accepted love-making while under a false illusion: the adulterer was hidden by a swanâs plumage.  Her warning given, she ceased her speech, and vanished; in terror I arose, and my eyes could not keep back their tears. When, all suddenly, there came to my ears the chant of Hymen, and to my eyes the gleam of blazing torches, and the pipe poured forth its notes, for you a wedding-strain, but for me a strain more tearful than the funeral trump, I will filled with fear; I did not yet believe such monstrous guilt could be; but all my breast none the less grew chill. Mercury, the grandchild of mighty Atlas and Pleione, appeared before my eyes, driven on his swift wings â, it was lawful to see it, let it be lawful to say what I saw â. Diana the huntress, in dream, ordered me to write these words: Love, awake, ordered me to write them to you: Iâm already wounded, by the second oneâs arrows. I looked up to her, and said: âFavour me, bright goddess. How much perfidy, vile wretch, would have perished with you, and how many woes been averted from my head!  Would the Stymplegades had caught and crushed us out together, and that my bones were clinging now to yours; or Scylla the ravening submerged us in the deep to be devoured by her dogs – fit were it for Scylla to work woe to ingrate men! flatter, and we share one house. But let your prayer. Loveâs not certain in a guest: it wanders, like himself. The gods should make you the prize in some great contest. This is the law of yonder place. and the love we wish to conceal wouldnât have been hidden. Canace to Macareus My craft is not impelled by a propitious gale.  Perhaps, too, when you wish to make boast to your stupid mate and say what will pleasure her unjust ears, you will fashion strange slanders against my face and against my ways. What you desire: to swim, Leander: is what the sailor fears: itâs usually the result for him of his ship being wrecked. What shall I do, unhappy that I am? at the regal gifts and statues set up everywhere. the lines from the stern, he was in view from all Abydos. Of the number of the brothers but a scantest part remains.  The Nile, let flow to the sea through seven mouths, strips from the maddened heifer the features loved of Jove. But Spartaâs tiny, youâre worthy of a wealthy culture: that place is not beneficial to your beauty. Why recall how many times I kiss the garments. and Iâll be rich in heaped weights of gold! or have places fallen from your mind along with me? Nothing remains, since I now desire to join myself with you, except for me to add, to my letter, this: âFarewell!â. I read your deceitful lines, mighty poet. The "Heroides" is now available in a verse translation written by the poet Daryl Hine. I return, unwillingly, to my country: who would believe it? looking back at my lady, when I can, all the way. Nor could I render myself a reason why I did these things; I did not know what it was to be in love – yet in love I was. Though you flee some you canât escape all the nets. Why exult in your words if they deceived me.  I confess now, I would have called you back, and my spirit strove; but my tongue stood still for fear of evil auspice. and we wandered with errant feet through the holy place: and now I walk in the colonnades, and now wonder. I remember your breasts were exposed, betrayed by your dress. Though the shores of the Icarian Sea are not far from here. and, while I can encircle your neck with my arms. did only the girl give her name to the desolate waters? Why, if Phrixus and his sister Helle were carried over them. Helen to Paris which I allow that only you can grant me. or the Twins, his brothers-in-law, or Tyndareus? and he praises me less boldly and gives me fewer kisses. with immense borders that can scarcely be surveyed. Take away afar, deluded Hymenaeus, they wedding-torches, and fly with frightened foot from these nefarious halls! Tears failed my eyes, and words my tongue; my breast was fast frozen with icy chill. Hein. and the sting of both errors equally rouses me. Child of Inachus, whither doest thou haste?  