Delphi Complete Works of Tibullus

by Tibullus

  Rure puer verno primum de flore coronam

  Fecit et antiquis inposuit Laribus. 60

  Rure etiam teneris curam exhibitura puellis

  Molle gerit tergo lucida vellus ovis.

  Hinc et femineus labor est, hinc pensa colusque,

  Fusus et adposito pollice versat opus,

  Atque aliqua adsidue textrix operata Minervam 65

  Cantat, et adplauso tela sonat latere.

  59 In the country the lad first made a circlet from the flowers of spring and placed it on the ancient Lares’ head. Of the country too is the sheep that will ere long make trouble for gentle girls with the soft fleece it wears upon its glistening back. Thence comes the toil of women’s hands, the weighed wool and the distaff, and the spindle that twists its work ‘twixt thumb and finger; and weaving women in unremitting service to Minerva sing while the loom clatters as the clay weights swing.

  Ipse quoque inter agros interque armenta Cupido

  Natus et indomitas dicitur inter equas.

  Illic indocto primum se exercuit arcu:

  Ei mihi, quam doctas nunc habet ille manus! 70

  Nec pecudes, velut ante, petit: fixisse puellas

  Gestit et audaces perdomuisse viros.

  Hic iuveni detraxit opes, hic dicere iussit

  Limen ad iratae verba pudenda senem;

  Hoc duce custodes furtim transgressa iacentes 75

  Ad iuvenem tenebris sola puella venit

  Et pedibus praetemptat iter suspensa timore,

  Explorat caecas cui manus ante vias.

  67 Desire too himself, they say, was born amid the fields, amid the cattle and the unbridled mares. There first he practised with prentice bow. Ah, me! what expert hands has he now! Nor are beasts his mark as heretofore. His joy is to pierce maids’ hearts and make the bold man bite the dust. He strips the young of their wealth; the old he forces to shameful speech at the threshold of an angry fair. He guides the girl who stealthily steps by prostrate watchers and comes alone to her lover in the night, high strung with fear, her feet feeling her path before her while her hand is advanced to find passage through the dark.

  A miseri; quos hic graviter deus urget, at ille

  Felix, cui placidus leniter adflat Amor. 80

  Sancte, veni dapibus festis, sed pone sagittas

  Et procul ardentes hinc precor abde faces.

  79 Ah, wretched they upon whom our god bears hardly; and happy is he on whom Love in his graciousness breathes gently. Come to our festal cheer, holy lord. But, prithee, lay aside thy arrows, and far from us put away thy burning torch.

  Vos celebrem cantate deum pecorique vocate

  Voce: palam pecori, clam sibi quisque vocet,

  Aut etiam sibi quisque palam: nam turba iocosa 85

  Obstrepit et Phrygio tibia curva sono.

  Ludite: iam Nox iungit equos, currumque sequuntur

  Matris lascivo sidera fulva choro,

  Postque venit tacitus furvis circumdatus alis

  Somnus et incerto Somnia nigra pede. 90

  83 Do ye chaunt the god whom all adore, and loudly call him for your herd. Let each one call him for the herd aloud, but in a whisper for himself. Or aloud too for himself: for the merriment of the throng and the bent pipe’s Phrygian note will drown the prayer. So take your sport. Now Night is yoking her team; and on their mother’s car follow the golden Stars, a capering troupe, while behind comes Sleep the silent, enwrapped in dusky wings, and black Visions of the night with wavering steps.

  II

  To Cornutus on his Birthday

  Dicamus bona verba: venit Natalis ad aras:

  Quisquis ades, lingua, vir mulierque, fave.

  Urantur pia tura focis, urantur odores,

  Quos tener e terra divite mittit Arabs.

  Ipse suos Genius adsit visurus honores, 5

  Cui decorent sanctas mollia serta comas.

  Illius puro destillent tempora nardo,

  Atque satur libo sit madeatque mero,

  Adnuat et, Cornute, tibi, quodcumque rogabis.

  En age, quid cessas? adnuit ille: roga. 10

  Auguror, uxoris fidos optabis amores:

  Iam reor hoc ipsos edidicisse deos.

  Nec tibi malueris, totum quaecumque per orbem

  Fortis arat valido rusticus arva bove,

  Nec tibi, gemmarum quicquid felicibus Indis 15

  Nascitur, Eoi qua maris unda rubet.

