 | Ouids elegies |  |
Liber primus.
ELEGIA. 1 Quemadmodum à Cupidine pro bellis amores scribere coactus sit.
VVe which were Ouids fiue books now are threeFor these before the rest preferreth he.
If reading fiue thou plain'st of tediousnesse.
Two tane away, thy labour will be lesse.
With Muse prepar'd I meant to sing of Armes,
Choosing a subiect fit for fierce alarmes.
Both verses were a like till loue (men say)
Began to smile and tooke one foote away.
Rash boy, who gaue thee power to change a line?
We are the Muses Prophets, none of thine.
What if thy mother take Dianas bow,
Shall Dian fanne, when loue begins to glow.
In wooddy groues is't meete that Ceres raigne?
And quiuer-bearing Dian till the plaine.
Who'le set the faire trest sunne in battell ray,
While Mars doth take the Aonian Harp to play.
Great are thy kingdomes, ouer strong and large,
Ambitious impe, why seek'st thou further charge?
Are all things thine? the Muses Temple thine?
Then scarse can Phœbus say, this Harp is mine.
When in this workes first verse I trode aloft,
Loue slackt my Muse, and made my numbers soft.
I haue no mistresse; nor no [illeg.]
Being fittest matter, for [illeg.]
Tooke out the shaft, ordain'de my heart to shiuer:
And bent his sinewie bow vpon his knee,
Saying Poet, heere's a worke beseeming thee.
Oh woe is me, he neuer shootes but hits,
I burne loue in my idle bosome sits.
Let my first verse be sixe, my last fiue feete,
Fare-well sterne warre, for blunter Poets meete.
Elegian Muse, that warblest amorous laies,
Girt my shine brow with Sea-banke Mirtle praise.
ELEGIA. 2. Quod primo amore correptus, in triumphum duci so a cupidine patiatur.
VVhat makes my bed seeme hard seeing it is soft?Or why slips downe the couerlet so oft?
Although the nights be long, I sleepe not tho,
My sides are sore with tumbling to and fro.
Were loue the cause, it's like I should descry him,
Or lyes he close, and shootes where none can spie him.
'Twas so, he stroke me with a slender dart,
'Tis cruell loue turmoyles my captiue heart.
Yeelding or strugling do we giue him might,
Let's yeeld, a burthen easly borne is light.
I saw a brandisht fire increase in strength,
Which being not slackt, I saw it dye at length.
Young Oxen newly yoakt are beaten more,
Then Oxen which haue drawne the plough before.
And rough Iades mouthes with stuborne bits are torne,
But managde horses heads are lightly borne.
Vnwilling louers, loue doth more torment,
Loe I confesse, I am thy captiue I,
And hold my conquer'd hands for thee to tie.
What need'st thou warre, I sue to thee for grace,
With armes to conquer armelesse men is base.
Yoake Venus Doues, put Mirtle on thy haire,
Vulcan will giue thee chariots rich and faire.
The people thee applauding thou shalt stand,
Guiding the harmelesse Pigeons with thy hand.
Yong men, and women shalt thou lead as thrall,
So will thy triumph seeme magnificall.
I lately caught, will haue a new made wound,
And captiue like be manacled and bound.
Good meaning shame, and such as seeke loues wrack
Shall follow thee their hands tyed at their back.
Thee all shall feare, and worship as a King,
Io, triumphing shall thy people sing.
Smooth speaches, feare, and rage shall by thee ride,
Which troupes haue alwayes bene on Cupids side:
Thou with these souldiours, conquerest Gods and men,
Take these away, where is thine honour then?
Thy mother shall from heauen applaude this show,
And on their faces heapes of Roses strow.
With beautie of thy wings thy faire haire guilded,
Ride golden loue in chariots richly builded.
Vnlesse I erre, full many shalt thou burne,
And giue wounds infinite at euery turne.
In spite of thee forth will thine arrowes flye,
A scortching flame burnes all the standers by.
So hauing conquer'd Iude was Bacchus hew,
The pompous Birds, and him two Tygers drew.
Then seeing I grace thy show in following thee,
Behold thy kins-mans Cæsars prosperous bands,
Who guards thee conquered, with his conquering hands.
ELEGIA. 3. Ad amicam.
I aske but right: let he that caught me late,Either loue, or cause that I may neuer hate.
I aske too much, would she but let me loue her,
Ioue knowes with such like prayers I daily moue her.
Accept him that will serue thee all his youth,
Accept him that will loue with spotelesse truth,
If loftie titles cannot make me thine,
That am descended but of Knightly line.
Soone may you plow the little land I haue,
I gladly grant my parents giuen, to saue.
Apollo, Bacchus and the Muses may,
And Cupid who hath markt me for thy pray.
