The Amores; or, Amours. Ovid

of yours. And am I then only as a guest to look upon the fair so much beloved? And shall there be another, to take pleasure in being touched by you? And will you, conveniently placed below, be keeping warm the bosom of another? 028 And shall he, when he pleases, be placing his hand upon your neck? Cease to be surprised that the beauteous damsel of Atrax 029 excited the two-formed men to combat when the wine was placed on table. No wood is my home, and my limbs adhere not to those of a horse; yet I seem to be hardly able to withhold my hands from you. Learn, however, what must be done by you; and do not give my injunctions to be borne away by the Eastern gales, nor on the warm winds of the South.

      Come before your husband; and yet, I do not see what can be done, if you do come first; but still, do come first. 031 When he presses the couch, with modest air you will be going as his companion, to recline by him; then secretly touch my foot. 032 Keep your eye on me, and my nods and the expression of my features; apprehend my secret signs, 033 and yourself return them. Without utterance will I give expression to words by my eyebrows; 034 you shall read words traced by my fingers, words traced in the wine. 035 When the delights of our dalliance recur to your thoughts, press your blooming cheeks 036 with your beauteous finger. If there shall be anything, of which you may be making complaint about me silently in your mind, let your delicate hand reach from the extremity of your ear. When, my life, I shall either do or say aught which shall give you delight, let your ring be continually twisted on your fingers. 037 Take hold of the table with your hand, in the way in which those who are in prayer 038 take hold of the altar, when you shall be wishing many an evil for your husband, who so well deserves it. The cup which he has mixed for you, if you are discreet, 039 bid him drink himself; then, in a low voice, do you ask the servant 041 for what wine you wish. I will at once take the cup which you have put down; 042 and where you have sipped, on that side will I drink. If, perchance, he shall give you any morsels, of which he has tasted beforehand, reject them thus touched by his mouth. 043 And do not allow him to press your neck, by putting his arms around it; nor recline your gentle head on his unsightly breast. 044 Let not your bosom, or your breasts so close at hand, 045 admit his fingers; and especially allow him to give you no kisses. If you do give him any kisses, I shall be discovered to be your lover, and I shall say, "Those are my own," and shall be laying hands upon him.

      Still, this I shall be able to see; but what the clothing carefully conceals, the same will be a cause for me of apprehension full of doubts. Touch not his thigh with yours, and cross not legs with him, and do not unite your delicate foot with his uncouth leg. To my misery, I am apprehensive of many a thing, because many a thing have I done in my wantonness; and I myself am tormented, through fear of my own precedent.

      Oft by joining hands beneath the cloth, 048 have my mistress and I forestalled our hurried delights. This, I am sure, you will not do for him; but that you may not even be supposed to do so, take away the conscious covering 049 from your bosom. Bid your husband drink incessantly, but let there be no kisses with your entreaties; and while he is drinking, if you can, add wine by stealth. 050 If he shall be soundly laid asleep with dozing and wine, circumstances and opportunity will give us fitting counsel. When you shall rise to go home, we all will rise as well; and remember that you walk in the middle rank of the throng. In that rank you will either find me, or be found by me; and whatever part of me you can there touch, mind and touch.

      Ah wretched me! I have given advice to be good for but a few hours; then, at the bidding of night, I am separated from my mistress. At night her husband will lock her in; I, sad with my gushing tears, will follow her as far as I may, even to her obdurate door. And now will he be snatching a kiss; and now not kisses only will he snatch; you will be compelled to grant him that, which by stealth you grant to me. But grant him this (you can do so) with a bad grace, and like one acting by compulsion; let no caresses be heard; and let Venus prove inauspicious. If my wishes avail, I trust, too, that he will find no satisfaction therein; but if otherwise, still at least let it have no delights for you. But, however, whatever luck may attend upon the night, assure me in positive language to-morrow, that you did not dally with him.

ELEGY V.

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      The beauties of Corinna.

      Twas summer time, 051 and the day had passed the hour of noon; when I threw my limbs to be refreshed on the middle of the couch. A part of the window 053 was thrown open, the other part shut; the light was such as the woods are wont to have; just as the twilight glimmers, when Phoebus is retreating; or as when the night has gone, and still the day is not risen. Such light should be given to the bashful fair, in which coy modesty may hope to have concealment.

      Behold! Corinna 054 came, clothed in a tunic 055 hanging loose, her flowing hair 056 covering her white neck.

      Beauteous Semiramis 057 is said to have entered her chamber, and Lais, 058 beloved by many a hero. I drew aside the tunic; in its thinness 059 it was but a small impediment; still, to be covered with the tunic did she strive; and, as she struggled as though she was not desirous to conquer, without difficulty was she overcome, through betrayal of herself. When, her clothing laid aside, she stood before my eyes, throughout her whole body nowhere was there a blemish. What shoulders, what arms I both saw and touched! The contour of her breast, how formed was it to be pressed! How smooth her stomach beneath her faultless bosom! How full and how beauteous her sides! How plump with youthfulness the thigh! But why enlarge on every point? Nothing did I behold not worthy of praise; and I pressed her person even to my own.

      The rest, who knows not? Wearied, we both reclined. May such a midday often prove my lot.

ELEGY VI.

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      He entreats the porter to open to him the door of his mistress's house.

      P orter, fastened (and how unworthily!) with the cruel fetter, 060 throw open the stubborn door with its turning hinge. What I ask, is but a trifle; let the door, half-opened, admit me sideways with its narrow passage. Protracted Love has made my body thin for such an emergency, and by diminishing my bulk, has rendered my limbs quite supple.'Tis he who shows me how to go softly amid the watches of the keepers; 062 'tis he directs my feet that meet no harm. But, at one time, I used to be afraid of the night and imaginary ghosts; and I used to be surprised if any one was about to go in the dark: Cupid, with his graceful mother, laughed, so that I could hear him, and he softly said, "Thou too wilt become bold." Without delay, love came upon me; then, I feared not spectres that flit by night, 063 or hands uplifted for my destruction.

      I only fear you, thus too tardy; you alone do I court; you hold the lightning by which you can effect my destruction. Look (and that you may see, loosen the obdurate bars) how the door has been made wet with my tears. At all events, 'twas I, who, when, your garment laid aside, you stood ready for the whip, 064 spoke in your behalf to your mistress as you were trembling. Does then, (O shocking thought!) the credit which once prevailed in your behalf, now fail to prevail in my own favour? Give a return for my kindness; you may now be grateful. As you wish, 065 the hours of the night pass on; 066 from the door-post 067 strike away the bar. Strike it away then may you one day be liberated from your long fetters and may the water of the slave 068 be not for ever drunk of by you. Hard-hearted porter! you hear me, as I implore in vain; the door, supported by its hard oaken posts, is still unmoved. Let the protection of a closed gate be of value to cities when besieged; but why, in the midst of peace are you dreading warfare? What would you do to an enemy, who thus shut out the lover? The hours of the night pass on; from the door-post strike away the bar.

      I am not come attended with soldiers and with arms; I should be alone, if ruthless Love were not here. Him, even