Hallowed
was the dignity, and venerable
the name of the Poets; and upon them great riches were often bestowed.
the name of the Poets; and upon them great riches were often bestowed.
Ovid - Art of Love
An unarmed multitude
is handed over to the men in arms. Two treatises [1011] have
rendered them skilful; this side, as well, must be instructed by thy
advice. He who before had uttered [1012] reproaches against the wife
from Therapnae, soon sang her praises to a more fortunate lyre. If well
I know thee, injure not the fair whom thou dost adore; their favour must
be sought by thee so long as thou shalt live. "
Thus she said; and from the myrtle (for she was standing with her locks
wreathed with myrtle) she gave me a leaf and a few berries. Receiving
them, I was sensible of the divine influence as well; the sky shone
with greater brightness, and all care departed from my breast. While
she inspires my genius; hence receive the precepts, ye fair, which
propriety, and the laws, and your own privileges, [1013] allow you. Even
now, be mindful of old age, that one day will come; then will no time
be passed by you in idleness. Disport yourselves, while yet you may, and
while even now you confess to your true years; after the manner of the
flowing stream, do the years pass by. Neither shall the water which has
past by, be ever recalled; nor can the hour which has past, ever return.
You must employ your youthful age; with swift step age is gliding on;
and that which follows, is not so pleasing as that which having passed
was charming. Those brakes, which are withering, I have beheld as beds
of violets; from amid those brambles, has a beauteous chaplet been
gathered for myself.
The time will be, when you, who are now shutting out a lover, will be
lying, an old woman, chilled in the lonely night. No door [1014] of
yours will be broken open in the broils of the night; nor will you find
in the morning your threshold bestrewed with roses. [1015] How soon, ah
me! are our bodies pursed with wrinkles, and that colour which existed
in the beauteous face, fades away! The grey hairs, too, which you might
have sworn that you had had from childhood, will suddenly be sprinkled
over all your head. Old age is thrown off by serpents, together with the
light slough; and the shedding of their horns makes the stags not to be
old. Our advantages fly irretrievably; pluck the flowers then; if they
be not plucked, they will lamentably fade themselves to your sorrow.
Besides, child-bearing makes the hours of youth more short-lived; with
continual crops the soil waxes old.
Endymion of Latmus, O Moon, causes not thee to blush; nor was Cephalus a
prey for the rosy Goddess to be ashamed of. Though Adonis be allowed to
Venus, whom she yet laments; whence had she AEneas and Hermione [1016]
for her children? Follow, O race of mortals, the example of the
Goddesses; and refuse not your endearments to the eager men. Even
should they deceive you, what do you lose? All remains the same. Were
a thousand to partake thereof, nothing is wasted thereby. Iron is worn
away, stones are consumed by use; your persons are proof against all
apprehension of detriment. Who would forbid light to be taken from
another light presented? Or who, on the deep sea, would hoard up the
expanse of waters? "But 'tis not right," you say, "for any woman to
grant favours to a man. " Tell me, what are you losing but the water,
which you may take up again? [1017] Nor are my words urging you to
prostitution; but they are forbidding you to fear evils that do not
exist: your favours are exempt from loss to yourselves.
But while I am in harbour, let a gentle breeze impel me, destined to
sail with the blasts of a stronger gale. I begin with dress: [1018] from
the well-dressed vine Bacchus has birth; and in the well-dressed field
the high corn springs up. Beauty is the gift of the Divinity; how many
a one prides herself on her beauty? Still, a great part [1019] of you
is wanting in such endowments. Care will confer charms; charms neglected
will perish, even though she be like the Idalian Goddess. If the fair of
olden times did not pay such attention to their persons; neither had the
ancients men so well-dressed. If Andromache was clad in a coarse tunic,
what wonder is it? She was the wife of a hardy soldier. And would his
companion, forsooth, come bedecked to Ajax, him whose covering was seven
hides of oxen. Formerly a rustic simplicity existed: now gorgeous Rome
possesses the wealth of the subdued earth. See the Capitol, what it now
is and what it was, you would declare that they belonged to different
Jupiters. The Senate-house, which is now right worthy of an assemblage
so august, when Tatius held the sway, was made of straw. The fields of
the Palatine hill, which are now resplendent in honour of Phoebus [1020]
and our rulers, what were they but pastures for the oxen that ploughed?
Let old times delight others: I congratulate myself that I am born
thus late; this is the age that is suited to my tastes. Not because the
pliable gold is now dug out of the earth, and choice shells [1021] come
here from foreign shores; nor yet because, the marble cut out, mountains
diminish; nor yet because the azure waves are kept out by the moles.
[1022] But because civilization prevails; and because the rude manners
that flourished with our ancient forefathers have not come down to our
days.
But do not you as well load your ears with precious stones, which the
tawny Indian seeks in the green waves. And do not go forth heavily
loaded with clothes embroidered with gold: by the wealth through which
you seek to attract us, you often drive us away. By neatness we are
captivated; let not your hair be without arrangement; the hands applied
to it both give beauty and deny it. The method, too, of adorning is not
a single one; let each choose the one that is becoming it to her, and
let her first consult her mirror. An oval face becomes a parting upon
the unadorned head: Laodamia had her hair thus arranged. Round features
[1023] require a little knot to be left for them on the top of the head,
so that the ears may be exposed. Let the hair of another he thrown over
either shoulder. In such guise art thou, tuneful Phoebus, thy lyre
being assumed. Let another Lave her hair tied behind after the manner of
well-girt Diana, as she is wont when she hunts the scared wild beasts.
It becomes another to have her floating locks to flow loosely: another
must be bound by fillets over her fastened tresses. Another it delights
to be adorned with the figure of the tortoise [1024] of the Cyllenian
God: let another keep up her curls that resemble the waves. [1025]
But neither will you count the acorns on the branching native oak, nor
how many bees there are in Hybla, nor how many wild beasts on the Alps:
nor am I able to comprehend in numbers so many modes; _each successive
day brings a new fashion_. Even neglected locks are becoming to many;
often would you suppose that they are lying neglected since yesterday;
the very moment before they have been combed afresh. Let art imitate
chance. 'Twas thus that, in the captured city, when Hercules beheld
Iole; "Her," said he, "do I love. " In such guise, deserted fair one of
Gnossus, did Bacchus bear thee away in his chariot, while the Satyrs
shouted Evoe! O how indulgent is nature to your beauty, whose blemishes
can be atoned for in fashions so numerous! We men, to our misfortune,
become bald; and our hair, carried away by time, falls off, like Boreas
shaking down the leaves.
The female stains her grey hair with the herbs from Germany; [1026] and
by art a colour is sought superior to the genuine one. The female walks
along, thickly covered with purchased hair; and for money [1027] she
makes that of others--here comes those of fair complexion: black became
the laughter of Brises.
Nor is she ashamed to buy it openly: we see it being sold
before the eyes of Hercules [1028] and the Virgin throng.
What am I to say on clothing? Gold flounces, [1029] I have no need of
you; nor you, the wool which dost blush twice dipt in Tyrian purple.
Since so many colours can be procured at a lower price, what folly it is
to be carrying a fortune on one's person. [1030] Lo! there is the colour
of the sky, at the time when the sky is without clouds, and the warm
South wind is not summoning the showers of rain. Lo! there is the colour
like to thee, that art said [1031] once to have borne away Phryxus and
Helle from the treachery of Ino. That which resembles the waves, [1032]
has its name, too, from the waves; I could imagine that the Nymphs
are clad in vestments of this colour. Another resembles saffron; in
saffron-coloured garments is the dewy Goddess dressed,when she yokes
her steeds that bear the light of day. Another resembles the Paphian
myrtles; another the purple amethysts, or the white roses, or the
Thracian crane. Neither are there wanting, Amaryllis, [1033] thy
chesnuts, nor yet almonds; and wax [1034] has given its own name to
woollen textures.
As many as the flowers which the renewed earth produces, when in warm
spring the vine puts forth its buds, and sluggish winter retreats; so
many, or still more, shades of dye does the wool imbibe. Choose them by
rule; for every colour will not be suitable to every complexion.
When she was carried off, then, too, was she clothed in a dark garment.
White befits the swarthy; in white, daughter of Cepheus, thou wast
charming; by thee, thus clothed, was Seriphos [1035] trodden.
How nearly was I recommending you that there should be no shocking goat
[1036] in the armpits, and that your legs should not be rough with harsh
hair. But I am not instructing fair ones from the crags of Caucasus,
and who are drinking, Mysian Caicus, of thy waves. Besides; need I to
recommend that idleness should not blacken your teeth, and that your
mouth ought to be washed each morning with water used for the purpose.
You know, too, how to find whiteness in an application of wax; [1037]
she who is blushing with no real blood, is blushing by the aid of art.
With skill do you fill up the bared edges of the eye-brows, [1038] and
the little patch [1039] covers your cheeks in all their genuineness.
'Tis no harm, too, to mark the eyes [1040] slightly with ashes; or
with saffron, produced, beauteous Cydnus, near to thee. I have a little
treatise, [1041] but through the care bestowed, a great work, in which
I have mentioned the various recipes for your beauty. From that as well,
do you seek aid for your diminished charms: my skill is not idle in
behalf of your interests.
But let not your lover discover the boxes exposed upon the table; art,
by its concealment only, gives aid to beauty. Whom would not the paint
disgust, besmeared all over your face, when, through its own weight, it
flows and falls upon your heated bosom? Why is the smell of the oesypum
[1042] so powerful, sent from Athens though it be, an extract drawn
from the filthy fleece of the sheep? Nor would I recommend you in his
presence to apply the mixture of the marrow of the deer, [1043] nor
before him to clean your teeth. These things will give you good looks,
but they will be unbecoming to be seen; there are many things, too,
which, disgusting while being done, add charms when done. The statues
which now bear the name of the laborious Myron, [1044] were once a
sluggish weight and a solid mass. That the ring may be made, the gold is
first beaten; the clothes, that you are wearing, were once dirty wool.
