FOOTNOTES:

FOOTNOTES:[113]It should bebinds:i.e., "Leucote flies to the several winds, and, commissioned by the Fates, commands them to restrain their violence."Broughton.[114]The next few lines are in Chapman's obscurest manner. "Devotes," in l. 21, means, I suppose, "tokens of devotion to his patron."[115]Cunningham says, "I cannot perceive the meaning of 'doth repair more tender fawns.'" "Fawns" is equivalent to "fawnings;" and the meaning seems to be, "applies himself to softer blandishments."[116]Orithyia.—The story of the rape of Orithyia is told in a magnificent passage of Mr. Swinburne'sErectheus.[117]So the Isham copy. Later eds. "true."[118]So the Isham copy. Later eds. "torrent."[119]Some eds. "himselfe surpris'd." Dyce gives "himself so priz'd."[120]A short arrow blunted at the end; it killed birds without piercing them.[121]Countenance.[122]Clipt, embraced.[123]From Gr.Ατθις(a woman of Attica,i.e., Orithyia).[124]"The flame takingbait(refreshment), feeding." Dyce. (Old eds. "bating.")[125]Old eds. "vsde."[126]Isham copy "deuil."[127]In Chapman's day the work of the grammarian Musaeus was supposed to be the genuine production of the fabulous son of Eumolpus.

[113]It should bebinds:i.e., "Leucote flies to the several winds, and, commissioned by the Fates, commands them to restrain their violence."Broughton.

[114]The next few lines are in Chapman's obscurest manner. "Devotes," in l. 21, means, I suppose, "tokens of devotion to his patron."

[115]Cunningham says, "I cannot perceive the meaning of 'doth repair more tender fawns.'" "Fawns" is equivalent to "fawnings;" and the meaning seems to be, "applies himself to softer blandishments."

[116]Orithyia.—The story of the rape of Orithyia is told in a magnificent passage of Mr. Swinburne'sErectheus.

[117]So the Isham copy. Later eds. "true."

[118]So the Isham copy. Later eds. "torrent."

[119]Some eds. "himselfe surpris'd." Dyce gives "himself so priz'd."

[120]A short arrow blunted at the end; it killed birds without piercing them.

[121]Countenance.

[122]Clipt, embraced.

[123]From Gr.Ατθις(a woman of Attica,i.e., Orithyia).

[124]"The flame takingbait(refreshment), feeding." Dyce. (Old eds. "bating.")

[125]Old eds. "vsde."

[126]Isham copy "deuil."

[127]In Chapman's day the work of the grammarian Musaeus was supposed to be the genuine production of the fabulous son of Eumolpus.

All the old editions of Marlowe's translation of theAmoresare undated, and bear the imprint Middleburgh (in various spellings). It is probable that the copy which Mr. Charles Edmonds discovered at Lamport Hall, Northamptonshire (the seat of Sir Charles Isham, Bart.), is the earliest of extant editions. The title-page of this edition is—Epigrammes and Elegies By I. D. and C. M. At Middleborugh12mo. After the title-page come theEpigrammata, which are signed at the end "I. D." (the initials of Sir John Davies). Following theEpigrammatais a copy of verses headedIgnoto, and then comes a second title-page—Certaine of Ovid's Elegies. By C. Marlowe. At Middleborough. In his preface to a facsimile reprint of the little volume, Mr. Edmonds states his conviction that this edition, notwithstanding the imprint Middleborough, was issued at London from the press of W. Jaggard, who in 1599 printed thePassionate Pilgrime. He grounds his opinion not only on the character of the type and of the misprints, but on the fact that there would be no need for the book to be printed abroad in the first instance. It was not (he thinks) until after June 1599—when (with other books) it was condemned by Archbishop Whitgift to be burnt—that recourse was had to the expedient of reprinting it at Middleburgh. In the notes I refer to this edition as Isham copy.

The next edition, which has the same title-pages as the Isham copy—Epigrammes and Elegies by I. D. and C. M. at Middleborugh, 12mo—was certainly, to judge from its general appearance, printed abroad, and by foreigners. The text agrees in the main with that of the Isham copy, but the corruptions are more numerous. I have followed Dyce in referring to this edition as Ed. A.

The Isham copy and Ed. A contain only a portion of the Elegies. The complete translation appeared inAll Ovid's Elegies: 3 Bookes. By C. M. Epigrams by I. D. At Middleborugh, 12mo. (Ed. B); and in another edition with the same title-page (Ed. C). The readings of Ed. C. I have occasionally borrowed from Dyce. It is supposed that the book "continued to be printed with Middleburgh on the title, and without date, as late as 1640" (Hazlitt).

Quemadmodum a Cupidine, pro bellis amoris scribere coactus sit.

