Part 14

ELEGIA XI.

Napen alloquitur, ut paratas tabellas ad Corinnam perferat.

In skilful gathering ruffled hairs in order, NapË, free-born, whose cunning hath no border, Thy service for night's scapes is known commodious, And to give signs dull wit to thee is odious. Corinna clips me oft by thy persuasion: Never to harm me made thy faith evasion. Receive these lines; them to my mistress carry; Be sedulous; let no stay cause thee tarry, Nor flint nor iron are in thy soft breast, But pure simplicity in thee doth rest. 10 And 'tis supposed Love's bow hath wounded thee; Defend the ensigns of thy war in me. If what I do, she asks, say "hope for night;" The rest my hand doth in my letters write. Time passeth while I speak; give her my writ, But see that forthwith she peruseth it. I charge thee mark her eyes and front in reading: By speechless looks we guess at things succeeding. Straight being read, will her to write much back, I hate fair paper should writ matter lack. 20 Let her make verses and some blotted letter On the last edge to stay mine eyes the better. What needs she tire her hand to hold the quill? Let this word "Come," alone the tables fill. Then with triumphant laurel will I grace them And in the midst of Venus' temple place them, Subscribing, that to her I consecrate My faithful tables, being vile maple late.

FOOTNOTES:

Not in Isham copy or ed. A.

Bound.

"Et dandis ingeniosa notis."

So Dyce for "try" of the old eds.

ELEGIA XII.

Tabellas quas miserat execratur quod amica noctem negabat.

Bewail my chance: the sad book is returned, This day denial hath my sport adjourned. Presages are not vain; when she departed, NapË by stumbling on the threshold, started. Going out again, pass forth the door more wisely, And somewhat higher bear thy foot precisely. Hence luckless tables! funeral wood, be flying! And thou, the wax, stuffed full with notes denying! Which I think gathered from cold hemlock's flower, Wherein bad honey Corsic bees did pour: 10 Yet as if mixed with red lead thou wert ruddy, That colour rightly did appear so bloody. As evil wood, thrown in the highways, lie, Be broke with wheels of chariots passing by! And him that hewed you out for needful uses, I'll prove had hands impure with all abuses. Poor wretches on the tree themselves did strangle: There sat the hangman for men's necks to angle. To hoarse scrich-owls foul shadows it allows; Vultures and Furies nestled in the boughs. 20 To these my love I foolishly committed, And then with sweet words to my mistress fitted. More fitly had they wrangling bonds contained From barbarous lips of some attorney strained. Among day-books and bills they had lain better, In which the merchant wails his bankrupt debtor. Your name approves you made for such like things, The number two no good divining brings. Angry, I pray that rotten age you racks, And sluttish white-mould overgrow the wax. 30

FOOTNOTES:

Not in Isham copy or ed. A.

"Volturis in ramis et strigis ova tulit."

Old eds. "thy."

ELEGIA XIII.

Ad Auroram ne properet.