While it was being wrought, it was hard stone; now, as a beautiful
statue, [1045] naked Venus is wringing the moisture from her dripping
locks.
You, too, while you are dressing, let us suppose to be asleep; after the
finishing hand, you will be seen much more apropos. Why is the cause
of the fairness of your complexion known to me? Shut the door of your
chamber, why expose the work half done? It is proper for the men to be
in ignorance of many a thing. The greatest part of things would cause
disgust, if you were not to conceal what is within. Examine the gilded
statues which hang in the decorated theatre; how thin the tinsel that
covers the wood. But it is not permitted the public to approach them
unless completed; neither ought your charms to be heightened unless the
men are at a distance. But I would not forbid you to allow your hair to
be combed in their presence, so that it may be flowing along your back.
Only take care especially on such occasions not to be cross; and do
not many times undo your hair, pulled down, when fastened up. Let your
coiffeuse be with a whole skin. I detest her who tears the face of her
attendant with her nails, and who, seizing the hair-pin, pierces her
arms. [1046] As she touches the head of her mistress, she curses it; and
at the same time, streaming with blood, she is crying over the odious
locks.
The fair one that has but little hair, let her set a watch on her
threshold; or let her always make her toilet in the temple [1047] of the
Good Goddess. I was unexpectedly announced as having paid a visit to
a certain lady; in her confusion, she put on her locks the wrong side
before. May a cause of shame so disgraceful fall to the lot of my foes,
and may that dishonour happen to the Parthian dames. A mutilated animal
is repulsive, the fields without grass are repulsive; and so is a
shrub without foliage, and a head without hair. You have not come to be
instructed by me, Semele, or Leda, thou, too, Sidonian fair, [1048]
who wast borne across the sea upon the fictitious bull; or Helen, whom,
Menelaus, not without reason, thou didst demand to be restored to thee,
and whom, not without reason, thou Trojan ravisher, didst retain. A
multitude comes to be instructed, both pretty and ugly damsels; and the
unsightly are ever more in number than the good-looking. The beauteous
care less for the resources and the precepts of art; they have their own
endowments, charms that are powerful without art. When the sea is calm,
the sailor rests free from care; when it becomes boisterous, he appeals
to his own resources.
Few, however, are the forms free from defect. Conceal your blemishes;
and, so far as you can, hide the imperfections of your person. If you
are short, sit down; that, while standing, you may not appear to be
sitting; and if of a diminutive size, throw yourself upon your couch.
Here, too, that your measure may not be able to be taken as you lie,
take care that your feet are concealed with the clothes [1049] thrown
over them. She who is too thin, let her wear clothes of thick texture;
and let her vestments hang loosely from her shoulders. Let her who is
pale, tint her complexion with purple stripes; [1050] do you that are more
swarthy, have recourse to the aid of the Pharian fish. [1051] Let an
ill-shaped foot be always concealed in a boot of snow-white leather
steeped in alum; and do not unloose their laced sandals from the spindly
legs. For high shoulders, small pads are suitable; [1052] and let the
girth [1053] encircle the bosom that is too prominent. She whose fingers
are dumpy, and whose nails are rough, should mark with but little
gesture whatever is said. She, whose breath is strong smelling, should
never talk with an empty stomach; and she should always stand at a
distance [1054] from her lover's face.
If your teeth are black, or large, or not, growing straight, you will
suffer very great inconvenience from laughing. Who could have supposed
it? The fair take lessons even in laughing; and even in that respect is
gracefulness studied by them. Let your mouth be but moderately open; let
the dimples on either side he but small; and let the extremity of the
lips cover the upper part of the teeth. And do not let your sides be
shaking with prolonged laughter; but let them utter sounds gentle and
feminine, to I know not what degree. Some there are, who distort
their face with an unsightly grin; another, when she is joyous in her
laughter, you would take to be crying. Another makes a harsh noise, and
screams in a disagreeable manner; just as the unsightly she-ass brays by
the rough mill-stone.
To what point does not art proceed? Some study how to weep with grace,
and cry at what time and in what manner they please. Nay, further; when
the letters are deprived of their full sound, and the lisping tongue
becomes contracted with an affected pronunciation; then is grace sought
in an imperfection; to pronounce certain words badly, they learn to be
less able to speak than they really are. To all these points, since they
are of consequence, give attention. Learn how to walk with steps suited
to a female. Even in the gait, there are certain points of gracefulness
not to be disregarded; this both attracts and repels men who are strange
to you. This fair one moves her sides with skill, and with her flowing
tunics catches the breeze, and haughtily moves her extended feet.
Another walks just like the redfaced spouse of some Umbrian [1055]
husband, and, straddling, takes huge strides. But, as in many other
things, let there be a medium here as well; one movement is clownish;
another movement will be too mincing in its gait. But let the lower part
of your shoulders, and the upper part of your arm be bare, to be beheld
from your left hand upwards. This is especially becoming to you, ye of
fair complexion; when I see this, I have always a longing to give a kiss
to the shoulder, where it is exposed.
The Sirens were monsters of the deep, which with their tuneful voices
detained the ships, even though in full career. On hearing them, the son
of Sisyphus [1056] almost released his body from the mast; for the
wax [1057] was melted in the ears of his companions. The voice is an
insinuating quality; let the fair learn how to sing. In place of beauty,
her voice has proved the recommendation of many a woman. And sometimes
let them repeat what they have heard in the marble theatres; and
sometimes the songs attuned to the measures of the Nile. [1058] Neither,
in my way of thinking, ought a clever woman to be ignorant how to hold
the plectrum [1059] in her right hand, the lyre in her left. Orpheus
of Rhodope with his lyre moved rocks, and wild beasts, and the lakes of
Tartarus, and Cerberus the triple dog. At thy singing, most righteous
avenger of thy mother, [1060] the attentive stones built up the walls.
The fish, (the well-known story of the lyre of Arion, [1061] although he
was dumb, is supposed to have been moved by his voice. Learn, too, to
sweep the chords of the festive psaltery [1062] with your two hands;
'tis an instrument suited to amorous lays.
Let the songs of Callimachus [1063] be known to you, let those of the
poet of Cos, [1064] let the Teian Muse too, of the drunken old bard. Let
Sappho, too, be well known; for what is there more exciting than she?
Or than him, through whom [1065] the father is deceived by the tricks
of the crafty Geta? You may, too, have read the poems of the tender
Propertius, [1066] or something of Gallus, or thy works, Tibullus.
[1067] The fleece, too, so bewailed, O Phryxus, of thy sister, shining
with its yellow hair, celebrated by Varro. [1068] The exiled AEneas, as
well, the first origin of lofty Rome, [1069] than which no work exists
in Latium of greater fame.
Perhaps, too, my name will be mingled among these, and my writings will
not be consigned to the waters of Lethe. And people will one day say,
"Read the elegant lines of our master, in which he instructs the two
sides. [1070] Or of his three books, which the title designates as, 'The
Amours,' choose a portion to read with skilful lips, in a languishing
way. Or let his Epistles be repeated by you with well-modulated voice;
this kind of composition, [1071] unknown to others, did he invent. " O
Phoebus, mayst thou so will it; so too, ye benignant Divinities of the
Poets, Bacchus, graceful with thy horns, and you, ye nine Goddesses!
Who can doubt that I should wish the falr one to know how to dance,
that, the wine placed on table, she may move her arms in cadence, when
requested. Masters of posture, [1072] the representations on the stage, are
much valued; so much gracefulness does that pliant art possess. I am
ashamed to advise on trifling points, to understand how to throw a cast
of dice, and, thy value, the cube when thrown. And now let her throw the
three numbers; now let her consider, at which number she can cleverly
enter most conveniently, and which one she must call for. [1073] And,
with her skill, let her play not amiss at the hostilities of the pieces;
[1074] when the single man perishes between his two enemies. How the
warrior, too, [1075] wages the war when caught without his companion;
and how the enemy full oft retreats on the path on which he has begun.
Let the smooth balls, [1076] too, be poured into the open net; and not a
ball must be moved but the one which you shall be lifting up. There is a
kind of game, [1077] distributed into as many lines on a small scale, as
the fleeting year contains months. A little table receives [1078] three
pebbles on each side, on which to bring one's own into a straight line,
is to gain the victory.
Devise a thousand amusements. 'Tis shocking for the fair one not to
know how to play; many a time, while playing, is love commenced. But
the least matter is how to use the throws to advantage; 'tis a task of
greater consequence to lay a restraint on one's manners. While we are
not thinking, and are revealed by our very intentness, and, through the
game, our feelings, laid bare, are exposed; anger arises, a disgraceful
failing, and the greed for gain; quarrels, too, and strife, and, then,
bitter regrets. Recriminations are uttered; the air resounds with the
brawl, and every one for himself invokes the angry Divinities. There
is no trusting [1079] the tables, and, amid vows, new tables are called
for; full oft, too, have I seen cheeks wet with tears. May Jupiter
avert from you indiscretions so unbecoming, you, who have a care to be
pleasing to any lover.
