and your right-hand was joined to mine. I saw, moreover, your tears: are these too capable of deceit? Thus was I easily betrayed by your enchanting words. You yoked the brazen-footed bulls, unhurt by their flaming breath, and cleft the hard earth with the commanded plough. You sowed the land with the teeth of poisonous serpents instead of seed, and a harvest of soldiers sprang up armed with swords and bucklers. Even I, who secured you by my art, sat pale and trembling, when I saw this sudden crop of men grasp their arms. But at length the earth-born brothers (mournful catastrophe!) turned against one another their ready-armed right-hands. And now,
Per mala nostra precor, quorum potes esse levamen,Per genus, et numen cuncta videntis avi,Per triplicis vultus arcanaque sacra Dianae,Et si forte aliquos gens habet ista deos —O virgo, miserere mei, miserere meorum;Effice me meritis tempus in omne tuum!Quodsi forte virum non dedignare Pelasgum —Sed mihi tam faciles unde meosque deos? —Spiritus ante meus tenues vanescet in aurasQuam thalamo nisi tu nupta sit ulla meo!Conscia sit Iuno sacris praefecta maritis,Et dea marmorea cuius in aede sumus!'Haec animum — et quota pars haec sunt! — movere puellaeSimplicis, et dextrae dextera iuncta meae.Vidi etiam lacrimas — sua pars et fraudis in illis.Sic cito sum verbis capta puella tuis.Iungis aenipedes inadusto corpore taurosEt solidam iusso vomere findis humum.
lo the watchful serpent, terrible by his sounding scales, hisses, and sweeps the ground with his winding breast. Where was then your rich dowry? where then your royal spouse, and the Isthmus which divides the circling sea? Even I, Medea, whom you now despise as a barbarian, whom you deem indigent and criminal, forsaken Medea, locked up his fiery orbs in enchanted sleep, and left you the golden fleece a secure and easy prize.
Arva venenatis pro semine dentibus inples,Nascitur et gladios scutaque miles habens.Ipsa ego, quae dederam medicamina, pallida sedi,Cum vidi subitos arma tenere viros,Donec terrigenae, facinus mirabile, fratresInter se strictas conseruere manus.Insopor ecce vigil squamis crepitantibus horrensSibilat et torto pectore verrit humum!
I betrayed my father, abandoned my kingdom and country, and fancied that, with you, even exile was some gratification. My virginity became the prey of a foreign ravisher: I left the best of sisters, and a darling mother. Alas! why did I not leave my brother also? Here conscious guilt arrests my hand, and commands me to draw a veil over my crime. My hand refuses to write what it dared to commit. In this manner ought I to have been torn to pieces; but with you, who also deserved the same fate. Nor did I fear, (for
[Dotis opes ubi erant? ubi erat tibi regia coniunx,][Quique maris gemini distinet Isthmos aquas? ]Illa ego, quae tibi sum nunc denique barbara facta,Nunc tibi sum pauper, nunc tibi visa nocens,Flammea subduxi medicato lumina somno,Et tibi, quae raperes, vellera tuta dedi.Proditus est genitor, regnum patriamque reliqui;
what after this could make me afraid?) though a weak woman, and now a guilty wretch, to trust myself to the sea. Where was then the majesty of heaven? where were the Gods by whom we had falsely sworn? why did we not undergo the just punishment, you of your falsehood, and I of my credulity? Oh! that the meeting Symplegades had crushed us into one, and my bones had been made to incorporate with yours; or that devouring Scylla had made us the prey of hungry dogs (for thus ought Scylla to use ungrateful men); or that the gulf
Munus, in exilio quod licet esse, tuli!Virginitas facta est peregrini praeda latronis;Optima cum cara matre relicta soror.At non te fugiens sine me, germane, reliqui!Deficit hoc uno littera nostra loco.Quod facere ausa mea est, non audet scribere dextra.Sic ego, sed tecum, dilaceranda fui.Nec tamen extimui — quid enim post illa timerem? —Credere me pelago, femina iamque nocens.
which alternately vomits up and drinks in the waves, had overwhelmed us in its circling current! But fate had otherwise decreed; you returned safe and victorious to the Grecian states, and made an offer of the rich fleece to the Gods of your country. Why should I mention the daughters of Pelias, bloody through piety, and the slaughter of a father by the hands of virgins? However others may blame, yet you are bound to commend me, for whose sake I have so often made myself guilty. You had the barbarity, (Oh! words are wanting to equal my grief,) you had the barbarity to forbid me the house of your father Æson. Compelled, I left the house, accompanied only by my two sons, and by that affection for you which never ceases to haunt me. Soon the new nuptial songs reached my ears, and the torches shone with the spreading flame: the flute also struck off the social lines, to me more mournful than the funeral trumpet. I
Numen ubi est? ubi di? meritas subeamus in alto,Tu fraudis poenas, credulitatis ego!Compressos utinam Symplegades elisissent,Nostraque adhaererent ossibus ossa tuis;Aut nos Scylla rapax canibus mersisset edendos —Debuit ingratis Scylla nocere viris;Quaeque vomit totidem fluctus totidemque resorbet,Nos quoque Trinacriae supposuisset aquae!Sospes ad Haemonias victorque reverteris urbes;Ponitur ad patrios aurea lana deos.Quid referam Peliae natas pietate nocentesCaesaque virginea membra paterna manu?Ut culpent alii, tibi me laudare necesse est,Pro quo sum totiens esse coacta nocens.Ausus es — o, iusto desunt sua verba dolori!
was frighted to distraction, nor could yet fancy you so completely base: but a coldness spread itself over all my breast. The rabble shouted, and invoked Hymen; they redoubled their cries, and, as they approached, the word seemed more dreadful. The servants wept in corners, and each strove to hide his tears: for who among them would be the messenger of so great a calamity? I was also better pleased to be ignorant of whatever passed: but still my mind, by some secret foresight, foreboded my misfortune. When my younger boy, by my command, and moved by curiosity, stood at the entrance of the double gate, Look, said he, mother, my father Jason heads the procession, and, arrayed in vestments of gold, urges the harnessed horses. I then tore my garments, and beat my breast; nor was my face safe from the impression of my nails. My rage urged me to rush into the midst of the crowd, and tear the garlands from the well-dressed locks. Scarcely could I restrain myself from appearing with my hair torn, taking hold of him, and claiming him as mine. Injured father, forsaken Colchians, now rejoice, and be satisfied with the sacrifice made to the
—Ausus es 'Aesonia,' dicere, 'cede domo!'Iussa domo cessi natis comitata duobusEt, qui me sequitur semper, amore tui.Ut subito nostras Hymen cantatus ad auresVenit, et accenso lampades igne micant,Tibiaque effundit socialia carmina vobis,At mihi funerea flebiliora tuba,Pertimui, nec adhuc tantum scelus esse putabam;Sed tamen in toto pectore frigus erat.Turba ruunt et 'Hymen,' clamant, 'Hymenaee!' frequenter —Quo propior vox haec, hoc mihi peius erat.Diversi flebant servi lacrimasque tegebant —Quis vellet tanti nuntius esse mali?Me quoque, quidquid erat, potius nescire iuvabat;Sed tamquam scirem, mens mea tristis erat,Cum minor e pueris (casu studione videndiConstitit ad geminae limina prima foris)'Huc modo, mater, adi!