We which were Ovid's five books, now are three,For these before the rest preferreth he:If reading five thou plain'st of tediousness,Two ta'en away, thy[128]labour will be less;With Muse prepared,[129]I meant to sing of arms,Choosing a subject fit for fierce alarms:Both verses were alike till Love (men say)Began to smile and took one foot away.Rash boy, who gave thee power to change a line?We are the Muses' prophets, none of thine.What, if thy mother take Diana's[130]bow,Shall Dian fan when love begins to glow?In woody groves is't meet that Ceres reign,And quiver-bearing Dian till the plain?10Who'll set the fair-tressed Sun in battle-rayWhile Mars doth take the Aonian harp to play?Great are thy kingdoms, over-strong and large,Ambitious imp, why seek'st thou further charge?Are all things thine? the Muses' Tempe thine?Then scarce can Phœbus say, "This harp is mine."When[131]in this work's first verse I trod aloft,Love slaked my muse, and made my numbers soft:I have no mistress nor no favourite,Being fittest matter for a wanton wit.20Thus I complained, but Love unlocked his quiver,Took out the shaft, ordained my heart to shiver,And bent his sinewy bow upon his knee,Saying, "Poet, here's a work beseeming thee."O, woe is me! he never shoots but hits,I burn, love in my idle bosom sits:Let my first verse be six, my last five feet:Farewell stern war, for blunter poets meet!Elegian muse, that warblest amorous lays,Girt my shine[132]brow with seabank myrtle sprays.[133]30

We which were Ovid's five books, now are three,For these before the rest preferreth he:If reading five thou plain'st of tediousness,Two ta'en away, thy[128]labour will be less;

We which were Ovid's five books, now are three,

For these before the rest preferreth he:

If reading five thou plain'st of tediousness,

Two ta'en away, thy[128]labour will be less;

With Muse prepared,[129]I meant to sing of arms,Choosing a subject fit for fierce alarms:Both verses were alike till Love (men say)Began to smile and took one foot away.Rash boy, who gave thee power to change a line?We are the Muses' prophets, none of thine.What, if thy mother take Diana's[130]bow,Shall Dian fan when love begins to glow?In woody groves is't meet that Ceres reign,And quiver-bearing Dian till the plain?10Who'll set the fair-tressed Sun in battle-rayWhile Mars doth take the Aonian harp to play?Great are thy kingdoms, over-strong and large,Ambitious imp, why seek'st thou further charge?Are all things thine? the Muses' Tempe thine?Then scarce can Phœbus say, "This harp is mine."When[131]in this work's first verse I trod aloft,Love slaked my muse, and made my numbers soft:I have no mistress nor no favourite,Being fittest matter for a wanton wit.20Thus I complained, but Love unlocked his quiver,Took out the shaft, ordained my heart to shiver,And bent his sinewy bow upon his knee,Saying, "Poet, here's a work beseeming thee."O, woe is me! he never shoots but hits,I burn, love in my idle bosom sits:Let my first verse be six, my last five feet:Farewell stern war, for blunter poets meet!Elegian muse, that warblest amorous lays,Girt my shine[132]brow with seabank myrtle sprays.[133]30

With Muse prepared,[129]I meant to sing of arms,

Choosing a subject fit for fierce alarms:

Both verses were alike till Love (men say)

Began to smile and took one foot away.

Rash boy, who gave thee power to change a line?

We are the Muses' prophets, none of thine.

What, if thy mother take Diana's[130]bow,

Shall Dian fan when love begins to glow?

In woody groves is't meet that Ceres reign,

And quiver-bearing Dian till the plain?10

Who'll set the fair-tressed Sun in battle-ray

While Mars doth take the Aonian harp to play?

Great are thy kingdoms, over-strong and large,

Ambitious imp, why seek'st thou further charge?

Are all things thine? the Muses' Tempe thine?

Then scarce can Phœbus say, "This harp is mine."

When[131]in this work's first verse I trod aloft,

Love slaked my muse, and made my numbers soft:

I have no mistress nor no favourite,

Being fittest matter for a wanton wit.20

Thus I complained, but Love unlocked his quiver,

Took out the shaft, ordained my heart to shiver,

And bent his sinewy bow upon his knee,

Saying, "Poet, here's a work beseeming thee."

O, woe is me! he never shoots but hits,

I burn, love in my idle bosom sits:

Let my first verse be six, my last five feet:

Farewell stern war, for blunter poets meet!

Elegian muse, that warblest amorous lays,

Girt my shine[132]brow with seabank myrtle sprays.[133]30

FOOTNOTES:[128]So the Isham copy. Ed. A. "the."[129]Isham copy and ed. A. "vpreard, I meane."[130]The original has—"Quid? si præripiat flavæ Venus armaMinervæVentilet accensas flavæMinervacomas."[131]"Cum bene surrexit versu nova pagina, primo!At tenuat nervos proximus ille meos."[132]Sheen.[133]Dyce's correction for "praise" of the old eds.

[128]So the Isham copy. Ed. A. "the."

[129]Isham copy and ed. A. "vpreard, I meane."

[130]The original has—"Quid? si præripiat flavæ Venus armaMinervæVentilet accensas flavæMinervacomas."

[130]The original has—

"Quid? si præripiat flavæ Venus armaMinervæVentilet accensas flavæMinervacomas."

"Quid? si præripiat flavæ Venus armaMinervæ

Ventilet accensas flavæMinervacomas."

[131]"Cum bene surrexit versu nova pagina, primo!At tenuat nervos proximus ille meos."

[131]

"Cum bene surrexit versu nova pagina, primo!At tenuat nervos proximus ille meos."

"Cum bene surrexit versu nova pagina, primo!

At tenuat nervos proximus ille meos."

[132]Sheen.

[133]Dyce's correction for "praise" of the old eds.