To the fair, has nature, in softer mood, assigned these amusements; with
materials more abundant do the men disport. They have both the flying
ball, [1080] and the javelin, and the hoop, and arms, and the horse
trained to go round the ring. No plain of Mars receives you, nor
does the spring of the Virgin, [1081] so intensely cold; nor does the
Etrurian [1082] river carry you along with its smooth stream. But you
are allowed, and it is to your advantage, to go in the shade of Pompey's
Portico, at the time when the head is heated by the steeds of the
Constellation of the Virgin. [1083] Frequent the Palatium, consecrated
to the laurel-bearing Phoebus;'twas he that overwhelmed in the deep the
ships of Parsetonium. [1084] The memorials, also, which the Bister and
the wife [1085] of our Ruler have erected; his son-in-law [1086]
too, his head encircled with naval honors. Frequent the altars of the
Memphian heifer, [1087] that smoke with frankincense; frequent the three
Theatres, [1088] in conspicuous positions. Let the sand, stained with
the warm blood, have you for spectators; the goal, also, to be passed
with the glowing wheels. [1089]
That which lies hid is unknown; for what is not known there is no
desire. All advantage is lost, when a pretty face is without one to see
it. Were you to excel even Thamyras [1090] and Amcebeus in your singing,
there would be no great regard for your lyre, while unknown. If Apelles
of Cos [1091] had never painted Venus, she would have lain concealed
beneath the ocean waves. What but fame alone is sought by the hallowed
Poets? The sum of all my labours has that crowning object. In former
days, Poets were [1092] the care of rulers and of kings; and the choirs
of old received great rewards.
Hallowed was the dignity, and venerable
the name of the Poets; and upon them great riches were often bestowed.
Ennius, born in the mountains of Calabria, was deemed worthy, great
Scipio, to be placed near to thee. [1093] At the present day, the ivy
lies abandoned, without any honor; and the laborious anxiety that toils
for the learned Muses, receives the appellation of idleness.
But be it our study to lie on the watch for fame; who would have known
of Homer, if the Iliad, a never-dying work, had lain concealed? Who
would have known of Danae, if she had been for ever shut up, and if,
till an old woman, she had continued concealed in her tower? The throng,
ye beauteous fair, is advantageous to you; turn your wandering steps
full oft beyond your thresholds. The she-wolf goes on her way to the
many sheep, that she may carry off but one; and the bird of Jove pounces
down upon the many birds. Let the handsome woman, too, present herself
to be seen by the public; out of so many, perhaps there will be one for
her to attract. In all places, let her ever be desirous to please;
and, with all attention, let her have a care for her charms. Chance is
powerful everywhere; let your hook be always hanging ready. In waters
where you least think it, there will be a fish. Many a time do the
hounds wander in vain over the woody mountains; and sometimes the
stag falls in the toils, with no one to pursue him. What was there
for Andromeda, when bound, less to hope for, than that her tears could
possibly charm any one? Many a time, at the funeral of a husband, is
another husband found. To go with the tresses dishevelled, and not to
withhold your lamentations, is becoming.
But avoid those men who make dress and good looks their study; and who
arrange their locks, each in its own position. What they say to you,
they have repeated to a thousand damsels. Their love is roving, and
remains firm in no one spot. What is the woman to do, when the man,
himself, is still more effeminate, and himself perchance may have still
more male admirers?
You will hardly believe me, but still, do believe me; Troy would have
been still remaining, if it had followed the advice of its own Priam.
[1094] There are some men who range about, under a fictitious appearance
of love, and, by means of such introductions, seek disgraceful lucre.
And do not let the locks deceive you, shining much with the liquid nard;
[1095] nor yet the narrow belt, [1096] pressed upon the folds of their
dress. Nor let the robe of finest texture beguile you; nor yet if there
shall be many and many a ring [1097] on their fingers. Perhaps the best
dressed of the number of these may be some thief, [1098] and may be
attracted by a desire for your clothes. "Give me back my property! "
full oft do the plundered fair ones cry; "Give me back my property! " the
whole Forum resounding with their cries. Thou, Venus, [1099] unmoved,
and you, ye Goddesses, [1101] Hear the Appian way, from your temples
blazing with plenteous gold, behold these disputes. There are even
certain names notorious by a reputation that admits of no doubt; those
females who have been deceived by many, share the criminality of
their favorites. Learn, then, from the complaints of others, to have
apprehensions for yourselves; and do not let your door be open to the
knavish man.
Refrain, Cecropian fair, from believing Theseus, [1102] when he swears;
the Gods whom he will make his witnesses, he has made so before. And
no trust is there left for thee, Demophoon, heir to the criminality of
Theseus, since Phyllis has been deceived. If they are lavish of their
promises, in just as many words do you promise them; if they give, do
you, too, give the promised favours. That woman could extinguish the
watchful flames of Vesta, and could bear off the sacred things, daughter
of Inachus, [1103] from thy temples, and could administer to her husband
the aconite, mixed with the pounded hemlock, if on receiving a present
she could deny a favour.
My feelings are prompting me to go too close; check the rein, my Muse:
and be not hurled headlong by the wheels in their full career. Should
lines, written on the tablets made of fir, try the soundings; let a maid
suited for the duty take in the billets that are sent. Examine them; and
collect from the words themselves, whether he only pretends what you are
reading, or whether he entreats anxiously, and with sincerity. And after
a short delay, write an answer: delay ever stimulates those in love, if
it lasts only for a short time.
But neither do you make yourself too cheap to the youth who entreats,
nor yet refuse, with disdainful lips, what he is pressing for. Cause him
both to fear and to hope at the same moment; and oft as you refuse him,
let hopes more assured, and diminished apprehensions arise.
Write your words, ye fair, in a legible hand, but of common parlance,
and such as are usual; the recognized forms of language are most
pleasing. --Ah! how oft has the wavering lover been inflamed by a letter,
and how oft has uncouth language proved detrimental to, a graceful
form! But since, although you are without the honors of the fillet of
chastity, it is still your care to deceive your husbands; [1104] let
the skilled hand of a maid, or of a boy, carry the tablets, and don't
entrust your pledges to some unknown youth. I myself have seen the fair
pale with terror on that account, enduring, in their misery, servitude
to all future time. Perfidious, indeed, is he who retains such pledges:
but still in them he has power equal to the lightnings of AEtna.
In my opinion deceit is allowable, for the purpose of repelling deceit;
and the laws permit us to take up arms against the armed. One hand
should be accustomed to write in numerous styles. Perdition to those,
through whom this advice must be given by me! Nor is it safe to write,
except when the wax is quite smoothed over; so that the same tablet may
not contain two hands. [1105] Let your lover be always styled a female
when you write; in your billets let that be "she," which really is "he. "
But I wish to turn my attention from trifles to things of more
consequence, and with swelling canvass to expand my filling sails. It
conduces to good looks to restrain habits of anger. Fair peace becomes
human beings, savage fury wild beasts. With fury the features swell;
with blood the veins grow black; the eyes flash more wildly than the
Gorgonian fires. "Pipe, hence avaunt, [1106] thou art not of so much
worth to me," said Pallas, when she saw her features in the stream.
You, too, if you were to look at your mirror in the midst of your anger,
hardly could any one distinctly recognize her own countenance. And, in
no less degree, let not a repulsive haughtiness sit upon your features;
by alluring eyes love must be enticed. Believe me, ye fair who know it
by experience, I hate immoderate conceit. Full oft do the features in
silence contain the germs of hatred. Look at him who looks on you; smile
sweetly in return to him who smiles. Does he nod at you; do you, too,
return the sign well understood. When the Boy Cupid has made these
preludes, laying aside his foils, he takes his sharp arrows from
his quiver.
I hate the melancholy damsels too. Let Ajax be charmed with Tecmessa;
[1107] us, a joyous throng, the cheerful woman captivates. Never should
I have asked thee, Andromache, nor thee, Tecmessa, that one of you
would be my mistress. I seem hardly ably to believe it, though by your
fruitfulness I am obliged to believe it, that you could have granted
your favours to your husbands. And could, forsooth, that most melancholy
woman say to Ajax, "My life! " and words which are wont to please the
men?
What forbids me to apply illustrations from great matters to small ones,
and not to be standing in awe of the name of a general? To this person
the skilful general has entrusted a hundred to be ruled with the twig of
vine; [1108] to this one so many cavalry; to that one he has given the
standard to defend. Do you, too, consider, to what use each of us is
suited, and class each one in his assigned position. Let the rich man
give his presents; let him that professes the law, defend; the eloquent
man may often plead the cause of his client. We who compose verse,
verses alone let us contribute. This throng, before all others, is
susceptible of love. Far and wide do we herald the praises of the beauty
that pleases us. Nemesis [1109] has fame; Cynthia, too, has fame.
The West and the lands of the East know of Lycoris: and many a one
is enquiring who my Corinna is. Besides, all deceit is wanting in the
hallowed. Poets, and even our art contributes to forming our manners. No
ambition influences us, no love of gain; despising the Courts, the couch
and the shade are the objects of our commendation. But we are easily
attracted, and are consumed by a lasting heat; and we know how to love
with a constancy most enduring. Indeed, we have our feelngs softened by
the gentle art; and our manners are in conformity with our pursuits.
Be kind, ye fair, to the Aonian bards. In them there is inspiration, and
the Pierian maids show favour unto them. In us a Divinity exists: and
we have intercourse with the heavens. From the realms of the skies does
that inspiration proceed. 'Tis a crime to look for a present from the
learned Poets. Ah wretched me! of this crime no fair one stands in
dread. Still, do act the dissemblers, and at the very first sight, do
not be ravenous. On seeing your nets, a new lover will stop short. But
neither can the rider manage with the same reins the horse which has but
lately felt the bridle, and that which is well-trained; nor yet must
the same path be trod by you in order to captivate the feelings that are
steadied by years, and inexperienced youth.
The latter is raw, and now for the first time known in the camp of
Love, who, a tender prey, has reached your chamber; with you alone is he
acquainted; to you alone would he ever prove constant. Shun a rival;
so long as you alone shall possess him, you will be the conqueror. Both
sovereignties and love do not last long with one to share in them.