manes of my murdered brother. I am deserted by my husband, after abandoning my kingdom, country, and home. He was all to me!
pompam pater,' inquit, 'IasonDucit et adiunctos aureus urget equos!'Protinus abscissa planxi mea pectora veste,Tuta nec a digitis ora fuere meis.
Have I then been able to tame the serpents and raging bulls, and yet cannot vanquish a single man? Could I by magic arts repress the fire-breathing bulls, and not conquer the flames of love that rage in my own breast? Have my enchantments, herbs, and skill, abandoned me? Can Diana and the rites of powerful Hecate yield no relief? Day is odious to me; the nights are full of cruel bitterness; no soft slumbers soothe my anxious breast. I, who can do nothing to myself, could yet lull to rest the dragon; my art is useful to every one but myself. A rival embraces those limbs which I preserved; she now enjoys the fruit of my toil. Perhaps too, while you endeavour to recommend yourself to your silly spouse, and say what may be agreeable to her partial ears, you unjustly ridicule my face and manners. She stupidly laughs, and rejoices at my defects. Laugh on,
Ire animus mediae suadebat in agmina turbaeSertaque conpositis demere rapta comis;Vix me continui, quin dilaniata capillosClamarem 'meus est!' iniceremque manus.Laese pater, gaude! Colchi gaudete relicti!Inferias umbrae fratris habete mei;Deseror amissis regno patriaque domoqueConiuge, qui nobis omnia solus erat!Serpentis igitur potui taurosque furentes;Unum non potui perdomuisse virum,Quaeque feros pepuli doctis medicatibus ignes,Non valeo flammas effugere ipsa meas.Ipsi me cantus herbaeque artesque relinquunt;Nil dea, nil Hecates sacra potentis agunt.
proud fair, and pride yourself in your purple bed; soon you shall mourn, and burn with flames more fierce than mine. While fire, sword, and poisons, may be had, no enemy of Medea shall escape her resentment. Yet if prayers are able to touch your obdurate heart, hear me now descend to requests below my usual greatness of soul. I address you with the same submission with which you have often applied to me; nor delay to throw myself at your feet. If I am now despicable to you, yet think of your children, those common pledges of our former love. Shall my offspring be exposed to the rage of a cruel step-mother? Alas! they too strongly bear your likeness, and strike me with the resemblance: as often as I look at them, my eyes swim in tears. I implore you by the Gods above, by the splendor of my grand-father's chariot, by the love I always bore you, and your two sons, those dear pledges of what I once was, restore me to that bed, for which I have made so many sacrifices; make good your promises, and give me relief. I ask not your aid against the bulls, and earth-born heroes, or to lull to rest the watchful dragon: I demand you whom I have dearly purchased, who yourself made a surrender of your heart to me; by whom I likewise have been made a mother. If you enquire for my
Non mihi grata dies; noctes vigilantur amarae,Et tener a misero pectore somnus abest.Quae me non possum, potui sopire draconem;Utilior cuivis quam mihi cura mea est.Quos ego servavi, paelex amplectitur artus,Et nostri fructus illa laboris habet.Forsitan et, stultae dum te iactare maritaeQuaeris et iniustis auribus apta loqui,In faciem moresque meos nova crimina fingas.Rideat et vitiis laeta sit illa meis!Rideat et Tyrio iaceat sublimis in ostro —Flebit et ardores vincet adusta meos!Dum ferrum flammaeque aderunt sucusque veneni,Hostis Medeae nullus inultus erit!Quodsi forte preces praecordia ferrea tangunt,Nunc animis audi verba minora meis!Tam tibi sum supplex, quam tu mihi saepe fuisti,Nec moror ante tuos procubuisse pedes.Si tibi sum vilis, communis respice natos;Saeviet in partus dira noverca meos.Et nimium similes tibi sunt, et imagine tangor,Et quotiens video, lumina nostra madent.
dowry, remember the field that was to be ploughed up before you could carry off the golden fleece. My dowry is that golden ram, beautiful by his rich wool; which if I should demand back, would you ever consent? I bring for a dowry your own safety, and that of all the Grecian youths. Go now, perjured man, and boast the ill-gotten wealth of Sisyphus. To me you owe your life, that you have a spouse, a powerful father-in-law, or even that you can be ungrateful. But hold: I will quickly be revenged. Yet what avails it to threaten before-hand? Rage drives me upon the deepest destruction. I will yield to all the madness of rage, however I may afterwards repent. I even now repent the aid I granted to a perfidious wretch. The God who rages in my breast can alone penetrate these designs: I only know that my mind conceives something vast and worthy of myself.
Per superos oro, per avitae lumina flammae,Per meritum et natos, pignora nostra, duos —Redde torum, pro quo tot res insana reliqui;Adde fidem dictis auxiliumque refer!Non ego te inploro contra taurosque virosque,Utque tua serpens victa quiescat ope;Te peto, quem merui, quem nobis ipse dedisti,Cum quo sum pariter facta parente parens.Dos ubi sit, quaeris? campo numeravimus illo,Qui tibi laturo vellus arandus erat.Aureus ille aries villo spectabilis altoDos mea, quam, dicam si tibi 'redde!,' neges.Dos mea tu sospes; dos est mea Graia iuventus!
