Epistulae

Now corn grows where once Troy stood; and the ground, fattened by Phrygian blood, produces a rich crop that tempts the hand of the reaper. The half-buried bones of heroes are ploughed up by the crooked share; and rising grass covers the ruins of the houses. Though victorious, you are still absent; nor can I possibly know the cause of your long stay, or in what corner of the world my cruel Ulysses lurks. Whatever stranger touches upon these coasts, is sure to be teased with a thousand questions about you; and, when he departs, is charged with a letter to deliver to you, in whatever region of the world he may chance to see you. We sent to Pylos, the Neleian kingdom of old Nestor; but we thence received no account beside uncertain report. We sent likewise to Sparta; but Sparta, being equally ignorant of the truth, left us uncertain that lands you might be wandering over, or where you could make so long a stay. It would be better for me, if the walls of Troy were still standing. Alas! unstable and unhappy, I am offended at my own wishes. I should know in what part of the world you fought, and dread only the dangers of war; nor should I be without companions to join in my complaint. Now I know not what to fear most. I am apt to fancy you exposed to every kind of hazard, and find myself bewildered in a wide field of care. Whatever dangers arise either from sea or land, these I suspect may be the causes of so long a delay. While I thus fondly revolve these things within myself, your it is possible, are the slave of some foreign beauty (such is the inconstancy of man). Perhaps too you divert her by telling what a homely wife you have, who minds only the spindle and the distaff. But I may be deceived, and this imaginary crime may vanish into mere air and conceit; nor can I persuade myself, that, if free to return, you would be absent from me. My father Icarius urges me to leave this widowed state, and never ceases chiding me for my continued delays. Let him chide on; I am yours, and must be called yours; Penelope will ever remain the wife of Ulysses. He at length is softened by my piety and chaste prayers, and forbears to use his authority. A dissipated set of wooers from Dulichium, Samos, and lofty Zacynthos, teize me without intermission. They reign uncontrolled in your palace, and devour your wealth, our very life and support. Why should I mention Pisander, Polybus, ugly Medon, and covetous Eurymachus and Antinoüs, beside many others, who all in your absence live upon the means gained at the hazard of your life? Indigent Irus, and your goat-herd Melanthius, serve to finish your disgrace. We are only three in number, unable to defend ourselves; your wife weak and helpless, Laërtes an old man, and Telemachus a child. That beloved boy we were lately in danger of losing, as, against all our wills, he prepared to go in quest of you to Pylos. May the gods grant, that by the order of fate he may be appointed to close my eyes; to close also yours. The neat-herd, swine-herd, and aged nurse, all join in this prayer. Laërtes, now unfit for arms, is unable to maintain your right against such a crowd of enemies. Telemachus, it is true, if spared, will arrive at a more vigorous age; but at present he requires his father's protection. Nor can it be supposed that I am able to drive away this hostile crowd. Come therefore speedily, you who are our only defence and sanctuary! You have (whom Heaven preserve) a son, whose tender years should have been formed to his father's virtue and prudence. Think of Laertes, and that it is your duty to close his eyes; he now languishes on the verge of dissolution. Surely I, who, when you left me, was but a girl, when you return must appear old and decayed.

O DEMOPHOÖN, Phyllis, your Thracian hostess, complains of your absence beyond the promised time. You engaged to drop anchor on our coast, when the moon should have completed her orb. Already she hath four times waned, four times renewed her full orb; and your Athenian ships do not yet stem the Thracian tide. If you reckon time in the minute manner we lovers do, this complaint will not appear to have come before its day. Hope forsook me slowly too: we are unwilling to believe what may be injurious; but now I feel it, and, in spite even of love and myself, must believe. Often have I lied to myself for your sake; often flattered myself that the raging south winds would drive hither your swelling sails. In my resentment I have cursed Theseus, imagining that he would not suffer you to depart; yet he perhaps was no cause of your stay. Sometimes I dreaded that, in making towards the shallows of Hebrus, your ship might have been swallowed up by the foaming deep. Oft before the altars with offerings of incense have I, in a suppliant manner, implored the gods for your safety, O perfidious man! Oft seeing the winds favorable, the heaven serene, and the sea calm;

Surely,

if alive, he will come.

