T. R. Smith, comp. Poetica Erotica: Rare and Curious Amatory Verse. 1921–22.
From Elegies: Book II. Elegia XIX.
By Ovid (43 B.C.–18 A.D.)(Translated by Christopher Marlowe) Ad rivalem cui uxor curæ non erat. FOOL, if to keep thy wife thou hast no need, | |
| Keep her from me, my more desire to breed; | |
| We scorn things lawful; stolen sweets we affect; | |
| Cruel is he that loves whom none protect. | |
| Let us, both lovers, hope and fear alike, | 5 |
| And may repulse place for our wishes strike. | |
| What should I do with fortune that ne’er fails me? | |
| Nothing I love that at all times avails me. | |
| Wily Corinna saw this blemish in me, | |
| And craftily knows by what means to win me. | 10 |
| Ah, often, that her hale head ached, she lying, | |
| Willed me, whose slow feet sought delay, be flying! | |
| Ah, oft, how much she might, she feigned offence; | |
| And, doing wrong, made show of innocence. | |
| So, having vexed, she nourished my warm fire, | 15 |
| And was again most apt to my desire. | |
| To please me, what fair terms and sweet words has she! | |
| Thou also that late took’st mine eyes away, | |
| Oft cozen me, oft, being wooed, say nay; | |
| And on thy threshold let me lie dispread, | 20 |
| Suff’ring much cold by hoary night’s frost bred. | |
| So shall my love continue many years; | |
| This doth delight me, this my courage cheers. | |
| Fat love, and too much fulsome, me annoys, | |
| Even as sweet meat a glutted stomach cloys. | 25 |
| In brazen tower had not Danäe dwelt, | |
| A mother’s joy by Jove she had not felt. | |
| While Juno Iö keeps, when horns she wore, | |
| Jove liked her better than he did before. | |
| Who covets lawful things takes leaves from woods, | 30 |
| And drinks stolen waters in surrounding floods. | |
| Her lover let her mock that long will reign: | |
| Ah me, let not my warnings cause my pain! | |
| Whatever haps, by sufferance harm is done, | |
| What flies I follow, what follows me I shun. | 35 |
| But thou, of thy fair damsel too secure, | |
| Begin to shut thy house at evening sure. | |
| Search at the door who knocks oft in the dark, | |
| In night’s deep silence why the ban-dogs bark. | |
| Whether the subtle maid lines brings and carries, | 40 |
| Why she alone in empty bed oft tarries. | |
| Let this care sometimes bite thee to the quick, | |
| That to deceits it may me forward prick. | |
| To steal sands from the shore he loves a-life | |
| That can affect a foolish wittol’s wife. | 45 |
| Now I forewarn, unless to keep her stronger | |
| Thou dost begin, she shall be mine no longer. | |
| Long have I borne much, hoping time would beat thee | |
| To guard her well, that well I might entreat thee. | |
| Thou suffer’st what no husband can endure, | 50 |
| But of my love it will an end procure. | |
| Shall I, poor soul, be never interdicted? | |
| Nor never with night’s sharp revenge afflicted. | |
| In sleeping shall I fearless draw my breath? | |
| Wilt nothing do, why I should wish thy death? | 55 |
| Can I but loathe a husband grown a bawd? | |
| By thy default thou dost our joys defraud. | |
| Some other seek that may in patience strive with thee, | |
| To pleasure me, forbid me to corrive with thee. | |