LAODAMIA of Thessaly wishes health to her Thessalian husband, and ardently prays that the Gods may convey this health whither she sends it. It is said that you are detained at Aulis by contrary winds; ah! cruel winds, where were ye when he first parted from me? It was then the seas ought to have opposed themselves to your oars: that was the proper season for the waves to rage. I would nave given him many kisses, many admonitions; for I had an abundance of admonitions to give. You were suddenly hurried
I nunc, Sisyphias, inprobe, confer opes!Quod vivis, quod habes nuptam socerumque potentis,Hoc ipsum, ingratus quod potes esse, meum est.Quos equidem actutum — sed quid praedicere poenamAttinet? ingentis parturit ira minas.Quo feret ira, sequar! facti fortasse pigebit —Et piget infido consuluisse viro.Viderit ista deus, qui nunc mea pectora versat!
from me; an inviting gale called forth the sails, a gale grateful to the mariners, not to me; a gale that exactly suited their views, but not those of an unhappy lover. I was torn from the embraces of my dear Protesilaus; my faltering tongue gave you its last charge in broken words, and scarcely was I able to utter the mournful adieu. The north-wind sprang up, and stretched the swelling sails. My Protesilaus was soon carried far from me. While my husband remained in sight, I found a pleasure in looking at him, and incessantly pursued your eyes with mine. Even after I could no longer see you, I still could behold your sails: the sails kept my eyes long fixed upon them. But when I could no more perceive either you or the flying sails, and nothing appeared to my aching sight beside the sea, light fled also with you; a darkness hung round me, nor were my tottering knees longer able to support my pale frame. My father-in-law Iphiclus, the good old Acastus, and my sorrowful mother, hardly recovered me by sprinkling my face with cold water. They were taken up in a kind good-natured office, but ungrateful to me, who mourn that I was not suffered to finish a wretched life. With my senses, my grief also returned; and a just love preyed upon my chaste heart. I now neg-
Nescio quid certe mens mea maius agit!Mittit et optat amans, quo mittitur, ire salutemHaemonis Haemonio Laodamia viro.Aulide te fama est vento retinente morari.At me cum fugeres, hic ubi ventus erat?Tum freta debuerant vestris obsistere remis;Illud erat saevis utile tempus aquis.Oscula plura viro mandataque plura dedissem;Et sunt quae volui dicere multa tibi.Raptus es hinc praeceps, et qui tua vela vocaret,Quem cuperent nautae, non ego, ventus erat;Ventus erat nautis aptus, non aptus amanti.Solvor ab amplexu, Protesilae, tuo,Linguaque mandantis verba inperfecta reliquit;Vix illud potui dicere triste 'vale!'Incubuit Boreas abreptaque vela tetendit,Iamque meus longe Protesilaus erat.Dum potui spectare virum, spectare iuvabat,Sumque tuos oculos usque secuta meis;Ut te non poteram, poteram tua vela videre,Vela diu vultus detinuere meos.
lect the care of my hanging locks, and refuse to adorn myself with cloth of gold. I wander where-ever my madness urges me, like those whom Bacchus is supposed to have touched with his rod. The Thessalian matrons flock round me. Put on, they cry, Laodamia, the royal robes. Shall I shine in robes of Tyrian purple, and my husband be engaged in a bloody war under the walls of Troy? Shall I adorn my hair, while his head is loaded with a helmet? or strut in new apparel, while he bears about a coat of mail? I will at least be said to copy your hardships in the negligence of my dress, and pass the time of this fatal war in sadness. O Paris of the house of Priam, beautiful to the destruction of your country, may you prove as cowardly an enemy, as you were a perfidious guest. How could I wish that you had disliked the countenance of the Lacedæmonian queen, or that she had found less cause to admire yours! And you, Menelaus, who shew too great anxiety about one who so easily consented to be ravished from you, how fatal an avenger will you prove to many! Avert, ye Gods, the dire omen from me; and grant that my husband may consecrate his spoils to Jupiter, the author of his safe return! Yet I am full of fears; and, as often as I think of the horrible war, the tears drop from me like snow melted by the sun. Ilion, and Tenedos, and Simois, and Xanthus, and Ida, are names which, by their very sound, strike me with terror. A stranger would not have ventured to carry her away, had he not known himself able to defend the prize: doubtless, he was well acquainted with his own strength.
At postquam nec te nec vela fugacia vidi,Et quod spectarem nil nisi pontus erat,Lux quoque tecum abiit, tenebrisque exanguis obortisSucciduo dicor procubuisse genu.Vix socer Iphiclus, vix me grandaevus Acastus,Vix mater gelida maesta refecit aqua;Officium fecere pium, sed inutile nobis.Indignor miserae non licuisse mori!Ut rediit animus, pariter rediere dolores.Pectora legitimus casta momordit amor.Nec mihi pectendos cura est praebere capillos,Nec libet aurata corpora veste tegi.Ut quas pampinea tetigisse Bicorniger hasta,Creditur, huc illuc, qua furor egit, eo.Conveniunt matres Phylaceides et mihi clamant:'Indue regales, Laudamia, sinus!'Scilicet ipsa geram saturatas murice lanas,Bella sub Iliacis moenibus ille geret?Ipsa comas pectar, galea caput ille premetur?Ipsa novas vestes, dura vir arma feret?Qua possum, squalore tuos imitata laboresDicar, et haec belli tempora tristis agam.Dyspari Priamide, damno formose tuorum,Tam sis hostis iners, quam malus hospes eras!Aut te Taenariae faciem culpasse maritae,Aut illi vellem displicuisse tuam!Tu, qui pro rapta nimium, Menelae, laboras,Ei mihi, quam multis flebilis ultor eris!
He came, as fame reports, adorned with gold and jewels, and made a show in his person of the riches of Phrygia. He was backed with ships and armed men, by which wars are carried on; and yet how small a part of the population of his country followed him! It was by these, I suspect,
Di, precor, a nobis omen removete sinistrum,Et sua det Reduci vir meus arma Iovi!Sed timeo, quotiens subiit miserabile bellum;More nivis lacrimae sole madentis eunt.