Quod primo amore correptus, in triumphum duci se a Cupidine patiatur.

What makes my bed seem hard seeing it is soft?Or why slips down the coverlet so oft?Although the nights be long I sleep not tho[134]My sides are sore with tumbling to and fro.Were love the cause it's like I should descry him,Or lies he close and shoots where none can spy him?'Twas so; he strook me with a slender dart;'Tis cruel Love turmoils my captive heart.Yielding or striving[135]do we give him might,Let's yield, a burden easily borne is light.10I saw a brandished fire increase in strength,Which being not shak'd, I saw it die at length.Young oxen newly yoked are beaten more,Than oxen which have drawn the plough before:And rough jades' mouths with stubborn bits are torn,But managed horses' heads are lightly borne.[136]Unwilling lovers, love doth more torment,Than such as in their bondage feel content.Lo! I confess, I am thy captive I,And hold my conquered hands for thee to tie.20What need'st thou war? I sue to thee for grace:With arms to conquer armless men is base.Yoke Venus' Doves, put myrtle on thy hair,Vulcan will give thee chariots rich and fair:The people thee applauding, thou shalt stand,Guiding the harmless pigeons with thy hand.Young men and women shalt thou lead as thrall,So will thy triumph seem magnifical;I, lately caught, will have a new-made wound,And captive-like be manacled and bound:30Good meaning, Shame, and such as seek Love's wrackShall follow thee, their hands tied at their back.Thee all shall fear, and worship as a kingIö triumphing shall thy people sing.Smooth speeches, Fear and Rage shall by thee ride,Which troops have always been on Cupid's side;Thou with these soldiers conquer'st gods and men,Take these away, where is thine honour then?Thy mother shall from heaven applaud this show,And on their faces heaps of roses strow,40With beauty of thy wings, thy fair hair gilded,[137]Ride golden Love in chariots richly builded!Unless I err, full many shalt thou burn,And give wounds infinite at every turn.In spite of thee, forth will thine arrows fly,A scorching flame burns all the standers by.So, having conquered Inde, was Bacchus' hue;Thee pompous birds and him two tigers drew;Then seeing I grace thy show in following thee,Forbear to hurt thyself in spoiling me.50Behold thy kinsman[138]Cæsar's prosperous bands,Who guards the[139]conquered with his conquering hands.

What makes my bed seem hard seeing it is soft?

Or why slips down the coverlet so oft?

Although the nights be long I sleep not tho[134]

My sides are sore with tumbling to and fro.

Were love the cause it's like I should descry him,

Or lies he close and shoots where none can spy him?

'Twas so; he strook me with a slender dart;

'Tis cruel Love turmoils my captive heart.

Yielding or striving[135]do we give him might,

Let's yield, a burden easily borne is light.10

I saw a brandished fire increase in strength,

Which being not shak'd, I saw it die at length.

Young oxen newly yoked are beaten more,

Than oxen which have drawn the plough before:

And rough jades' mouths with stubborn bits are torn,

But managed horses' heads are lightly borne.[136]

Unwilling lovers, love doth more torment,

Than such as in their bondage feel content.

Lo! I confess, I am thy captive I,

And hold my conquered hands for thee to tie.20

What need'st thou war? I sue to thee for grace:

With arms to conquer armless men is base.

Yoke Venus' Doves, put myrtle on thy hair,

Vulcan will give thee chariots rich and fair:

The people thee applauding, thou shalt stand,

Guiding the harmless pigeons with thy hand.

Young men and women shalt thou lead as thrall,

So will thy triumph seem magnifical;

I, lately caught, will have a new-made wound,

And captive-like be manacled and bound:30

Good meaning, Shame, and such as seek Love's wrack

Shall follow thee, their hands tied at their back.

Thee all shall fear, and worship as a king

Iö triumphing shall thy people sing.

Smooth speeches, Fear and Rage shall by thee ride,

Which troops have always been on Cupid's side;

Thou with these soldiers conquer'st gods and men,

Take these away, where is thine honour then?

Thy mother shall from heaven applaud this show,

And on their faces heaps of roses strow,40

With beauty of thy wings, thy fair hair gilded,[137]

Ride golden Love in chariots richly builded!

Unless I err, full many shalt thou burn,

And give wounds infinite at every turn.

In spite of thee, forth will thine arrows fly,

A scorching flame burns all the standers by.

So, having conquered Inde, was Bacchus' hue;

Thee pompous birds and him two tigers drew;

Then seeing I grace thy show in following thee,

Forbear to hurt thyself in spoiling me.50

Behold thy kinsman[138]Cæsar's prosperous bands,

Who guards the[139]conquered with his conquering hands.

FOOTNOTES:[134]Then.[135]So the Isham copy and ed. A. Other eds. "struggling."[136]"Frena minus sentitquisquis ad arma facit."—Marlowe's line strongly supports the view that "bear hard" inJulius Cæsarmeans "curb, keep a tight rein over" (hence "eye with suspicion"). Cf. Christopher Clifford'sSchool of Horsemanship(1585):—"But the most part of horses takes it [a 'wil of his owne'] through the unskilfulnesse of the rider bybearing too hard a handupon them," p. 35.[137]"Our poet's copy of Ovid had 'Tupenna pulchros geminavariante capillos.'"—Dyce.(The true reading "Tu pennas gemma, gemma, variante capillos.")[138]Old eds. "kinsmans."[139]Old eds. "thee."