The other, the veteran soldier, will love you gradually, and with
moderation; and he will put up with much that will not be endured by the
novice. He will neither break down your door-posts, nor burn them with
raging flames; nor will he fly at the tender cheek of his mistress with
his nails. He will neither tear his own clothes, nor yet the clothes of
the fair; nor will her torn locks be a cause for grieving. These things
befit boys, who are heated with youthful years and with passion: the
other, with tranquil feelings, will put up with cruel wounds. With
slowly consuming fires will he smoulder, just like a damp torch; or like
the wood that has been cut down upon the mountain ridge. This passion
is more sure; the former is short-lived and more bounteous. With speedy
hand do you pluck the fruit that passes away.
Let all points be surrendered; the gates we have opened to the enemy,
and let confidence be placed in this perfidious betrayal. That which is
easily conceded, but badly supports a lasting passion. A repulse must
now and then be mingled with your joyous dalliance. Let him lie down
before your doors: "Cruel door! " let him exclaim; and let him do many a
thing in humble, many in threatening mood. The sweet we cannot endure;
with bitter potions we may be refreshed. Full oft does the bark perish,
overwhelmed by favouring gales. This it is that does not permit wives to
be loved; husbands have access to them, whenever they please. Shut your
door, [1110] and let your porter say to you with surly lips, "You cannot
come in, desire will seize you as well, thus shut out. "
Now lay aside the blunted swords; let the battle be fought with
sharpened ones. And I doubt not but that I myself shall be aimed at with
weapons of my own furnishing. While the lover that has been captured
only of late is falling into your toils, let him hope that he alone has
admission to your chamber. But soon let him be aware of a rival, and a
division of the privileges of your favours. Remove these contrivances;
and his passion will grow effete. Then does the high-mettled courser run
well, the starting-place being opened, when he has both competitors to
pass by, and those for him to follow. Harshness rekindles the flame,
even if gone out. Myself to wit, I confess it, I do not love unless I am
ill-used.
Still, the cause for grief should not be too manifest: and in his
anxiety he ought to suspect that there is more than what he actually
knows. The harsh supervision, too, of some feigned servant should excite
him, and the irksome watchfulness of a husband too severe. The pleasure
that is enjoyed in safety, is the least valued of all. Though you are
more at liberty than even Thais, [1111] still feign apprehensions.
Whereas you could do it far better by the door, admit him through the
window; and on your countenance show the signs of fear. Let the cunning
maid rush in, and exclaim, "We are undone! " and then do you hide the
youth in his fright in any spot. Still, an enjoyment without anxiety
must be interspersed with his alarms; lest he should not think your
favours to be worth so much trouble.
But I was about to omit by what methods the cunning husband may be
eluded, and how the watchful keeper. Let the wife stand in awe of her
husband; let the safe keeping of a wife be allowed. That is proper; that
the laws, and justice, and decency ordain. But for you as well to be
watched, whom the Lictor's rod [1112] has but just set at liberty,
who can endure it? Come to my sacred rites, that you may learn how to
deceive. Even if as many eyes shall be watching you, as Argus had, if
there is only a fixed determination, you will deceive them all. And
shall a keeper, forsooth, hinder you from being able to write, when an
opportunity is given you for taking the bath? When a female confidant
can carry the note you have penned, which her broad girth [1113] can
conceal in her warm bosom? When she can conceal the paper fastened to
her calf, and carry the tender note beneath her sandalled foot.
Should the keeper be proof against these _contrivances_; in place of
paper, let your confidant afford her shoulders; and upon her own person
let her carry your words. Letters, too, written in new milk, are safe
and escape the eye; touch them with powdered coals, and you will read
them. The writing, too, which is made with the stalk of wetted flax,
[1114] will deceive, and the clean surface will bear the secret marks.
The care of watching a fair one fell to Acrisius; still, through his own
fault, did she make him a grandsire. What can a keeper do, when there
are so many Theatres in the City? When, eagerly she is a spectator of
the harnessed steeds? When she is sitting in attendance upon the sistra
of the Pharian heifer, and at the place where her male friends are
forbidden to go? While, too, the Good Goddess [1115] expels the gaze of
males from her temples, except any that, perchance, she bids to come:
while, as the keeper watches outside the clothes of the fair, the baths
may in safety conceal the lovers who are hiding there; while, so often
as is requisite, some pretended she-friend may be sick, and, ill as she
is, may give place for her in her couch. While the false key, too, tells
[1116] by its name what we are to do, and it is not the door alone that
gives the access you require.
The watchfulness of the keeper is eluded by plenty of wine; even though
[1117] the grapes be gathered on the hills of Spain. There are drugs,
too, which create deep sleep; and let them close the eyes overpowered by
Lethaean night. And not amiss does the confidant occupy the troublesome
fellow with dalliance to create delay, and in his company spins out the
time.
What need is there to be teaching stratagems and trifling precepts,
when the keeper may be purchased by the smallest present? Believe me,
presents influence both men and Gods: on gifts being presented, Jupiter
himself is appeased. What is the wise man to do, when even the fool is
gratified with a present? The husband himself, on receiving a present,
will be silent. But once only throughout the long year must the
keeper be bought; full oft will he hold out the hand which he has once
extended.
I complained, I recollect, that new-made friends are to be dreaded; that
complaint does not extend to men alone. If you are too trusting, other
women will interrupt your pleasures; and this hare of yours will be
destined to be hunted down by other persons. Even she, [1118] who so
obligingly lends her couch and her room, believe me, has not once only
been in my company. And do not let too pretty a maid wait upon you; many
a time has she filled [1119] her mistress's place for me. Whither, in my
folly, am I led on? Why with bared breast do I strive against the foe,
and why, myself, am I betrayed through information that is my own? The
bird does not instruct the fowler in which direction he may be taken:
the hind does not teach the hostile hounds how to run. Still, let
interest see to itself; my precepts, with fidelity will I give. To the
Lemnian dames, [1120] for my own destruction, will I present the sword.
Give reason (and 'tis easy to do so) for us to believe ourselves to be
loved. Belief arises readily in those who are anxious for the fulfilment
of their desires. Let the fair one eye the youth in a kindly manner; let
her heave sighs from her very heart, and let her enquire, why it is he
comes so late? Let tears be added, too, and feigned apprehensions about
a rival, and with her fingers let her tear her face. Soon will he be
thoroughly persuaded, one? he will pity you of his own accord; and will
say to himself "This woman is consumed by affection for me. "
Especially, if he shall be well drest, and shall please himself at the
looking-glass, he will believe that the Goddesses might be touched with
love for him. But, whoever you are, let an injury disturb you only in a
moderate degree; and don't, on hearing of a rival, go out of your mind.
And don't at once believe it; how injurious it is at once to believe
things, Procris will be no slight proof to you.
There is near the empurpled hills of blooming Hymettus a sacred spring,
and the ground is soft with the verdant turf. The wood, of no great
height, there forms a grove; the strawberry tree overshadows the grass;
rosemary, and laurels, and swarthy myrtles give their perfume. Neither
the box-trees with their thick foliage and the slender tamarisks, nor
yet the tiny trefoil and the garden pine, are wanting there. Moved by
the gentle Zephyrs and the balmy air, the leaves of these many kinds,
and the tops of the grass quiver. Pleasant was this retreat to Cephalus;
[1121] his servants and his hounds left behind, the youth, when weary,
often sat down in this spot. And here he was in the habit of repeating,
"Come, gentle Aura [breeze], to be received in my bosom, that thou mayst
moderate my heat. "
Some person, maliciously officious, with retentive lips carried the
words he had heard to the timid ears of his wife. Procris, when she
heard the name of Aura [breeze], as though of a rival, fainted away, and
with this sudden apprehension she was mute. She turned pale, just as the
late leaves become wan, which the coming winter has nipped, the clusters
now gathered from the vine; and as the quinces [1122] which in their
ripeness are bending their boughs; and as the cornels not yet quite
fit for food for man. When her senses had returned, she tore her thin
garments from off her body with her nails, and wounded her guiltless
cheeks. And no delay was there; raving, with dishevelled locks, she flew
amid the tracks, like a Bacchanal aroused by the thyrsus. When she had
come near the spot, she left her attendants in the valley; and with
silent footsteps, in her boldness, she herself stealthily entered the
grove. What, Procris, were thy feelings, when thus, in thy frenzy, thou
didst he concealed? What the impulse of thy disquieted breast? Each
moment, forsooth, wast thou expecting that she would come, whoever Aura
might be, and that their criminality would be witnessed with thine eyes.
Now dost thou repent of having come, for indeed thou wouldst not wish to
detect him; and now thou art glad; fluctuating affection is tormenting
thy breast. There is the spot, and the name, and the informant to bid
thee give credence; and the fact that the lover always apprehends that
to exist which he dreads. When she beheld the grass beaten down,
the impress of his body, her trembling bosom was throbbing with her
palpitating heart. And now midday had made the unsubstantial shadows
small, and at an equal distance were the evening and the morn. Behold!
Cephalus, the offspring of the Cyilenian God, [1123] returns from the
woods, and sprinkles his glowing face with water of the fountain. In thy
anxiety, Procris, art thou lying concealed. Along the grass he lies
as wont, and says, "Ye gentle Zephyrs, and thou Aura [breeze], come
hither. " When the welcome mistake of the name was thus revealed to
the sorrowing fair, both her senses and the real colour of her face
returned.