daughter of Leda, and sister to the famous twins, that your heart was gained: these, I fear, may prove fatal to the Greeks. I have a strong dread of some one named Hector. Hector, Paris was wont to say, knew how to support a war with bloody rage. Beware of this Hector, whoever he is, if you retain any regard for me; let this name be deeply engraven in your mindful breast. When you shun him, remember also to shun others: fancy that there are many Hectors within those walls; and do not fail to say within yourself, as often as you prepare for battle, Laodamia enjoined me to take care of myself for her sake. If fate has ordained that Troy shall fall by the hand of the Greeks, may it fall without your receiving any injury. Let Menelaus fight, and rush among the thickest ranks of the foe, that he may recover from Paris what Paris unjustly ravished from him: let him force his way through them; and, as he triumphs in a better cause, triumph also by arms, and recover his wife from amidst his enemies. The case is different with you; you must fight that you may live, and return safe to your wife's tender caresses. Spare, O Trojans,
Ilion et Tenedos Simoisque et Xanthus et IdeNomina sunt ipso paene timenda sono.Nec rapere ausurus, nisi se defendere posset,Hospes erat; vires noverat ille suas.Venerat, ut fama est, multo spectabilis auroQuique suo Phrygias corpore ferret opes,Classe virisque potens, per quae fera bella geruntur —Et sequitur regni pars quotacumque sui?His ego te victam, consors Ledaea gemellis,Suspicor; haec Danais posse nocere puto.Hectora, quisquis is est, si sum tibi cura, caveto;Signatum memori pectore nomen habe!Hunc ubi vitaris, alios vitare mementoEt multos illic Hectoras esse puta;Et facito dicas, quotiens pugnare parabis:'Parcere me iussit Laodamia sibi.'Si cadere Argolico fas est sub milite Troiam,Te quoque non ullum vulnus habente cadet.Pugnet et adversos tendat Menelaus in hostis;
this one out of so many enemies, and spill not my blood by the wounds you give to him. He is not formed to engage cruel foes in close fight, or march up with an undaunted breast to their foremost ranks. He acquits himself better in the combats of love. Let others engage in bloody wars; but let Protesilaus fight under the banners of Cupid. Now I own, that I would gladly have called you back; my heart strongly inclined me to it; but my tongue was silent from the fear of giving a bad omen. When you set out for Troy from your father's gate, your foot gave a presage by striking against the threshold. When I saw it I groaned, and said quietly to myself, May the Gods grant that this may be a presage of my husband's safe return. These circumstances I now relate to you, that you may not be too forward in the field, but by your caution may make all my fears vanish in empty air. Fortune hath also doomed some one to an untimely fate, who shall, first of the Greeks, set his foot upon Trojan ground. Unhappy she, fated first to deplore
Hostibus e mediis nupta petenda viro est.Causa tua est dispar; tu tantum vivere pugna,Inque pios dominae posse redire sinus.Parcite, Dardanidae, de tot, precor, hostibus uni,Ne meus ex illo corpore sanguis eat!Non est quem deceat nudo concurrere ferro,Saevaque in oppositos pectora ferre viros;Fortius ille potest multo, quam pugnat, amare.Bella gerant alii; Protesilaus amet!Nunc fateor — volui revocare, animusque ferebat;Substitit auspicii lingua timore mali.Cum foribus velles ad Troiam exire paternis,Pes tuus offenso limine signa dedit.Ut vidi, ingemui, tacitoque in pectore dixi:'Signa reversuri sint, precor, ista viri!'Haec tibi nunc refero, ne sis animosus in armis;
her lost lord! Grant, O ye Gods, that Protesilaus' courage may then fail! May thy ship be the last of a thousand, and in the rear of all the fleet plough the foaming deep. I farther admonish you, that you be the last to leave the ship: the shore to which you hasten is not your native soil. But, when you return, urge the bark with sail and oars, nor delay a moment to set foot upon the coast of your own country. Whether Phœbus hides his beams, or high in his chariot overlooks the earth, both by day and by night you fill my mind with grief and anxiety: yet the mournful image haunts me more at night than during the day: night is grateful to those whose necks are environed by clasping arms. I catch at empty dreams in a forlorn bed, and must put up with false joys, because the true have fled. But why does your pale shadow stand before me? Why do I incessantly hear you uttering mournful complaints? I start from my sleep, and adore the nightly powers. The Thessalian altars cease not to smoke with sacrifices for your sake. Incense is offered, and tears are shed over it in abundance; with which the flame burns bright, as if sprinkled with wine.
Fac, meus in ventos hic timor omnis eat!Sors quoque nescio quem fato designat iniquo,Qui primus Danaum Troada tangat humum.Infelix, quae prima virum lugebit ademptum!Di faciant, ne tu strenuus esse velis!Inter mille rates tua sit millensima puppis,Iamque fatigatas ultima verset aquas!Hoc quoque praemoneo: de nave novissimus exi;Non est, quo properas, terra paterna tibi.Cum venies, remoque move veloque carinamInque tuo celerem litore siste gradum!Sive latet Phoebus seu terris altior exstat,Tu mihi luce celer, tu mihi nocte veni,Nocte tamen quam luce magis — nox grata puellisQuarum suppositus colla lacertus habet.Aucupor in lecto mendaces caelibe somnos;Dum careo veris gaudia falsa iuvant.Sed tua cur nobis pallens occurrit imago?Cur venit a labris multa querela tuis?
When shall I again clasp you in my longing arms, and be elate with joy in your embraces? When, happily united with you in the same bed, shall I hear you recount your noble deeds in war? Though I shall be pleased with the recital, yet will your relation be often interrupted by our mutual kisses. These always occasion an agreeable pause in discourse: the tongue is rendered more prompt by such alluring delays. But when I think of Troy, of the winds, and the sea, flattering hopes give way to anxious fears. I am alarmed that your fleet is detained by adverse winds. How can you think of sailing when the sea forbids? What man returns to his own country when the winds are against him? why then do you spread your sails to leave it, when the sea forbids? Neptune himself stops up the way to his own city. Whither hurry you so rashly? Let each return to his own home. Whither, I say, O ye Greeks, do you hurry so rashly? Attend to the voice of the forbidding winds. This delay is no work of blind chance; it comes from the Gods. What do you intend by this mighty war, but to regain a base adulteress? Return, ye Grecian ships, while it yet may be done with honor. But why do I thus call you back? Forbid, ye Gods, every bad omen; and may an inviting gale bear you through
Excutior somno simulacraque noctis adoro;Nulla caret fumo Thessalis ara meo;Tura damus lacrimamque super, qua sparsa relucet,Ut solet adfuso surgere flamma mero.Quando ego, te reducem cupidis amplexa lacertis,Languida laetitia solvar ab ipsa mea?Quando erit, ut lecto mecum bene iunctus in unoMilitiae referas splendida facta tuae?Quae mihi dum referes, quamvis audire iuvabit,Multa tamen capies oscula, multa dabis.Semper in his apte narrantia verba resistunt;Promptior est dulci lingua referre mora.Sed cum Troia subit, subeunt ventique fretumque;Spes bona sollicito victa timore cadit.Hoc quoque, quod venti prohibent exire carinas,Me movet — invitis ire paratis aquis.Quis velit in patriam vento prohibente reverti?A patria pelago vela vetante datis!Ipse suam non praebet iter Neptunus ad urbem.Quo ruitis? vestras quisque redite domos!Quo ruitis, Danai? ventos audite vetantis!
