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. | |