Fool that I was! I even repaired your leaky ships, that you might have a trusty fleet wherein to desert me; I supplied you also with rowers to help forward your flight. Wretched beyond expression, to be thus wounded by my own darts! Alas! I foolishly gave credit to your deluding words, of which you have such command. I confided in your race and kindred gods; I trusted to your tears: are these too taught to dissemble? Yes; even they have their artifices, and often conspire to delude. In fine, I believed your false protestations. Why did you commit so many perjuries to gain credit with me, when unhappily I was too willing to trust you? Nor do I repent that I received you into my harbour and kingdom: this ought to have been the utmost bound of my indulgence. I am only ashamed of having crowned my hospiality with the present of my bed, and yielded myself up to your embraces. Oh! had the night preceding that fatal one been my last, Phyllis had died chaste and honest. I hoped the best, because I was conscious I deserved well of you. Hope, founded upon desert, is just and unblameable. Surely it is no mighty glory to deceive a credulous maid; my innocent simplicity merited a kind return.

You have by your flattering words deluded a woman, and one that loved you. May the gods grant that this may be your greatest boast! May you stand in the midst of the city among the posterity of Ægeus! May the statue of your father graced with inscriptions and trophies stand first! When the stories of Scyron and stern Procrustes shall be read, Sinis, and the Minotaur; Thebes brought under subjection, the Centaurs dispersed, and the dark palace of the infernal god alarmed, may thy hated image bear this inscription:

This is he, who betrayed his innocent believing hostess.

Let her now repair to learned Athens; we will find another to rule over warlike Thrace: the end proves all things.

Be sure, Phyllis, to expect your Demophoön.

Unhappy Phyllis, what do you pray for? He perhaps is detained by another mistress, and a love that banishes all remembrance of thee. Alas! I fear that, since you left me, you have never once thought of Phyllis. Cruel fate! should you be at a loss to know who I Phyllis am, and whence; I: who admitted you, after a long course of wandering, into our Thracian harbours, and entertained you in so hospitable a manner; who increased your wealth from my own stock, supplied your wants by many gifts, and intended to have enriched you still more; who subjected to your rule the spacious kingdom of Lycurgus, too warlike and fierce to be awed by a female name; even from Rhodope covered with eternal snow, to shady Hæmus, and where gentle Hebrus rolls his sacred stream; on whom in an unlucky hour I bestowed my virgin love, and whom I suffered with treacherous hands to untie my chaste girdle. Doubtless Tisiphone howled over us in that fatal night, and the wandering owl complained in mournful notes. Alecto too was present, her hair wreathed with curling snakes; and lighted the tapers with infernal flame. Disconsolate, I tread the rocks and shore overgrown with shrubs, where-ever the wide sea lies open to my eyes. Whether by day, when earth relenting feels the genial heat, or by night when the stars shine, and cold damps fall, I am anxious in observing the course of the winds. If by chance I can espy and distant sail, forthwith I divine it to be my Demophoön. I run towards the shore whither the inconstant billows flow, and can scarcely be restrained even by the waves. The nearer they approach, the more my fears increase, till at last fainting away I am carried home by my train. Near my present abode is a bay, bent in the manner of a bow, whose sides running out into the sea form a precipice of rocks. Hence my despair has often urged me to throw myself headlong into the raging flood; and I am still resolved upon it, because you continue to deceive me. The friendly waves may perhaps waft me over to the Athenian shore, and my unburied remains may there meet your unexpecting eyes. Though more hard-hearted than iron or adamant, year even than yourself, you will in pity say; Alas! Phyllis, you ought not to have followed me thus. Oft I thirst after poisons; oft resolve to pierce my heart, and perish by a bloody death. Sometimes I think of tying a silken knot upon that neck, round which you have so often twined your treacherous arms. It is fixed; I must repair my ruined honor by a speedy death: when the mind is once determined, it is easy to choose the mode of dying. You shall be marked upon my tomb as the cruel cause of my death, and handed down to posterity in these or similar lines:

Phyilis died by the cruelty of Demophoön; a faithful mistress by a perfidious guest. He was the barbarous cause; she herself gave the fatal blow.

THE letter which you now read in broken Greek, written by a foreign hand, comes from captive Briseis. Whatever blots you observe, were occasioned by my tears; but even tears are often more prevalent than words. If it may be allowed to complain a little of my lord and husband, I have a few causes of complaint against you, who are both. I do not blame you that I was so tamely delivered up to the king when demanded; and yet, even in that point, you are not altogether without blame: for no sooner was I demanded by Eurybates and Talthybius, than I was delivered up to be carried away by those military heralds. each regarding the other with a look of surprise, inquired in whispers, Where is their so famed love? I might have been detained somewhat longer; delay of miscry would have been grateful. Alas! when torn from you, I gave no parting kisses: but my tears flowed without ceasing; I tore my hair, and hapless seemed to myself, for the second time, a captive. I have often thought to deceive my keeper and escape, but trembled at the apprehension of falling into the hands of the enemy. I dreaded that, upon leaving the Grecian camp, I might again perhaps become a captive, and presented to some of the daughters-in-law of Priam. But I was delivered up, because so it must be. Though absent many nights, I am not demanded back. You linger, and are slow of resenting. Patroclus himself, when I was carried away, whispered in my ear, Why do you weep? your stay with Agamemnon will be very short. But your neglect of requiring me again from the hing is the least part of your crime; you even strive against my return. Weight now with yourself what right you have to the name of a lover. The sons of Telamon and Amyntor came ambassadors from Agamemnon; the first related to you by blood, the other your friend and