[134]Then.

[135]So the Isham copy and ed. A. Other eds. "struggling."

[136]"Frena minus sentitquisquis ad arma facit."—Marlowe's line strongly supports the view that "bear hard" inJulius Cæsarmeans "curb, keep a tight rein over" (hence "eye with suspicion"). Cf. Christopher Clifford'sSchool of Horsemanship(1585):—"But the most part of horses takes it [a 'wil of his owne'] through the unskilfulnesse of the rider bybearing too hard a handupon them," p. 35.

[137]"Our poet's copy of Ovid had 'Tupenna pulchros geminavariante capillos.'"—Dyce.(The true reading "Tu pennas gemma, gemma, variante capillos.")

[138]Old eds. "kinsmans."

[139]Old eds. "thee."

Ad amicam.

I ask but right, let her that caught me late,Either love, or cause that I may never hate;I crave[140]too much—would she but let me love her;Jove knows with such-like prayers I daily move her.Accept him that shall serve thee all his youth,Accept him that shall love with spotless truth.If lofty titles cannot make[141]me thine,That am descended but of knightly line,(Soon may you plough the little land I have;I gladly grant my parents given to save;[142])10Apollo, Bacchus, and the Muses may;And Cupid who hath marked me for thy prey;My spotless life, which but to gods gives place,Naked simplicity, and modest grace.I love but one, and her I love change never,If men have faith, I'll live with thee for ever.The years that fatal Destiny shall giveI'll live with thee, and die ere thou shalt grieve.Be thou the happy subject of my booksThat I may write things worthy thy fair looks.20By verses, horned Iö got her name;And she to whom in shape of swan[143]Jove came;And she that on a feigned Bull swam to land,Griping his false horns with her virgin hand,So likewise we will through the world be rungAnd with my name shall thine be always sung.

I ask but right, let her that caught me late,

Either love, or cause that I may never hate;

I crave[140]too much—would she but let me love her;

Jove knows with such-like prayers I daily move her.

Accept him that shall serve thee all his youth,

Accept him that shall love with spotless truth.

If lofty titles cannot make[141]me thine,

That am descended but of knightly line,

(Soon may you plough the little land I have;

I gladly grant my parents given to save;[142])10

Apollo, Bacchus, and the Muses may;

And Cupid who hath marked me for thy prey;

My spotless life, which but to gods gives place,

Naked simplicity, and modest grace.

I love but one, and her I love change never,

If men have faith, I'll live with thee for ever.

The years that fatal Destiny shall give

I'll live with thee, and die ere thou shalt grieve.

Be thou the happy subject of my books

That I may write things worthy thy fair looks.20

By verses, horned Iö got her name;

And she to whom in shape of swan[143]Jove came;

And she that on a feigned Bull swam to land,

Griping his false horns with her virgin hand,

So likewise we will through the world be rung

And with my name shall thine be always sung.

FOOTNOTES:[140]Isham copy "aske."[141]Ed. A. "cause me to be thine."[142]"Temperat et sumptus parcus uterque parens."[143]Isham copy and ed. A. "Bull."

[140]Isham copy "aske."

[141]Ed. A. "cause me to be thine."

[142]"Temperat et sumptus parcus uterque parens."

[143]Isham copy and ed. A. "Bull."

Amicam, qua arte quibusque nutibus in cæna, presente viro, uti debeat, admonet.

Thy husband to a banquet goes with me,Pray God it may his latest supper be.Shall I sit gazing as a bashful guest,While others touch the damsel I love best?Wilt lying under him, his bosom clip?About thy neck shall he at pleasure skip?Marvel not, though the fair bride did inciteThe drunken Centaurs to a sudden fight.I am no half horse, nor in woods I dwell,Yet scarce my hands from thee contain I well.10But how thou should'st behave thyself now know,Nor let the winds away my warnings blow.Before thy husband come, though I not seeWhat may be done, yet there before him be.Lie with him gently, when his limbs he spreadUpon the bed; but on my foot first tread.View me, my becks, and speaking countenance;Take, and return[145]each secret amorous glance.Words without voice shall on my eyebrows sit,Lines thou shalt read in wine by my hand writ.20When our lascivious toys come to thy mind,Thy rosy cheeks be to thy thumb inclined.If aught of me thou speak'st in inward thought,Let thy soft finger to thy ear be brought.When I, my light, do or say aught that please thee,Turn round thy gold ring, as it were to ease thee.Strike on the board like them that pray for evil,When thou dost wish thy husband at the devil.[146]What wine he fills thee, wisely will[147]him drink;Ask thou the boy, what thou enough dost think.30When thou hast tasted, I will take the cup,And where thou drink'st, on that part I will sup.If he gives thee what first himself did taste,Even in his face his offered gobbets[148]cast.Let not thy neck by his vile arms be prest,Nor lean thy soft head on his boisterous breast.Thy bosom's roseate buds let him not finger,Chiefly on thy lips let not his lips lingerIf thou givest kisses, I shall all disclose,[149]Say they are mine, and hands on thee impose.40Yet this I'll see, but if thy gown aught cover,Suspicious fear in all my veins will hover.Mingle not thighs, nor to his leg join thine,Nor thy soft foot with his hard foot combine.I have been wanton, therefore am perplexed,And with mistrust of the like measure vexed.I and my wench oft under clothes did lurk,When pleasure moved us to our sweetest work.Do not thou so; but throw thy mantle hence,Lest I should think thee guilty of offence.50Entreat thy husband drink, but do not kiss,And while he drinks, to add more do not miss;If he lies down with wine and sleep opprest,The thing and place shall counsel us the rest.When to go homewards we rise all alongHave care to walk in middle of the throng.There will I find thee or be found by thee,There touch whatever thou canst touch of me.Ay me! I warn what profits some few hours!But we must part, when heaven with black night lours.60At night thy husband clips[150]thee: I will weepAnd to the doors sight of thyself [will] keep:Then will he kiss thee, and not only kiss,But force thee give him my stolen honey-bliss.Constrained against thy will give it the peasant,Forbear sweet words, and be your sport unpleasant.To him I pray it no delight may bring,Or if it do, to thee no joy thence spring.But, though this night thy fortune be to try it,To me to-morrow constantly deny[151]it.70