My spotelesse life, which but to Gods giue place,
Naked simplicity, and modest grace.
I loue but one, and her I loue, change neuer,
If men haue faith, I'le liue with thee for euer.
The yeares that fatall destinie shall giue,
I'le liue with thee, and dye, ere thou shalt grieue.
Be thou the happy subiect of my bookes,
That I may write things worthy thy faire lookes.
By verses horned Io got her name,
And she to whom in shape of Swanne Ioue came.
And she that on a fain'd Bull swamme to land,
Griping his false hornes with her virgin hand.
So likewise we will through the world be rung,
And with my name shall thine be alwayes sung.
ELEGIA. 4. Amicam, qua arte, quibusue nutibus in cæna presenteviro vti debeat, admonet.
Thy husband to a banquet goes with me,Pray God it may his latest supper be.
Shall I sit gazing as a bashfull guest,
While others touch the damsel I loue best?
With lying, vnder him his bosome clippe?
About thy neck shall he at pleasure skippe?
Marueile not, though the faire Bride did incite,
The drunken Centaures to a sodaine fight.
I am no halfe horse, nor in woods I dwell,
Yet scarse my hands from thee containe I well.
But how thou should'st behaue thy selfe now know
Nor let the windes away my warnings blow.
Before thy husband come, though I not see,
What may be done, yet there before him be.
Lye with him gently, when his limbes he spread,
Vpon the bed, but on my feete first tread.
View me, my becks, and speaking countenance,
Take, and receiue each secret amorous glaunce.
Words without voyce shall on my eye-browes sit,
Lines thou shalt read in wyne by my hand writ.
When our lasciuious toyes come to thy minde,
Thy Rosie cheekes be to thy thombe inclinde.
If ought of me thou speak'st in inward thought,
Let thy soft finger to thy eare be brought.
When I (my light) do or say ought that please thee,
Turne round thy gold-ring, as it were to ease thee.
Strike on the boord like them that pray for euill,
When thou doest wish thy husband at the deuill.
Aske thou the boy, what thou enough doest thinke.
When thou hast tasted, I will take the cup,
And where thou drink'st, on that part I will sup.
If he giues thee what first himselfe did tast,
Euen in his face his offered Goblets cast.
Let not thy neck by his vile armes be prest,
Nor leaue thy soft head on his boistrous brest.
Thy bosomes Roseat buds let him not finger,
Chiefely on thy lips let not his lips linger.
If thou giuest kisses, I shall all disclose,
Say they are mine, and hands on thee impose.
Yet this I'le see, but if thy gowne ought couer,
Suspitious feare in all my veines will houer.
Mingle not thighes, nor to his legge ioyne thine,
Nor thy soft foote with his hard foote combine.
I haue beene wanton, therefore am perplext,
And with mistrust of the like measure vext.
I and my wench oft vnder clothes did lurke,
When pleasure mou'd vs to our sweetest worke.
Do not thou so, but throw thy mantle hence,
Least I should thinke thee guilty of offence.
Entreat thy husband drinke, but do not kisse,
And while he drinks, to adde more do not misse,
If he lyes downe with wine and sleepe opprest,
The thing and place shall counsell vs the rest.
When to goe home-wards we rise all along,
Haue care to walke in middle of the throng.
There will I finde thee or be found by thee,
There touch what euer thou canst touch of me.
Aye me I warne what profits some few howers,
But we must part, when heau'n with black night lowers.
And to the dores sight of thy selfe keepe:
Then will he kisse thee, and not onely kisse,
But force thee giue him my stolne honey blisse.
Constrain'd against thy will giue it the pezants
Forbeare sweet wordes, and be your sport vnpleasant.
To him I pray it no delight may bring,
Or if it do: to thee no ioy thence spring.
But though this night thy fortune be to trie it,
To me to morrow constantly deny it.
ELEGIA. 5. Corinnæ Concubitus.
In summers heate and mid-time of the day,To rest my limbes vpon a bed I lay.
One window shut, the other open stood,
Which gaue such light, as twincles in a wood.
Like twilight glimps at setting of the Sunne,
Or night being past, and yet not day begunne.
Such light to shamefast maidens must be showne,
Where they may sport, and seeme to be vnknowne.
Then came Corinna in a long loose gowne,
Her white neck hid with tresses hanging downe.
Resembling fayre Semiramis going to bed,
Or Layis of a thousand woers sped.
I snacht her gowne being thin, the harme was small,
Yet striu'd she to be couered there withall.
And striuing thus as one that would be cast,
Betray'd her selfe, and yeelded at the last.
Starke naked as she stood before mine eye,
Not one wen in her body could I spie.
How apt her breasts were to be prest by me.
How smooth a belly vnder her wast saw I?
How large a legge, and what a lustie thigh?
