Part 27

Come were the times of Ceres' sacrifice; In empty bed alone my mistress lies. Golden-haired Ceres crowned with ears of corn, Why are our pleasures by thy means forborne? Thee, goddess, bountiful all nations judge, Nor less at man's prosperity any grudge. Rude husbandmen baked not their corn before, Nor on the earth was known the name of floor. On mast of oaks, first oracles, men fed; This was their meat, the soft grass was their bed. 10 First Ceres taught the seed in fields to swell, And ripe-eared corn with sharp-edged scythes to fell. She first constrained bulls' necks to bear the yoke, And untilled ground with crooked ploughshares broke. Who thinks her to be glad at lovers' smart, And worshipped by their pain and lying apart? Nor is she, though she loves the fertile fields, A clown, nor no love from her warm breast yields: Be witness Crete (nor Crete doth all things feign) Crete proud that Jove her nursery maintain. 20 There, he who rules the world's star-spangled towers, A little boy drunk teat-distilling showers. Faith to the witness Jove's praise doth apply; Ceres, I think, no known fault will deny. The goddess saw Iasion on Candian Ide, With strong hand striking wild beasts' bristled hide. She saw, and as her marrow took the flame, Was divers ways distract with love and shame. Love conquered shame, the furrows dry were burned, And corn with least part of itself returned. 30 When well-tossed mattocks did the ground prepare, Being fit-broken with the crooked share, And seeds were equally in large fields cast, The ploughman's hopes were frustrate at the last. The grain-rich goddess in high woods did stray, Her long hair's ear-wrought garland fell away. Only was Crete fruitful that plenteous year; Where Ceres went, each place was harvest there. Ida, the seat of groves, did sing with corn, Which by the wild boar in the woods was shorn. 40 Law-giving Minos did such years desire, And wished the goddess long might feel love's fire. Ceres, what sports to thee so grievous were, As in thy sacrifice we them forbear? Why am I sad, when Proserpine is found, And Juno-like with Dis reigns under ground? Festival days ask Venus, songs, and wine, These gifts are meet to please the powers divine.

FOOTNOTES:

Not in Isham copy or ed. A.

Threshing-floor ("area").

Marlowe has made the school-boy's mistake of confusing "caneo" and "cano."

The original has

"Quod tibi secubitus tristes, dea flava, fuissent, Hoc cogor sacris nunc ego ferre tuis."

Marlowe appears to have read "Qui tibi concubitus," &c.

ELEGIA XI.

Ad amicam a cujus amore discedere non potest.

Long have I borne much, mad thy faults me make; Dishonest love, my wearied breast forsake! Now have I freed myself, and fled the chain, And what I have borne, shame to bear again. We vanquish, and tread tamed love under feet, Victorious wreaths at length my temples greet. Suffer, and harden: good grows by this grief, Oft bitter juice brings to the sick relief. I have sustained, so oft thrust from the door, To lay my body on the hard moist floor. 10 I know not whom thou lewdly didst embrace, When I to watch supplied a servant's place. I saw when forth a tirËd lover went. His side past service, and his courage spent, Yet this is less than if he had seen me; May that shame fall mine enemies' chance to be. When have not I, fixed to thy side, close laid? I have thy husband, guard, and fellow played. The people by my company she pleased; My love was cause that more men's love she seized. 20 What, should I tell her vain tongue's filthy lies, And, to my loss, god-wronging perjuries? What secret becks in banquets with her youths, With privy signs, and talk dissembling truths? Hearing her to be sick, I thither ran, But with my rival sick she was not than. These hardened me, with what I keep obscure: Some other seek, who will these things endure. Now my ship in the wishËd haven crowned, With joy hears Neptune's swelling waters sound. 30 Leave thy once-powerful words, and flatteries, I am not as I was before, unwise. Now love and hate my light breast each way move, But victory, I think, will hap to love. I'll hate, if I can; if not, love 'gainst my will, Bulls hate the yoke, yet what they hate have still. I fly her lust, but follow beauty's creature, I loathe her manners, love her body's feature. Nor with thee, nor without thee can I live, And doubt to which desire the palm to give. 40 Or less fair, or less lewd would thou might'st be: Beauty with lewdness doth right ill agree. Her deeds gain hate, her face entreateth love; Ah, she doth more worth than her vices prove! Spare me, oh, by our fellow bed, by all The gods, who by thee, to be perjured fall. And by thy face to me a power divine, And by thine eyes, whose radiance burns out mine! Whate'er thou art, mine art thou: choose this course, Wilt have me willing, or to love by force. 50 Rather I'll hoist up sail, and use the wind, That I may love yet, though against my mind.

FOOTNOTES:

Not in Isham copy or ed. A.

The original has "Venerunt capiti cornua sera meo."

"Et que taceo."

"Qui dant fallendos se tibi saepe, deos."

ELEGIA XII.

Dolet amicam suam ita suis carminibus innotuisse ut rivales multos sibi pararit.

What day was that, which all sad haps to bring, White birds to lovers did not always sing? Or is I think my wish against the stars? Or shall I plain some god against me wars? Who mine was called, whom I loved more than any, I fear with me is common now to many. Err I? or by my books is she so known? 'Tis so: by my wit her abuse is grown. And justly: for her praise why did I tell? The wench by my fault is set forth to sell. 10 The bawd I play, lovers to her I guide: Her gate by my hands is set open wide. 'Tis doubtful whether verse avail or harm, Against my good they were an envious charm. When Thebes, when Troy, when CÊsar should be writ, Alone Corinna moves my wanton wit. With Muse opposed, would I my lines had done, And Phoebus had forsook my work begun! Nor, as use will not poets' record hear, Would I my words would any credit bear. 20 Scylla by us her father's rich hair steals, And Scylla's womb mad raging dogs conceals. We cause feet fly, we mingle hares with snakes, Victorious Perseus a winged steed's back takes. Our verse great Tityus a huge space outspreads, And gives the viper-curlËd dog three heads. We make Enceladus use a thousand arms, And men enthralled by mermaid's singing charms. The east winds in Ulysses' bags we shut, And blabbing Tantalus in mid-waters put. 30 Niobe flint, Callist we make a bear, Bird-changËd Progne doth her Itys tear. Jove turns himself into a swan, or gold, Or his bull's horns Europa's hand doth hold. Proteus what should I name? teeth, Thebes' first seed? Oxen in whose mouths burning flames did breed? Heaven-star, Electra, that bewailed her sisters? The ships, whose godhead in the sea now glisters? The sun turned back from Atreus' cursed table? 39 And sweet-touched harp that to move stones was able? Poets' large power is boundless and immense, Nor have their words true history's pretence. And my wench ought to have seemed falsely praised, Now your credulity harm to me hath raised.

FOOTNOTES:

Not in Isham copy or ed. A.

Marlowe has put his negative in the wrong place and made nonsense of the couplet:--

"Quis fuit ille dies quo tristia semper amanti Omina non albae concinuistis aves?"

Old eds. "lookes."

"Ambiguae captos virginis ore viros." ("Ambigua virgo" is the sphinx.)

The original has "Concinit Odrysium Cecropis ales Ityn."

Marlowe's copy must have been very corrupt here. The true reading is

"Flere genis electra tuas, auriga, sorores?"