Then, sweet, I loosed the garland from my brow,
And round thy temples did a chaplet twine;
Anon thy truant locks arranged, and now

My hands the stealthy apple placed in thine.

Ungrateful sleep with all my gifts I dowered-
Gifts that oft rolled from forth thy sloping breast;
And when thou stirr❜dst or heav'dst a sigh I cowered,
Fond fool with groundless bodings sore opprest,

For fear unwonted terrors marred thy dreams,
Or tempter forced thee 'gainst thy will to yield.
Then mild-rayed Luna with officious beams
Streamed through the lattice and thine

eyes

unsealed.

When she on elbow rising half upright:

"Another scorns thee and thou seek'st my bed. Where hast thou wasted all my promised night, Enfeebled youth? Woe's me! the stars are fled.

"Wretch with such anguished nights mayst thou be tried
As those with which thou hast my bosom wrung.
To banish sleep my purple thread I plied,
Toil-weary then, my tuneful lyre I strung.

"As best I could my lonely lot I bore,
Grieving another's love should charm thee so,
Till downy-pinioned slumber lulled me o'er,
And bade my tears of sorrow cease to flow."

IV.

TO BASSUS.

Quid mihi tam multas laudando, Basse, puellas.

WHY, by praising to me every maiden you see,
Would you wean me from Cynthia, my friend?
And why not allow the old chain that till now
I have worn to be worn till the end?

Praise Antiope's cheek, and in ecstasy speak
Of Spartan Hermione's fame,

And maidens the rage in a beauty-famed age,—
She'll not leave them the shade of a name.

Nay, if her you compare with the commoner fair,
Less chance of defeat will there be;

But her face is the least of my passionate feast—
She has beauties far dearer to me.

She is warm as she's fair, in accomplishments rare,"
She's charming by day and by night;

So the more that you try our love-knot to untie,
The firmer the faith we will plight.

* Ingenuus calor et multis decus artibus et quae
Gaudia sub tacita ducere veste libet.--(Mueller.)

*

Nor unpunished you'll go, for my Cynthia shall know,
And you'll find she's a tongue of her own;

She'll forbid you the door, nor inquire for you more,
And your fault she will never condone.

On

your head she'll bring down all the girls in the town, You'll be banished the homes of the fair

Every fane she reveres she will deluge with tears,
And old stone, no odds whatlike or where.

There's no heavier blow that my Cynthia could know,
Than the loss of the love of her swain:

Oh I fervently pray she'll so love me alway,
And ne'er give me cause to complain.

V.

TO GALLUS.

Invide, tu tandem voces conpesce molestas.

PRAY, envious wretch, thy tiresome pratings cease,
And let us both pursue our path in peace.
Madman! wouldst thou my lady's temper know?
Unhappy one, wouldst court the depths of woe?
Through hidden embers heedless dash amain,
And all Thessalia's direst poisons drain?

My mistress is no common stroller, mind;
Nor light her ire, as to thy cost thou❜lt find.
And if perchance she listen to thy prayers,
Alas! thou'rt sure to reap no end of cares.

Thy sleep she'll spoil, thine eyes with weeping drain ;
Around the sternest hearts she coils her chain.

How often, scorned, thou'lt to my threshold hie,
While all thy haughty words in sobs will die;
And chilling tremors come with bitter tears,
And care's dark lines betray thine anxious fears;
Words leave thee when thou fain wouldst tell thy woe,
And what or where thou art thou'lt cease to know.

Then, too, thou'lt learn perforce what chains I bore,
What 'tis to wander home debarred her door;
Then, too, my lank, emaciated frame,
And pallid hue, will less thy wonder claim;
Nor will thy lofty lineage ease thy pain-

Love looks on ancient busts with proud disdain.

Breathe to a soul the pangs that rend thy breast,
How soon thy noble name will be a jest!
And I, who found no balm to heal my smart,
Shall have no power to soothe thy aching heart;
But each alike, by hopeless love opprest,
Will weep his sorrows on the other's breast.

Then, Gallus, never more for Cynthia sigh:
None gain her favours with impunity.

VI.

TO TULLUS.

Non ego nunc Hadriae vereor mare noscere tecum.

DEAR Tullus, now I'd gladly plough wild Adria's waves with

thee,

And fearlessly my canvas spread upon the Aegean sea;

Yea, by thy side I'd o'er the steep Rhipaean ridges roam,

Or wend my toilsome way beyond swart Memnon's distant home:

But me a maiden's pleading words and circling arms detain ; 'Gainst her pale cheek and earnest prayers to strive, alas! were vain.

Still of her ardent love for me she raves the weary Kight,

And swears there's not a god in heaven if e'er I leave her sight

Declares that she is not my love; nay more, the frantic girl Vents every threat that peevish maids at heartless lovers

hurl;

Against her plaints a single hour I cannot, cannot hold.

Ah! perish he, if such there be, whose bosom could be cold!

True, I should see fair Athens reared beneath Minerva's smile,

And Asia's grandeur famed of old; but is it worth the while