Part 19

"At quanto, si forte refers, prÊsentior ipse, Per Veneris feci numina magna fidem."

The original has "Unum est e dominis emeruisse satis."

ELEGIA IX.

Ad Cupidinem.

O Cupid, that dost never cease my smart! O boy, that liest so slothful in my heart! Why me that always was the soldier found, Dost harm, and in thy tents why dost me wound? Why burns thy brand, why strikes thy bow thy friends? More glory by thy vanquished foes ascends. Did not Pelides whom his spear did grieve, Being required, with speedy help relieve? Hunters leave taken beasts, pursue the chase, And than things found do ever further pace. 10 We people wholly given thee, feel thine-arms, Thy dull hand stays thy striving enemies' harms. Dost joy to have thy hookËd arrows shaked In naked bones? love hath my bones left naked. So many men and maidens without love, Hence with great laud thou may'st a triumph move. Rome, if her strength the huge world had not filled, With strawy cabins now her courts should build. The weary soldier hath the conquered fields, His sword, laid by, safe, tho' rude places yields; 20 The dock inharbours ships drawn from the floods, Horse freed from service range abroad the woods. And time it was for me to live in quiet, That have so oft served pretty wenches' diet. Yet should I curse a God, if he but said, "Live without love," so sweet ill is a maid. For when my loathing it of heat deprives me, I know not whither my mind's whirlwind drives me. Even as a headstrong courser bears away His rider, vainly striving him to stay; 30 Or as a sudden gale thrusts into sea The haven-touching bark, now near the lea; So wavering Cupid brings me back amain, And purple Love resumes his darts again. Strike, boy, I offer thee my naked breast, Here thou hast strength, here thy right hand doth rest. Here of themselves thy shafts come, as if shot; Better than I their quiver knows them not: Hapless is he that all the night lies quiet. And slumbering, thinks himself much blessËd by it. 40 Fool, what is sleep but image of cold death, Long shalt thou rest when Fates expire thy breath. But me let crafty damsel's words deceive, Great joys by hope I inly shall conceive. Now let her flatter me, now chide me hard, Let me enjoy her oft, oft be debarred. Cupid, by thee, Mars in great doubt doth trample, And thy stepfather fights by thy example. Light art thou, and more windy than thy wings; Joys with uncertain faith thou tak'st and brings: 50 Yet Love, if thou with thy fair mother hear, Within my breast no desert empire bear; Subdue the wandering wenches to thy reign, So of both people shalt thou homage gain.

FOOTNOTES:

Not in Isham copy or ed. A.

So ed. B.--Ed. C "my."

In some strange fashion Marlowe has mistaken the substantive "rudis" (the staff received by the gladiator on his discharge) with the adjective "rudis" (rude). The original has "Tutaque deposito poscitur ense rudis."

Old eds. "Let her enjoy me;" but the original has "Saepe fruar domina."

ELEGIA X.

Ad GrÊcinum quod eodem tempore duas amet.

GrÊcinus (well I wot) thou told'st me once, I could not be in love with two at once; By thee deceived, by thee surprised am I, For now I love two women equally: Both are well favoured, both rich in array, Which is the loveliest it is hard to say: This seems the fairest, so doth that to me; And this doth please me most, and so doth she; Even as a boat tossed by contr‡ry wind, So with this love and that wavers my mind. 10 Venus, why doublest thou my endless smart? Was not one wench enough to grieve my heart? Why add'st thou stars to heaven, leaves to green woods, And to the deep vast sea fresh water-floods? Yet this is better far than lie alone: Let such as be mine enemies have none; Yea, let my foes sleep in an empty bed, And in the midst their bodies largely spread: But may soft love rouse up my drowsy eyes, And from my mistress' bosom let me rise! 20 Let one wench cloy me with sweet love's delight, If one can do't; if not, two every night. Though I am slender, I have store of pith, Nor want I strength, but weight, to press her with: Pleasure adds fuel to my lustful fire, I pay them home with that they most desire: Oft have I spent the night in wantonness, And in the morn been lively ne'ertheless, He's happy who Love's mutual skirmish slays; And to the gods for that death Ovid prays. 30 Let soldiers chase their enemies amain, And with their blood eternal honour gain, Let merchants seek wealth and with perjured lips, Being wrecked, carouse the sea tired by their ships; But when I die, would I might droop with doing, And in the midst thereof, set my soul going, That at my funerals some may weeping cry, "Even as he led his life, so did he die."

FOOTNOTES:

"Artibus in dubio est haec sit an illa prior." Dyce suggests that Marlowe read "Artubus."

Not in Isham copy or ed. A.

Eds. B, C, "vast deep sea."

The original has "saevus" (for which Marlowe seems to have read "suavis").

Isham copy and ed. A "souldiour ... his," and in the next line "his blood."

So Cunningham for--

"Let merchants seek wealth with perjured lips And being wrecked," &c.

So Isham copy and eds. B, C--Ed. A "let."

ELEGIA XI.

Ad amicam navigantem.

The lofty pine, from high Mount Pelion raught, Ill ways by rough seas wondering waves first taught; Which rashly 'twixt the sharp rocks in the deep, Carried the famous golden-fleecËd sheep. O would that no oars might in seas have sunk! The Argo wrecked had deadly waters drunk. Lo, country gods and know bed to forsake Corinna means, and dangerous ways to take. For thee the East and West winds make me pale, With icy Boreas, and the Southern gale. 10 Thou shalt admire no woods or cities there, The unjust seas all bluish do appear. The ocean hath no painted stones or shells, The sucking shore with their abundance swells. Maids on the shore, with marble-white feet tread, So far 'tis safe; but to go farther, dread. Let others tell how winds fierce battles wage, How Scylla's and Charybdis' waters rage; And with what rock the feared Ceraunia threat; In what gulf either Syrtes have their seat. 20 Let others tell this, and what each one speaks Believe; no tempest the believer wreaks. Too late you look back, when with anchors weighed, The crookËd bark hath her swift sails displayed. The careful shipman now fears angry gusts, And with the waters sees death near him thrusts. But if that Triton toss the troubled flood, In all thy face will be no crimson blood. Then wilt thou Leda's noble twin-stars pray, And, he is happy whom the earth holds, say. 30 It is more safe to sleep, to read a book, The Thracian harp with cunning to have strook. But if my words with wingËd storm hence slip, Yet, Galatea, favour thou her ship. The loss of such a wench much blame will gather, Both to the sea-nymphs and the sea-nymphs' father. Go, minding to return with prosperous wind, Whose blast may hither strongly be inclined. Let Nereus bend the waves unto this shore, Hither the winds blow, here the spring-tide roar. 40 Request mild Zephyr's help for thy avail, And with thy hand assist thy swelling sail. I from the shore thy known ship first will see, And say it brings her that preserveth me. I'll clip and kiss thee with all contentation; For thy return shall fall the vowed oblation; And in the form of beds we'll strew soft sand; Each little hill shall for a table stand: There, wine being filled, thou many things shalt tell, How, almost wrecked, thy ship in main seas fell. 50 And hasting to me, neither darksome night, Nor violent south-winds did thee aught affright, I'll think all true, though it be feignËd matter! Mine own desires why should myself not flatter? Let the bright day-star cause in heaven this day be, To bring that happy time so soon as may be.

FOOTNOTES:

Not in Isham copy or ed. A.

"CÊsa."