To leaue the rest all lik'd me passing well,
I cling'd her naked body, downe she fell,
Iudge you the rest, being tride she bad me kisse,
Ioue send me more such after-noones as this.
ELEGIA. 6. Ad Ianitorem, vt fores sibi aperiat.
Vnworthy porter, bound in chaines full sore,On mooued hookes set ope the churlish dore.
Little I aske, a little entrance make,
The gate halfe ope my bent side in will take.
Long loue my body to such vse make slender,
And to get out doth like apt members render.
He shewes me how vnheard to passe the watch,
And guides my feete least stumbling falles they catch
But in times past I fear'd vaines shades, and night,
Wondring if any walked without light.
Loue hearing it laug'd with his tender mother,
And smiling sayd, be thou as bold as other.
Forth-with loue came, no darke night flying spright,
Nor hands prepar'd to slaughter, me affright.
Thee feare I too much: onely thee I flatter,
Thy lightning can my life in pieces batter.
Why enuiest me, this hostile dende vnbarre,
See how the gates with my teares wat'red are.
When thou stood'st naked ready to be beate,
For thee I did thy mistresse faire intreate.
(O mischiefe) now for me obtaine small grace.
Gratis thou maiest be free giue like for like,
Night goes away: the dores barre backward strike.
Strike, so againe hard chaines shall binde thee neuer,
Nor seruile water shalt thou drinke for euer,
Hard-hearted Porter doest and wilt not heare,
With stiffe oake propt the gate doth still appeare.
Such rampierd gates besieged Citties ayde,
In midst of peace why art of armes afrayde?
Exclud'st a louer, how would'st vse a foe?
Strike back the barre, night fast away doth goe.
With armes or armed men I come not guarded,
I am alone, were furious loue discarded.
Although I would, I cannot him cashiere,
Before I be deuided from my geere.
See loue with me, wyne moderate in my braine,
And on my haires a crowne of flowers remaine.
Who feares these armes? who will not goe to meet them,
Night runnes away, with open entrance greete them?
Art carelesse? or ist sleepe forbids thee heare,
Giuing the windes my words running in thine eare.
Well I remember when I first did hire thee,
Watching till after mid-night did not tire thee.
But now perchaunce thy wench with thee doth rest,
Ah how thy lot, is aboue my lot blest:
Though it be so, shut me not out therefore,
Night goes away: I pray thee ope the dore.
Erre we? or do the turned hinges sound,
And opening dores with creaking noyse abound?
We erre: a strong blast seem'd the gates to ope:
Aie me how high that gale did lift my hope!
Some breake these deafe dores with thy boisterous winde.
Silent the citie is: nights deawie hoast,
March fast away: the barre strike from the poast.
Or I more sterne then fire or sword will turne,
And with my brand these gorgeous houses burne.
Night, loue, and wine to all extreames perswade:
Night, shamelesse wyne, and loue are fearelesse made.
All haue I spent: no threats or prayers moue thee,
O harder then the dores thou gardest I proue thee.
No pretty wenches keeper may st thou be,
The carefull prison is more meete for thee.
Now frosty night her flight beginnes to take,
And crowing Cocks poore soules to worke awake.
But thou my crowne from sad haires tane away,
On this hard threshold till the morning lay.
That when my mistresse there beholds thee cast,
She may perceiue how we the time did wast.
What ere thou art, farewell, be like me pain'd,
Carelesse farewell, with my fault not distain'd.
And farewell cruell posts rough thresholds block,
And dores conioyn'd with an hard iron lock.
ELEGIA 7. Ad pacandam amicam, quam verberauerat.
Binde fast my hands, they haue deserued chaines,While rage is absent, take some friend the paines.
For rage against my wench mou'd my rash arme,
My mistresse weepes whom my mad hand did harme.
I might haue then my parents deare misus'd,
Or holy Gods with cruell stroakes abus'd.
Butcher'd the flocks he found in spatious field.
And he who on his mother veng'd his fire,
Against the destinies durst, sharp darts require.
Could I therefore her comely tresses teare?
Yet was she graced with her ruffled hayre.
So faire she was, Atalanta she resembled,
Before whose bow th' Arcadian wild beasts trembled.
Such Ariadne was, when she bewayles,
Her periur'd Theseus flying vowes and sayles.
So chast Minerua did Cassandra fall,
Deflowr'd except, within thy Temple wall.
That I was mad, and barbarous all men cryed,
She nothing said, pale feare her tongue had tyed.
But secretly her lookes with checks did trounce me,
Her teares, she silent, guilty did pronounce me.
Would of mine armes, my shoulders had beene scanted,
Better I could part of my selfe haue wanted.
To mine owne selfe haue I had strength so furious?
And to my selfe could I be so iniurious?