Dead that I am, believe me, yet at your words I live again, and have brought forth the reproach and burden of my womb. Jupiter delights in these intrigues, and lovely Venus: such an intrigue surely gave you Jove for a father. But let us meet, from opposite directions, in mid-strait. At the persuasion of Medea, who wished to avenge Jason, they attempted the rejuvenation of their father by dismembering and boiling him in a supposed magic cauldron. Why should such a crime fail of its reward? while the rest of the sheet was indicated by my right hand. your anger would be allowed, as long as you enjoyed my company. and seeking moisture in the midst of the stream. If you were so resolved to leave my side, you could have gone in more becoming wise. There Phoebus from on high looks down on the whole wide stretch of sea – of Actium, the people call it, and Leucadian. Go now, wretch, compare with that your wealth of Sisyphus! I take no pleasure in the day; my nights are watches of bitterness, and gentle sleep is far departed from my wretched soul. âNurse, do you think my joy has left his house now. Our love would travel among weapons, alas! OVID, HEROIDES 11 - 15. Tell me now, and donât deceive me, as is your usual custom. Diana doesnât merit being disappointed as well: if you. Dido to Aeneas 8. And as if there were lack of things to weary me endlessly, a little daughter5 fills the measure of my cares. Also someone complains, now that vague rumour whispers it. There, and in person, as she was, she noted your words. I pray that my ladyâs perjury falls on my head: Lest Iâm ignorant whatâs happening, I often, secretly. Clare Pollard's ambition to update Ovid's Heroides – letters from Greek heroines to absent menfolk – has succeeded wittily Natalie Haynes Fri … Yards are added to masts, and receive the hanging shrouds. as when Cytherea came to me for judgement. Now the curved dolphins know of our affairs. Hers holds Ephyre,2 washed by two seas; mine, all the country which lies along the left strand of the Pontus e’en to the snows of Scythia. And now, reclining there, I sang of ancient loves. Now that my eyes have been troubled by your letter, A chance stranger to our sacred hospitality youâve dared. Though I chose to become your bride in Troy. Not greater is the praise Alcaeus wins, the sharer in my homeland and in my gift of song, though a statelier strain he sounds. Bacchus, or Jove, to be the judges of my dangerous path. of Pelops, Tantalusâs son, and of Tyndareus: Leda, deceived by the swan, gave me Jupiter for a father. “Why betray thy fault?” said the ancient dame who knew my secret, and stopped my crying lips. The wifely love I bore you has torn at my faithful heart. Indeed, so that I might use lascivious words. Phaedra to Hippolytus 5. I was alight, though the fire was far from me. Whom, hark you, I will straight – but what boots it to foretell your penalty? Equally, if youâd been in that competition. once taken Iâm thought worthy of being taken twice? to the straits, and weeps for her drowned child, with the waterâs flow: or Ino, the stepmother, now a sea-goddess, stirs the sea. And let me perish if everything does not invite my sin: I donât know why I delay, but for the fear itself. You may accept or manage cookie usage at any time. If you grant all that, can you grant him Hector for a brother? My prime pleasure is to have so pleased Venus: the next, that you saw me as the greatest prize, and preferred neither Heraâs nor Atheneâs offerings. Conditions and Exceptions apply. Ah me!  Boreas came swooping down, seized on and stretched your sails, and my Protesilaus soon was far away. and we beguile the long wait with feminine art. Fierce as he is, far harsher than his own east-winds, he would look dry-eyed upon my wounds. she coughs and gives me the sign we agreed on. This letterâs another offence, and what you complain of, you hold. Now too, as I entrust my words to the silent page. Waking, my eyes see you: by night, my mind. Perhaps Nephele, Helleâs devoted mother, may have come. perhaps some other, whom Iâd least wish, is present. 13. You, who so often seek whom you love, as often leave her. Itâs also I confess your rare beauty: and a girl. her beauty doesnât appear except among true goddesses. If you gave your daughter, Hermione, kisses, I delighted. Believe me, this is far superior to Diana herself. Pp. © Copyright 2000-2020 A. S. Kline, All Rights Reserved. They were still in the palace. I wouldnât have read it: but if Iâd been harsh to you. Now thereâs nothing left for me but to beg, my lovely one. where placid sheep, and she-goats that love the rocks. You must either alter your beauty or be less harsh: Chastity conflicts with great loveliness. But the fates arenât kind: why now would they delay my pledge. most praised for her beauty, are not vain. Nor do I think it false: I sense the hostile murmurs of the people. Let Menelaus battle, let him press to meet the foe; to seek the wife from the midst of the foe is the husband’s part. The bird sings of Itys, Sappho sings of love abandoned – that is all; all else is silent as midnight. And they are rich, and their morals without stain: and if there were nothing more, Love joined me to you. and there was a rod of gold in the godâs fingers. that you plunge into so many cruel risks to your life is his doing.  