Thy husband to a banquet goes with me,

Pray God it may his latest supper be.

Shall I sit gazing as a bashful guest,

While others touch the damsel I love best?

Wilt lying under him, his bosom clip?

About thy neck shall he at pleasure skip?

Marvel not, though the fair bride did incite

The drunken Centaurs to a sudden fight.

I am no half horse, nor in woods I dwell,

Yet scarce my hands from thee contain I well.10

But how thou should'st behave thyself now know,

Nor let the winds away my warnings blow.

Before thy husband come, though I not see

What may be done, yet there before him be.

Lie with him gently, when his limbs he spread

Upon the bed; but on my foot first tread.

View me, my becks, and speaking countenance;

Take, and return[145]each secret amorous glance.

Words without voice shall on my eyebrows sit,

Lines thou shalt read in wine by my hand writ.20

When our lascivious toys come to thy mind,

Thy rosy cheeks be to thy thumb inclined.

If aught of me thou speak'st in inward thought,

Let thy soft finger to thy ear be brought.

When I, my light, do or say aught that please thee,

Turn round thy gold ring, as it were to ease thee.

Strike on the board like them that pray for evil,

When thou dost wish thy husband at the devil.[146]

What wine he fills thee, wisely will[147]him drink;

Ask thou the boy, what thou enough dost think.30

When thou hast tasted, I will take the cup,

And where thou drink'st, on that part I will sup.

If he gives thee what first himself did taste,

Even in his face his offered gobbets[148]cast.

Let not thy neck by his vile arms be prest,

Nor lean thy soft head on his boisterous breast.

Thy bosom's roseate buds let him not finger,

Chiefly on thy lips let not his lips linger

If thou givest kisses, I shall all disclose,[149]

Say they are mine, and hands on thee impose.40

Yet this I'll see, but if thy gown aught cover,

Suspicious fear in all my veins will hover.

Mingle not thighs, nor to his leg join thine,

Nor thy soft foot with his hard foot combine.

I have been wanton, therefore am perplexed,

And with mistrust of the like measure vexed.

I and my wench oft under clothes did lurk,

When pleasure moved us to our sweetest work.

Do not thou so; but throw thy mantle hence,

Lest I should think thee guilty of offence.50

Entreat thy husband drink, but do not kiss,

And while he drinks, to add more do not miss;

If he lies down with wine and sleep opprest,

The thing and place shall counsel us the rest.

When to go homewards we rise all along

Have care to walk in middle of the throng.

There will I find thee or be found by thee,

There touch whatever thou canst touch of me.

Ay me! I warn what profits some few hours!

But we must part, when heaven with black night lours.60

At night thy husband clips[150]thee: I will weep

And to the doors sight of thyself [will] keep:

Then will he kiss thee, and not only kiss,

But force thee give him my stolen honey-bliss.

Constrained against thy will give it the peasant,

Forbear sweet words, and be your sport unpleasant.

To him I pray it no delight may bring,

Or if it do, to thee no joy thence spring.

But, though this night thy fortune be to try it,

To me to-morrow constantly deny[151]it.70

FOOTNOTES:[144]Not in Isham copy or ed. A.[145]So Dyce; old eds. "receive."[146]"Optabis merito cum mala multa viro."[147]"Bibat ipsejubeto."[148]So Dyce for "goblets" of the old eds. ("Rejice libatos illius orecibos.")[149]"Fiam manifestus adulter."[150]The original has "Nocte virincludet."[151]"Dedisse nega."

[144]Not in Isham copy or ed. A.

[145]So Dyce; old eds. "receive."

[146]"Optabis merito cum mala multa viro."

[147]"Bibat ipsejubeto."

[148]So Dyce for "goblets" of the old eds. ("Rejice libatos illius orecibos.")

[149]"Fiam manifestus adulter."

[150]The original has "Nocte virincludet."

[151]"Dedisse nega."

Corinnæ concubitus.