the quiet waves. How I envy the lot of the Trojan wives; for, if they are doomed to see the mournful funerals of their husbands, the enemy is however not far off. The youthful bride will with her own hand fix the helmet upon the head of her gallant spouse, and buckle on his shining armour. She will buckle on his armour, and, as she performs the task, often snatch a kiss. This sportive office will be grateful to both. She will partly attend him in his march, affectionately enjoin him to return, and advise him to caution, that he may triumph, and dedicate his arms to Jupiter. He, bearing in mind the fresh injunctions of his beloved spouse, will fight with due care of himself, and think of her whom he has left at home. At his return, she will take from him his shield, and unbuckle the ponderous helmet, while he reclines his wearied breast upon her soft bosom. Unhappy, we are racked with uncertainty; an anxious fear makes us apt to fancy you surrounded with a thousand dangers. Yet while you bear armour, and are fighting in remote lands, I take a pleasure in contemplating the wax which exhibits your likeness. As if you were present, I make use of the softest expressions, and address it in words due only to my Protesilaus: I even embrace and caress it. Surely it must be so: this
Non subiti casus, numinis ista mora est.Quid petitur tanto nisi turpis adultera bello?Dum licet, Inachiae vertite vela rates!Sed quid ago? revoco? revocaminis omen abesto,Blandaque conpositas aura secundet aquas!Troasin invideo, quae si lacrimosa suorumFunera conspicient, nec procul hostis erit,Ipsa suis manibus forti nova nupta maritoInponet galeam Dardanaque arma dabit.Arma dabit, dumque arma dabit, simul oscula sumet —Hoc genus officii dulce duobus erit —Producetque virum, dabit et mandata revertiEt dicet: 'referas ista fac arma Iovi!'Ille ferens dominae mandata recentia secumPugnabit caute respicietque domum.Exuet haec reduci clipeum galeamque resolvet,Excipietque suo corpora lassa sinu.Nos sumus incertae; nos anxius omnia cogit,Quae possunt fieri, facta putare timor.Dum tamen arma geres diverso miles in orbe,Quae referat vultus est mihi cera tuos;
image is more than what it seems. Add speech to the statue, and it will be my Protesilaus himself. My eyes are incessantly fixed upon it; I press it to my bosom as if it were indeed my husband, and pour out my complaints to it, vainly hoping for an answer. I swear by yourself and your return, so dear to me above all things; by the nuptial torch, and that glowing heart which is only yours; by your beloved head, which, O ye propitious Gods, restore to me unhurt, and give me to see at length venerable with grey hairs; that I am ready to fly whithersoever you call me, and will readily share your fate, whether that should happen which, alas! I too much fear, or the Gods should graciously preserve you. Permit me to conclude my epistle with a small request: If you have yet any love for me, be sure to show it in the care you take of yourself.
Illi blanditias, illi tibi debita verbaDicimus, amplexus accipit illa meos.Crede mihi, plus est, quam quod videatur, imago;Adde sonum cerae, Protesilaus erit.Hanc specto teneoque sinu pro coniuge vero,Et, tamquam possit verba referre, queror.Per reditus corpusque tuum, mea numina, iuro,Perque pares animi coniugiique faces,Me tibi venturam comitem, quocumque vocaris,Sive — quod heu! timeo — sive superstes eris.Ultima mandato claudetur epistula parvo:Si tibi cura mei, sit tibi cura tui!Mittit Hypermestra de tot modo fratribus uni —Cetera nuptarum crimine turba iacet.
HYPERMNESTRA sends to the only survivor of so many brothers: the rest have all perished by the crime of their wives. I am closely confined, and loaded with a weight of chains. My piety is the sole cause of my punishment. I am deemed guilty, because my hand trembled to urge the sword to my husband's throat. Had I dared to commit the bloody deed, I should have been extolled. It is better to be thus deemed guilty, than please a father by an act of barbarity. I can never repent that my hands are unstained withmurder.
Clausa domo teneor gravibusque coercita vinclis;Est mihi supplicii causa fuisse piam.Quod manus extimuit iugulo demittere ferrum,Sum rea; laudarer, si scelus ausa forem.Esse ream praestat, quam sic placuisse parenti;Non piget inmunes caedis habere manus.Me pater igne licet, quem non violavimus, urat,Quaeque aderant sacris, tendat in ora faces;
Should my father torture me with the flames that I have not dared to violate, or throw in my face the torches used at the nuptial rites; should be pierce me with the very sword which he gave me for an inhuman purpose, and destroy the wife by the death from which she saved her husband; yet would all his cruelty be insufficient to make my dying lips own repentance: Hypermnestra is not one who will repent of her piety. Let Danaus and my bloody sisters testify penitence for their wickedness; this usually follows deeds of guilt. My heart sickens at the remembrance of that bloody night; and a sudden trembling enervates the joints of my right hand. That hand which was thought strong enough to engage in the murder of a husband, even dreads to write of a murder that it did not commit; yet will I attempt to describe the horrid scene. Twilight had overspread the earth; it was about the close of day, and night hastened on: we, the descendants of Inachus, are led to the palace of the great Pelasgus; and a father-in-law receives, into his house, daughters armed for the
Aut illo iugulet, quem non bene tradidit ensem,Ut, qua non cecidit vir nece, nupta cadam —Non tamen, ut dicant morientia 'paenitet!' ora,Efficiet. non est, quam piget esse, pia.Paeniteat sceleris Danaum saevasque sorores;Hic solet eventus facta nefanda sequi.Cor pavet admonitu temeratae sanguine noctis,Et subitus dextrae praepedit ossa tremor.Quam tu caede putes fungi potuisse mariti,Scribere de facta non sibi caede timet!Sed tamen experiar. modo facta crepuscula terris;Ultima pars lucis primaque noctis erat.Ducimur Inachides magni sub tecta Pelasgi,Et socer armatas accipit ipse nurus.Undique conlucent praecinctae lampades auro;Dantur in invitos inpia tura focos;Vulgus 'Hymen, Hymenaee!' vocant. fugit ille vocantis;Ipsa Iovis coniunx cessit ab urbe sua!
