by Tibullus
79 Have I wronged the godhead of Venus by aught that I have said, and does my tongue now pay the penalty of sin? Can they say of me that I have wickedly invaded an abode of gods and plucked the garland from the sacred altar? Am I guilty, then I will not shrink to fall prone before her temple and to press kisses on its hallowed threshold, nor to crawl on suppliant knees along the earth and strike my head against the sacred door-posts.
87 Yet thou who dost now rejoice and laugh at my woes must look to thyself ere long; the god will not always persecute but one. I have seen the man that had mocked the hapless loves of the young, in later time put his aged neck in the halter of Venus and make soft speeches for himself in quavering tones and turn his hands to dressing his hoary hair: nor did he blush to stand before the doors of the beloved or to stop her maid in the middle of the forum. Round him boys and young men pressed in a jostling crowd, and spat each into his own soft bosom.
97 Be gentle with me, Venus: my soul is ever thy loyal slave. Why burn thine own corn in thy passion?
III
The Poet Sick — To Messalla
1 WITHOUT me will ye go, Messalla, across the Aegean wave, yet thinking, oh, I pray, both chief and staff of me. Phaeacia holds me back, sick in a foreign land. Keep off thy greedy hands, I pray, black Death. (The general sense is given. The Latin is corrupt.) Black Death, I pray thee keep them off. No mother have I here to gather the burned bones to her grieving bosom; no sister to lavish Assyrian perfumes on my ashes and weep with hair dishevelled by my tomb. Nor any Delia, who, ere from the city she let me go, inquired, they say, of every god. From the boy’s hands thrice did she lift a sacred lot, and from the three did the boy make answer to her that all was sure.
13 All promised a return; yet did nothing stay her from looking back in tears and terror on my journey. Yea, even I her comforter, after I had given my parting charge, sought still in my disquiet for reasons to linger and delay. Either birds or words of evil omen were my pretexts, or there was the holy day of Saturn to detain me. How often, when my foot was on the road, said I that, stumbling at the gate, it had warned me of disaster! Let no man venture to depart when Love says nay; else shall he learn that a god forbade his going.
23 What help is there now for me in thy Isis, Delia? what help in the bronze that was clashed so often in thy hands? Or what avails it that in thy dutiful observance of her rites, as I remember well, thou didst bathe in clean water and sleep apart in a clean bed?
27 Now aid me, goddess, now — that thou canst heal saith a crowd of painted panels (Pictures on slabs of wood, representing the cures.) in thy temples — that my Delia may pay the nightly vigils of her vow, sitting all swathed in linen before thy holy door, and twice in the day be bound to chaunt thy praise with loosened tresses for all to mark amid the Pharian throng. And be it mine many times to stand before the shrine of my sires’ Penates and offer incense, as the months come round, to the old Lar of my home.
35 How well lived folk in olden days when Saturn was the king, before the earth was opened out for distant travel! Not as yet had the pine-tree learned to swim the blue sea wave or surrendered the spreading sail to belly before the wind; nor, seeking gain in unknown lands, had the vagrant seaman loaded his bark with foreign wares. That was a time when the sturdy bull had not bent his neck to the yoke, nor the tamed horse champed the bit. No house had doors; no stone was planted on the land to set fixed boundaries to men’s estates. The very oaks gave honey; and with milky udders came the ewes unbidden to meet the careless swain. Then were no marshalled hosts, no lust of blood, no battles; no swords had been forged by the cruel armourer’s ruthless skill. But now that Jupiter is lord, there are wounds and carnage without cease; now the sea slays, and a thousand ways of sudden death.
51 Spare me, Sire. No broken oaths make me to fear and tremble, no wicked speech against the holy gods. But if even now I have fulfilled my destined span, let a stone be set above my bones, graven with this legend:
HERE LIES TIBULLUS, RAVISHED BY DEATH’S HAND, MESSALLA COMRADING O’ER SEA AND LAND.
57 But me, for I have been ever pliable to gentle Love, shall Venus’ self escort to the Elysian fields. There never flags the dance. The birds fly here and there, fluting sweet carols from their slender throats. Untilled the field bears cassia, and through all the land with scented roses blooms the kindly earth. Troops of young men meet in sport with gentle maidens, and Love never lets his warfare cease. There are all, on whom Death swooped because of love; on their hair are myrtle garlands for all to see.