In summer's heat, and mid-time of the day,To rest my limbs upon a bed I lay;One window shut, the other open stood,Which gave such light as twinkles in a wood,Like twilight glimpse at setting of the sun,Or night being past, and yet not day begun;Such light to shamefaced maidens must be shownWhere they may sport, and seem to be unknown:Then came Corinna in a long loose gown,Her white neck hid with tresses hanging down,10Resembling fair Semiramis going to bed,Or Lais of a thousand wooers sped.[152]I snatched her gown: being thin, the harm was small,Yet strived she to be covered therewithal;And striving thus, as one that would be cast,Betrayed herself, and yielded at the last.Stark naked as she stood before mine eye,Not one wen in her body could I spy.What arms and shoulders did I touch and see!How apt her breasts were to be pressed by me!20How smooth a belly under her waist saw I,How large a leg, and what a lusty thigh!To leave the rest, all liked me passing well;I clinged her naked[153]body, down she fell:Judge you the rest; being tired she bade me kiss;Jove send me more such afternoons as this!

In summer's heat, and mid-time of the day,

To rest my limbs upon a bed I lay;

One window shut, the other open stood,

Which gave such light as twinkles in a wood,

Like twilight glimpse at setting of the sun,

Or night being past, and yet not day begun;

Such light to shamefaced maidens must be shown

Where they may sport, and seem to be unknown:

Then came Corinna in a long loose gown,

Her white neck hid with tresses hanging down,10

Resembling fair Semiramis going to bed,

Or Lais of a thousand wooers sped.[152]

I snatched her gown: being thin, the harm was small,

Yet strived she to be covered therewithal;

And striving thus, as one that would be cast,

Betrayed herself, and yielded at the last.

Stark naked as she stood before mine eye,

Not one wen in her body could I spy.

What arms and shoulders did I touch and see!

How apt her breasts were to be pressed by me!20

How smooth a belly under her waist saw I,

How large a leg, and what a lusty thigh!

To leave the rest, all liked me passing well;

I clinged her naked[153]body, down she fell:

Judge you the rest; being tired she bade me kiss;

Jove send me more such afternoons as this!

FOOTNOTES:[152]Isham copy and ed. A. "spread."[153]Ed. A. "her faire white body." ("Etnudampressi corpus ad usque meum.")

[152]Isham copy and ed. A. "spread."

[153]Ed. A. "her faire white body." ("Etnudampressi corpus ad usque meum.")

Ad Janitorem, ut fores sibi aperiat.

Unworthy porter, bound in chains full sore,On movèd hooks set ope the churlish door.Little I ask, a little entrance make,The gate half-ope my bent side in will take.Long love my body to such use make[s] slender,And to get out doth like apt members render.He shows me how unheard to pass the watch,And guides my feet lest, stumbling, falls they catch:But in times past I feared vain shades, and night,Wondering if any walkèd without light.10Love, hearing it, laughed with his tender mother,And smiling said, "Be thou as bold as other."Forthwith love came; no dark night-flying sprite,Nor hands prepared to slaughter, me affright.Thee fear I too much: only thee I flatter:Thy lightning can my life in pieces batter.Why enviest me? this hostile den[155]unbar;See how the gates with my tears watered are!When thou stood'st naked ready to be beat,For thee I did thy mistress fair entreat.20But what entreats for thee sometimes[156]took place,(O mischief!) now for me obtain small grace.Gratis thou mayest be free; give like for like;Night goes away: the door's bar backward strike.Strike; so again hard chains shall bind thee never,Nor servile water shalt thou drink for ever.Hard-hearted Porter, dost and wilt not hear?With stiff oak propped the gate doth still appear.Such rampired gates besiegèd cities aid;In midst of peace why art of arms afraid?30Exclud'st a lover, how would'st use a foe?Strike back the bar, night fast away doth go.With arms or armèd men I come not guarded;I am alone, were furious love discarded.Although I would, I cannot him cashier,Before I be divided from my gear.[157]See Love with me, wine moderate in my brain,And on my hairs a crown of flowers remain.Who fears these arms? who will not go to meet them?Night runs away; with open entrance greet them.40Art careless? or is't sleep forbids thee hear,Giving the winds my words running in thine ear?Well I remember, when I first did hire thee,Watching till after midnight did not tire thee.But now perchance thy wench with thee doth rest,Ah, how thy lot is above my lot blest:Though it be so, shut me not out therefore;Night goes away: I pray thee ope the door.Err we? or do the turnèd hinges sound,And opening doors with creaking noise abound?[158]50We err: a strong blast seemed the gates to ope:Ay me, how high that gale did lift my hope!If Boreas bears[159]Orithyia's rape in mind,Come break these deaf doors with thy boisterous wind.Silent the city is: night's dewy host[160]March fast away: the bar strike from the post.Or I more stern than fire or sword will turn,And with my brand these gorgeous houses burn.Night, love, and wine to all extremes persuade:Night, shameless wine, and love are fearless made.60All have I spent: no threats or prayers move thee;O harder than the doors thou guard'st I prove thee,No pretty wench's keeper may'st thou be,The careful prison is more meet for thee.Now frosty night her flight begins to take,And crowing cocks poor souls to work awake.But thou, my crown, from sad hairs ta'en away,On this hard threshold till the morning lay.That when my mistress there beholds thee cast,She may perceive how we the time did waste.70Whate'er thou art, farewell, be like me pained!Careless farewell, with my fault not distained![161]And farewell cruel posts, rough threshold's block,And doors conjoined with an hard iron lock!

