T. R. Smith, comp. Poetica Erotica: Rare and Curious Amatory Verse. 1921–22.
An Elegy
By Propertius (c. 50–c. 16 B.C.)(Translated by Mr. Adams. Miscellany Poems, 1702) |
AS on the beach sad Ariadne lay, | |
| While the deaf winds false Theseus bore away; | |
| As from the rock Andromeda redeemed, | |
| More sweet, more fair in her first slumber seemed; | |
| Or as the no less weary Bacchanal | 5 |
| Surprised by sleep near some smooth stream does fall; | |
| Such seemed to me, so was my Cynthia laid, | |
| While breathing soft repose the lovely maid | |
| On her fair hand reclined her bending head; | |
| When I, well drunk through the too narrow street | 10 |
| Dragged home at midnight my unfaithful feet; | |
| But as she appeared so charming to my view, | |
| Gently I pressed the bed, and near her drew, | |
| Thinking (for so much sense I still retained) | |
| The Fort of Love might by surprise be gained; | 15 |
| Yet though commanded by a double fire, | |
| Both by the flames of wine, and hot desire; | |
| Though my lewd hand would naughtily have strayed, | |
| And I would fain my arms have ready made; | |
| I durst not in the soft assault engage, | 20 |
| Dreading to wake her well experienced rage; | |
| But so my greedy eyes surveyed her o’er, | |
| The waking Argus watched not Io more; | |
| Sometimes I loosed the chaplet from my brow, | |
| And tried how sweetly ’twould on Cynthia’s show. | 25 |
| Sometimes corrected her disordered hair, | |
| That loosely wantoned with the sportive air; | |
| And when she sighed, I credulously feared | |
| Some frightful vision to my love appeared. | |
| Till the bright moon thro’ the wide window shone, | 30 |
| (The moon that would not suddenly be gone;) | |
| She with her subtile rays unclosed her eyes, | |
| When thus against me did her fury rise. | |
| At length affronted by some tawdry jade, | |
| Kicked out of doors, you’re forced into my bed; | 35 |
| For where is it you spend my nights? you come, | |
| Drawn off and impotent, at morning, home; | |
| I wish, base man! I with such nights you had, | |
| As you force me! unhappy me! to lead! | |
| Sometimes, I with my needle sleep deceive, | 40 |
| Then with my lute my weariness relieve; | |
| Then do I weep, and curse your tedious stay, | |
| While in some other’s arms you melt away; | |
| Till sleep’s soft wings my willing eyelids close, | |
| Beguile my sorrows, and my cares compose. | 45 |