67 But the Wicked Place lies buried in the gulf of night; and round it black rivers roar. There storms Tisiphone, wild snakes her unkempt hair; and this way and that way flees the godless crowd. Then at the gate upon black Cerberus hiss his wide-mouthed snakes as he keeps his sentry-watch before the doors of bronze. There is Ixion, who dared to offer force to Juno: on the swift wheel whirl his guilty limbs. And there is Tityos stretched over nine roods of land; on his black vitals feed the birds that never tire. There too is Tantalus, and pools around him; but on the instant, ere he drinks, the wave flies from his raging thirst. And the offspring of Danaus for slighting the godhead of Venus carry the waters of Lethe into leaking butts. There let all be who have profaned my love and who have wished me lingering campaigns.
83 But thou, I pray, continue chaste. Let the aged dame sit ever by thy side to keep thy honour true. She shall tell thee stories when the lamp is in its place, as she draws the long yarn from the loaded distaff, while all around the maids bend over the toilsome task till sleep steals upon them and the work drops from the tired hand. Then of a sudden let me come, and no one bring the news of me; but may I seem to have come from heaven to thy side. Then, just as thou art, with long hair all disordered and feet unsandalled, run to meet me, Delia. For this I pray; thus may that radiant Day-star bless my sight, home by the rosy horses of the shining Dawn.
IV
To Priapus
1 “PRIAPUS, tell me — so may the sheltering shade be thine, nor thy head be harmed by sun or snows — what cunning of thine captures the handsome lads? Sure thou hast no glossy beard nor well-kept hair. Naked thou art all through the cold of stormy winter, naked through the parching season of the Dog-star’s heats.”
7 Thus I; and thus to me replied the country child or Bacchus, the god armed with the curving billhook:
9 “O beware of trusting thyself to the gentle band of boys; for they furnish always some valid ground for love. One pleases, for he keeps a tight hand on his horse’s rein; another drives the calm water before a breast of snow. This one takes you with his brave assurance, that one by the maiden shame that guards his cheeks.
15 “Perchance at first he will refuse thee; but let not this dishearten thee. Little by little his neck will pass beneath the yoke. Length of time teaches lions to submit to man; with length of time weak water eats through rock. The year’s flight ripens the grapes on the sunny hillside; the year’s flight carries the radiant signs along their round of change.
21 “Be not afraid to swear. Null and void are the perjuries of love; the winds bear them overland and the face of the sea. Great thanks to Jove! The Sire himself has decreed no oath should stand that love has taken in the folly of desire. Dictynna too allows thee to assever by her arrows, and Minerva by her hair.
27 “But if thou art slow, thou wilt be lost. Youth fleets how quickly! Time stands not idle, nor returns. How quickly does the earth lose its purple hues! how quickly the tall poplar its beauteous leaves! How neglected is the horse, when the lot of weak age overtakes him, that once shot free from the barriers of Elis! I have seen a young man on whom later years were closing round mourning for his folly in the days that had fled. Cruel gods! The snake sheds his years, and is young: but the Fates grant no respite to beauty. Only Bacchus and Phoebus have youth everlasting; of either god are unshorn tresses the glory.
39 “Do thou yield to thy lad in aught that he is minded to attempt: love wins most by compliance. Nor refuse to go with
him, though far be his purposed journey and the Dog-star bake the land with parching drought, though, fringing the sky with hues of purple, the rain-charged bow threaten the coming storm. Should he wish to fly over the blue waves in a boat, take the oar thyself and drive the light bark through the sea. Nor grieve to undergo rough labour or if thy hands are chafed by tasks to which they are strange. If round the deep glen he would place the ambush, then, so thou canst pleasure him, let thy shoulders not refuse to bear the hunting nets. If he would fence, thou wilt try thy light hand at the sport, and often leave thy side unguarded, that he may win.
53 “Then will he be gentle with thee; then thou mayst snatch the precious kiss: he will struggle, but let thee snatch it. He will let thee snatch at first; but later will he bring it for the asking, and presently even he will be fain to hang upon thy neck.
