I'll suffer all unchanged, all wrongs I'll bear
It were no load to bear with one so fair!
Not few, I ween, have for thy beauty pined;
But faith, I ween, thou'lt not in many
find.
A short while Theseus Ariadne loved;
Demophoön Phyllis: both deceitful proved.
In Jason's ship thou know'st Medea's fate*.
The man she rescued left her desolate.
Hard is the maid who feigns a ready fire,
And dons for more than one her best attire.
Court not the rich or noble; hardly one
Would lift, like me, thy bones when life is done.
Yet oh for me be thine the mournful care,
To beat thy naked breast and rend thy hair!
Unica nata meo pulcherrima cura dolori.
SOLE care, and fairest cause of all my pain,
Since fate forbids the whispered "Come again!"
Thy beauty from my lays shall peerless shine:
Catullus, with thy leave; with, Calvus, thine.
The veteran doffs his arms war-wearied now,
The agèd steers refuse to drag the plough,
*Jam tibi Iasonia notast Medea carina.—(Cdd.)
The crumbling ship lies on the lonely shore,
In temple hung the old buckler's borne no more;
But time will never wean my heart from thine,
Though Nestor's or Tithonus' years be mine.
Far better brook the tyrant's ruthless rule,
And groan, O fell Perillus! in thy bull;
Far better freeze to stone 'neath Gorgon's stare,
And e'en the dire Caucasian vultures bear.
Yet firm I'll stand: with rust steel spears decay,
A little water wears the rock away :
My love no caustic wears howe'er severe;
It lasts, and bears all threats with patient ear.
Though scorned, it pleads; though wronged, admits the fault,
And e'en returns, though fain its feet would halt.
Thou too, fond fool, in love's good fortune strong
Be warned!—no woman e'er is faithful long.
Who pays his vows while storms around him rave,
Since oft in port the wreck bestrews the wave?
Who claims the prize before the race is done,
And round the goal the wheels seven times have run?
Deceitful blows in love the prosperous gale;
If late disaster come, then great the bale.
Yet do thou, meanwhile, though she love thee well,
Close lock thy breast; thy joys to no one tell.
In love affairs-I know not why 'tis so
Our boastful words are sure to work us woe.
Though oft invited, seldom go her way;
What causes envy is not wont to stay.
Were times like times, and maids like maids of yore,
I'd be as thou: by time I'm triumphed o'er;
Yet shall this age my habits never change:
Let each one wander in his fitting range.
* At nullo dominae teritur sub alumine amor qui.-(Munro.)
But ye who love, and love, and love again,
How salt the tears that from your eyes must rain!
Ye've seen the tender maiden lily-white,
Ye've seen the dusky girl; both tints delight.
Ye've seen the nymph of Grecian mould, and there
The Roman maid; and both were passing fair.
In russet robe or purple raiment drest,
Alike each charmer wounds the lover's breast:
Since one can steal the slumber from thine eyes,
One maid to one may well for woe suffice.
DREAM OF CYNTHIA'S SHIPWRECK.
Vidi te in somnis fracta, mea vita, carina.
LIGHT of my life! I saw thee in my sleep,
Wrecked on the storm-yvext Ionian deep;
Thy vessel's shivered timbers round thee strown,
Thy weary hands for succour upward thrown,
Confessing all the falsehoods thou hadst told,
While o'er thy matted hair the waters rolled-
Like Helle wave-tost on the purple deep,
Borne on the downy back of golden sheep.
Oh how I feared that on the "Cynthian sea"
Sailors should tell thy tale and weep for thee!
What vows to Neptune and the Twins I made,
And to divine Leucothoë, for aid!
While thou-thy hands scarce raised above the wave-Didst often call me from the yawning grave.
Had thy bright eyes by Glaucus then been seen,
The Ionian sea had hailed another queen,
And jealous Nereids would be chiding thee,
Nisaea fair, and green Cymothoë.
But to thine aid I saw the dolphin scud
That bore, methinks, Arion o'er the flood.
Down from a rock I tried to plunge ahead,
When fear awoke me, and the vision fled.
Now let men marvel maid so fair's mine own
And that through all the town my bliss is blown.
Although for her Pactolus' streams should glide,
She would not say, "Poor poet, leave my side."
My lays she sings, and scorns the rich man's lure:
No maiden courts the Muse with zeal so pure.
Much, faith in love, much, constancy can do:
Who many gifts can give may many woo.
Should Cynthia wish o'er ocean wide to fare,
I'll go one breeze will waft the faithful pair,
One shore our couch when sleep our eyelids fill,
One sheltering tree our roof, our cup one rill,
One plank for both will ample bedroom be;
Afore, abaft, 'tis all the same to me—
All toils I'll bear: let savage Eurus rave,
Or freezing Auster whirl us o'er the wave,
And all ye winds that poor Ulysses tost,
And drave the Greeks along Euboea's coast,
That moved two strands when forth the dove had flown,
To lead rude Argo on through seas unknown.
If only from my eyes she never turn,
Jove with his blazing bolt our ship may burn;
Naked, we'll toss upon the self-same shore :
The wave may waft me if thou'rt covered o'er.
Not harsh is Neptune to so leal a love,
For Neptune mates in love his brother Jove.
Ah! Argive Amymonë with her pail,
And Lerna, trident-smit, can tell the tale,
How erst he wooed and won, and in return
With god-sent waters filled her golden urn;
And ravished Orithyia says the Wind
Who rules the earth and sea is not unkind.
Believe me, Scylla's mouths will cease to rave, Nor vast Charybdis whelm us with its wave; The very stars will shine, by clouds unhid; Clear shall Orion gleam and clear the Kid : But should my life be lost in saving thine, Then surely no inglorious fate is mine.
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