She arose; and the wife, about to rush into the embrace of her husband,
by the moving of her body, shook the leaves that were in her way. He,
thinking that a wild beast had made the noise, with alacrity snatched up
his bow; his arrows were in his right hand. What, wretched man, art thou
about? 'Tis no wild beast; keep still thy weapons. Ah wretched me!
is handed over to the men in arms. Two treatises [1011] have
rendered them skilful; this side, as well, must be instructed by thy
advice. He who before had uttered [1012] reproaches against the wife
from Therapnae, soon sang her praises to a more fortunate lyre. If well
I know thee, injure not the fair whom thou dost adore; their favour must
be sought by thee so long as thou shalt live. "
Thus she said; and from the myrtle (for she was standing with her locks
wreathed with myrtle) she gave me a leaf and a few berries. Receiving
them, I was sensible of the divine influence as well; the sky shone
with greater brightness, and all care departed from my breast. While
she inspires my genius; hence receive the precepts, ye fair, which
propriety, and the laws, and your own privileges, [1013] allow you. Even
now, be mindful of old age, that one day will come; then will no time
be passed by you in idleness. Disport yourselves, while yet you may, and
while even now you confess to your true years; after the manner of the
flowing stream, do the years pass by. Neither shall the water which has
past by, be ever recalled; nor can the hour which has past, ever return.
You must employ your youthful age; with swift step age is gliding on;
and that which follows, is not so pleasing as that which having passed
was charming. Those brakes, which are withering, I have beheld as beds
of violets; from amid those brambles, has a beauteous chaplet been
gathered for myself.
The time will be, when you, who are now shutting out a lover, will be
lying, an old woman, chilled in the lonely night. No door [1014] of
yours will be broken open in the broils of the night; nor will you find
in the morning your threshold bestrewed with roses. [1015] How soon, ah
me! are our bodies pursed with wrinkles, and that colour which existed
in the beauteous face, fades away! The grey hairs, too, which you might
have sworn that you had had from childhood, will suddenly be sprinkled
over all your head. Old age is thrown off by serpents, together with the
light slough; and the shedding of their horns makes the stags not to be
old. Our advantages fly irretrievably; pluck the flowers then; if they
be not plucked, they will lamentably fade themselves to your sorrow.
Besides, child-bearing makes the hours of youth more short-lived; with
continual crops the soil waxes old.
Endymion of Latmus, O Moon, causes not thee to blush; nor was Cephalus a
prey for the rosy Goddess to be ashamed of. Though Adonis be allowed to
Venus, whom she yet laments; whence had she AEneas and Hermione [1016]
for her children? Follow, O race of mortals, the example of the
Goddesses; and refuse not your endearments to the eager men. Even
should they deceive you, what do you lose? All remains the same. Were
a thousand to partake thereof, nothing is wasted thereby. Iron is worn
away, stones are consumed by use; your persons are proof against all
apprehension of detriment. Who would forbid light to be taken from
another light presented? Or who, on the deep sea, would hoard up the
expanse of waters? "But 'tis not right," you say, "for any woman to
grant favours to a man. " Tell me, what are you losing but the water,
which you may take up again? [1017] Nor are my words urging you to
prostitution; but they are forbidding you to fear evils that do not
exist: your favours are exempt from loss to yourselves.
But while I am in harbour, let a gentle breeze impel me, destined to
sail with the blasts of a stronger gale. I begin with dress: [1018] from
the well-dressed vine Bacchus has birth; and in the well-dressed field
the high corn springs up. Beauty is the gift of the Divinity; how many
a one prides herself on her beauty? Still, a great part [1019] of you
is wanting in such endowments. Care will confer charms; charms neglected
will perish, even though she be like the Idalian Goddess. If the fair of
olden times did not pay such attention to their persons; neither had the
ancients men so well-dressed. If Andromache was clad in a coarse tunic,
what wonder is it? She was the wife of a hardy soldier. And would his
companion, forsooth, come bedecked to Ajax, him whose covering was seven
hides of oxen. Formerly a rustic simplicity existed: now gorgeous Rome
possesses the wealth of the subdued earth. See the Capitol, what it now
is and what it was, you would declare that they belonged to different
Jupiters. The Senate-house, which is now right worthy of an assemblage
so august, when Tatius held the sway, was made of straw. The fields of
the Palatine hill, which are now resplendent in honour of Phoebus [1020]
and our rulers, what were they but pastures for the oxen that ploughed?
Let old times delight others: I congratulate myself that I am born
thus late; this is the age that is suited to my tastes. Not because the
pliable gold is now dug out of the earth, and choice shells [1021] come
here from foreign shores; nor yet because, the marble cut out, mountains
diminish; nor yet because the azure waves are kept out by the moles.
[1022] But because civilization prevails; and because the rude manners
that flourished with our ancient forefathers have not come down to our
days.
But do not you as well load your ears with precious stones, which the
tawny Indian seeks in the green waves. And do not go forth heavily
loaded with clothes embroidered with gold: by the wealth through which
you seek to attract us, you often drive us away. By neatness we are
captivated; let not your hair be without arrangement; the hands applied
to it both give beauty and deny it. The method, too, of adorning is not
a single one; let each choose the one that is becoming it to her, and
let her first consult her mirror. An oval face becomes a parting upon
the unadorned head: Laodamia had her hair thus arranged. Round features
[1023] require a little knot to be left for them on the top of the head,
so that the ears may be exposed. Let the hair of another he thrown over
either shoulder. In such guise art thou, tuneful Phoebus, thy lyre
being assumed. Let another Lave her hair tied behind after the manner of
well-girt Diana, as she is wont when she hunts the scared wild beasts.
It becomes another to have her floating locks to flow loosely: another
must be bound by fillets over her fastened tresses. Another it delights
to be adorned with the figure of the tortoise [1024] of the Cyllenian
God: let another keep up her curls that resemble the waves. [1025]
But neither will you count the acorns on the branching native oak, nor
how many bees there are in Hybla, nor how many wild beasts on the Alps:
nor am I able to comprehend in numbers so many modes; _each successive
day brings a new fashion_. Even neglected locks are becoming to many;
often would you suppose that they are lying neglected since yesterday;
the very moment before they have been combed afresh. Let art imitate
chance. 'Twas thus that, in the captured city, when Hercules beheld
Iole; "Her," said he, "do I love. " In such guise, deserted fair one of
Gnossus, did Bacchus bear thee away in his chariot, while the Satyrs
shouted Evoe! O how indulgent is nature to your beauty, whose blemishes
can be atoned for in fashions so numerous! We men, to our misfortune,
become bald; and our hair, carried away by time, falls off, like Boreas
shaking down the leaves.
The female stains her grey hair with the herbs from Germany; [1026] and
by art a colour is sought superior to the genuine one. The female walks
along, thickly covered with purchased hair; and for money [1027] she
makes that of others--here comes those of fair complexion: black became
the laughter of Brises.
Nor is she ashamed to buy it openly: we see it being sold
before the eyes of Hercules [1028] and the Virgin throng.
What am I to say on clothing? Gold flounces, [1029] I have no need of
you; nor you, the wool which dost blush twice dipt in Tyrian purple.
Since so many colours can be procured at a lower price, what folly it is
to be carrying a fortune on one's person. [1030] Lo! there is the colour
of the sky, at the time when the sky is without clouds, and the warm
South wind is not summoning the showers of rain. Lo! there is the colour
like to thee, that art said [1031] once to have borne away Phryxus and
Helle from the treachery of Ino. That which resembles the waves, [1032]
has its name, too, from the waves; I could imagine that the Nymphs
are clad in vestments of this colour. Another resembles saffron; in
saffron-coloured garments is the dewy Goddess dressed,when she yokes
her steeds that bear the light of day. Another resembles the Paphian
myrtles; another the purple amethysts, or the white roses, or the
Thracian crane. Neither are there wanting, Amaryllis, [1033] thy
chesnuts, nor yet almonds; and wax [1034] has given its own name to
woollen textures.
As many as the flowers which the renewed earth produces, when in warm
spring the vine puts forth its buds, and sluggish winter retreats; so
many, or still more, shades of dye does the wool imbibe. Choose them by
rule; for every colour will not be suitable to every complexion.
When she was carried off, then, too, was she clothed in a dark garment.
White befits the swarthy; in white, daughter of Cepheus, thou wast
charming; by thee, thus clothed, was Seriphos [1035] trodden.
How nearly was I recommending you that there should be no shocking goat
[1036] in the armpits, and that your legs should not be rough with harsh
hair. But I am not instructing fair ones from the crags of Caucasus,
and who are drinking, Mysian Caicus, of thy waves. Besides; need I to
recommend that idleness should not blacken your teeth, and that your
mouth ought to be washed each morning with water used for the purpose.
You know, too, how to find whiteness in an application of wax; [1037]
she who is blushing with no real blood, is blushing by the aid of art.
With skill do you fill up the bared edges of the eye-brows, [1038] and
the little patch [1039] covers your cheeks in all their genuineness.
'Tis no harm, too, to mark the eyes [1040] slightly with ashes; or
with saffron, produced, beauteous Cydnus, near to thee. I have a little
treatise, [1041] but through the care bestowed, a great work, in which
I have mentioned the various recipes for your beauty. From that as well,
do you seek aid for your diminished charms: my skill is not idle in
behalf of your interests.
But let not your lover discover the boxes exposed upon the table; art,
by its concealment only, gives aid to beauty. Whom would not the paint
disgust, besmeared all over your face, when, through its own weight, it
flows and falls upon your heated bosom? Why is the smell of the oesypum
[1042] so powerful, sent from Athens though it be, an extract drawn
from the filthy fleece of the sheep? Nor would I recommend you in his
presence to apply the mixture of the marrow of the deer, [1043] nor
before him to clean your teeth. These things will give you good looks,
but they will be unbecoming to be seen; there are many things, too,
which, disgusting while being done, add charms when done. The statues
which now bear the name of the laborious Myron, [1044] were once a
sluggish weight and a solid mass. That the ring may be made, the gold is
first beaten; the clothes, that you are wearing, were once dirty wool.
