Elegy XII: He complains that the praises he has bestowed on his mistress in his verses, have occasioned him many rivals.Ill-omen'd birds, how luckless was the day,When o'er my love you did your wings display!What wayward orb, what inauspicious starDid then rule heav'n ? what gods against me war?She who so much my fatal passion wrongs,Was known and first made famous by my songs.I lov'd her first, and lov'd her then alone,But now, I fear, I share her with the town.Am I deceiv'd or can she be the same,Who only to my verses owes her fameMy verse a price upon her beauty laid,And by my praises she her market made;Whom but myself can I with reason blame?Without me she had never had a name.Did I do this, who knew her soul so well?Dearly to me she did her favours sell;And when the wares were to the public known,Why should I think she'd sell to me alone ?