Slaughter and mischiefes instruments, no better,
Deserued chaines these cursed hands shall fetter.
Punisht I am, if I a Romaine beat,
Ouer my Mistris is my right more great.
Tydides left worst signes of villanie,
He first a Goddesse strooke; another I.
Yet he harm'd lesse, whom I profess'd to loue,
I harm'd: a foe did Diomedes anger moue.
Go now thou Conqueror, glorious triumphs raise,
Pay vowes to Ioue: engirt thy haires with baies.
And let the troupes which shall thy Chariot follow,
Io, a strong man conquer'd this wench, hollow.
On her white neck but for hurt cheekes ke led.
Meeter it were her lips were blew with kissing,
And on her neck a wanton marke not missing.
But though I like a swelling flood was driuen,
And as a pray vnto blinde anger giuen.
Wa'st not enough the fearefull wench to chide?
Nor thunder in rough threatings haughty pride?
Nor shamefully her coate pull ore her crowne,
Which to her wast her girdle still kept downe,
But cruelly her tresses hauing rent,
My nayles to scratch her louely cheekes I bent.
Sighing she stood, her blood-lesse white lookes shewed,
Like marble from the Parian Mountaines hewed.
Her halfe dead ioynts, and trembling limmes I saw,
Like Popler leaues blowne with a stormy flaw.
Or slender eares, with gentle Zephire shaken,
Or waters tops with the warme south-winde taken.
And downe her cheekes, the trickling teares did flow,
Like water gushing from consuming snow.
Then first I did perceiue I had offended,
My blood, the teares were that from her descended.
Before her feete thrice prostrate downe I fell,
My feared hands thrice back she did repell.
But doubt thou not (reuenge doth griefe appease,)
With thy sharp nayles vpon my face to seaze.
Bescrath mine eyes, spare not my lockes to breake,
(Anger will help thy hands though nere so weake.)
And least the sad signes of my crime remaine,
Put in their place thy keembed haires againe.
ELEGIA. 8. Exacratur lenam quæ puellam suam meretricia arte instituebat.
There is, who ere will know a bawde aright,Giue eare, there is an old trot Dipsas hight.
Her name comes from the thing: she being wise,
Sees not the morne on rosie horses rise.
She magick artes and Thessale charmes doth know,
And makes large streams back to their fountaines flow,
She knows with gras, with thrids on wrōg wheeles spun,
And what with Mares ranck humour may be done.
When she will, cloudes the darkned heau'n obscure,
When she will, day shiner euery where most pure.
(If I haue faith) I saw the starres drop blood,
The purple moone with sanguine visage stood;
Her I suspect among nights spirits to flie,
And her old body in birdes plumes to lie.
Fame sayth as I suspect, and in her eyes,
Two eye-balles shine, and double light thence flies.
Great grand-sires from their ancient graues she chides,
And with long charmes the solide earth diuides.
She drawes chast women to incontinence,
Nor doth her tongue want harmefull eloquence.
By chaunce I heard her talke, these words she said,
While closely hid betwixt two dores I layed.
Mistris thou knowest, thou hast a blest youth pleas'd,
He stayde and on thy lookes his gazes seaz'd.
And why should'st nor please? none thy face exceedes,
Aye me, thy body hath no worthy weedes.
As thou art faire, would thou wert fortunate,
Wert thou rich, poore should not be my state.
Now Mars is gone: Venus thy side doth warme,
And brings good fortune, a rich louer plants,
His loue on thee, and can supply thy wants.
Such is his forme as may with thine compare,
Would he not buy thee, thou for him should'st care.
She blush't: red shame becomes white checkes, but this
If feigned, doth well; if true it doth amisse.
When on thy lappe thine eyes thou doest deiect,
Each one according to his gifts respect.
Perhaps the Sabines rude, when Tatius raignde,
To yeeld their loue to more then one disdainde.
Now Mars doth rage abroad without all pitty,
And Venus rules in her Æneas citty.
Faire women play, shee's chast whom none will haue,
Or, but for bashfulnesse her selfe would craue.
Shake off these wrinkles that thy front assault,
Wrinckles in beauty is a grieuous fault.
Penelope in bowes her youths strength tride,
Of horne the bow was that approu'd their side.
Time flying slides hence closely, and deceaues vs,
And with swift horses the swift yeare soone leaues vs.
Brasse shines with vse; good garments would be worne,
Houses not dwelt in, are with filth forlorne.
Beauty not exercisde with age is spent,
Nor one or two men are sufficient.
Many to rob is more sure, and lesse hatefull,
From dog-kept flocks come preys to woolus most gratefull.
Behold what giues the Poet but new verses?
And thereof many thousand he rehearses.