  1 Let naught but good words pass our lips: the Birth-sprite cometh to the altar. Whoso art with us, man or woman, peace! Let its fire burn the holy incense, burn the spices which the soft Arabian sends us from his wealthy land. Let the Genius come to view the offering to himself. Soft garlands must deck his hallowed locks; his temples must drop with spikenard pure; he must be filled with honey-cake and tipsy with neat wine. And to whatsoever thou askest, Cornutus, must he bow assent. See, quick! Why laggest thou? He bows, and thou must ask. I divine that thou wilt pray for thy wife’s true love: by now methinks the gods have learnt this well. Thou wouldst not have rather for thine own all the fields in the whole world that stout yeomen plough with sturdy steers, nor for thine own all pearls soever that grow for India the blest by the red waters of the Eastern sea.

  Vota cadunt: utinam strepitantibus advolet alis

  Flavaque coniugio vincula portet Amor,

  Vincula, quae maneant semper, dum tarda senectus

  Inducat rugas inficiatque comas. 20

  Huc venias, Natalis, avis prolemque ministres,

  Ludat ut ante tuos turba novella pedes.

  17 ’Tis done as thou dost pray. See, on rustling wings Love flies to thy side with yellow bands to bind thy spouse — bands never to be loosed till dragging age bring wrinkles to her brow and bleach her hair. May the sign come true, Birth-spirit, and bring them offspring, and may a troop of younglings play before thy feet.

  III

  Nemesis is taken to the Country

  Rura meam, Cornute, tenent villaeque puellam;

  Ferreus est, heu, heu, quisquis in urbe manet.

  Ipsa Venus latos iam nunc migravit in agros,

  Verbaque aratoris rustica discit Amor.

  O ego, cum adspicerem dominam, quam fortiter illic 5

  Versarem valido pingue bidente solum

  Agricolaeque modo curvom sectarer aratrum,

  Dum subigunt steriles arva serenda boves,

  Nec quererer, quod sol graciles exureret artus,

  Laederet et teneras pussula rupta manus. 10

  1 IN country and farmhouse bides my girl, Cornutus. Ah, me! he is iron who can stay in town. Venus herself has moved into the spreading fields and Love is learning the rustic speech of ploughmen. Oh, when I looked upon my mistress, how stoutly there with my sturdy hoe would I turn the fertile soil and follow the curved plough as a tiller of the fields, while the barren oxen forced the clods up for the sowing! Nor would I murmur that the sun burned my slender limbs or that broken blisters hurt my delicate hands.

  Pavit et Admeti tauros formosus Apollo,

  Nec cithara intonsae profueruntve comae,

  Nec potuit curas sanare salubribus herbis:

  Quicquid erat medicae, vicerat, artis, amor.

  Ipse deus solitus stabulis expellere vaccas 15

 

  Et miscere novo docuisse coagula lacte,

  Lacteus et mixtus obriguisse liquor.

  Tum fiscella levi detexta est vimine iunci,

  Raraque per nexus est via facta sero. 20

  O quotiens illo vitulum gestante per agros

  Dicitur occurrens erubuisse soror!

  O quotiens ausae, caneret dum valle sub alta,

  Rumpere mugitu carmina docta boves!

  Saepe duces trepidis petiere oracula rebus, 25

  Venit et a templis inrita turba domum;

  Saepe horrere sacros doluit Latona capillos,

  Quos admirata est ipsa noverca prius.

  11 Apollo, too, the beautiful, fed the bulls of Admetus; nor did his
lute and hair unshorn avail him aught, nor could he cure his trouble by healthgiving herbs. Love had triumphed o’er all resources of the healer’s art. The god became accustomed to drive the kine from the byre, [’tis said]... and taught the way of mixing rennet with new milk, and the milky stream curdled at its touch. Then was the cheese-basket woven from the bulrushes’ light stems, and here and there through their interlacings a passage left for the whey. Oh, how often as he went through the fields, a calf in his arms, do they say, his sister met him and blushed! Oh, how often, while he was singing deep in the valley, did the kine with their lowings rudely break in on the artistic verse! Often did chiefs seek oracles from him in times of trouble and the company go home in disappointment from his temple. Often did Latona grieve for the unkemptness of the sacred hair which before had been a marvel to his stepmother herself. Whoever had seen his head undecked and hair all loose would have asked indeed where were the locks of Phoebus. Where, Phoebus, is thy Delos now, and where thy Delphian Pytho? Why, Love bids thee house in a humble cot.

