[306] "Gallica turma" (_i.e._ the company of _Galli_, the priests of Isis).

ELEGIA XIV.[307]

In amicam, quod abortivum ipsa fecerit.

What helps it woman to be free from war, Nor, being armed, fierce troops to follow far, If without battle self-wrought wounds annoy them.

And their own privy-weaponed hands destroy them Who unborn infants first to slay invented, Deserved thereby with death to be tormented.

Because thy belly should rough wrinkles lack, Wilt thou thy womb-inclosed offspring wrack?

Had ancient mothers this vile custom cherished, All human kind by their default[308] had perished; 10 Or[309] stones, our stock's original should be hurled, Again, by some, in this unpeopled world.

Who should have Priam's wealthy substance won, If watery Thetis had her child fordone?

In swelling womb her twins had Ilia killed, He had not been that conquering Rome bid build.

Had Venus spoiled her belly's Trojan fruit, The earth of Caesars had been dest.i.tute.

Thou also that wert born fair, had'st decayed, If such a work thy mother had a.s.sayed. 20 Myself, that better die with loving may, Had seen, my mother killing me, no[310] day.

Why tak'st increasing grapes from vinetrees full?

With cruel hand why dost green apples pull?

Fruits ripe will fall; let springing things increase; Life is no light price of a small surcease.[311]

Why with hid irons are your bowels torn?

And why dire poison give you babes unborn?

At Colchis, stained with children's blood, men rail, And mother-murdered Itys they[312] bewail. 30 Both unkind parents; but, for causes sad, Their wedlocks' pledges[313] venged their husbands bad.

What Tereus, what Iason you provokes, To plague your bodies with such harmful strokes?

Armenian tigers never did so ill, Nor dares the lioness her young whelps kill.

But tender damsels do it, though with pain; Oft dies she that her paunch-wrapt[314] child hath slain: She dies, and with loose hairs to grave is sent, And whoe'er see her, worthily[315] lament. 40 But in the air let these words come to naught, And my presages of no weight be thought.

Forgive her, gracious G.o.ds, this one delict, And on the next fault punishment inflict.

FOOTNOTES:

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

[308] "Vitio."

[309] Old eds. "On."

[310] Old eds. "to-day."

[311] "Est pretium parvae non leve vita morae."

[312] Dyce's suggestion for "thee" of the old eds. The original has "Aque sua caesum matre queruntur Ityn."

[313]

"Sed tristibus utraque causis Jactura socii sanguinis ulta virum."

[314] An inelegant translation of "Saepe suos uteros quae necat ipse perit."

[315] Marlowe has given a meaning the very opposite of the original--"Et clamant 'Merito' qui modo c.u.mque vident."

ELEGIA XV.[316]

Ad annulum, quem dono amicae dedit.

Thou ring that shalt my fair girl's finger bind, Wherein is seen the giver's loving mind: Be welcome to her, gladly let her take thee, And, her small joints encircling, round hoop make thee.

Fit her so well, as she is fit for me, And of just compa.s.s for her knuckles be.

Blest ring, thou in my mistress' hand shall lie, Myself, poor wretch, mine own gifts now envy.

O would that suddenly into my gift, I could myself by secret magic shift! 10 Then would I wish thee touch my mistress' pap, And hide thy left hand underneath her lap, I would get off, though strait and sticking fast, And in her bosom strangely fall at last.

Then I, that I may seal her privy leaves, Lest to the wax the hold-fast dry gem cleaves, Would first my beauteous wench's moist lips touch; Only I'll sign naught that may grieve me much.

I would not out, might I in one place hit: But in less compa.s.s her small fingers knit. 20 My life! that I will shame thee never fear, Or be[317] a load thou should'st refuse to bear.

Wear me, when warmest showers thy members wash, And through the gem let thy lost waters pash, But seeing thee, I think my thing will swell, And even the ring perform a man's part well.

Vain things why wish I? go, small gift, from hand; Let her my faith, with thee given, understand.

FOOTNOTES:

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

[317] Old eds. "by."

ELEGIA XVI.[318]

Ad amicam, ut ad rura sua veniat.

Sulmo, Peligny's third part, me contains, A small, but wholesome soil with watery veins, Although the sun to rive[319] the earth incline, And the Icarian froward dog-star shine; Pelignian fields with liquid rivers flow, And on the soft ground fertile green gra.s.s grow; With corn the earth abounds, with vines much more, And some few pastures Pallas' olives bore; And by the rising herbs, where clear springs slide, A gra.s.sy turf the moistened earth doth hide. 10 But absent is my fire; lies I'll tell none, My heat is here, what moves my heat is gone.

Pollux and Castor, might I stand betwixt, In heaven without thee would I not be fixt.

Upon the cold earth pensive let them lay, That mean to travel some long irksome way.

Or else will maidens young men's mates to go, If they determine to persever so.

Then on the rough Alps should I tread aloft, My hard way with my mistress would seem soft. 20 With her I durst the Libyan Syrts break through, And raging seas in boisterous south-winds plough.

No barking dogs, that Scylla's entrails bear, Nor thy gulfs, crook'd Malea, would I fear.

No flowing waves with drowned ships forth-poured By cloyed Charybdis, and again devoured.

But if stern Neptune's windy power prevail, And waters' force force helping G.o.ds to fail, With thy white arms upon my shoulders seize; So sweet a burden I will bear with ease. 30 The youth oft swimming to his Hero kind, Had then swum over, but the way was blind.

But without thee, although vine-planted ground Contains me; though the streams the[320] fields surround; Though hinds in brooks the running waters bring, And cool gales shake the tall trees' leafy spring; Healthful Peligny, I esteem naught worth, Nor do I like the country of my birth.

Scythia, Cilicia, Britain are as good, And rocks dyed crimson with Prometheus' blood. 40 Elms love the vines; the vines with elms abide, Why doth my mistress from me oft divide?

Thou swear'dst,[321] division should not twixt us rise, By me, and by my stars, thy radiant eyes; Maids' words more vain and light than falling leaves, Which, as it seems, hence wind and sea bereaves.

If any G.o.dly care of me thou hast, Add deeds unto thy promises at last.

And with swift nags drawing thy little coach (Their reins let loose), right soon my house approach. 50 But when she comes, you[322] swelling mounts, sink down, And falling valleys be the smooth ways' crown.[323]

FOOTNOTES:

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