The Poets God arayed in robes of gold,
Of his gilt Harpe the well tun'd strings doth hold.
(Trust me) to giue, it is a witty thing.
Nor, so thou maist obtaine a wealthy prize,
The vaine name of inferiour slaues dispize.
Nor let the armes of ancient liues beguile thee,
Poore louer with thy grandsires I exile thee.
Who seekes, for being faire, a night to haue,
What he will giue, with greater instance craue.
Make a small price, while thou thy nets doest lay,
Least they should fly, being tane, the tirant play.
Dissemble so, as lou'd he may be thought,
And take heed, least he gets that loue for nought,
Deny him oft; faine now thy head doth ake:
And Isis now will shew what scuse to make.
Receiue him soone, least patient vse he gaine,
Or least his loue oft beaten backe should waine.
To beggers shut, to bringers ope thy gate,
Let him within heare; bard out louers prate.
And as first wrongd the wronged sometimes banish
Thy fault with his fault so repuls'd will vanish.
But neuer giue a spatious time to ire,
Anger delaide doth oft to hate retire.
And let thine eyes constrained learne to weepe,
That this, or that man may thy cheekes moist keepe,
Nor, if thou coznest one, dread to forsweare,
Venus to mockt men lends a sencelesse eare.
Seruants fit for thy purpose thou must hire,
To teach thy louer, what thy thoughts desire.
Let them aske some-what, many asking little,
Within a while great heapes grow of a little.
And sister, Nurse, and mother spare him not,
By many hands great wealth is quickly got.
By keeping of thy birth make but a shift.
Beware least he vnriual'd loues secure,
Take strife away, loue doth not well endure.
On all the beds men tumbling let him view,
And thy neck with lasciuious marks made blew.
Chiefely shew him the gifts, which others send:
If he giues nothing, let him from thee wend.
When thou hast so much as he giues no more,
Pray him to lend what thou may'st ne're restore.
Let thy tongue flatter, while thy minde harme-workes,
Vnder sweet hony deadly poyson lurkes.
If this thou doest to me by long vse knowne,
Nor let my words be with the windes hence blowne.
Oft thou wilt say, liue well, thou wilt pray oft,
That my dead bones may in their graue lie soft.
As thus she spake, my shadow me betraide,
With much a do my hands I scarsely staide.
But let her bleare eyes, bald scalpes thine hoary flieces.
And riueld cheekes I would haue pul'd a pieces.
The gods send thee no house, a poore old age,
Perpetuall thirst, and winters lasting rage.
ELEGIA. 9. Ad Atticum, amantem non oportere desidio sum esse sicuti nec militem.
All Louers warre, and Cupid hath his tent,Atticke, all louers are to warre farre sent,
What age fits Mars, with Venus doth agree,
T'is shame for eld in warre or loue to be.
What yeares in souldiours Captains do require,
Both of them watch: each on the hard earth sleepes:
His Mistris dores this; that his Captaines keepes.
Souldiers must trauaile farre: the wench forth send
Her valiant louer followes without end.
Mounts, and raine-doubled flouds he passeth ouer,
And treades the desert snowy heapes to couer.
Going to sea, East windes he doth not chide,
Nor to hoist sayle attends full time and tyde.
Who but a souldier or a louer is bold,
To suffer storme mixt snowes with nights sharp cold?
One as a spy doth to his enemies goe,
The other eyes his riuall as his foe.
He cities great, this thresholds lies before:
This breakes towne gates, but he his Mistris dore.
Oft to inuade the sleeping foe 'tis good,
And aim'd to shed vnarmed peoples blood.
So the fierce troupes of Thracian Rhesus fell,
And Captiue horses bad their Lord fare-well.
Sooth Louers watch till sleep the husband charmes,
Who slumbring, they rise vp in swelling armes.
The keepers hands and corps-dugard to passe,
The souldiours, and poore louers worke ere was.
Doubtfull is warre and loue, the vanquisht rise,
And who thou neuer think'st should fall downe lies.
Therefore who ere loue sloatthfulnesse doth call,
Let him surcease; loue tries wit best of all.
Achilles burn'd Briseis being tane away,
Troianes destroy the Greeke wealth, while you may,
Hector to armes went from his wiues embraces,
And on Adromache his helmet laces.
Great Agamemnon was, men say amazed,
Mars in the deede the black-smiths net did stable
In heauen was neuer more notorious fable.
My selfe was dull, and faint to sloth inclinde
Pleasure, and ease had mollifide my minde.
A faire maydes care expeld this sluggishnesse,
And to her tents wilde me my selfe addresse.
Since maist thou se me watch & night warres moue,
He that will not grow slothfull let him loue.
ELEGIA. 10. Ad puellam, ne pro amore præmia poscat.
Svch as the cause was of two husbands warre,Whom Troian ships fetcht from Europa farre.