  Quisquis inornatumque caput crinesque solutos

  Adspiceret, Phoebi quaereret ille comam. 30

  Delos ubi nunc, Phoebe, tua est, ubi Delphica Pytho?

  29 Happy the men of olden days, when they tell that gods eternal were not ashamed to be the open slaves of passion. Now is he the talk of all. But one that loves his girl would liefer be the talk of all than a god without a love.

  Nempe Amor in parva te iubet esse casa.

  Felices olim, Veneri cum fertur aperte

  Servire aeternos non puduisse deos.

  32 And thou, whosoever thou art, whom frowning Love now bids make warfare in my house...

  Fabula nunc ille est, sed cui sua cura puella est, 35

  Fabula sit mavolt quam sine amore deus.

  At tu, quisquis is est, cui tristi fronte Cupido

  Imperat, ut nostra sint tua castra domo:

  Ferrea non Venerem, sed praedam saecula laudant,

  Praeda tamen multis est operata malis. 40

  Praeda feras acies cinxit discordibus armis:

  Hinc cruor, hinc caedes mors propiorque venit.

  Praeda vago iussit geminare pericula ponto,

  Bellica cum dubiis rostra dedit ratibus.

  Praedator cupit inmensos obsidere campos, 45

  Ut multa innumera iugera pascat ove;

  Cui lapis externus curae est, urbisque tumultu

  Portatur validis mille columna iugis,

  35 It is not love but booty that this iron age applauds. Yet booty is concerned in a multitude of ills. Booty buckles the armour of strife on the raging hosts; hence bloodshed comes, hence slaughter, and death approaches nigher than before. Booty bade men double the perils on the surging deep when it fitted the beaks of war to the rocking ships. ’Tis the freebooter who longs to seize upon the measureless plains, that on many an acre he may graze his countless sheep. His fancy turns to foreign marbles, and through the quaking city his column is carried by a thousand sturdy teams. For him the mole confines the tameless sea, that unconcerned inside the fish may reck naught of the storm that blusters near. But in my feast’s happy course let there be only the pottery of Samos or the slippery clay that Cumae’s wheels have shaped.

  Claudit et indomitum moles mare, lentus ut intra

  Neglegat hibernas piscis adesse minas. 50

  At tibi laeta trahant Samiae convivia testae

  Fictaque Cumana lubrica terra rota.

  Heu heu divitibus video gaudere puellas:

  Iam veniant praedae, si Venus optat opes,

  Ut mea luxuria Nemesis fluat utque per urbem 55

  Incedat donis conspicienda meis.

  Illa gerat vestes tenues, quas femina Coa

  Texuit, auratas disposuitque vias;

  49 Alas! I see that maidens’ hearts are set upon the rich. Then come booty, if Love desires wealth, that my Nemesis may float in finery and step it through the city, in bravery a gift from me! Let her wear the gossamer robe which some woman of Cos has woven and laid it out in golden tracks. Let hers be the dusky pages that India scorches and the Sun’s fire tans as he drives so near. Let the lands vie to give her their choicest dyes, Afric the crimson and Tyre the purple.

  Illi sint comites fusci, quos India torret,

  Solis et admotis inficit ignis equis; 60

  59 What I say all know. That very man has now a kingdom who on the barbarians’ platform has oft been forced to move his gypsumed feet.

  Illi selectos certent praebere colores

  Africa puniceum purpureumque Tyros.

  Nota loquor: regnum ipse tenet, quem saepe coegit

  Barbara gypsatos ferre catasta pedes.

  At tibi dura seges, Nemesim qui abducis ab urbe, 65

  Persolvat nulla semina terra fide.

  Et tu, Bacche tener, iucundae consitor uvae,

  Tu quoque devotos, Bacche, relinque lacus.

  Haud inpune licet formosas tristibus agris

  Abdere: non tanti sunt tua musta, pater. 70

  61 For thee, cruel field, that drawest Nemesis away from town, may Earth fail utterly to pay the grain she owes thee. And thou, soft Bacchus, planter of the pleasant grape-vine, do thou too, Bacchus, leave the vats that we have cursed. No one may bury fair maids ‘mid dreary fields without a punishment. Thy new wine, Sire, is not worth this price. Oh, let the corn go, so there are no lasses in the country; let acorns be our fare and water our drink in the olden way. Acorns were the food of the ancients, and they had love always wherever they were. What hurt to them if they had no furrows sown with seed?

  O valeant fruges, ne sint modo rure puellae:

  Glans alat, et prisco more bibantur aquae.