Unworthy porter, bound in chains full sore,

On movèd hooks set ope the churlish door.

Little I ask, a little entrance make,

The gate half-ope my bent side in will take.

Long love my body to such use make[s] slender,

And to get out doth like apt members render.

He shows me how unheard to pass the watch,

And guides my feet lest, stumbling, falls they catch:

But in times past I feared vain shades, and night,

Wondering if any walkèd without light.10

Love, hearing it, laughed with his tender mother,

And smiling said, "Be thou as bold as other."

Forthwith love came; no dark night-flying sprite,

Nor hands prepared to slaughter, me affright.

Thee fear I too much: only thee I flatter:

Thy lightning can my life in pieces batter.

Why enviest me? this hostile den[155]unbar;

See how the gates with my tears watered are!

When thou stood'st naked ready to be beat,

For thee I did thy mistress fair entreat.20

But what entreats for thee sometimes[156]took place,

(O mischief!) now for me obtain small grace.

Gratis thou mayest be free; give like for like;

Night goes away: the door's bar backward strike.

Strike; so again hard chains shall bind thee never,

Nor servile water shalt thou drink for ever.

Hard-hearted Porter, dost and wilt not hear?

With stiff oak propped the gate doth still appear.

Such rampired gates besiegèd cities aid;

In midst of peace why art of arms afraid?30

Exclud'st a lover, how would'st use a foe?

Strike back the bar, night fast away doth go.

With arms or armèd men I come not guarded;

I am alone, were furious love discarded.

Although I would, I cannot him cashier,

Before I be divided from my gear.[157]

See Love with me, wine moderate in my brain,

And on my hairs a crown of flowers remain.

Who fears these arms? who will not go to meet them?

Night runs away; with open entrance greet them.40

Art careless? or is't sleep forbids thee hear,

Giving the winds my words running in thine ear?

Well I remember, when I first did hire thee,

Watching till after midnight did not tire thee.

But now perchance thy wench with thee doth rest,

Ah, how thy lot is above my lot blest:

Though it be so, shut me not out therefore;

Night goes away: I pray thee ope the door.

Err we? or do the turnèd hinges sound,

And opening doors with creaking noise abound?[158]50

We err: a strong blast seemed the gates to ope:

Ay me, how high that gale did lift my hope!

If Boreas bears[159]Orithyia's rape in mind,

Come break these deaf doors with thy boisterous wind.

Silent the city is: night's dewy host[160]

March fast away: the bar strike from the post.

Or I more stern than fire or sword will turn,

And with my brand these gorgeous houses burn.

Night, love, and wine to all extremes persuade:

Night, shameless wine, and love are fearless made.60

All have I spent: no threats or prayers move thee;

O harder than the doors thou guard'st I prove thee,

No pretty wench's keeper may'st thou be,

The careful prison is more meet for thee.

Now frosty night her flight begins to take,

And crowing cocks poor souls to work awake.

But thou, my crown, from sad hairs ta'en away,

On this hard threshold till the morning lay.

That when my mistress there beholds thee cast,

She may perceive how we the time did waste.70

Whate'er thou art, farewell, be like me pained!

Careless farewell, with my fault not distained![161]

And farewell cruel posts, rough threshold's block,

And doors conjoined with an hard iron lock!

FOOTNOTES:[154]Not in Isham copy or ed. A.[155]Old eds. "dende."[156]Sometime ("quondam").[157]"Ante vel a membris dividar ipse meis."[158]Qy. "rebound?"[159]Dyce reads, "If, Boreas, bear'st" (i.e., "thou bear'st"). But the change in the old eds. from the second to the third person is not very harsh.[160]A picturesque rendering of"Vitreoque madentia roreTempora noctis eunt."[161]"Lente nec admisso turpis amante ... vale." Of course "nec" should be taken with "admisso."

[154]Not in Isham copy or ed. A.

[155]Old eds. "dende."

[156]Sometime ("quondam").

[157]"Ante vel a membris dividar ipse meis."

[158]Qy. "rebound?"

[159]Dyce reads, "If, Boreas, bear'st" (i.e., "thou bear'st"). But the change in the old eds. from the second to the third person is not very harsh.

[160]A picturesque rendering of"Vitreoque madentia roreTempora noctis eunt."

[160]A picturesque rendering of

"Vitreoque madentia roreTempora noctis eunt."

"Vitreoque madentia rore

Tempora noctis eunt."

[161]"Lente nec admisso turpis amante ... vale." Of course "nec" should be taken with "admisso."

Ad pacandam amicam, quam verberaverat.

