Part 26

ELEGIA VIII.

Quod ad amica non recipiatur, dolet.

What man will now take liberal arts in hand, Or think soft verse in any stead to stand? Wit was sometimes more precious than gold; Now poverty great barbarism we hold. When our books did my mistress fair content, I might not go whither my papers went. She praised me, yet the gate shut fast upon her, I here and there go, witty with dishonour. See a rich chuff, whose wounds great wealth inferred, For bloodshed knighted, before me preferred. 10 Fool, can'st thou him in thy white arms embrace? Fool, can'st thou lie in his enfolding space? Know'st not this head a helm was wont to bear? This side that serves thee, a sharp sword did wear. His left hand, whereon gold doth ill alight, A target bore: blood-sprinkled was his right. Can'st touch that hand wherewith some one lies dead? Ah, whither is thy breast's soft nature fled? Behold the signs of ancient fight, his scars! Whate'er he hath, his body gained in wars. 20 Perhaps he'll tell how oft he slew a man, Confessing this, why dost thou touch him than? I, the pure priest of Phoebus and the Muses, At thy deaf doors in verse sing my abuses. Not what we slothful know, let wise men learn, But follow trembling camps and battles stern. And for a good verse draw the first dart forth: Homer without this shall be nothing worth. Jove, being admonished gold had sovereign power, To win the maid came in a golden shower. 30 Till then, rough was her father, she severe, The posts of brass, the walls of iron were. But when in gifts the wise adulterer came, She held her lap ope to receive the same. Yet when old Saturn heaven's rule possest, All gain in darkness the deep earth supprest. Gold, silver, iron's heavy weight, and brass, In hell were harboured; here was found no mass. But better things it gave, corn without ploughs, Apples, and honey in oaks' hollow boughs. 40 With strong ploughshares no man the earth did cleave, The ditcher no marks on the ground did leave. Nor hanging oars the troubled seas did sweep, Men kept the shore and sailed not into deep. Against thyself, man's nature, thou wert cunning, And to thine own loss was thy wit swift running. Why gird'st thy cities with a towerËd wall, Why let'st discordant hands to armour fall? What dost with seas? with th' earth thou wert content; Why seek'st not heaven, the third realm, to frequent? 50 Heaven thou affects: with Romulus, temples brave, Bacchus, Alcides, and now CÊsar have. Gold from the earth instead of fruits we pluck; Soldiers by blood to be enriched have luck. Courts shut the poor out; wealth gives estimation. Thence grows the judge, and knight of reputation. All, they possess: they govern fields and laws, They manage peace and raw war's bloody jaws. Only our loves let not such rich churls gain: 'Tis well if some wench for the poor remain. 60 Now, Sabine-like, though chaste she seems to live, One her commands, who many things can give. For me, she doth keeper and husband fear, If I should give, both would the house forbear. If of scorned lovers god be venger just, O let him change goods so ill-got to dust.

FOOTNOTES:

Not in Isham copy or ed. A.

So ed. B.--Ed. C "his." ("Caput hoc galeam portare solebat.")

Then.

Old eds. knew.

Marlowe has quite mistaken the meaning of the original "Proque bono versu primum deducite pilum."

A very loose rendering of Ovid's couplet--

"Omnia possideant; illis Campusque Forumque Serviat; hi pacem crudaque bella gerant."

So Dyce for "she" of the old eds. ("Imperat ut captae qui dare multa potest.")

The original has "Me prohibet custos: in me timet illa maritum."

ELEGIA IX.

Tibulli mortem deflet.

If Thetis and the Morn their sons did wail, And envious Fates great goddesses assail; Sad Elegy, thy woful hairs unbind: Ah, now a name too true thou hast I find. Tibullus, thy work's poet, and thy fame, Burns his dead body in the funeral flame. Lo, Cupid brings his quiver spoilËd quite, His broken bow, his firebrand without light! How piteously with drooping wings he stands, And knocks his bare breast with self-angry hands. 10 The locks spread on his neck receive his tears, And shaking sobs his mouth for speeches bears. So at ∆neas' burial, men report, Fair-faced Ilus, he went forth thy court. And Venus grieves, Tibullus' life being spent, As when the wild boar Adon's groin had rent. The gods' care we are called, and men of piety, And some there be that think we have a deity. Outrageous death profanes all holy things, And on all creatures obscure darkness brings. 20 To Thracian Orpheus what did parents good? Or songs amazing wild beasts of the wood? Where Linus by his father Phoebus laid, To sing with his unequalled harp is said. See Homer from whose fountain ever filled Pierian dew to poets is distilled: Him the last day in black Avern hath drowned: Verses alone are with continuance crowned. The work of poets lasts: Troy's labour's fame, And that slow web night's falsehood did unframe. 30 So Nemesis, so Delia famous are, The one his first love, th' other his new care. What profit to us hath our pure life bred? What to have lain alone in empty bed? When bad Fates take good men, I am forbod By secret thoughts to think there is a God. Live godly, thou shalt die; though honour heaven, Yet shall thy life be forcibly bereaven. Trust in good verse, Tibullus feels death's pains, Scarce rests of all what a small urn contains. 40 Thee, sacred poet, could sad flames destroy? Nor fearËd they thy body to annoy? The holy gods' gilt temples they might fire, That durst to so great wickedness aspire. Eryx' bright empress turned her looks aside, And some, that she refrained tears, have denied. Yet better is't, than if Corcyra's Isle, Had thee unknown interred in ground most vile. Thy dying eyes here did thy mother close, Nor did thy ashes her last offerings lose. 50 Part of her sorrow here thy sister bearing, Comes forth, her unkembed locks asunder tearing. Nemesis and thy first wench join their kisses With thine, nor this last fire their presence misses. Delia departing, "Happier loved," she saith, "Was I: thou liv'dst, while thou esteem'dst my faith." Nemesis answers, "What's my loss to thee? His fainting hand in death engraspËd me." If aught remains of us but name and spirit, Tibullus doth Elysium's joy inherit. 60 Their youthful brows with ivy girt to meet him, With Calvus learned Catullus comes, and greet him; And thou, if falsely charged to wrong thy friend, Callus, that car'dst not blood and life to spend, With these thy soul walks: souls if death release, The godly sweet Tibullus doth increase. Thy bones, I pray, may in the urn safe rest, And may th' earth's weight thy ashes naught molest.

FOOTNOTES:

Not in Isham copy or ed. A.

Ed. B "Eeliga"--Ed. C "Elegia."

"Fratris in Aeneae sic illum funere dicunt Egressum tectis, pulcher Iule, tuis."

The original has--

"Aelinon in silvis idem pater, aelinon, altis Dicitur invita concinuisse lyra."

In Marlowe's copy the couplet must have been very different.

Old eds. "vnkeembe" and "unkeemb'd."

Old eds. "carst."

"Auxisti numeros, culte Tibulle, pios."

ELEGIA X.

Ad Cererem, conquerens quod ejus sacris cum amica concumbere non permittatur.