guardian: the son also of Laertes came; by whom I might have returned attended. Softening entreaties were added to their costly presents,—twenty shining vessels curiously wrought in Corinthian brass, and seven tripods, alike in weight and workmanship. To these were added twice five talents of gold, and twelve spirited steeds. matchless in the race; and (what might have well been spared) Lesbian girls of exquisite beauty, captives of that pillaged island. With these (but what need of this?) you had the choice of one of Agamemnon's three daughters for a wife. You refused to accept me with gifts, which, had Agamemnon consented to my ransom, you ought with joy to have carried to him. What have I done thus to merit your neglect, Achilles? Whither has your changeable love so soon fled? Does cruel fortune incessantly pursue the wretched? Shall no propitious gales favour my chaste hopes?

I saw the walls of Lyrnessus give way to your irresistible attack; nor was I an inconsiderable part of my native country. I saw three fall, brethren in blood as well as fate; who all sprang from the same mother. I saw my husband too stretched upon the bloody plain, and tossing with anguish his breast drenched in gore. Yet all these losses were recompensed in you alone; you were to me instead of a husband, a lord, a brother. You swore to me by the sacred deity of your sea-green mother, that it should be my happiness to have fallen a captive into your hands: for instance; to refuse me though offered to you with a large dowry, and reject the riches which you are urged to accept with me! It is even reported, that when returning Aurora gilds the mountains, you will open your flaxen sails to the cloud-bearing south winds. Soon as this cruel resolve reached my trembling ears, the blood forsook my breast; I was without life or soul. You will then abandon me! O barbarous man, what misery are you preparing for hapless Briseis! What solace can I expect in my forlorn state? Sooner may the gaping earth swallow me up, or the missile bolts of Jove overwhelm me, than I, abandoned, be doomed to behold the sea foaming after your Thessalian oars, and your ships deserting my distracted view. If you are determined to return, and visit again your native fields, I can be no very cumbersome load to your fleet. I submit to follow you as a captive subject to her conqueror, not as a spouse accompanying her husband. My hand will not disdain the meanest office. May the fairest of the Grecian dames become the happy partner of your bed, one worthy of such a father-in-law as the grandson of Jupiter and Ægina, to whom old Nereus will not disdain to be related. I her humble handmaid will diligently ply my task, and the twisted threads shall lessen the loaded distaff. Grant only that your wife, who I fear will regard me as a rival, be not suffered to treat me cruelly. Let her not tear my hair in your presence, while you unconcerned say, This girl was once dear to me. But I will submit to bear even this, rather than be left behind helpless and neglected. The dread of such treatment shakes my wretched frame. What can you wish for more? Agamemnon repents of his anger; and disconsolate Greece falls at your feet. You

who are conqueror every where else, be master also of yourself and your passions. Why is insulting Hector allowed to triumph over the Grecian troops? Take arms, brave grandson of Æacus, after first receiving me to your embraces; and urge their vanquished troops with a victorious spear. Your resentment was first kindled for my sake; let it cease also for my sake: may I be both the cause and measure of your disgust. Nor think it dishonorable to yield to my entreaties. Meleager took up arms at the request of his wife. I have it only by hearsay; but you are acquainted with the whole story. Althæa's brothers being slain by her son, the unhappy parent devoted him with many imprecations. A war ensued: he, disgusted, laid down his arms, retired, and obstinately refused to assist his native country. His wife alone had power to move him: thrice happy she! But my words, alas! have no weight with you. Yet do I not repine; nor, though often called to my lord's bed, did I ever boast that I was your wife.