While it was being wrought, it was hard stone; now, as a beautiful
statue, [1045] naked Venus is wringing the moisture from her dripping
locks.
You, too, while you are dressing, let us suppose to be asleep; after the
finishing hand, you will be seen much more apropos. Why is the cause
of the fairness of your complexion known to me? Shut the door of your
chamber, why expose the work half done? It is proper for the men to be
in ignorance of many a thing. The greatest part of things would cause
disgust, if you were not to conceal what is within. Examine the gilded
statues which hang in the decorated theatre; how thin the tinsel that
covers the wood. But it is not permitted the public to approach them
unless completed; neither ought your charms to be heightened unless the
men are at a distance. But I would not forbid you to allow your hair to
be combed in their presence, so that it may be flowing along your back.
Only take care especially on such occasions not to be cross; and do
not many times undo your hair, pulled down, when fastened up. Let your
coiffeuse be with a whole skin. I detest her who tears the face of her
attendant with her nails, and who, seizing the hair-pin, pierces her
arms. [1046] As she touches the head of her mistress, she curses it; and
at the same time, streaming with blood, she is crying over the odious
locks.
The fair one that has but little hair, let her set a watch on her
threshold; or let her always make her toilet in the temple [1047] of the
Good Goddess. I was unexpectedly announced as having paid a visit to
a certain lady; in her confusion, she put on her locks the wrong side
before. May a cause of shame so disgraceful fall to the lot of my foes,
and may that dishonour happen to the Parthian dames. A mutilated animal
is repulsive, the fields without grass are repulsive; and so is a
shrub without foliage, and a head without hair. You have not come to be
instructed by me, Semele, or Leda, thou, too, Sidonian fair, [1048]
who wast borne across the sea upon the fictitious bull; or Helen, whom,
Menelaus, not without reason, thou didst demand to be restored to thee,
and whom, not without reason, thou Trojan ravisher, didst retain. A
multitude comes to be instructed, both pretty and ugly damsels; and the
unsightly are ever more in number than the good-looking. The beauteous
care less for the resources and the precepts of art; they have their own
endowments, charms that are powerful without art. When the sea is calm,
the sailor rests free from care; when it becomes boisterous, he appeals
to his own resources.
Few, however, are the forms free from defect. Conceal your blemishes;
and, so far as you can, hide the imperfections of your person. If you
are short, sit down; that, while standing, you may not appear to be
sitting; and if of a diminutive size, throw yourself upon your couch.
Here, too, that your measure may not be able to be taken as you lie,
take care that your feet are concealed with the clothes [1049] thrown
over them. She who is too thin, let her wear clothes of thick texture;
and let her vestments hang loosely from her shoulders. Let her who is
pale, tint her complexion with purple stripes; [1050] do you that are more
swarthy, have recourse to the aid of the Pharian fish. [1051] Let an
ill-shaped foot be always concealed in a boot of snow-white leather
steeped in alum; and do not unloose their laced sandals from the spindly
legs. For high shoulders, small pads are suitable; [1052] and let the
girth [1053] encircle the bosom that is too prominent. She whose fingers
are dumpy, and whose nails are rough, should mark with but little
gesture whatever is said. She, whose breath is strong smelling, should
never talk with an empty stomach; and she should always stand at a
distance [1054] from her lover's face.
If your teeth are black, or large, or not, growing straight, you will
suffer very great inconvenience from laughing. Who could have supposed
it? The fair take lessons even in laughing; and even in that respect is
gracefulness studied by them. Let your mouth be but moderately open; let
the dimples on either side he but small; and let the extremity of the
lips cover the upper part of the teeth. And do not let your sides be
shaking with prolonged laughter; but let them utter sounds gentle and
feminine, to I know not what degree. Some there are, who distort
their face with an unsightly grin; another, when she is joyous in her
laughter, you would take to be crying. Another makes a harsh noise, and
screams in a disagreeable manner; just as the unsightly she-ass brays by
the rough mill-stone.
To what point does not art proceed? Some study how to weep with grace,
and cry at what time and in what manner they please. Nay, further; when
the letters are deprived of their full sound, and the lisping tongue
becomes contracted with an affected pronunciation; then is grace sought
in an imperfection; to pronounce certain words badly, they learn to be
less able to speak than they really are. To all these points, since they
are of consequence, give attention. Learn how to walk with steps suited
to a female. Even in the gait, there are certain points of gracefulness
not to be disregarded; this both attracts and repels men who are strange
to you. This fair one moves her sides with skill, and with her flowing
tunics catches the breeze, and haughtily moves her extended feet.
Another walks just like the redfaced spouse of some Umbrian [1055]
husband, and, straddling, takes huge strides. But, as in many other
things, let there be a medium here as well; one movement is clownish;
another movement will be too mincing in its gait. But let the lower part
of your shoulders, and the upper part of your arm be bare, to be beheld
from your left hand upwards. This is especially becoming to you, ye of
fair complexion; when I see this, I have always a longing to give a kiss
to the shoulder, where it is exposed.
The Sirens were monsters of the deep, which with their tuneful voices
detained the ships, even though in full career. On hearing them, the son
of Sisyphus [1056] almost released his body from the mast; for the
wax [1057] was melted in the ears of his companions. The voice is an
insinuating quality; let the fair learn how to sing. In place of beauty,
her voice has proved the recommendation of many a woman. And sometimes
let them repeat what they have heard in the marble theatres; and
sometimes the songs attuned to the measures of the Nile. [1058] Neither,
in my way of thinking, ought a clever woman to be ignorant how to hold
the plectrum [1059] in her right hand, the lyre in her left. Orpheus
of Rhodope with his lyre moved rocks, and wild beasts, and the lakes of
Tartarus, and Cerberus the triple dog. At thy singing, most righteous
avenger of thy mother, [1060] the attentive stones built up the walls.
The fish, (the well-known story of the lyre of Arion, [1061] although he
was dumb, is supposed to have been moved by his voice. Learn, too, to
sweep the chords of the festive psaltery [1062] with your two hands;
'tis an instrument suited to amorous lays.
Let the songs of Callimachus [1063] be known to you, let those of the
poet of Cos, [1064] let the Teian Muse too, of the drunken old bard. Let
Sappho, too, be well known; for what is there more exciting than she?
Or than him, through whom [1065] the father is deceived by the tricks
of the crafty Geta? You may, too, have read the poems of the tender
Propertius, [1066] or something of Gallus, or thy works, Tibullus.
[1067] The fleece, too, so bewailed, O Phryxus, of thy sister, shining
with its yellow hair, celebrated by Varro. [1068] The exiled AEneas, as
well, the first origin of lofty Rome, [1069] than which no work exists
in Latium of greater fame.
Perhaps, too, my name will be mingled among these, and my writings will
not be consigned to the waters of Lethe. And people will one day say,
"Read the elegant lines of our master, in which he instructs the two
sides. [1070] Or of his three books, which the title designates as, 'The
Amours,' choose a portion to read with skilful lips, in a languishing
way. Or let his Epistles be repeated by you with well-modulated voice;
this kind of composition, [1071] unknown to others, did he invent. " O
Phoebus, mayst thou so will it; so too, ye benignant Divinities of the
Poets, Bacchus, graceful with thy horns, and you, ye nine Goddesses!
Who can doubt that I should wish the falr one to know how to dance,
that, the wine placed on table, she may move her arms in cadence, when
requested. Masters of posture, [1072] the representations on the stage, are
much valued; so much gracefulness does that pliant art possess. I am
ashamed to advise on trifling points, to understand how to throw a cast
of dice, and, thy value, the cube when thrown. And now let her throw the
three numbers; now let her consider, at which number she can cleverly
enter most conveniently, and which one she must call for. [1073] And,
with her skill, let her play not amiss at the hostilities of the pieces;
[1074] when the single man perishes between his two enemies. How the
warrior, too, [1075] wages the war when caught without his companion;
and how the enemy full oft retreats on the path on which he has begun.
Let the smooth balls, [1076] too, be poured into the open net; and not a
ball must be moved but the one which you shall be lifting up. There is a
kind of game, [1077] distributed into as many lines on a small scale, as
the fleeting year contains months. A little table receives [1078] three
pebbles on each side, on which to bring one's own into a straight line,
is to gain the victory.
Devise a thousand amusements. 'Tis shocking for the fair one not to
know how to play; many a time, while playing, is love commenced. But
the least matter is how to use the throws to advantage; 'tis a task of
greater consequence to lay a restraint on one's manners. While we are
not thinking, and are revealed by our very intentness, and, through the
game, our feelings, laid bare, are exposed; anger arises, a disgraceful
failing, and the greed for gain; quarrels, too, and strife, and, then,
bitter regrets. Recriminations are uttered; the air resounds with the
brawl, and every one for himself invokes the angry Divinities. There
is no trusting [1079] the tables, and, amid vows, new tables are called
for; full oft, too, have I seen cheeks wet with tears. May Jupiter
avert from you indiscretions so unbecoming, you, who have a care to be
pleasing to any lover.