Such as was Leda, whom the God deluded
In snow-white plumes of a false swanne included.
Such as Amimone through the drie fields strayed.
When on her head a water pitcher layed.
Such wert thou, and I fear'd the Bull and Eagle,
And what ere loue made Ioue should thee [illeg.].
Now all feare with my mindes hot loue abates,
No more this beauty mine eyes captiuates.
Ask'st why I change? because thou crau'st reward;
This cause harh thee from pleasing me debard.
While thou wert plaine I lou'd thy minde and face:
Now inward faults thy outward forme disgrace.
Loue is a naked boy, his yeares saunce staine,
And hath no cloaths, but open doth remaine.
Will you for gaine haue Cupid sell himselfe?
He hath no bosome, where to hide base pelfe.
Loue and Loues sonne are with firce armes to oddes
The whore stands to be bought for each mans mony,
And seekes vild wealth by selling of her Cony.
Yet greedy bawdes command she curseth still,
And doth constraind, what you do of good will.
Take from irrationall beasts a president,
'Tis shame their witts should be more excelent.
The Mare askes not the horse, the cow the bull,
Nor the milde ewe gifts from the ramme doth pull.
Onely a woman gets spoyle from a man
Farmes out her selfe on nights for what she can.
And lets what both delight, what both desire,
Making her ioy according to her hire.
The sport being such, as both alike sweet try it
Why should one sell it and the other buy it.
Why should I loose, and thou gaine by the pleasure,
Which man and woman reape in equall measure?
Knights of the post of periuries make saile
The vniust Iudge for bribes becomes a stale.
'Tis shame sould tongues the guilty should defend
Or great wealth from a iudgment seat ascend.
'Tis shame to grow rich by bed marchandize,
Or prostitute thy beauty for bad prize.
Thankes worthely are due for things vnbought,
For beds ill hyr'd we are indebted nought.
The hirer payeth al, his rent discharg'd
From further duty he rests then inlarg'd
Faire Dames forbeare rewards for nights to craue
Ill gotten goods good end will neuer haue.
The Sabine gauntlets were too deerely wunne,
That vnto death did presse the holy Nunne.
The sonne slew her, that forth to meete him went,
Yet thinke no scorne to aske a wealthy churle,
He wants no gifts into thy lap to hurle.
Take clustred grapes from an ore-laden vine,
Many bounteous loue Alcinous fruite resigne.
Let poore men shew their seruice; faith and care
All for their Mistresse, what they haue, prepare,
In verse to prepare kinde Wenches t'is my part,
And whom I like eternize by mine art.
Garments do weare, iewells and gold do wast,
The fame that verse giues doth for euer last.
To giue I loue, but to be ask't disdayne,
Leaue asking, and I'le giue what I refraine.
ELEGIA. 11. Napen alloquitur, vt parat as tabellas ad Corinnam perferat.
In skilfull gathering ruffled haires in order,Nape free-borne whose cunning hath no border,
Thy seruice for nights scapes is knowne commodious,
And to giue sighes dull wit is odious.
Corinna clips me oft by thy perswasion,
Neuer to harme me made thy faith euasion,
Receiue these lines, them to my Mistresse carry,
Be sedulous, let no stay cause thee tarry,
Nor flint, nor iron, are in thy soft brest,
But pure simplicity in thee doth rest.
And t'is suppos'd loues bow hath wounded thee,
Defend the ensignes of thy warre in me.
If, what I do, she askes, say hope for night,
The rest my hand doth in my letters write.
But see that forth-with shee peruseth it.
I charge thee marke her eyes and front in reading
By speechlesse lookes we guesse at things succeeding.
Straight being read, will her to write much back,
I hate faire Paper should writte matter lack.
Let her make verses and some blotted letter,
On the last edge to stay mine eyes the better.
What need she try her hand to hold the quill
Let this word, come, alone the tables fill.
Then with triumphant laurell will I grace them
And in the midst of Venus temple place them.
Subscribing that to her I consecrate,
My faithfull tables being vile maple late.
ELEGIA. 12. Tabelias quas miscrat exeoratur quod amica noctem negabat.
Bewaile my chaunce the sad booke is returned,This day denyall hath my sport adiourned.
Presages are not vaine, when she departed,
Nape by stumbling on the thre-shold started.
Going out againe passe forth the dore most wisely,
And som-what higher beare thy foote precisely.
Hence luck-lesse tables, funerall wood be flying,
And thou the waxe stuft full with notes denying.
Which I thinke gather'd from cold hemlocks flower,
Wherein bad hony Corsick Bees did power.
Yet as if mixt with red lead thou wert ruddy,
That colour rightly did appeare so bloudy.
As euill wood throwne in the high-wayes lie.