Now o'er the sea from her old love comes she That draws the day from heaven's cold axletree. Aurora, whither slid'st thou? down again! And birds for Memnon yearly shall be slain. Now in her tender arms I sweetly bide, If ever, now well lies she by my side. The air is cold, and sleep is sweetest now, And birds send forth shrill notes from every bough. Whither runn'st thou, that men and women love not? Hold in thy rosy horses that they move not. 10 Ere thou rise, stars teach seamen where to sail, But when thou com'st, they of their courses fail. Poor travellers though tired, rise at thy sight, And soldiers make them ready to the fight. The painful hind by thee to field is sent; Slow oxen early in the yoke are pent. Thou coz'nest boys of sleep, and dost betray them To pedants that with cruel lashes pay them. Thou mak'st the surety to the lawyer run, That with one word hath nigh himself undone. 20 The lawyer and the client hate thy view, Both whom thou raisest up to toil anew. By thy means women of their rest are barred, Thou settst their labouring hands to spin and card. All could I bear; but that the wench should rise, Who can endure, save him with whom none lies? How oft wished I night would not give thee place, Nor morning stars shun thy uprising face. How oft that either wind would break thy coach, Or steeds might fall, forced with thick clouds' approach. 30 Whither go'st thou, hateful nymph? Memnon the elf Received his coal-black colour from thyself. Say that thy love with Cephalus were not known, Then thinkest thou thy loose life is not shown? Would Tithon might but talk of thee awhile! Not one in heaven should be more base and vile. Thou leav'st his bed, because he's faint through age, And early mount'st thy hateful carriage: But held'st thou in thy arms some Cephalus, Then would'st thou cry, "Stay night, and run not thus." 40 Dost punish me because years make him wane? I did not bid thee wed an agËd swain. The moon sleeps with Endymion every day; Thou art as fair as she, then kiss and play. Jove, that thou should'st not haste but wait his leisure, Made two nights one to finish up his pleasure. I chid no more; she blushed, and therefore heard me, Yet lingered not the day, but morning scared me.

FOOTNOTES:

So Dyce for "from" of the old eds.

This line is omitted in ed. A.

Isham copy and ed. A "This."

Isham copy and ed. A "had'st."

Isham copy and ed. A "Punish ye me."

So the Isham copy. The other old eds. "chide."

ELEGIA XIV.

Puellam consolatur cui prÊ nimia cura comÊ deciderant.

Leave colouring thy tresses, I did cry; Now hast thou left no hairs at all to dye. But what had been more fair had they been kept? Beyond thy robes thy dangling locks had swept. Fear'dst thou to dress them being fine and thin, Like to the silk the curious Seres spin. Or threads which spider's slender foot draws out, Fastening her light web some old beam about? Not black nor golden were they to our view, Yet although either, mixed of either's hue; 10 Such as in hilly Ida's watery plains, The cedar tall, spoiled of his bark, retains. Add they were apt to curl a hundred ways, And did to thee no cause of dolour raise. Nor hath the needle, or the comb's teeth reft them, The maid that kembed them ever safely left them. Oft was she dressed before mine eyes, yet never, Snatching the comb to beat the wench, outdrive her. Oft in the morn, her hairs not yet digested, Half-sleeping on a purple bed she rested; 20 Yet seemly like a Thracian Bacchanal, That tired doth rashly on the green grass fall. When they were slender and like downy moss, Thy troubled hairs, alas, endured great loss. How patiently hot irons they did take, In crookËd trannels crispy curls to make. I cried, "'Tis sin, 'tis sin, these hairs to burn, They well become thee, then to spare them turn. Far off be force, no fire to them may reach, Thy very hairs will the hot bodkin teach." 30 Lost are the goodly locks, which from their crown, Phoebus and Bacchus wished were hanging down. Such were they as Diana painted stands, All naked holding in her wave-moist hands. Why dost thy ill-kembed tresses' loss lament? Why in thy glass dost look, being discontent? Be not to see with wonted eyes inclined; To please thyself, thyself put out of mind. No charmËd herbs of any harlot scathed thee, No faithless witch in Thessal waters bathed thee. 40 No sickness harmed thee (far be that away!), No envious tongue wrought thy thick locks' decay. By thine own hand and fault thy hurt doth grow, Thou mad'st thy head with compound poison flow. Now Germany shall captive hair-tires send thee, And vanquished people curious dressings lend thee. Which some admiring, O thou oft wilt blush! And say, "He likes me for my borrowed bush. Praising for me some unknown Guelder dame, But I remember when it was my fame." 50 Alas she almost weeps, and her white cheeks, Dyed red with shame to hide from shame she seeks. She holds, and views her old locks in her lap; Ay me! rare gifts unworthy such a hap! Cheer up thyself, thy loss thou may'st repair, And be hereafter seen with native hair.