To the fair, has nature, in softer mood, assigned these amusements; with
materials more abundant do the men disport. They have both the flying
ball, [1080] and the javelin, and the hoop, and arms, and the horse
trained to go round the ring. No plain of Mars receives you, nor
does the spring of the Virgin, [1081] so intensely cold; nor does the
Etrurian [1082] river carry you along with its smooth stream. But you
are allowed, and it is to your advantage, to go in the shade of Pompey's
Portico, at the time when the head is heated by the steeds of the
Constellation of the Virgin. [1083] Frequent the Palatium, consecrated
to the laurel-bearing Phoebus;'twas he that overwhelmed in the deep the
ships of Parsetonium. [1084] The memorials, also, which the Bister and
the wife [1085] of our Ruler have erected; his son-in-law [1086]
too, his head encircled with naval honors. Frequent the altars of the
Memphian heifer, [1087] that smoke with frankincense; frequent the three
Theatres, [1088] in conspicuous positions. Let the sand, stained with
the warm blood, have you for spectators; the goal, also, to be passed
with the glowing wheels. [1089]
That which lies hid is unknown; for what is not known there is no
desire. All advantage is lost, when a pretty face is without one to see
it. Were you to excel even Thamyras [1090] and Amcebeus in your singing,
there would be no great regard for your lyre, while unknown. If Apelles
of Cos [1091] had never painted Venus, she would have lain concealed
beneath the ocean waves. What but fame alone is sought by the hallowed
Poets? The sum of all my labours has that crowning object. In former
days, Poets were [1092] the care of rulers and of kings; and the choirs
of old received great rewards.
Hallowed was the dignity, and venerable
the name of the Poets; and upon them great riches were often bestowed.
Ennius, born in the mountains of Calabria, was deemed worthy, great
Scipio, to be placed near to thee. [1093] At the present day, the ivy
lies abandoned, without any honor; and the laborious anxiety that toils
for the learned Muses, receives the appellation of idleness.
But be it our study to lie on the watch for fame; who would have known
of Homer, if the Iliad, a never-dying work, had lain concealed? Who
would have known of Danae, if she had been for ever shut up, and if,
till an old woman, she had continued concealed in her tower? The throng,
ye beauteous fair, is advantageous to you; turn your wandering steps
full oft beyond your thresholds. The she-wolf goes on her way to the
many sheep, that she may carry off but one; and the bird of Jove pounces
down upon the many birds. Let the handsome woman, too, present herself
to be seen by the public; out of so many, perhaps there will be one for
her to attract. In all places, let her ever be desirous to please;
and, with all attention, let her have a care for her charms. Chance is
powerful everywhere; let your hook be always hanging ready. In waters
where you least think it, there will be a fish. Many a time do the
hounds wander in vain over the woody mountains; and sometimes the
stag falls in the toils, with no one to pursue him. What was there
for Andromeda, when bound, less to hope for, than that her tears could
possibly charm any one? Many a time, at the funeral of a husband, is
another husband found. To go with the tresses dishevelled, and not to
withhold your lamentations, is becoming.
But avoid those men who make dress and good looks their study; and who
arrange their locks, each in its own position. What they say to you,
they have repeated to a thousand damsels. Their love is roving, and
remains firm in no one spot. What is the woman to do, when the man,
himself, is still more effeminate, and himself perchance may have still
more male admirers?
You will hardly believe me, but still, do believe me; Troy would have
been still remaining, if it had followed the advice of its own Priam.
[1094] There are some men who range about, under a fictitious appearance
of love, and, by means of such introductions, seek disgraceful lucre.
And do not let the locks deceive you, shining much with the liquid nard;
[1095] nor yet the narrow belt, [1096] pressed upon the folds of their
dress. Nor let the robe of finest texture beguile you; nor yet if there
shall be many and many a ring [1097] on their fingers. Perhaps the best
dressed of the number of these may be some thief, [1098] and may be
attracted by a desire for your clothes. "Give me back my property! "
full oft do the plundered fair ones cry; "Give me back my property! " the
whole Forum resounding with their cries. Thou, Venus, [1099] unmoved,
and you, ye Goddesses, [1101] Hear the Appian way, from your temples
blazing with plenteous gold, behold these disputes. There are even
certain names notorious by a reputation that admits of no doubt; those
females who have been deceived by many, share the criminality of
their favorites. Learn, then, from the complaints of others, to have
apprehensions for yourselves; and do not let your door be open to the
knavish man.
Refrain, Cecropian fair, from believing Theseus, [1102] when he swears;
the Gods whom he will make his witnesses, he has made so before. And
no trust is there left for thee, Demophoon, heir to the criminality of
Theseus, since Phyllis has been deceived. If they are lavish of their
promises, in just as many words do you promise them; if they give, do
you, too, give the promised favours. That woman could extinguish the
watchful flames of Vesta, and could bear off the sacred things, daughter
of Inachus, [1103] from thy temples, and could administer to her husband
the aconite, mixed with the pounded hemlock, if on receiving a present
she could deny a favour.
My feelings are prompting me to go too close; check the rein, my Muse:
and be not hurled headlong by the wheels in their full career. Should
lines, written on the tablets made of fir, try the soundings; let a maid
suited for the duty take in the billets that are sent. Examine them; and
collect from the words themselves, whether he only pretends what you are
reading, or whether he entreats anxiously, and with sincerity. And after
a short delay, write an answer: delay ever stimulates those in love, if
it lasts only for a short time.
But neither do you make yourself too cheap to the youth who entreats,
nor yet refuse, with disdainful lips, what he is pressing for. Cause him
both to fear and to hope at the same moment; and oft as you refuse him,
let hopes more assured, and diminished apprehensions arise.
Write your words, ye fair, in a legible hand, but of common parlance,
and such as are usual; the recognized forms of language are most
pleasing. --Ah! how oft has the wavering lover been inflamed by a letter,
and how oft has uncouth language proved detrimental to, a graceful
form! But since, although you are without the honors of the fillet of
chastity, it is still your care to deceive your husbands; [1104] let
the skilled hand of a maid, or of a boy, carry the tablets, and don't
entrust your pledges to some unknown youth. I myself have seen the fair
pale with terror on that account, enduring, in their misery, servitude
to all future time. Perfidious, indeed, is he who retains such pledges:
but still in them he has power equal to the lightnings of AEtna.
In my opinion deceit is allowable, for the purpose of repelling deceit;
and the laws permit us to take up arms against the armed. One hand
should be accustomed to write in numerous styles. Perdition to those,
through whom this advice must be given by me! Nor is it safe to write,
except when the wax is quite smoothed over; so that the same tablet may
not contain two hands. [1105] Let your lover be always styled a female
when you write; in your billets let that be "she," which really is "he. "
But I wish to turn my attention from trifles to things of more
consequence, and with swelling canvass to expand my filling sails. It
conduces to good looks to restrain habits of anger. Fair peace becomes
human beings, savage fury wild beasts. With fury the features swell;
with blood the veins grow black; the eyes flash more wildly than the
Gorgonian fires. "Pipe, hence avaunt, [1106] thou art not of so much
worth to me," said Pallas, when she saw her features in the stream.
You, too, if you were to look at your mirror in the midst of your anger,
hardly could any one distinctly recognize her own countenance. And, in
no less degree, let not a repulsive haughtiness sit upon your features;
by alluring eyes love must be enticed. Believe me, ye fair who know it
by experience, I hate immoderate conceit. Full oft do the features in
silence contain the germs of hatred. Look at him who looks on you; smile
sweetly in return to him who smiles. Does he nod at you; do you, too,
return the sign well understood. When the Boy Cupid has made these
preludes, laying aside his foils, he takes his sharp arrows from
his quiver.
I hate the melancholy damsels too. Let Ajax be charmed with Tecmessa;
[1107] us, a joyous throng, the cheerful woman captivates. Never should
I have asked thee, Andromache, nor thee, Tecmessa, that one of you
would be my mistress. I seem hardly ably to believe it, though by your
fruitfulness I am obliged to believe it, that you could have granted
your favours to your husbands. And could, forsooth, that most melancholy
woman say to Ajax, "My life! " and words which are wont to please the
men?
What forbids me to apply illustrations from great matters to small ones,
and not to be standing in awe of the name of a general? To this person
the skilful general has entrusted a hundred to be ruled with the twig of
vine; [1108] to this one so many cavalry; to that one he has given the
standard to defend. Do you, too, consider, to what use each of us is
suited, and class each one in his assigned position. Let the rich man
give his presents; let him that professes the law, defend; the eloquent
man may often plead the cause of his client. We who compose verse,
verses alone let us contribute. This throng, before all others, is
susceptible of love. Far and wide do we herald the praises of the beauty
that pleases us. Nemesis [1109] has fame; Cynthia, too, has fame.
The West and the lands of the East know of Lycoris: and many a one
is enquiring who my Corinna is. Besides, all deceit is wanting in the
hallowed. Poets, and even our art contributes to forming our manners. No
ambition influences us, no love of gain; despising the Courts, the couch
and the shade are the objects of our commendation. But we are easily
attracted, and are consumed by a lasting heat; and we know how to love
with a constancy most enduring. Indeed, we have our feelngs softened by
the gentle art; and our manners are in conformity with our pursuits.
Be kind, ye fair, to the Aonian bards. In them there is inspiration, and
the Pierian maids show favour unto them. In us a Divinity exists: and
we have intercourse with the heavens. From the realms of the skies does
that inspiration proceed. 'Tis a crime to look for a present from the
learned Poets. Ah wretched me! of this crime no fair one stands in
dread. Still, do act the dissemblers, and at the very first sight, do
not be ravenous. On seeing your nets, a new lover will stop short. But
neither can the rider manage with the same reins the horse which has but
lately felt the bridle, and that which is well-trained; nor yet must
the same path be trod by you in order to captivate the feelings that are
steadied by years, and inexperienced youth.
The latter is raw, and now for the first time known in the camp of
Love, who, a tender prey, has reached your chamber; with you alone is he
acquainted; to you alone would he ever prove constant. Shun a rival;
so long as you alone shall possess him, you will be the conqueror. Both
sovereignties and love do not last long with one to share in them.
