What time with horns stern Juno marred thy brow,
And merged thine accents in a heifer's roar.
How often oak-leaves hurt thy mouth ere now,
Thy home a shed when grazing-time was o'er!

Since Jove did thee from heifer-form recall,
Hast thou a haughty deity become?
Was Egypt with its dusky maids too small?
Why hast thou travelled all the way to Rome?

What gain'st thou if alone our ladies lie?

Again thy brow shall be with horns o'ergrown, Harsh one! or from our city thou shalt fly:

To Nile no favour e'er hath Tiber shown.

But thou, too well appeased by all my woe,

Cynthia, those nights once o'er, to love give rein. Thou hear'st not: no; thou mock'st my words, although Icarion's steers now turn the lazy wain.

Late, late thou drink'st-not midnight bids thee rise;
And canst thou tireless still the dice endure?
Ah! perish he who grapeward cast his eyes,
And first with nectar spoiled the water pure!

Thee Attic hinds, Icarion, justly slew;

Thou know'st how bitter is the breath of wine:

To wine, Eurytion, thy death was due;

To Thracian juice, O Polyphemus! thine.

Wine ruins beauty, saps the strength of years;
In wine doth woman oft her lord forget.

Ah me! how little changed my girl appears,

Deep though she drink!-drink on, thou'rt charming yet.

Unharmed though to thy cups the wreaths droop low,
And from thy lips my love-lays slowly roll:
More freely let the ripe Falernian flow,

And foam more mellow in the golden bowl.

Yet loath to bed her way lone maiden wends,
Love keeps her brooding o'er forbidden joys;
More deeply yearns the heart for absent friends:
Even of the leal the long possession cloys.

XXVI.

TO LYNCEUS.*

Cur quisquam faciem dominae jam credat amico?

WHY trust a mistress' beauty to a friend?
'Twas thus I wellnigh lost my darling rare.
Well tried I speak: in love all faith doth end;
Each for himself would ever win the fair.

Love breaks up kinship, severs friends, I ween,
And calls to baleful arms the happy band:

A guest robbed Menelaus of his queen;

The Colchian maiden sought a stranger's hand.

* For a scheme of the arrangement of the lines in this Elegy, see Notes in Appendix.

Lynceus, couldst thou thus with my darling deal?

False one! did not thy hands drop numb the while? What? had she not been firm and true as steel, Couldst thou have lived in villany so vile?

Stab me-with poison take my life away;

But leave, oh leave my mistress all to me! Thou'lt be my dearest, closest comrade, yea, All that I have I give in charge to thee.

O keep from her, and leave her all mine own!
I cannot brook even Jove as rival here;
I dread my very shadow when alone,

And, foolish, tremble oft from foolish fear.

Yet for one cause I pass thine error by—

Wine made thy words in mazy wanderings flow;
Ne'er more affected frown will cheat mine eye,
For all, even Lynceus, now love's blessings know.

In age my Lynceus raves, love-smitten sore:

I'm glad thou, too, rever'st the gods we praise: What now avails thy deep Socratic lore,

Or power of telling Nature's wondrous ways?

Or what thy study of the Athenian strains?

Thine aged favourite soothes not hearts love-torn. Wouldst shun Antimachus' and Homer's pains? The straight-limbed maiden views the gods with scorn.

No woman broods o'er mundane problems here;
Why Luna's pangs from Phoebus' steeds can be—
If dwells a judge beyond the Stygian mere *—
Or the bolt thunders by great Heaven's decree.

* Nec si post Stygias aliquid rest arbiter undas.—(Munro.)

Themes for the Aeschylean buskin hence afar :
Unbend thy limbs, in gentle dances rove;
What boots Amphiaräus' fatal car,

Or fall of Capaneus that pleased great Jove?

Go, imitate—and sure 'twere better thus-
Coan Philetas with thy love-sick muse; *
And from the "Dreams" of terse Callimachus
A fitting theme for adaptation choose.

Tell how Aetolian Achelous' tide

Ran wild when vanquished in dire love-affray, Or how o'er Phrygian plain deceitful glide

Maeander's waves and thwart his weary way,

And how Adrastus' speech-dowered courser won
The palm beside Archemorus' tearful tomb:
Now in a narrow groove, harsh poet, run,

And sing the flame the gods for thee foredoom.

The bull submits not to the toilsome plough

Till the tough lasso round his horns has caught; Nor meekly thou'lt to love's fell bondage bow— Restive, by me thou must be tamed and taught.

Behold me, whose inheritance was small,
To no ancestral triumphs' glory born,
King crowned of Beauty in the banquet-hall,
Through that same genius which thou hold'st in scorn.

Let me, whom love has smitten to the core,
In yester-evening's wreaths lie languishing ;
But of the Phoebus-guarded Actian shore,
And Caesar's valiant fleets, let Virgil sing,

* Tu satius Meropem musis imitere Philetan.-(Bergk.)

Who rouses Troy's Aeneas to the fray,

And rears in song Lavinium's walls on high :
Yield, Roman writers-bards of Greece, give way— ·
A work will soon the Iliad's fame outvie.

Thou sing'st the precepts of the Ascraean sage,

What plain grows corn, what mountain suits the vineA strain, O Virgil! that might well engage Apollo's fingers on his lyre divine.

Thou sing'st, beneath Galaesus' pinewood shades,
Thyrsis and Daphnis on thy well-worn reed;
And how ten apples can seduce the maids,

And kid, from unmilked teats, girls captive lead.

Happy, with apples, loves so cheap to buy!

To such, may Tityrus sing, though cold and coy: O happy Corydon! when thou mayst try

To win Alexis fair-his master's joy.

Though of his oaten-pipe he weary be,

Kind Hamadryads still their bard adore, Whose strains will charm the reader's ear, be he Unlearned or learned in love's delightful lore.

(In spirit not-maychance less grand in tone), The tuneful swan resigns the rustic bay, With no unskilled goose-cackle idly blown.

In kindred topics Varro sported too;

His "Jason" done, of love he swept the lyreVarro, whose own Leucadia thrilled him through With flames of inextinguishable fire.

* Nec minor his—(animis haut, si minor ore) canorus.--(Munro.)