And him that hew'd you out for needfull vses,
I'le prooue had hands impure with all abuses.
Poore wretches on the tree themselues did strangle
There sat the hang-man for mens necks to angle.
To hoarse scrich-owles fowle shadowes it allowes
Vultures and furies nestled in the boughs.
To these my loue I foolishly committed
And then with sweete words to my Mistrisse fitted.
More fitly had thy wrangling bonds contained
From barbarous lips of some Atturny strained.
Among day-bookes and bills they had layne better,
In which the Marchat wayles his banquerout debter,
Your name approoues you made for such like things
The number two no good diuining bringes.
Angry, I pray that rotten age you wrackes
And sluttish white-mould ouergrow the waxe.
ELEGIA. 13. Ad Aurorem ne properet.
Now ore the sea from her old Loue comes sheThat drawes the day from heauens cold axeltree.
Aurora whither slidest thou? downe againe
And birds from Memnon yearely shal be slayne.
Now in her tender armes I sweetely bide
If euer, now well lyes she by my side.
The aire is cold, and sleepe is sweetest now
And birds send forth shrill notes from euery bough,
Whether run'st thou, that men, and women loue not
Hold in thy rosy horses that they moue not?
Ere thou rise, starres teach sea-men where to saile
Poore trauailers though tired, rise at thy sight,
And souldiers make them ready to the fight.
The painefull hinde by thee to field is sent,
Slowe Oxen early in the yoake are pent.
Thou cousenst boyes of sleepe, and doest betray them
To Pedants that with cruell lashes pay them.
Thou mak'st the surety to the Lawyer runne,
That with one word hath nigh himselfe vndone.
The Lawyer and the Client hate thy view,
Both whom thou raisest vp to toyle anew.
By thy meanes women of their rest are bard,
Thou setst their labouring hands to spin and card.
All could I beare, but that the wench should rise,
Who can endure saue him with whom none lyes?
How oft wisht I, night would not giue thee place,
Nor morning starres shunne thy vprising face.
How oft that either winde would breake thy coach,
Or steeds might fall forc'd with thicke clouds approach.
Whether goest thou hatefull Nymph? Memnon the elfe
Receiu'd his cole-blacke colour from thy selfe.
Say that thy loue with Cæphalus were not knowne,
Then thinkest thou thy loose life is not showne.
Would Tithon might but talke of thee a while.
Not one in heauen should be more base and vile,
Thou leauest his bed, because he's faint through age,
And early mountest thy hatefull carriage,
But heldst thou in thine armes some Cæphalus,
Then wouldst thou cry, stay night and run not thus.
Doest punish me, because yeares make him waine,
I did not bid thee wed an aged swaine?
The Moone sleepes with Endymion euery day,
Ioue that thou should'st not hast but waite his leasure,
Made two nights one to finish vp his pleasure.
I chide no more, she blusht and therefore heard me,
Yet lingered not the day, but morning scard me.
ELEGIA. 14. Puellam consolatur cui præ nimia cura comæ desiderant.
Leaue colouring thy tresses I did cry,Now hast thou left no haires at all to die.
But what had bin more faire had they bin kept?
Beyond thy robes thy dangling lackes had swept.
Feard'st thou to dresse them being fine and thinne,
Like to the silke the curious Seres spinne.
Or thrids which spiders slender foote drawes out,
Fastning her light web some old beame about.
Not black, nor golden were they to our view,
Yet although either mixt of eithers hue.
Such as in hilly Idas watry plaines,
The Cedar tall spoyl'd of his bark retaines.
And they were apt to curle an hundred wayes,
And did to thee no cause of dolour rayse.
Nor hath the needle, or the combes teeth reft them,
The maide that kembd them euer safely left them.
Oft was she drest before mine eyes, yet neuer,
Snatching the combe, to beate the wench out driue her.
Oft in the morne her haires not yet digested,
Halfe sleeping on a purple bed she rested.
Yet seemely like a Thracian Bacchinall,
That tyr'd doth rashly on the greene grasse fall.
They troubled haires, alas, endur'd great losse.
How patiently hot irons they did take,
In crooked trannells crispy curles to make.
I cryed, 'tis sinne, 'tis sinne, these haires to burne,
They well become thee, then to spare them turne.
Farre off be force, no fire to them may reach,
Thy very haires will the hot bodkin teach.
Lost are the goodly lockes, which from their crowne,
Phœbus and Bacchus wisht were hanging downe.
Such were they as Diana painted stands,
All naked holding in her waue-moist hands.
Why doest thy ill kembd tresses losse lament?
Why in thy glasse doest looke being discontent?
Be not to see with wonted eyes inclinde,
To please thy selfe, thy selfe put out of minde.