Clear it is that Juno’s wrath endures from the time the mortal maid became a heifer, and the heifer became a goddess.6 Yet it is punishment enough that the tender maid was a lowing beast, and, but now so fair, could not retain Jove’s love. to me in vain, she whoâs urged me to take this course. that you come in hope, over such wastes of water. and follow you the more, girl worthy of the heavens. She you think capable of having compassed her husband’s death fears even to write of murder done by hands not her own! Added to which, if you wished to stay true in love. – and by the heavenly Nine who are my deities, I swear to you, when someone said to me: “Your joys are flying from you!” for a long time I could not weep, and could not speak! Lesbian daughters of the wave, ye who are to wed and ye already wed, ye Lesbian daughters, whose names have been sung to the Aeolian lyre, ye Lesbian daughters whom I have loved to my reproach cease thronging to me more to hear my shell! Surely, something comes from a life with savage winds; his temper is like that of his subjects. Neptune himself will open up no way for you against his own city. However apt it is as a servant of my feelings. I must weep, for my love – and elegy is the weeping strain; no lyre is suited to my tears.  But we are left uncertain; we are forced by anxious fear to fancy all things befallen which may befall. so that I might reach your harbour, and my wish. so I might have been compelled to be happy. He rushes in and with cries makes known my shame to all, and scarce restrains his hand from my wretched face. Phaedra to Hippolytus 5. 5. A fresh flame dies sprinkled with a little water. You see no more than them, but you dare more rashly: youâve no more judgement, but less composure. Hypsipyleâs a witness, and Ariadne, the Minoan virgin: You also, unfaithful man, have abandoned Oenone, You have still not denied it: and if you donât know. This too, if you would believe it: to you the way seemed smooth: from you returning, a hill of inert water. donât wish to repay your promise to me, repay the goddess. and golden-haired Laodice, and Celaeno, received in heaven. joined you to me, binding you with my words. So that whenever you try to be unfaithful. and I love her, now, whom you perhaps might. I turn back into the temple by its high flight of steps â, An apple was thrown at my feet with this verse on it â. 7. Neither the maids of Pyrrha charm me now, nor they of Methymna, nor all the rest of the throng of Lesbian daughters. accept the words I tell you, in true honour. and whatever else Delos displays â and I canât remember. Make us more, gliding through the defeated waves. They did their kindly task, but it had no profit for me. and their ribs are pinned to the curving keel. Bring for me the torches ye bear, Erinyes dark, and let my funeral pyre blaze bright from the fires ye give! on the golden ram, with its woolly fleece: nevertheless I donât need the services of a ram, or a boat. Whither your headlong course, O Danaäns? And I dared to address your close friends recently. Thou art the mistress of great Jove, that rival to be dreaded by his sister – and must quiet thy fierce hunger with the leafy branch and grassy turf, drink at the spring, and gaze astonied on thine image there, and fear lest the arms thou bearest may wound thyself! agree with mine, I beg, that the sea indeed ends its wrath. Oh why, my brother, did you ever love me more than brother, and why have I been to you what a sister should not be? the slackened thread fell from my hands in sleep. Their resemblance to you is all too great, and I am touched by the likeness; and as often as I see them, my eyes drop tears. and the memory of your words remains in her ears. What beauty greater than Oeneone, in the world, is worthy. I, the maiden who am now at last become a barbarian in your eyes, who now am poor, who now seem baneful – I closed the lids of the flame-like eyes in slumber wrought by my drug, and gave into your hand the fleece to steal away unharmed. Iâm sorry Iâm a guest, when I see that boor. 3. Nor can I fashion aught of song to suit the well-ordered string; songs are the labour of minds care-free! The