destruction of their husbands. Lamps adorned with gold shine through all the apartments, and impious incense is offered to the unwilling gods. The people invoke Hymen; but Hymen neglects their call: even the wife of Jove forsook her beloved city. The bridegrooms made their appearance, high in wine, and enlivened by the acclamations of their attendants; their anointed heads were adorned with garlands of flowers: they entered their bed-chambers (chambers doomed to be their graves), and reposed their limbs on beds fitter for their funeral piles. Thus they lay overcome with food, wine, and sleep; and a dead silence reigned in unsuspecting Argos. I seemed to hear around me the groans of dying men; I indeed heard them, and it was really as I feared. At this the blood forsook my limbs, the vital heat departed, and a coldness spread itself over all my joints. As the bending reeds are shaken by the mild zephyrs, or the rough northern blasts agitate the poplar leaves; a like, or more
Ecce, mero dubii, comitum clamore frequentes,Flore novo madidas inpediente comas,In thalamos laeti — thalamos, sua busta! — ferunturStrataque corporibus funere digna premunt.Iamque cibo vinoque graves somnoque iacebant,Securumque quies alta per Argos erat —Circum me gemitus morientum audire videbar;Et tamen audibam, quodque verebar erat.Sanguis abit, mentemque calor corpusque relinquit,Inque novo iacui frigida facta toro.Ut leni Zephyro graciles vibrantur aristae,Frigida populeas ut quatit aura comas,Aut sic, aut etiam tremui magis. ipse iacebas,Quemque tibi dederant vina, soporis eras.Excussere metum violenti iussa parentis;Erigor et capio tela tremente manu.
violent shaking seised me. You lay quiet, lulled to rest by the sleepy draught I had given. The commands of a violent father had banished fear. I started up, and seised with a trembling hand the deadly sword. Why should I deceive? Thrice I took hold of the pointed steel, and thrice my feeble hand dropped the hated load. I aimed at your throat; blame me not if I acknowlege the truth: I aimed at your throat the blade I had received of my father. But fear and piety opposed the bloody deed; and my blameless right hand refused the hated task. I tore my purple garments, I tore my hair, and with a faint voice uttered this mournful complaint: "A cruel father you have, Hypermnestra; think of executing his commands, and make Lynceus also a companion to his brothers. I am a woman and a virgin, mild both by nature and years; these gentle hands are unfit to wield the fatal steel: but take courage, and, while he lies defenceless, imitate the bravery of your resolute sisters; it is very probable that, ere now, all their husbands are slain. Alas! if this hand could perpetrate a cruel
Non ego falsa loquar: ter acutum sustulit ensem,Ter male sublato reccidit ense manus.Admovi iugulo — sine me tibi vera fateri! —Admovi iugulo tela paterna tuo;Sed timor et pietas crudelibus obstitit ausis,Castaque mandatum dextra refugit opus.Purpureos laniata sinus, laniata capillosExiguo dixi talia verba sono:'Saevus, Hypermestra, pater est tibi; iussa parentisEffice; germanis sit comes iste suis!Femina sum et virgo, natura mitis et annis;Non faciunt molles ad fera tela manus.Quin age, dumque iacet, fortis imitare sorores —Credibile est caesos omnibus esse viros!Si manus haec aliquam posset committere caedem,Morte foret dominae sanguinolenta suae.Hanc meruere necem patruelia regna tenendo;Cum sene nos inopi turba vagamur inops.
murder, it must first be dyed in the blood of its owner. How can they deserve death by possessing their uncle's realms, which yet must have been given to foreign sons-in-law? Even if our husbands have deserved death, what have we done? Why am I urged to a crime, which, if committed, robs me of my claim to piety? What have I to do with a drawn sword? Why are warlike weapons put into the hands of a girl? A spindle and distaff better suit these fingers." These things I revolved with myself; and, as I complained, the mournful words were accompanied with tears, which, gently falling from my eyes, bedewed your naked limbs.
Finge viros meruisse mori — quid fecimus ipsae?Quo mihi commisso non licet esse piae?Quid mihi cum ferro? quo bellica tela puellae?Aptior est digitis lana colusque meis.'Haec ego; dumque queror, lacrimae sua verba sequunturDeque meis oculis in tua membra cadunt.Dum petis amplexus sopitaque bracchia iactas,Paene manus telo saucia facta tua est.Iamque patrem famulosque patris lucemque timebamExpulerunt somnos haec mea dicta tuos:'Surge age, Belide, de tot modo fratribus unus!
While you sought to embrace me, and half-awake stretched your clasping arms, your hand was almost wounded by the drawn sword. And now, I began to dread my father, the guards, and the approaching light; when these my words roused you from sleep: Rise speedily, grandson of Belus, now the only survivor of so many brothers; unless you are quick in escaping, this is fated to be your eternal night. You start up in a fright; the fetters of sleep are all loosened, and you behold in my hand the pointed weapon. As you ask the cause; Fly, interrupted I, while night permits. You escape, favored by the darkness of the night; while I remain. And now, morning coming on,
Nox tibi, ni properas, ista perennis erit!'Territus exsurgis; fugit omnis inertia somni;Adspicis in timida fortia tela manu.Quaerenti causam 'dum nox sinit, effuge!' dixi.Dum nox atra sinit, tu fugis, ipsa moror.Mane erat, et Danaus generos ex caede iacentisDinumerat. summae criminis unus abes.Fert male cognatae iacturam mortis in unoEt queritur facti sanguinis esse parum.
Danaus numbers over his slaughtered sons; one only was wanting to complete the bloody crime. He storms at his disappointment in the death of a single kinsman, and complains that too little blood had been shed. I am torn from my father as I embrace his knees, and dragged by the hair to prison. Is this the due reward of my piety? So it is that Juno's resentment has ever pursued our race, since Jove transformed Io into a cow, and the cow into a goddess. But was it not sufficient punishment for the unhappy maid to lose her natural form, and, stripped of her beauty, be no longer able to please the almighty Jove? She stood amazed at her new shape, upon the banks of her flowing parent; and beheld, in this paternal mirror, the unusual horns. Striving to complain, her mouth was filled with lowings; and she was equally terrified at her form and
Abstrahor a patriis pedibus, raptamque capillis —Haec meruit pietas praemia! — carcer habet.Scilicet ex illo Iunonia permanet ira,Cum bos ex homine est, ex bove facta dea.At satis est poenae teneram mugisse puellamNec, modo formosam, posse placere Iovi.Adstitit in ripa liquidi nova vacca parentis,Cornuaque in patriis non sua vidit aquis,Conatoque queri mugitus edidit oreTerritaque est forma, territa voce sua.Quid furis, infelix? quid te miraris in umbra?Quid numeras factos ad nova membra pedes?