57 “But now, alas! our perverse age plies wretched crafts. Now gentle lads have learned to look for gifts. Whoever thou art that first didst teach the sale of love, may an unhallowed stone weigh heavy on thy bones.
61 “Love the Pierid maidens, lads, and gifted poets; to no golden presents let the Pierian maids succumb. Verse keeps the lock of Nisus (The father of Scylla, whom she betrayed to Minos by severing his purple lock.) purple. Were verses not, no ivory would have shone on Pelops’ shoulder. He whom the Muses tell of shall live, while earth bears oaks, sky stars, and rivers water. But he who has no ear for the Muses, who sells his love — let him follow the car of Ops of Ida and traverse, a vagabond, three hundred towns and slash the parts he slights to Phrygian measures. Venus herself allows love’s blandishments their play. She sides with piteous weeping and suppliant complaints.”
73 These things did the god’s voice utter for me to sing to Titius; but them doth Titius’ wife forbid him to remember. So let him listen to his dear; but do ye throng to my school whom some crafty lad with many wiles treats ill. Each of us has his proper glory. Let slighted lovers seek advice from me; to all my doors are open. A time shall come when round the master of the lore of Venus shall crowd the attentive young and take the old man home.
81 Alas! what lingering torture is this love for Marathus: helpless is my skill, and helpless all my cunning. Spare me, I pray thee, boy, lest I become a byword, when folk shall laugh at my useless teaching!
V
To Delia
1 I WAS angry. I vowed I could bear our severance well. But now my proud vaunting has left me far and far away. For I am driven as a top that springs before the lash over the level ground, whirled by a quick boy’s practised art.
5 Bring brands and tortures for the untamed creature, that he may have no love of talking loud hereafter: quell his wild utterances.
7 Yet spare me, by the bonds of our stealthy union, I entreat thee, by our love and the head that has lain by mine. It was I, they say, whose vows snatched thee from peril when thou layest exhausted in sickness’ gloomy hold. It was I that scattered all about thee the cleansing sulphur, the beldame first chaunting her magic spell. I appeased the cruel Dreams that had thrice to be honoured with offering of holy meal, that they might work no harm. In woollen headdress and ungirdled tunic I made nine vows to Trivia in the stilly night. All have I paid; but another hath now my love. He is the fortunate one, and reaps the fruit of all my prayers. Yet I used to dream that, if thou wert spared, there would be a happy life for me. Madman! a god said No.
21 “In the country,” I said, “I will live. My Delia shall be there to keep watch upon the grain, while the threshing-floor winnows the harvest in the blazing sun; or she shall watch the grapes in the brimming trough when the quick feet tread the gleaming must. She shall learn to count the flock; she shall teach the prattling serf-child to play on a loving mistress’ lap. To the god that tends the country she will know what gifts to offer — for vines a cluster, spiked ears for cornfield, drink offering for flock. All folk shall she direct, and all things be her care. I shall love to be but a cipher in the house. Hither shall come my own Messalla. From chosen trees shall Delia pull him down sweet fruit. In homage to his greatness she shall give him zealous tendance, and prepare and carry him the repast, herself his waiting-maid.”
35 Such were my dreams and prayers, now tost from East Wind unto South over all Armenia’s scented land.
37 Often have I sought to banish love’s troubles with strong drink; but pain turned all the wine to tears. Often have I held another in my arms; but on the very brink of delight Love bade me think of my mistress and forsook me. Then the woman, departing, declared me bewitched, and spread the tale (oh, shame!) that my love was versed in unholy arts. Not by charms does my lass do this. ’Tis her beauty, soft arms and golden hair bewitch me. Such was Thetis, the sea-blue Nereid, when in old days she rode on her bridled fish to Peleus of Haemonia.
47 These charms have been my bane. A rich lover waits for the lass. So the crafty bawd is bent on my undoing. May the hag’s food be mixed with blood. May the cup she puts to her gory lips be bitterly charged with gall. May ghosts flit round her always, bemoaning their fate, and the fierce vampire bird shrill from her roof; and she herself, frantic from hunger’s goad, hunt for weeds upon the graves and for bones which the wild wolves have left, and with middle bare run and shriek through the towns, and a savage troop of dogs from the crossways chase her from behind.