Bind fast my hands, they have deservèd chains,While rage is absent, take some friend the pains.For rage against my wench moved my rash arm,My mistress weeps whom my mad hand did harm.I might have then my parents dear misused,Or holy gods with cruel strokes abused.Why, Ajax, master of the seven-fold shield,Butchered the flocks he found in spacious field.And he who on his mother venged his ire,Against the Destinies durst sharp[163]darts require.10Could I therefore her comely tresses tear?Yet was she gracèd with her ruffled hair.So fair she was, Atalanta she resembled,Before whose bow th' Arcadian wild beasts trembled.Such Ariadne was, when she bewails,Her perjured Theseus' flying vows and sails.So, chaste Minerva, did Cassandra fallDeflowered[164]except within thy temple wall.That I was mad, and barbarous all men cried:She nothing said; pale fear her tongue had tied.20But secretly her looks with checks did trounce me,Her tears, she silent, guilty did pronounce me.Would of mine arms my shoulders had been scanted:Better I could part of myself have wanted.To mine own self have I had strength so furious,And to myself could I be so injurious?Slaughter and mischiefs instruments, no better,Deservèd chains these cursed hands shall fetter.Punished I am, if I a Roman beat:Over my mistress is my right more great?30Tydides left worst signs[165]of villainy;He first a goddess struck: another I.Yet he harmed less; whom I professed to loveI harmed: a foe did Diomede's anger move.Go now, thou conqueror, glorious triumphs raise,Pay vows to Jove; engirt thy hairs with bays.And let the troops which shall thy chariot follow,"Iö, a strong man conquered this wench," hollow.Let the sad captive foremost, with locks spreadOn her white neck, but for hurt cheeks,[166]be led.40Meeter it were her lips were blue with kissing,And on her neck a wanton's[167]mark not missing.But, though I like a swelling flood was driven,And as a prey unto blind anger given,Was't not enough the fearful wench to chide?Nor thunder, in rough threatenings, haughty pride?Nor shamefully her coat pull o'er her crown,Which to her waist her girdle still kept down?But cruelly her tresses having rent,My nails to scratch her lovely cheeks I bent.50Sighing she stood, her bloodless white looks shewed,Like marble from the Parian mountains hewed.Her half-dead joints, and trembling limbs I saw,Like poplar leaves blown with a stormy flaw.Or slender ears, with gentle zephyr shaken,Or waters' tops with the warm south-wind taken.And down her cheeks, the trickling tears did flow,Like water gushing from consuming snow.Then first I did perceive I had offended;My blood the tears were that from her descended.60Before her feet thrice prostrate down I fell,My fearèd hands thrice back she did repel.But doubt thou not (revenge doth grief appease),With thy sharp nails upon my face to seize;Bescratch mine eyes, spare not my locks to break(Anger will help thy hands though ne'er so weak);And lest the sad signs of my crime remain,Put in their place thy kembèd[168]hairs again.

Bind fast my hands, they have deservèd chains,

While rage is absent, take some friend the pains.

For rage against my wench moved my rash arm,

My mistress weeps whom my mad hand did harm.

I might have then my parents dear misused,

Or holy gods with cruel strokes abused.

Why, Ajax, master of the seven-fold shield,

Butchered the flocks he found in spacious field.

And he who on his mother venged his ire,

Against the Destinies durst sharp[163]darts require.10

Could I therefore her comely tresses tear?

Yet was she gracèd with her ruffled hair.

So fair she was, Atalanta she resembled,

Before whose bow th' Arcadian wild beasts trembled.

Such Ariadne was, when she bewails,

Her perjured Theseus' flying vows and sails.

So, chaste Minerva, did Cassandra fall

Deflowered[164]except within thy temple wall.

That I was mad, and barbarous all men cried:

She nothing said; pale fear her tongue had tied.20

But secretly her looks with checks did trounce me,

Her tears, she silent, guilty did pronounce me.

Would of mine arms my shoulders had been scanted:

Better I could part of myself have wanted.

To mine own self have I had strength so furious,

And to myself could I be so injurious?

Slaughter and mischiefs instruments, no better,

Deservèd chains these cursed hands shall fetter.

Punished I am, if I a Roman beat:

Over my mistress is my right more great?30

Tydides left worst signs[165]of villainy;

He first a goddess struck: another I.

Yet he harmed less; whom I professed to love

I harmed: a foe did Diomede's anger move.

Go now, thou conqueror, glorious triumphs raise,

Pay vows to Jove; engirt thy hairs with bays.

And let the troops which shall thy chariot follow,

"Iö, a strong man conquered this wench," hollow.

Let the sad captive foremost, with locks spread

On her white neck, but for hurt cheeks,[166]be led.40

Meeter it were her lips were blue with kissing,

And on her neck a wanton's[167]mark not missing.

But, though I like a swelling flood was driven,

And as a prey unto blind anger given,

Was't not enough the fearful wench to chide?

Nor thunder, in rough threatenings, haughty pride?

Nor shamefully her coat pull o'er her crown,

Which to her waist her girdle still kept down?

But cruelly her tresses having rent,

My nails to scratch her lovely cheeks I bent.50

Sighing she stood, her bloodless white looks shewed,

Like marble from the Parian mountains hewed.

Her half-dead joints, and trembling limbs I saw,

Like poplar leaves blown with a stormy flaw.

Or slender ears, with gentle zephyr shaken,

Or waters' tops with the warm south-wind taken.

And down her cheeks, the trickling tears did flow,

Like water gushing from consuming snow.

Then first I did perceive I had offended;

My blood the tears were that from her descended.60

Before her feet thrice prostrate down I fell,

My fearèd hands thrice back she did repel.

But doubt thou not (revenge doth grief appease),

With thy sharp nails upon my face to seize;

Bescratch mine eyes, spare not my locks to break

(Anger will help thy hands though ne'er so weak);

And lest the sad signs of my crime remain,

Put in their place thy kembèd[168]hairs again.

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