T. R. Smith, comp. Poetica Erotica: Rare and Curious Amatory Verse. 1921–22.
Elegy to Gallus
By Propertius (c. 50–c. 16 B.C.)In Praise of His Mistress (Translated by John Nott) [LAUGH, as thou’rt wont, to see me sit forlorn, | |
| Left, Gallus, by my truant nymph to mourn;] | |
| Yet, faithless youth, I’ll not thy taunts return; | |
| No female falsehood may my Gallus mourn! | |
| While nymphs betrayed increase thy am’rous fame, | 5 |
| While fickle still thou rov’st from flame to flame; | |
| Yet for one fair at length thy cheeks grow pale, | |
| And in the first attack thy efforts fail! | |
| One shall avenge full many a slighted maid, | |
| By one the wrongs of thousands be repaid! | 10 |
| One shall each vagrant looser love constrain, | |
| And no new conquest shalt thou strive to gain! | |
| Untaught by fame, unskilled in prophecy, | |
| I’ve seen—and canst thou what I saw deny? | |
| Locked to her neck, I’ve seen thee panting laid; | 15 |
| I’ve seen thy tears; thine arms thrown round the maid; | |
| On her dear lips I’ve seen thee wish to die; | |
| Nay wish those things, which shame must needs pass by. | |
| Not e’en my presence could your raptures stay, | |
| Such raging passions bore your souls away; | 20 |
| Less fond the god whom Tænarus adores, | |
| When with Enipeus, through Hæmonian shores, | |
| He mixt his waves; and to his fraudful breast | |
| The beauteous daughter of Salmoneus prest: | |
| Less fond Alcides, when from Œta’s height | 25 |
| He rose to regions of eternal light, | |
| And first enfolded in his longing arms | |
| Celestial Hebe’s ever-blooming charms. | |
| One day!—and thine exceeds all former fires; | |
| No lukewarm flame thy beauteous maid inspires; | 30 |
| [Thy old disdain she lets thee not renew; | |
| No more thou’lt swerve; passion shall keep thee true.] | |
| Nor is it strange that such should be thy love, | |
| When thy bright fair might grace the arms of Jove: | |
| As Leda’s self, or Leda’s daughter fair, | 35 |
| She with the beauteous three might well compare; | |
| Not Argive heroines with her charms can vie, | |
| Her speech might win the ruler of the sky. | |
| Since doom’d to passion, let thy flame burn on; | |
| Of her thou’rt worthy, and of her alone: | 40 |
| New is thy love, so prosp’rous may it be! | |
| And let this nymph be every nymph to thee. | |