voice. Unhappy maid, why this mad rage? Why do you wonder at your own shadow? Why do you number your feet formed to new joints? This beauteous rival, once dreaded by the sister of almighty Jove, now allays her raging hunger with leaves and grass: she drinks of the running stream, and is astonished to behold her own shape; she even trembles at the arms she wears, and thinks them aimed against herself. You, lately so rich as to be deemed worthy even of almighty Jove, now lie naked and defenceless in the unsheltered fields. You wildly run through the sea, over lands, and through kindred rivers. Even seas, lands and rivers, permit your wanderings. What is the cause of your flight? Why, Io, do you thus traverse the spacious main? It is impossible to fly from your own shadow. Whither, daughter of Inachus, do you run? It is the same individual who flies and who pursues; you lead, and at the same time follow the leader. The Nile, which pours into the ocean through seven floodgates, restored to her former shape this beloved of Jove. But why should I
Illa Iovis magni paelex metuenda sororiFronde levas nimiam caespitibusque famem,Fonte bibis spectasque tuam stupefacta figuramEt, te ne feriant, quae geris, arma, times,Quaeque modo, ut posses etiam Iove digna videri,Dives eras, nuda nuda recumbis humo.Per mare, per terras cognataque flumina curris;Dat mare, dant amnes, dat tibi terra viam.Quae tibi causa fugae? quid tu freta longa pererras?Non poteris vultus effugere ipsa tuos.Inachi, quo properas? eadem sequerisque fugisque;Tu tibi dux comiti, tu comes ipsa duci.Per septem Nilus portus emissus in aequorExuit insana paelicis ora bove.Ultima quid refero, quorum mihi cana senectusAuctor? dant anni, quod querar, ecce, mei.Bella pater patruusque gerunt; regnoque domoquePellimur; eiectos ultimus orbis habet.De fratrum populo pars exiguissima restat.
mention remote times, and accounts for which I am beholden to old age? Even the present years afford ground of complaint. My father and uncle are at war: we are driven from our kingdom and home, and wander exiles on earth's remotest verge. My savage uncle singly possesses the throne and sceptre; we, a destitute crowd, follow, disconsolate, a helpless old man. You only (how small a part!) remain of a whole nation of brothers. I mourn both for those who perished, and those who gave the fatal stroke. I have not only lost a multitude of brothers, but also a like number of sisters; and both losses equally demand my tears. Lo, even I am reserved to a cruel punishment, because I saved your life! What fate is left for the guilty, when I, who merit only praise, am thus accused? And must I, once the hundredth of a kindred
Quique dati leto, quaeque dedere, fleo;Nam mihi quot fratres, totidem periere sorores.Accipiat lacrimas utraque turba meas!En, ego, quod vivis, poenae crucianda reservor;Quid fiet sonti, cum rea laudis agarEt consanguineae quondam centensima turbaeInfelix uno fratre manente cadam?At tu, siqua piae, Lynceu, tibi cura sororis,Quaeque tibi tribui munera, dignus habes,Vel fer opem, vel dede neci defunctaque vitaCorpora furtivis insuper adde rogis,Et sepeli lacrimis perfusa fidelibus ossa,Sculptaque sint titulo nostra sepulcra brevi:'Exul Hypermestra, pretium pietatis iniquum,Quam mortem fratri depulit, ipsa tulit.'
tribe, suffer death for saving one of so many brothers? But, my dear Lynceus, if you have any regard to the piety of your sister, or any remembrance of her love, and the life she gave you, help me in this extremity; or, if death should set me free before you can arrive, bear privately my breathless frame to the funeral pile, and sprinkle my ashes with unfeigned tears. When you have faithfully performed the last obsequies, engrave upon my tomb this short inscription:
Scribere plura libet, sed pondere lapsa catenaeEst manus, et vires subtrahit ipse timor.Ecquid, ut adspecta est studiosae littera dextrae,Protinus est oculis cognita nostra tuis —An, nisi legisses auctoris nomina Sapphus,Hoc breve nescires unde movetur opus?
Hypermnestra, an unhappy exile, was, as a reward for her piety, unjustly doomed to that death from which she had saved her brother.
Forsitan et quare mea sint alterna requirasCarmina, cum lyricis sim magis apta modis.
I wish to write more; but my hand fails, disabled by a weight of chains; and ill-boding fears deprive me of the power of reflection.
Flendus amor meus est — elegiae flebile carmen;Non facit ad lacrimas barbitos ulla meas.
AT the sight of this letter written with an anxious hand, will you not instantly know the characters to be mine? Or must even the name of the unhappy writer be added, to prove the person by whom the few lines are sent? You may perhaps wonder why I address you in alternate measures, when lyric numbers so much better suit my genius. But unsuccessful love complains in melancholy notes, and elegy is the most proper for the expression of my woe. No harp can serve to paint my flowing tears. I burn like a ripened field of corn, when driving east-winds spread the catching flames. Phaon honors the distant fields of burning Ætna, while flames fierce as those of Ætna prey upon my heart. I no more take pleasure in forming my numbers to the tuneful strings: music and poetry are the employment of a mind at ease. The dames of Pyrrha, Methymna, and the other cities of Lesbos, please no more. Anactorie and fair Cydno have
Uror, ut indomitis ignem exercentibus EurisFertilis accensis messibus ardet ager.Arva, Phaon, celebras diversa Typhoidos Aetnae;Me calor Aetnaeo non minor igne tenet.Nec mihi, dispositis quae iungam carmina nervis,Proveniunt; vacuae carmina mentis opus!Nec me Pyrrhiades Methymniadesve puellae,Nec me Lesbiadum cetera turba iuvant.Vilis Anactorie, vilis mihi candida Cydro;Non oculis grata est Atthis, ut ante, meis,Atque aliae centum, quas hic sine crimine amavi;Inprobe, multarum quod fuit, unus habes.Est in te facies, sunt apti lusibus anni —O facies oculis insidiosa meis!Sume fidem et pharetram — fies manifestus Apollo;
lost their charms; and Atthis, of late so grateful to my sight; with hundreds of others, once the objects of my guilty love. Faithless man, yo alone engross that heart, formerly shared by many. You are happy in a fine face, and years fit for pleasure and dalliance. O enchanting looks, so fatal to me and my repose! Take the harp and bow, and you will pass with all for Apollo. Adorn your head with wreaths of ivy, and you will appear beautiful as Bacchus. Yet Apollo was enamored of Daphne, and Bacchus of the Cretan maid, though neither of them excelled in lyric measures. To me the Muses dictate the sweetest lays, and the name of Sappho resounds through all nations. Even great Alcæus, the partner of my country and my harp, has not more renown,
Accedant capiti cornua — Bacchus eris!Et Phoebus Daphnen, et Cnosida Bacchus amavit,Nec norat lyricos illa vel illa modos;At mihi Pegasides blandissima carmina dictant;Iam canitur toto nomen in orbe meum.Nec plus Alcaeus, consors patriaeque lyraeque,Laudis habet, quamvis grandius ille sonet.Si mihi difficilis formam natura negavit,Ingenio formae damna repende meo.Sim brevis, at nomen, quod terras inpleat omnes,Est mihi; mensuram nominis ipsa fero.Candida si non sum, placuit Cepheia PerseoAndromede, patriae fusca colore suae.
