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(Translated by Sir Charles Elton)
“FRAMEST thou excuse, who art a tale to all? | |
| Whose Cynthia long is read at every stall?” | |
| These words might damp a deaf man’s brow, and move | |
| A candid blush for mean and nameless love. | |
| Bat did my Cynthia breathe a melting sigh, | 5 |
| I were not called the head of levity: | |
| Nor broad town-scandal should traduce my fame: | |
| Then would I speak, though branded thus by name. | |
| Wonder not thou that meaner nymphs invite: | |
| They less defame me: are the causes light? | 10 |
| She’ll now a fan of peacock’s plumes demand; | |
| And now a crystal ball to cool her hand: | |
| Tease me to death for ivory dice, and pray | |
| For glittering baubles of the sacred way. | |
| Ah! let me die if I regard the cost: | 15 |
| A jilting fair one’s mockery stings me most. | |
| Was this the favour to transport my heart? | |
| Thou feel’st no blush, thus charming as thou art: | |
| Scarce two short nights in tender joys are sped, | |
| And I am called intruder on thy bed. | 20 |
| Yet wouldst thou praise my person; read my lay: | |
| Has this thy love then flown so swift away? | |
| The race of genius may my rival run: | |
| But let him learn from me to love but one. | |
| What! he forsooth will Lerna’s snake enfold; | 25 |
| Snatch from th’ Hesperian dragon fruits of gold; | |
| Drain poisonous juice; or shipwreck’d gulp the sea; | |
| And from no miseries shrink, for sake of thee? | |
| Ah! would, my life! these tasks were proved in me! | |
| Then should we find this gallant, now so proud, | 30 |
| Skulk his mean head among the coward crowd. | |
| Let the vain braggart vaunt his puffed success; | |
| One short year shall divorce your tenderness. | |
| No Sibyl’s years, Herculean toils, avail, | |
| Nor that last gloomy day to make my fondness fail. | 35 |
| Yes—thou shalt cull my bones, which tears bedew: | |
| “Propertius! these were thine: ah tried and true! | |
| Ah me! most true! though not through noble veins | |
| Flow’d thy rich blood, nor ample thy domains.” | |
| Yes—I will all endure: all wrongs are slight: | 40 |
| A beauteous woman makes the burden light. | |
| Many for thee, I well believe, have sighed; | |
| But few of men in constancy are tried. | |
| Brief time for Ariadne Theseus burned: | |
| Demophoön from his Phillis ingrate turned: | 45 |
| In Jason’s bark the sea Medea braved, | |
| Yet, lone abandon’d, cursed the man she saved: | |
| Hard too the woman’s heart, whose feign’d desire | |
| For many lovers fans the ready fire. | |
| Not to the suitors, vain of noble race, | 50 |
| Not to the wealthy, yield thy bribed embrace: | |
| Of these scarce one would shed a tear for thee, | |
| Or near thy urn be found, as I shall be. | |
| Yet rather thou for me, grant, heaven! the prayer, | |
| Smite on thy naked breast, and strew thy streaming hair. | 55 |
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