One of the captives, I remember, called me mistress. You only increase, said I, the weight of my servitude by that name. I swear by the slightly-buried bones of my husband, those remains which must ever appear venerable to me; by the sacred ghosts of my three undaunted brothers, who bravely died for and with their country; by your lips and mine, which we have often joined in love; and by your conquering sword, too well known to my house; that Agamemnon has shared none of the joys of my bed. If I speak falsely, may I be eternally forsaken by you. Where I now to say, Do you too, great hero, swear that you have tasted no joys apart from me, must you not refuse? And yet the Greeks fancy you plunged in grief. You, mean-while, solace yourself with the harp, resigned to the soft embraces of a fond mistress. Should any one ask why you so obstinately refuse to fight, you say, War is become hateful; only night, love, and music, charm. It is safer to be content with domestic pleasures, to cherish a beloved mistress, and exercise the fingers upon a Thracian harp, than to grasp a target and sharp-pointed spear, and load the head with a weighty helmet. Heretofore you preferred the glory of illustrious actions to ease; and the fame acquired in war was all your aim. Could martial deeds then only please till I was made a captive? Is your thirst of praise extinguished in the fall of my country? Heaven forbid! May the Pelian spear, urged by your victorious arm, pierce the loins of Hector. Send me, O ye Greeks, as your ambassador, to solicit my lord: I will enforce your requests with a thousand melting kisses. Trust me, I can do more with him than Phœnix, more than the brother of Teucer, even more than eloquent Ulysses. There is rhetoric in throwing my once familiar arms round his neck, and putting him in mind that it is his Briseis who urges the request. Though you are cruel and more obdurate than the waves of the sea, my silence and tears must prevail.

Now then (so may your father Peleus measure out his full term of years, and Pyrrhus enter upon war with your propitious fortune), brave Achilles, have respect to your Briseis, oppressed with a load of anxiety; nor kill her with your cruel delays. Or, if your former love is turned to disdain, rather hasten my fate, than force me thus to live without you. And even as it is, you hasten it; my beauty and bloom have fled; and the remaining faint hope of your love alone supports life: if this also should fail, my hard destiny will soon join me to the shades of my brothers and husband; nor will it add to your fame, to have occasioned the death of one who loved you. But why thus torment me by a lingering death? Plunge into my breast your naked poignard; I have still blood enough left to stream from the gaping wound. Let your sword, which (had not Minerva interposed) would have reached the heart of Atrides, find its way to mine. Ah rather preserve a life that is your own gift: I ask no more from my lover than what he formerly granted me when an enemy. The walls of Troy, built by Neptune, will afford more ample matter for your resentment. Hunt ruin in the hostile field. Let me only request, whatever be your design, whether to remain here, or navigate your fleet home, that, in right of master, you command me to attend you.

Phædra of Crete wishes to Hippolytus, born of an Amazon, that health. which, if he will not give it, she herself must want. Read this at least; how can the reading of a letter hurt you? Perhaps, too, you may meet with some things in it that will be agreeable. In this manner secrets are conveyed over land and sea. Even enemies look at the letters sent from each other. Thrice I essayed to speak with you; thrice my tongue failed; thrice the words forsook me at my tongue's end. Modesty is to be joined with love, as far as is possible and convenient. Love commands me to write what I was ashamed to speak. It is not safe to slight the commands of Love; he reigns uncontrolled, and has power even over the sovereign gods. He first commanded me, when full of doubts and fears, to write; Write, said he; though hard as steel, he will yield his captive hands. Be present, Love; and, as you nourish in my bones a wasting fire, fix also in his breast a dart that may soften it towards me. Yet will I not by any crime stain my connubial vows. My fame (search into it) you will find fair and spotless. Love, the later it seizes us, rages the more. I burn inwardly; I burn, and my breast feels the hidden wound. As the tender bull is at first impatient of the yoke, and the young courser is with difficulty rendered obedient to the rein: so my unconquered heart resists the first attacks of love, and this unusual burthen sits heavy on my unpractised mind. When love is habitual from our cradle, we may learn by art to manage it; but, in our riper years, it assaults us with violence. You will taste the first offerings of my

spotless fame, and the guilt will be the same in both. There is a pleasure in plucking the ripe apples from loaded branches, and gathering with an industrious hand the earliest roses. If yet my chastity, hitherto unstained, must be blotted by an unusual crime, it has happily fallen out that I burn with a noble flame. A worthless partner of my crime, something still worse than the crime itself, cannot in my case by objected. If Juno should resign her brother and husband in my favour, even Jupiter would probably be disregarded in competition with Hippolytus. And now (what you will scarcely believe) my inclinations carry me after new and unaccustomed delights. I long to assault with you the savage breed; already the Delian goddess, distinguished by the crooked bow, presides in my thoughts; your judgement in this determines also mine. I am impatient to range the woods, to pursue the stage into the toils, and cheer the nimble hounds along the rocky cliffs; or lance the trembling dart with a

vigorous arm, and stretch my wearied limbs on a grassy bank. Oft I am pleased to drive the nimble chariot involved in dust, and guide the panting steeds with steady rein. Now wild, I rave as a Bacchanal when full of the inspiring god, or like those who on the Idean hill urge with redoubled strokes the sounding brass; yea more wild than those whom the Dryads half divine, and horned Satyrs, strike with terror and amazement.