The Amores; or, Amours. OvidЧитать онлайн книгу.
thy arms; then wouldst thou be crying out, "Run slowly on, ye horses of the night."
Why should I be punished in my affections, if thy husband does decay through length of years? Wast thou married to the old fellow by my contrivance? See how many hours of sleep the Moon gave 201 to the youth beloved by her; and yet her beauty is not inferior to thine. The parent of the Gods himself, that he might not see thee so often, joined two nights together 202 for the attainment of his desires.
I had finished my reproaches; you might be sure she heard them; for she blushed'. However, no later than usual did the day arise.
ELEGY XIV
His mistress having been in the habit of dyeing her hair with noxious compositions, she has nearly lost it, becoming almost bald. He reminds her of his former advice, and entreats her to abstain from the practice, on which there may be a chance of her recovering it.
I always used to say; "Do leave off doctoring your hair." 203 And now you have no hair left, that you can be dyeing. But, if you had let it alone, what was more plenteous than it? It used to reach down your sides, so far as ever 204 they extend. And besides: Was it not so fine, that you were afraid to dress 205 it; just like the veils 206 which the swarthy Seres use? Or like the thread which the spider draws out with her slender legs, when she fastens her light work beneath the neglected beam? And yet its colour was not black, nor yet was it golden, but though it was neither, it was a mixture of them both. A colour, such as the tall cedar has in the moist vallies of craggy Ida, when its bark is stript off.
Besides, it was quite tractable, and falling into a thousand ringlets; and it was the cause of no trouble to you. Neither the bodkin, 208 nor the tooth of the comb ever tore it; your tire woman always had a whole skin. Many a time was it dressed before my eyes; and yet, never did the bodkin 210 seized make wounds in her arms. Many a time too, in the morning, her locks not yet arranged, was she lying on the purple couch, with her face half upturned. Then even, unadorned, was she beauteous; as when the Thracian Bacchanal, in her weariness, throws herself carelessly upon the green grass. Still, fine as it was, and just like down, what evils, alas! did her tortured hair endure! How patiently did it submit itself to the iron and the fire; 211 that the curls might become crisp with their twisting circlets. "'Tis a shame," I used to cry, "'tis a shame, to be burning that hair; naturally it is becoming; do, cruel one, be merciful to your own head. Away with all violence from it; it is not hair that deserves to be scorched; the very locks instruct 212 the bodkins when applied."
Those beauteous locks are gone; which Apollo might have longed for, and which Bacchus might have wished to be on his own head. With them I might compare those, which naked Dione is painted 213 as once having held up with her dripping hand. Why are you complaining that hair so badly treated is gone? Why, silly girl, do you lay down the mirror 214 with disconsolate hand? You are not seen to advantage by yourself with eyes accustomed to your former self. For you to please, you ought to be forgetful of your former self.
No enchanted herbs of a rival 215 have done you this injury; no treacherous hag has been washing you with Itæmonian water. The effects, too, of no disease have injured you; (far away be all bad omens; 216) nor has an envious tongue thinned your abundant locks;'twas your own self who gave the prepared poison to your head. Now Germany will be sending 217 for you her captured locks; by the favour of a conquered race you will be adorned. Ah! how many a time will you have to blush, as any one admires your hair; and then you will say, "Now I am receiving praise for a bought commodity! In place of myself, he is now bepraising some Sygambrian girl 218 unknown to me; still, I remember the time when that glory was my own."
Wretch that I am! with difficulty does she restrain her tears; and she covers her face with her hand, having her delicate cheeks suffused with blushes. She is venturing to look at her former locks, placed in her bosom; a treasure, alas! not fitted for that spot. 219
Calm your feelings with your features; the loss may still be repaired. Before long, you will become beauteous with your natural hair.
ELEGY XV
He tells the envious that the fame of Poets is immortal, and that theirs is not a life devoted to idleness.
Why, gnawing Envy, dost thou blame me for years of slothfulness; and why dost thou call poesy the employment of an idle mind? Thou sayest that I do not, after the manner of my ancestors, while vigorous years allow me, seek the prizes of warfare covered with dust; that I do not make myself acquainted with the prosy law, and that I have not let my tongue for hire 221 in the disagreeable courts of justice.
The pursuits of which thou art speaking, are perishable; by me, everlasting fame is sought; that to all time I may be celebrated throughout the whole world. The Mæonian bard 222 will live, so long as Tenedos and Ida 223 shall stand; so long as Simois shall roll down to the sea his rapid waves. The Ascræan, too, 224 will live, so long as the grape shall swell with its juices; 225 so long as the corn shall fall, reaped by the curving sickle. The son of Battus 226 will to all time be sung throughout the whole world; although he is not powerful in genius, in his skill he shows his might. No mischance will ever come to the tragic buskin 227 of Sophocles; with the Sun and Moon Aratus 228 will ever exist. So long as the deceitful slave, 229 the harsh father, the roguish procuress, and the cozening courtesan shall endure, Menander will exist. Ennius, 230 without any art, and Accius, 231 with his spirited language, have a name that will perish with no lapse of time.
What age is to be forgetful of Varro, 232 and the first ship that sailed, and of the golden fleece sought by the chief, the son of Æson? Then will the verses perish of the sublime Lucretius, 233 when the same day shall give the world to destruction. Tityrus, 234 and the harvests, and the arms of Æneas, will be read of, so long as thou, Rome, 235 shalt be the ruler of the conquered earth. So long as the flames and the bow shall be the arms of Cupid, thy numbers, polished Tibullus, 236 will be repeated. Gallus 237 will be known by the West, and Gallus known by the East, 238 and with Gallus will his Lycoris be known. Though flint-stones, then, and though the share of the enduring plough perish by lapse of time, yet poetry is exempt from death. Let monarchs and the triumphs of monarchs yield to poesy, and let the wealthy shores of the golden Tagus 239