The Elegies of Tibullus Part 3

COUNTRY-LIFE WITH DELIA

With haughty frown I swore I could employ Thine absence well. But all my pride is o'er!

Now am I lashed, as when a madcap boy Whirls a swift top along the level floor.

Aye! Twist me! Plague me! Never shall I say Such boast again. Thy scorn and anger spare!

Spare me!--by all our stolen loves I pray, By Venus,--by thy wealth of plaited hair!

Was it not I, when fever laid thee low, Whose holy rites and offerings set thee free?

Thrice round thy bed with brimstone did I go, While the wise witch sang healing charms for thee.

Lest evil dreams should vex thee, I did bring That worshipped wafer by the Vestal given; Then, with loose robes and linen stole, did sing Nine prayers to Hecate 'neath the midnight heaven.

All rites were done! Yet doth a rival hold My darling, and my futile prayers deride: For I dreamed madly of a life all gold, If she were healed,--but Heaven the dream denied.

A pleasant country-seat, whose orchards yield Sweet fruit to be my Delia's willing care, While our full corn-crop in the sultry field Stands ripe and dry! O, but my dreams were fair!

She in the vine-vat will our cl.u.s.ters press, And tread the rich must with her dancing feet; She oft my sheep will number, oft caress Some pretty, prattling slave with kisses sweet.

She offers Pan due tributes of our wealth, Grapes for the vine, and for a field of corn Wheat in the ear, or for the sheep-fold's health Some frugal feast is to his altar borne.

Of all my house let her the mistress be!

I am displaced and give not one command!

Then let Messala come! From each choice tree Let Delia pluck him fruit with her soft hand!

To serve and please so worshipful a guest, She spends her utmost art and anxious care; Asks his least wish, and spreads her dainty best, Herself the hostess and hand-maiden fair.

Mad hope! The storm-winds bore away that dream Far as Armenia's perfume-breathing bids.

Great Venus! Did I at thy shrine blaspheme?

Am I accursed for rash and impious words?

Had I, polluted, touched some altar pure, Or stolen garlands from a temple door-- What prayers and vigils would I not endure, And weeping kiss the consecrated floor?

Had I deserved this stroke,--with pious pain From shrine to shrine my suppliant knees should crawl; I would to all absolving G.o.ds complain, And smite my forehead on the marble wall.

Thou who thy gibes at love canst scarce repress, Beware! The angry G.o.d may strike again!

I knew a youth who laughed at love's distress, And bore, when old, the worst that lovers ken.

His poor, thin voice he did compel to woo, And curled, for mockery, his scanty hair; Spied on her door, as slighted lovers do, And stopped her maid in any public square.

The forum-loungers thrust him roughly by, And spat upon their b.r.e.a.s.t.s, such luck to turn: Have mercy, Venus! Thy true follower I!

Why wouldst thou, G.o.ddess, thine own harvest burn!

ELEGY THE SIXTH

A LOVER'S CURSES

I strove with wine my sorrows to efface.

But wine turned tears was all the drink I knew; I tried a new, strange la.s.s. Each cold embrace Brought my true love to mind, and colder grew.

"I was bewitched" she cried "by shameful charms;"

And things most vile she vowed she could declare.

Bewitched! 'tis true! but by thy soft white arms, Thy lovely brows and lavish golden hair!

Such charms had Thetis, born in Nereid cave, Who drives her dolphin-chariot fast and free To Peleus o'er the smooth Haemonian wave, Love-guided o'er long leagues of azure sea.

Ah me! the magic that dissolves my health Is a rich suitor in my mistress' eye, Whom that vile bawd led to her door by stealth And opened it, and bade me pine and die.

That hag should feed on blood. Her festive bowls Should be rank gall: and round her haunted room Wild, wailing ghosts and monitory owls Should flit forever shrieking death and doom.

Made hunger-mad, may she devour the gra.s.s That grows on graves, and gnaw the bare bones down Which wolves have left! Stark-naked may she pa.s.s, Chased by the street-dogs through the taunting town!

My curse comes fast. Unerring signs are seen In stars above us. There are G.o.ds who still Protect unhappy lovers: and our Queen Venus rains fire on all who slight her will.

O cruel girl! unlearn the wicked art Of that rapacious hag! For everywhere Wealth murders love. But thy poor lover's heart Is ever thine, and thou his dearest care.

A poor man clings close to thy lovely side, And keeps the crowd off, and thy pathway free; He hides thee with kind friends, and as his bride From thy dull, golden thraldom ransoms thee.

Vain is my song. Her door will not unclose For words, but for a hand that knocks with gold.

O fear me, my proud rival, fear thy foes!

Oft have the wheels of fortune backward rolled!

ELEGY THE SEVENTH

A DESPERATE EXPEDIENT

Thou beckonest ever with a face all smiles, Then, G.o.d of Love, thou lookest fierce and pale.

Unfeeling boy! why waste on me such wiles?

What glory if a G.o.d o'er man prevails?

Once more thy snares are set. My Delia flies To steal a night--with whom I cannot tell.

Can I believe when she denies, denies-- I, for whose sake she tricked her lord so well?

By me, alas! those cunning ways were shown To fool her slaves. My skill I now deplore!

For me she made excuse to sleep alone, Or silenced the shrill hinges of her door.

"Twas I prescribed what remedies to use If mutual pa.s.sion somewhat fiercely play; If there were tell-tale bite or rosy bruise, I showed what simples take the scars away.

Hear me! fond husband of the false and fair, Make me thy guest, and she shall chastely go!

When she makes talk with men I shall take care, Nor shall she at the wine her bosom show.