57 Thus shall it be. A god gives the sign. There are powers to guard the lover, and Love shows no ruth, when left for a lawless tie.
59 But do thou, Delia, with all speed leave the school of the grasping witch. There is no love that gifts will not master. The poor man will ever be at hand for thy service; he will come to thee first and cleave to thy tender side. The poor man, a trusty companion in the trooping crowds, will push below with his hands and make thee a way. The poor man [will take thee privately to the abodes of his friends] and himself unlace the boots from thy snowy feet.
67 Alas! in vain do I sing; no words will win her door to open. Nay, the hand that knocks upon it must be filled.
69 But thou who art victor now must fear that my fate awaits thee. Chance turns lightly on her swift-rolling wheel. Not without reason even now some one stands patient on the threshold, looks oft in front, retreats, feigns to pass by the house, but soon runs back again alone, and hawks without cease before the very door. Stealthy Love has some scheme afoot. Take thy good, I beg, while thou mayst; for in calm waters is thy shallop.
VI
To Delia
1 LOVE, thou dost always meet me with smiling visage to draw me on; but after that, poor wretch, I find thee frowning and angry. What hast thou to do with me, cruel boy? Is there great glory to a god in laying snares for a man?
5 For the net is spread to take me; now cunning Delia clasps a gallant covertly in the hush of night. She denies it, indeed, and on oath; but ’tis hard to believe her. Thus touching me, too, she denies every hour to her husband. Poor wretch, it was I who taught her the ways of tricking her watchers, and now alas! by my own craft am I sore bestead. Then learned she how to frame excuses for lying alone, and then how to turn the door without a sound from the hinges. Then I gave her juices and herbs to efface the dark signs which the teeth in love’s communion imprint upon the flesh.
15 And thou, the unwary mate of a faithless wife, watching me with the rest that she may never sin, take care that she talk not much or oft with young men, nor use nods to deceive thee, or recline with loose robe and bosom bare; and see she take not wine on her fingers and trace signs on the table’s round. Have thy fears when she goes out often, or if she say that she would witness the rites of the Good Goddess which no male must go nigh. But trust her to my keeping; and I, I only, will attend her to that altar. Then for my eyes need I have no fear.
25 Many a time on the plea of judging her gem and its image can I remember how I touched her hand. Many a time my neat wine has put thee to sleep whilst I drank in triumph the sober cup of substituted water. I did not wrong thee of purpose — forgive me, now I own it— ’twas at Love’s bidding. And who
may fight against a god? It was I — nor will I blush to speak the truth — whom thy dog was menacing the whole night through!
33 What good is a gentle wife to thee? If thine own treasures thou canst not guard, the key is vainly turned in the door. Her arms are round thee; but her sighs are for another, an absent love. And of a sudden she feigns the throes of headache.
37 Thou shouldst trust her to my keeping. Then I recoil not from torturing stripes, nor shrink from shackles on my feet. Then far be ye all who dress your hair with art and whose togas fall slack with copious folds. And let whosoever meets us, that no sin may be his, [stand aloof or pass by another road.]
43 That this be done doth God himself command; and this hath the great priestess revealed to me with voice inspired. She, when Bellona’s impulse drives her, fears in that frenzy neither searching flames nor twisted scourge. Fiercely with axe in hand she hacks at her own arms. With the gushing blood is the goddess sprinkled; but she goes without scathe. Erect with wounds on her breast, erect with the spit standing out from her side, she chaunts the words of fate that the great goddess prompts. “See to it that ye do no despite to the maid whom love doth guard; lest hereafter a great mischief lesson you to your woe. If any touch her, his fortune shall waste as the blood doth from my wound, and as these ashes are scattered by the wind.”
55 And for thee, my Delia, she named a punishment. If notwithstanding thou shouldst sin, I pray let her be merciful. Not for thyself do I spare thee. It is thy aged mother moves me; before her golden nature sinks my wrath. She brings me to thee in the dark, and in fear and trembling secretly and silently she joins our hands. Long life to thee still, dear dame. Did but heaven allow, to thy stock of years would I add my own. I will love thee always, and thy daughter for thy sake; whatever she does, she is of thy blood after all. Only teach her to be chaste, though no band of the matrons’ fillets confines her hair, nor their long robe her feet.