  Glans aluit veteres, et passim semper amarunt:

  Quid nocuit sulcos non habuisse satos?

  Tum, quibus adspirabat Amor, praebebat aperte 75

  Mitis in umbrosa gaudia valle Venus.

  Nullus erat custos, nulla exclusura dolentes

  Ianua; si fas est, mos precor ille redi.

 

  Horrida villosa corpora veste tegant. 80

  Nunc si clausa mea est, si copia rara videndi,

  Heu miserum, laxam quid iuvat esse togam?

  Ducite: ad imperium dominae sulcabimus agros,

  Non ego me vinclis verberibusque nego.

  71 Then to those on whom Love’s god breathed kindly did gentle Venus bring open pleasures in the shady vales. No watchers were there, nor door to close against the anguished. If it be not wrong, old custom, I pray thee to return. [Then... and let] rough limbs be clad in shaggy raiment. Now, if my love is under bolt and bar, it but seldom I can see her, poor wretch, what comfort is there in a flowing toga? Take me away; I will plough the fields at a mistress’s command. From chains and stripes my body shall not shrink.

  IV

  Female Covetousness. To Nemesis

  Sic mihi servitium video dominamque paratam:

  Iam mihi, libertas illa paterna, vale,

  Servitium sed triste datur, teneorque catenis,

  Et numquam misero vincla remittit Amor,

  Et seu quid merui seu quid peccavimus, urit. 5

  Uror, io, remove, saeva puella, faces.

  1 HERE see I slavery and mistress waiting for me. Now, ancient freedom of my fathers, fare thee well. Yea, harsh slavery is my lot — chains to hold me and Love that never slackens the wretched prisoner’s bonds, and burns me whether I have deserved to suffer or have done no wrong. Ah, how I burn! Take the torch away, thou cruel girl.

  O ego ne possim tales sentire dolores,

  Quam mallem in gelidis montibus esse lapis,

  Stare vel insanis cautes obnoxia ventis,

  Naufraga quam vasti tunderet unda maris! 10

  Nunc et amara dies et noctis amarior umbra est,

  Omnia nunc tristi tempora felle madent.

  7 Oh, not to feel such pangs as these, would I were rather a stone on the bleak hills or cliff exposed to the frenzy of the winds
on which beats the shipwrecking wave of the desolate sea. Now bitter is the day and bitterer still the shades of night, for every moment is steeped in acrid gall.

  Nec prosunt elegi nec carminis auctor Apollo:

  Illa cava pretium flagitat usque manu.

  Ite procul, Musae, si non prodestis amanti: 15

  Non ego vos, ut sint bella canenda, colo,

  Nec refero Solisque vias et qualis, ubi orbem

  Conplevit, versis Luna recurrit equis.

  Ad dominam faciles aditus per carmina quaero:

  Ite procul, Musae, si nihil ista valent. 20

  13 Nor doth elegy help or Apollo, inspirer of my song. Her hollowed palm is ever stretched out for gold. Away, ye Muses, if ye have no aid for the lover; I court you not that I may sing of wars. Nor tell I of the goings of the Sun, nor how when she has accomplished her circuit the Moon wheels her horses and returns. Easy access to my lady is all I seek by song. Off with ye, Muses, if the song is of no avail.

  At mihi per caedem et facinus sunt dona paranda,

  Ne iaceam clausam flebilis ante domum,

  Aut rapiam suspensa sacris insignia fanis,

  Sed Venus ante alios est violanda mihi.

  Illa malum facinus suadet dominamque rapacem 25

  Dat mihi: sacrilegas sentiat illa manus.

  21 Yet by crime and slaughter must I get gifts, that I may not lie lamenting before closed doors. Or I must seize the ornaments that hang in holy temples. But Venus must I pillage first. ’Tis she that prompts the evil deed, ’tis she that gives me a grasping mistress; so let her feel my sacrilegious hands.

  O pereat, quicumque legit viridesque smaragdos

  Et niveam Tyrio murice tingit ovem.

  Hic dat avaritiae causas et Coa puellis

  Vestis et e Rubro lucida concha mari. 30

  Haec fecere malas: hinc clavim ianua sensit,

  Et coepit custos liminis esse canis.

  Sed pretium si grande feras, custodia victa est,

  Nec prohibent claves, et canis ipse tacet.

  Heu quicumque dedit formam caelestis avarae, 35

  Quale bonum multis adtulit ille malis!