The other, the veteran soldier, will love you gradually, and with
moderation; and he will put up with much that will not be endured by the
novice. He will neither break down your door-posts, nor burn them with
raging flames; nor will he fly at the tender cheek of his mistress with
his nails. He will neither tear his own clothes, nor yet the clothes of
the fair; nor will her torn locks be a cause for grieving. These things
befit boys, who are heated with youthful years and with passion: the
other, with tranquil feelings, will put up with cruel wounds. With
slowly consuming fires will he smoulder, just like a damp torch; or like
the wood that has been cut down upon the mountain ridge. This passion
is more sure; the former is short-lived and more bounteous. With speedy
hand do you pluck the fruit that passes away.
Let all points be surrendered; the gates we have opened to the enemy,
and let confidence be placed in this perfidious betrayal. That which is
easily conceded, but badly supports a lasting passion. A repulse must
now and then be mingled with your joyous dalliance. Let him lie down
before your doors: "Cruel door! " let him exclaim; and let him do many a
thing in humble, many in threatening mood. The sweet we cannot endure;
with bitter potions we may be refreshed. Full oft does the bark perish,
overwhelmed by favouring gales. This it is that does not permit wives to
be loved; husbands have access to them, whenever they please. Shut your
door, [1110] and let your porter say to you with surly lips, "You cannot
come in, desire will seize you as well, thus shut out. "
Now lay aside the blunted swords; let the battle be fought with
sharpened ones. And I doubt not but that I myself shall be aimed at with
weapons of my own furnishing. While the lover that has been captured
only of late is falling into your toils, let him hope that he alone has
admission to your chamber. But soon let him be aware of a rival, and a
division of the privileges of your favours. Remove these contrivances;
and his passion will grow effete. Then does the high-mettled courser run
well, the starting-place being opened, when he has both competitors to
pass by, and those for him to follow. Harshness rekindles the flame,
even if gone out. Myself to wit, I confess it, I do not love unless I am
ill-used.
Still, the cause for grief should not be too manifest: and in his
anxiety he ought to suspect that there is more than what he actually
knows. The harsh supervision, too, of some feigned servant should excite
him, and the irksome watchfulness of a husband too severe. The pleasure
that is enjoyed in safety, is the least valued of all. Though you are
more at liberty than even Thais, [1111] still feign apprehensions.
Whereas you could do it far better by the door, admit him through the
window; and on your countenance show the signs of fear. Let the cunning
maid rush in, and exclaim, "We are undone! " and then do you hide the
youth in his fright in any spot. Still, an enjoyment without anxiety
must be interspersed with his alarms; lest he should not think your
favours to be worth so much trouble.
But I was about to omit by what methods the cunning husband may be
eluded, and how the watchful keeper. Let the wife stand in awe of her
husband; let the safe keeping of a wife be allowed. That is proper; that
the laws, and justice, and decency ordain. But for you as well to be
watched, whom the Lictor's rod [1112] has but just set at liberty,
who can endure it? Come to my sacred rites, that you may learn how to
deceive. Even if as many eyes shall be watching you, as Argus had, if
there is only a fixed determination, you will deceive them all. And
shall a keeper, forsooth, hinder you from being able to write, when an
opportunity is given you for taking the bath? When a female confidant
can carry the note you have penned, which her broad girth [1113] can
conceal in her warm bosom? When she can conceal the paper fastened to
her calf, and carry the tender note beneath her sandalled foot.
Should the keeper be proof against these _contrivances_; in place of
paper, let your confidant afford her shoulders; and upon her own person
let her carry your words. Letters, too, written in new milk, are safe
and escape the eye; touch them with powdered coals, and you will read
them. The writing, too, which is made with the stalk of wetted flax,
[1114] will deceive, and the clean surface will bear the secret marks.
The care of watching a fair one fell to Acrisius; still, through his own
fault, did she make him a grandsire. What can a keeper do, when there
are so many Theatres in the City? When, eagerly she is a spectator of
the harnessed steeds? When she is sitting in attendance upon the sistra
of the Pharian heifer, and at the place where her male friends are
forbidden to go? While, too, the Good Goddess [1115] expels the gaze of
males from her temples, except any that, perchance, she bids to come:
while, as the keeper watches outside the clothes of the fair, the baths
may in safety conceal the lovers who are hiding there; while, so often
as is requisite, some pretended she-friend may be sick, and, ill as she
is, may give place for her in her couch. While the false key, too, tells
[1116] by its name what we are to do, and it is not the door alone that
gives the access you require.
The watchfulness of the keeper is eluded by plenty of wine; even though
[1117] the grapes be gathered on the hills of Spain. There are drugs,
too, which create deep sleep; and let them close the eyes overpowered by
Lethaean night. And not amiss does the confidant occupy the troublesome
fellow with dalliance to create delay, and in his company spins out the
time.
What need is there to be teaching stratagems and trifling precepts,
when the keeper may be purchased by the smallest present? Believe me,
presents influence both men and Gods: on gifts being presented, Jupiter
himself is appeased. What is the wise man to do, when even the fool is
gratified with a present? The husband himself, on receiving a present,
will be silent. But once only throughout the long year must the
keeper be bought; full oft will he hold out the hand which he has once
extended.
I complained, I recollect, that new-made friends are to be dreaded; that
complaint does not extend to men alone. If you are too trusting, other
women will interrupt your pleasures; and this hare of yours will be
destined to be hunted down by other persons. Even she, [1118] who so
obligingly lends her couch and her room, believe me, has not once only
been in my company. And do not let too pretty a maid wait upon you; many
a time has she filled [1119] her mistress's place for me. Whither, in my
folly, am I led on? Why with bared breast do I strive against the foe,
and why, myself, am I betrayed through information that is my own? The
bird does not instruct the fowler in which direction he may be taken:
the hind does not teach the hostile hounds how to run. Still, let
interest see to itself; my precepts, with fidelity will I give. To the
Lemnian dames, [1120] for my own destruction, will I present the sword.
Give reason (and 'tis easy to do so) for us to believe ourselves to be
loved. Belief arises readily in those who are anxious for the fulfilment
of their desires. Let the fair one eye the youth in a kindly manner; let
her heave sighs from her very heart, and let her enquire, why it is he
comes so late? Let tears be added, too, and feigned apprehensions about
a rival, and with her fingers let her tear her face. Soon will he be
thoroughly persuaded, one? he will pity you of his own accord; and will
say to himself "This woman is consumed by affection for me. "
Especially, if he shall be well drest, and shall please himself at the
looking-glass, he will believe that the Goddesses might be touched with
love for him. But, whoever you are, let an injury disturb you only in a
moderate degree; and don't, on hearing of a rival, go out of your mind.
And don't at once believe it; how injurious it is at once to believe
things, Procris will be no slight proof to you.
There is near the empurpled hills of blooming Hymettus a sacred spring,
and the ground is soft with the verdant turf. The wood, of no great
height, there forms a grove; the strawberry tree overshadows the grass;
rosemary, and laurels, and swarthy myrtles give their perfume. Neither
the box-trees with their thick foliage and the slender tamarisks, nor
yet the tiny trefoil and the garden pine, are wanting there. Moved by
the gentle Zephyrs and the balmy air, the leaves of these many kinds,
and the tops of the grass quiver. Pleasant was this retreat to Cephalus;
[1121] his servants and his hounds left behind, the youth, when weary,
often sat down in this spot. And here he was in the habit of repeating,
"Come, gentle Aura [breeze], to be received in my bosom, that thou mayst
moderate my heat. "
Some person, maliciously officious, with retentive lips carried the
words he had heard to the timid ears of his wife. Procris, when she
heard the name of Aura [breeze], as though of a rival, fainted away, and
with this sudden apprehension she was mute. She turned pale, just as the
late leaves become wan, which the coming winter has nipped, the clusters
now gathered from the vine; and as the quinces [1122] which in their
ripeness are bending their boughs; and as the cornels not yet quite
fit for food for man. When her senses had returned, she tore her thin
garments from off her body with her nails, and wounded her guiltless
cheeks. And no delay was there; raving, with dishevelled locks, she flew
amid the tracks, like a Bacchanal aroused by the thyrsus. When she had
come near the spot, she left her attendants in the valley; and with
silent footsteps, in her boldness, she herself stealthily entered the
grove. What, Procris, were thy feelings, when thus, in thy frenzy, thou
didst he concealed? What the impulse of thy disquieted breast? Each
moment, forsooth, wast thou expecting that she would come, whoever Aura
might be, and that their criminality would be witnessed with thine eyes.
Now dost thou repent of having come, for indeed thou wouldst not wish to
detect him; and now thou art glad; fluctuating affection is tormenting
thy breast. There is the spot, and the name, and the informant to bid
thee give credence; and the fact that the lover always apprehends that
to exist which he dreads. When she beheld the grass beaten down,
the impress of his body, her trembling bosom was throbbing with her
palpitating heart. And now midday had made the unsubstantial shadows
small, and at an equal distance were the evening and the morn. Behold!
Cephalus, the offspring of the Cyilenian God, [1123] returns from the
woods, and sprinkles his glowing face with water of the fountain. In thy
anxiety, Procris, art thou lying concealed. Along the grass he lies
as wont, and says, "Ye gentle Zephyrs, and thou Aura [breeze], come
hither. " When the welcome mistake of the name was thus revealed to
the sorrowing fair, both her senses and the real colour of her face
returned.
She arose; and the wife, about to rush into the embrace of her husband,
by the moving of her body, shook the leaves that were in her way. He,
thinking that a wild beast had made the noise, with alacrity snatched up
his bow; his arrows were in his right hand. What, wretched man, art thou
about? 'Tis no wild beast; keep still thy weapons. Ah wretched me!
