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The Works of Tibullus

Containing his Love-Elegies. Translated by Mr Dart. To which is added, The Life of the Author; with Observations on the Original Design of Elegiack Verse; and the Characters of the most Celebrated Greek, Latin and English Elegiack Poets
  

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ELEGY VIII.
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ELEGY VIII.

From my quick Sight the Lover strives in vain
To hide his Passion, and conceal his Pain.
I know when Eyes the secret Thoughts convey,
And what soft whispering Things fond Lovers say.
Not in the secret Fates those Rules I spy,
Nor in the Southsay'rs Art nor Augury;
But bound by Venus in a Magick Noose,
She all those Arts imprest with cruel Blows.

48

Cease to dissemble! Love's a God severe
To those who shun his Laws through Shame or Fear.
What now avails to dress with artful Care,
To force in waving Curls thy silken Hair,
And place the flowing Ringlets here and there.
To pare your Nails, or with Cosmeticks place
And fix an artful Blush upon your Face.
In vain your Cloaths are chang'd to please her Mind,
In vain your Feet in pinching Shoes confin'd:
The Arts of Dress are vain Efforts to move,
'Tis vain to think that those can kindle Love.
You find your Mistress fires you, tho' her Face
Nor Fucus Stains, tho' careless be her Grace.
Has any Beldam, with her Magick Powers,
Devoted thee with Herbs in Mid-night Hours.
Charms can remove the Harvest as it stands,
And bear large Crops of Corn to neighb'ring Lands:

49

Charms stop the Serpent as he bounds along,
Confine his Rage, and quell his hissing Tongue:
Charms oft attempt to force the lab'ring Moon,
And from her silent Orb would bring her down,
Did not assisting Cymbals interpose,
And Brass kept tink'ling with repeated Blows.
But why must Songs or Herbs perform the Ill?
Beauty, alas, requires no Magick Skill:
Itself can boast the more prevailing Charms,
Of close Embracings in the folding Arms;
Of tender, melting, stifl'ing Kisses fixt,
And winding Limbs in wanton Curlings mixt.
Nor you, the am'rous Boy unkindly use,
For angry Venus haughty Scorn pursues:
Nor ask a Price; let ancient Leachers pay,
To thaw their Ice, and actuate their Clay:
More dear than Gold's the Boy with blooming Face,
E're the rough Beard disturbs the soft Embrace;

50

Thy snowy Arms around his Shoulders throw,
And view with Scorn the Riches Kings can show.
But Venus will her subtile Arts employ,
To bring you slily to the am'rous Boy;
Whilst tim'rous he, she works the close Design,
In close Embrace your lovely Breasts to join,
To breathless Lovers gives the strugling Kiss,
And marks the Neck in Extasies of Bliss.
Nor Gems can please, nor shining Pearls delight
The Maid who sighs away the Winter's Night;
Who long desires the Question ask'd, in vain,
Laugh'd at and slighted by the am'rous Train.
Too late we wish for Love, too late require
Our early Spring of Life and young Desire:
When all-deforming Age begins to spread
His snowy Curls upon the hoary Head:
Then all our Study tends to mend the Dress,
And give the Air a youthful Carelesness.

51

Then to disguise the Hair begins the Use,
With the brown Tincture of the Walnut's Juice;
To strip the grey Discoverers from their Place,
And new repair the Ruins of the Face.
But you, while Youth enjoys its happiest Time,
When Thoughts are gay, and Pleasures in their Prime:
Improve the Hours of every happy Day,
For nimble Time walks unobserv'd away.
Nor with Unkindness Marathus destroy.
What Glory rises from a conquer'd Boy?
Rather your haughty Cruelty dispence,
To feeble Lust, and aged Impotence.
Indulge the tender Youth, his Beauties fade
Neither by Sickness, nor by Time decay'd;
But Love has ting'd him with a yellow Hue,
His wan Complexion comes by loving you.

52

Unhappy Wretch! How often when alone,
Unheard, has he repeated all his Moan?
While from his Bosom flew repeated Sighs,
And Flouds of Tears descended from his Eyes.
Do you despise me then? oft wou'd he say,
To cheat your Guards you'll find an easie Way:
Inventive Love assists Designs like these,
And works th' impatient Lover's Plot with Ease.
I know the secret Way to gain the Bliss,
The glowing Whisper, and the silent Kiss;
To steal at Night to the expecting Fair,
And cautious turn the Hinge without a Jarr.
But what avail those Arts if she disdains
Her wretched Lover, and reviles his Pains?
Or if a Promise I by Chance attain,
Treach'rous she makes me wait all Night in Pain;
While I, impatient, listen all around,
And think I hear her Feet in every Sound.

53

Fond Youth desist to weep, she heedless hears,
And thy red Eyes are swell'd with frequent Tears.
Pholoë (trust me) Heaven abhors Disdain,
And all your Pray'rs and Incense giv'n are vain.
This Marathus once mock'd at Misery,
Unthinking that a vengeful Pow'r was nigh:
With laughing Scorn derided Lover's Tears,
And rackt them in Suspence 'twixt Hopes and Fears;
But now he trembles at the Name of Hate,
And changes at the fast'ning of a Gate.
And you an equal Punishment will find,
Unless you shift your Scorn, and change your Mind;
When you with fruitless Pray'rs shall ask in vain,
The Youth to love, and wish the Day again.