No charmed herbes of any harlot skath'd thee,
No faithlesse witch in Thessale waters bath'd thee.
No sicknesse harm'd thee, farre be that a way,
No enuious tongue wrought thy thick lockes decay.
By thine owne hand and fault thy hurt doth grow,
Thou mad'st thy head with compound poyson flow.
Now Germany shall captiue haire-tyers send thee,
And vanquisht people curious dressings lend thee.
Which some admiring! O thou oft wilt blush,
And say he likes me for my borrowed bush.
Praysing for me some vnknowne Guelder dame,
But I remember when it was my fame.
Alas she almost weepes, and her white cheekes,
Died red with shame to hide from shame she seekes.
She holds, and viewes her old lockes in her lappe,
Aye me rare gifts vnworthy such a happe,
And be hereafter seene with natiue haire.
ELEGIA. 15. Adinuidos, quod fama poetarum sit perennis.
Enuie why carpest thou my time is spent so ill,And termst my workes fruites of an idle quill.
Or that vnlike the line from whence I come,
Warres rusty honours are refus'd being young.
Nor that I study not the brawling Lawes,
Nor set my voyce to sale in euery cause,
Thy scope is mortall, mine eternal fame,
That all the World may euer chaunt thy name.
Homer shall liue while Tenedos stands and Ide,
Or into Sea swift Symois doth slide.
Ascraus liues, while grapes with new wine swel,
Or men with crooked sickles corne downe fel.
The World shal of Callamichus euer speake,
His Arte exceld, although his wit was weake.
For euer lasts high Sophocles proud vaine,
With Sunne and Moone, Aratus shall remaine.
While bond-men cheate, fathers hoord, bawds whorish,
And strumpets flatter, shal Menander flourish.
Rude Ennius and Plautus full of wit,
Are both in fames eternal Legend writ.
What age of Varroes name shal not be told,
And Iasons Argos and the fleece of gold,
Lofty Luereticus shall liue that houre,
That nature shal dissolue this earthly bower.
Æneas warre, and Tityrus shall be read,
While Rome of all the conquered world is head,
Thy verses sweet Tybullus shall be spoken.
And Gallus shall be knowne from East to VVest,
So shall Lycoris whom hee loued best.
Therefore when Flint and Iron weare away,
Verse is immortall, and shal nere decay.
To Verse let Kings giue place, and Kingly showes,
And banks ore which gold-bearing Tagus flowes.
Let base conceited witts admire vilde things,
Faire Phœbus lead me to the Muses springs.
About my head be quiuering mirtle wound,
And in sad Louers heads let me be found.
The Liuing, not the Dead can enuy bite,
For after Death all men receiue their right.
Then though Death rakes my bones in funeral fire,
Ile liue, and as he puls me downe mount higher.
The same [Elegia 15.] by B. I.
Enuie, why twitst thou me, my time's spent ill?And call'st my verse fruites of an idle quil?
Or that (vnlike the line from whence I sprong)
VVars dusty honors I pursue not young?
Or that I study not the tedious Lawes;
And prostitute my voyce in euery cause?
Thy scope is mortal; mine eternal Fame,
VVhich through the world shal euer chaunt my name.
Homer wil liue, whilst Tenedos stands, and Ide,
Or to the Sea, fleete Symois doth slide:
And so shall Hesiod too, while vines do beare,
Or crooked sickles crop the ripened eare,
Callamichus, though in Inuention lowe,
No losse shall come to Sophocles proude vaine,
With Sunne and Moone Aratus shall remaine.
Whil'st Slaues be false, Fathers hard, & Bauds be whorish,
VVhil'st Harlots flatter, shall Menander florish.
Ennius, though rude, and Accius high-reard straine,
A fresh applause in euery age shall gaine,
Of Varro's name, what eare shall not be told?
Of Iasons Argo? and the Fleece of gold?
Then, shall Lucretius lofty numbers die,
VVhen Earth, and Seas in fire and flames shall frie.
Titirus, Tillage, Æney shall be read,
Whil'st Rome of all the conquer'd world is head,
Till Cupids fires be out, and his bow broken,
Thy verses (neate Tibullus) shall be spoken.
Our Gallus shall be knowne from East to west,
So shall Licoris, whom he now loues best.
The suffering Plough-share or the flint may weare,
But heauenly Poesie no death can feare.
Kings shall giue place to it, and Kingly showes,
The bankes ore which gold-bearing Tagus flowes.
Kneele hindes to trash: me let bright Phœbus swell,
With cups full flowing from the Muses well.
The frost-drad mirtle shall impale my head,
And of sad louers I'le be often read.
“Enuy the liuing, not the dead doth bite,
“for after death all men receiue their right,
Then when this body falls in funerall fire,
My name shall liue, and my best part aspire.
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