though he sings in loftier notes. If unfriendly nature has denied me an engaging form, yet the charms of my wit abundantly compensate that deficiency. I am short of stature; yet I have a name that fills the whole earth, and by my own merit have gained this extensive renown. What if I am not fair? Was not even Perseus pleased with Andromede, an Æthiopian dame? Doves of various colours often unite, and the white turtle matches with the shining green. If no charms can gain your heart but such as equal your own, no charms will be ever able to gain Phaon. yet when you read my lays, I then seemed formed to please: you were never enough delighted with my voice, and swore that it became me alone to speak. I remember when wont to sing (for, ah, how vast a memory have lovers!) how you stopped my tongue with kisses; even these you praised: I pleased in all, but more particularly when united with you is the close bonds of love. Then you were fired by my amorous sport; each motion, each glance, each word inflamed you, till, dissolving in tumultuous raptures, gentle faintness surprised our wearied limbs. But now the Sicilian
Et variis albae iunguntur saepe columbae,Et niger a viridi turtur amatur ave.Si, nisi quae facie poterit te digna videri,Nulla futura tua est, nulla futura tua est.At mea cum legerem, sat iam formosa videbar;Unam iurabas usque decere loqui.Cantabam, memini — meminerunt omnia amantes —Oscula cantanti tu mihi rapta dabas.Haec quoque laudabas, omnique a parte placebam —Sed tum praecipue, cum fit amoris opus.Tunc te plus solito lascivia nostra iuvabat,Crebraque mobilitas aptaque verba ioco,Et quod, ubi amborum fuerat confusa voluptas,Plurimus in lasso corpore languor erat.Nunc tibi Sicelides veniunt nova praeda puellae.Quid mihi cum Lesbo? Sicelis esse volo.O vos erronem tellure remittite vestra,Nisiades matres Nisiadesque nurus,Nec vos decipiant blandae mendacia linguae!
maids take up all your thoughts. Why was I born at Lesbos? Why am I not a native of Sicily?
Quae dicit vobis, dixerat ante mihi.
But ah! Sicilian nymphs, beware, and banish from your isle this deceitful wanderer. Be not deceived with the fictions of an insinuating tongue; those faithless vows have all been made to Sappho. You too, Erycina, who range the Sicilian hills, think that I am thine, and pity the sorrows of your poetess. Shall cruel fortune still pursue the same sad tenor, and obstinately persist in heaping woes upon me? Scarcely had I completed my sixth year, when the ashes of a deceased parent drank my tears. My brother next, despising wealth and honor, burned with an ignoble flame, and rashly plunged himself into shameful distresses. Reduced to want, he traversed the blue ocean in a nimble bark, and basely hunted after those riches which he had foolishly lost. My many good counsels he repaid with hatred; such was the reward of my piety and plain-dealing. And, as if fortune had determined to oppress me without ceasing, an infant daughter has been lately added to my cares. Yet adverse fate still pursues me, and sends you, the last and greatest of my woes. Alas! How much is this tempestuous voyage of life agitated by unfriendly gales? My locks no more hang curled in ringlets round my neck; nor do the glowing gems adorn my joints. I am clad in homely weeds; no braids of gold bind the flowing tresses, nor do Arabian unguents breathe their sweet perfumes. For whom shall I adorn myself, unhappy wretch? whom shall I thus study to please? The only object of my tenderness is gone. The light darts of Cupid easily wound my gentle heart; and still there is some cause, why Sappho still should love. Whether the Sisters have so fixed my doom from the birth, and formed my life to the softer ties of Venus; or my manners are fashioned by my studies, and those arts in which I excel; the Muse certainly forms my mind to answer the molting notes of my tongue. What wonder, if my tender age yields to the gentle violence, and those years that recommend to the addresses of men? How was I afraid that Aurora might seise you for her Cephalus? And she would have done it, had she not been detained by her
Tu quoque, quae montes celebras, Erycina, Sicanos —Nam tua sum — vati consule, diva, tuae!An gravis inceptum peragit fortuna tenoremEt manet in cursu semper acerba suo?Sex mihi natales ierant, cum lecta parentisAnte diem lacrimas ossa bibere meas.Arsit iners frater meretricis captus amoreMixtaque cum turpi damna pudore tulit;Factus inops agili peragit freta caerula remo,Quasque male amisit, nunc male quaerit opes.Me quoque, quod monui bene multa fideliter, odit;Hoc mihi libertas, hoc pia lingua dedit.Et tamquam desint, quae me sine fine fatigent,Accumulat curas filia parva meas.Ultima tu nostris accedis causa querelis.Non agitur vento nostra carina suo.Ecce, iacent collo sparsi sine lege capilli,Nec premit articulos lucida gemma meos;Veste tegor vili, nullum est in crinibus aurum,Non Arabum noster dona capillus habet.Cui colar infelix, aut cui placuisse laborem?Ille mei cultus unicus auctor abes.Molle meum levibusque cor est violabile telis,Et semper causa est, cur ego semper amem —Sive ita nascenti legem dixere SororesNec data sunt vitae fila severa meae,Sive abeunt studia in mores, artisque magistraIngenium nobis molle Thalia facit.Quid mirum, si me primae lanuginis aetasAbstulit, atque anni quos vir amare potest?Hunc ne pro Cephalo raperes, Aurora, timebam —Et faceres, sed te prima rapina tenet!Hunc si conspiciat quae conspicit omnia Phoebe,Iussus erit somnos continuare Phaon;