fierce Calydonian Boar is witness, though Althaea, that mother. If youâll do this, when the signalâs sounded. when the hope I have of my lady is also far away. But whenever I turn towards the dark-blue waves. He rules the winds, alas! Your cast is not the same; do you fight merely to live, and to return to your faithful queen’s embrace. And I wish the sails had been always set against me! â. to have been low-born, were signs of my secret nobility. to its harbour, and, our kingdom held no doors shut against you. There I, Medea, was what here your new bride is; as rich as her sire is, so rich was mine. Why from your lips comes many a complaint? and your comeliness, and your modest, and refined appearance. “While night permits,” I answer, “fly!” While the dark night permits, you fly, and I remain. With fruits and whitening olive-branches, and with light fillets, the careful dame attempts to hide the babe, and makes pretence of sacrifice, and utters words of prayer; the people give way to let her pass, my father himself gives way. – to trust myself to the sea, woman though I was, and now with guilt upon me. â play tricks on my husband! you yourself would be a better reason for my sin. Is it that you may have wanted to bathe in a shaded pool. I am as much a suppliant to you as you have often been to me, and I hesitate not to cast myself at your feet. Many things come to mind: but, to say more in person. How many young men, do you think, wish for what you wish for? oh you, received deep within me, by my whole heart! a statue of fresh marble looks like this: the silver set out on the table is the same. Cydippe, come now, receive despised Acontius â. and Iâd pray for the waters never to be calm. The dismemberment of her brother Absyrtus. and, when nothingâs less permanent than wind or wave. You too, how could you hope for me to be faithful. I landed on your shores, bride, scion of Oebalus. itâs better in fact at making strokes in the placid sea: For seven nights, a space of time longer to me than a year. ciii. victorious, she retraced her steps to the sky. and fameâs almost unkind to your beauty. Now unhappily I play the accused in my absence. as Hippomenes took Atalanta, Schoeneyâs daughter, in the race. Whither your headlong course?  You, Phaon, are my care; you, my dreams bring back to me – dreams brighter than the beauteous day. solitary, crowded with pines and holm-oaks. With an English translation by Grant Showerman, Professor of Latin in the University of Wisconsin. and you would have been needful of my efforts. yourself, and me, and the pledge you gave! and also, because of it, Troy had a day of festival. cried out, as our ships were ready to sail: âWhere are you rushing to? and often my arms are wearied by the endless motion. and gave my eyes an opening to your nakedness. And, while the few threads Iâve finished fall to the floor. Thereâs no greater loveliness than hers, after yours and Venusâs: if you donât believe my words, look for yourself! With foreboding you depart; and as you go my moist eyes follow you, and in faint murmur comes from my tongue: “Fare thou well!” Laying myself on the ordered couch within my chamber, grievously wounded, in tears I passed the whole night long; before my eyes appeared the bulls and the dreadful harvest, before my eyes the unsleeping serpent. Your husband welcomes me as a guest: this too. Along with his brother, who excelled at oratory, Ovid was educated in rhetoric in Rome under the teachers Arellius Fuscus and Porcius … or at least had not been known then, to me. What one asks, another is to receive; what she petitions for the Aesonian youth, I grant. – and thrust in gaol. Let both the winds and your tender arms hold me equally. I saw even tears – or was there in the tears, too, part of your deceit? My colour had fled from my face; wasting had shrunk my frame; I scarce took food, and with unwilling mouth; my sleep was never easy, the night was a year for me, and I groaned, though stricken with no pain. Why didnât you dare to come? It is Notus, and Zephyrus, and Sithonian Aquilo, over whom he rules, and over thy pinions, wanton Eurus. Youâll swear: she knows that you betray the gods. drives out into the deep, carried back by tide and surge.  But if it chance my entreaties touch a heart of iron, list now to words – words too humble for my proud soul! loves to lie with on the ridges of Mount Ida. Let the omens lack reality! Iâm enfeebled by emaciation: my colour is bloodless.
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