Epistulae

waves. No great-grandfather of mine catches at apples in the Stygian flood, or, set up to the chin in water, is tortured with thirst. But what does this avail me, if one so descended possesses Helen, and Jove himself is a father-in-law to this line? Yet he (O ye Gods) a wretch unworthy of so much happiness, passes whole nights with you, and shares, uninterrupted, your fondest caresses. I can scarcely have a short glance of you at table; and even then there are many things that give me pain. May such feasts fall to the lot of my worst enemies, as those I often meet with in your palace! I repent of my entertainment at his court, when I see him throw his rude arms round your snowy neck.

I swell, and am ready to burst with envy (yet why do I thus relate all?) when he folds his flowing robe round your tender limbs. But when you give and take in my presence the melting kisses, I am then forced to take the cup, and hold it before my eyes. As often as you close in strict embraces, I cast my eyes upon the ground; and the loathed food becomes more and more nauseous to my taste. I often sigh to myself, and have observed you repaying my sighs with a scornful smile. Oft have I essayed to conquer my flame with wine; but it continued to increase; and drinking, I found, added fuel to the fire. Sometimes I turned away my eyes, that I might not see too much; but you soon called back my wandering sight. What can I do? I am pierced with grief to witness all; but it is still a greater grief not to gaze upon your charms.

I strive with all my power to hide my flame; but the dissembled passion breaks through all restraints. Nor is it my aim to deceive; my wounds are well, to well known to you: O that they were only known to you! How often have I turned away my face, to hide the falling tears, lest he should enquire the cause of my sadness! How oft, when warmed with wine, have I told some tale of love, applying every word to your dear face; and, under a feigned name, have made a discovery of my own passion? In these instances, if you knew it not, I was the true lover. Sometimes I have even feigned intoxication, to excuse my greater freedoms in discourse. Once I remember your loose garments revealed your naked breasts, and discovered them freely to my gazing eyes; breasts whiter than milk, or the purest snow; whiter than Jove, when in the shape of a swan he made love to your mother. Whilst surprised at the sight I stood gazing (for by chance the cup was in my hand), the wreathed handle insensibly slipped from my fingers. If you kissed your young Hermione, I instantly snatched from her lips the envied bliss. Sometimes, laid supinely along, I sang love-songs, and by winks and nods gave secret signs of my flame. I even tried, with all the softness of eloquence, to persuade your favorite attendants, Æthra and Clymene, to promote my addresses: but their answers served only to heighten my despair, and they cruelly deserted me in the midst of my entrea-

ties. O that the Gods would make you the reward of some gallant enterprise, and crown the victor with the possession of your charms! As Hippomenes carried off Atalanta, the prize of his dexterity in the chariot-race; as Hippodamia was pressed to the bosom of a Phrygian hero; as brave Alcides broke the horns of the God Achelous, while he fought for the prize of Deianira's charms;

my courage would have nobly dared the rude encounter, and you would have soon found yourself the reward of my bravery. Now nought remains but to address you in suppliant prayers, and, prostrate at your feet, embrace your knees.

O you who are the glory of your family and ornament of the brother stars! O worthy of the bed of Jove, but that you sprang from himself! I will either re-enter the Phrygian ports, carrying you as my wife; or here, an exile, be covered with Laconian earth. My breast is not lightly pierced with the pointed arrow; the wound hath reached even to my bones. My sister truly foretold (for now I recollect), that I should be wounded by a heavenly dart. Beware therefore, Helen, of despising a love ordamed by the Fates; so may you have the Gods still propitious to your desires! Much more I have to add; but, that I may say all to yourself, receive me into your apartment during the silent night. Are you ashamed? Or do you fear to loosen the matrimonial tie, or

violate the just rights of a lawful bed? Is it possible then, Helen, you should be so simple as to fancy, that so lovely a face can be exempt from faults? Either change that face, or you must be less cruel; for chastity and beauty are ever at variance. Even Jupiter, and lovely Venus herself, indulge these stolen delights. It is in consequence of these that you boast of Jupiter for your father. If you retain aught of your parents, can the daughter of Jupiter and Leda be chaste? Yet then may you be chaste, when I with you shall have reached Troy; and let a compliance with me be your only crime. Let us now commit a fault which marriage shall afterwards amend, if Venus has not deluded me be false promises.

Even your husband, if not by words, yet by his actions, persuades you to this; and, that he may not be an obstacle to the stolen joys of his guest, he is absent. Had he no time more opportune for a visit to the isle of Crete? O husband of wonderful sagacity! He went, and in going said, My dear, I recommend it to you, that you take the same care of our Idean guest, as you are wont to do of me. You neglect (I aver it) the commands of your absent husband, nor ever think about the care of your guest. And can you hope, fairest Tyndaris, that one of so little discretion understands the just value of such a treasure of charms? You are deceived; he is far from understanding it; nor, if he thought the jewel valuable, would he trust it in the hands of a stranger. If neither my persuasions, nor the ardor of my passion, avail; yet how can we avoid taking advantage of the inviting opportunity? We should exceed even him in folly, if we should neglect a conjuncture so secure and tempting. He has, in a manner, with his own hands, forced a lover upon you; let us then make the best of the simplicity of this thoughtless man. You lie in a solitary bed during the long winter nights: I also lie single in a desolate bed. Let mutual joys join us strictly together; and that night will outshine the brightest noon. Then will I swear by all the powers above, and bind myself to you for ever in your own words. Then, if my confidence does not deceive me. I will prevail that you fly with me to my kingdom. If shame and fear dissuade you from the appearance of a voluntary flight, I will free you from blame, by taking all the crime upon myself. For I will follow the example of

Theseus and your brothers; nor are there any others that can touch you more nearly; Theseus carried you off, and they bore away the two daughters of Leucippus; I shall be named the fourth, in this illustrious roll. The Trojan fleet is at hand, well appointed with arms and men: oars and an inviting gale shall forward us with nimble speed. You shall walk a mighty queen through the cities of Phrygia, and the people will adore you as a new deity. Whereever you tread, the finest spices shall smoke, and the falling victims beat the bloody ground. My brothers, my sisters and mother, will load you with gifts; the Ilian matrons and all Troy following the example. Alas! all I have yet said is nothing; you shall there meet with much more than this letter mentions.

Nor fear that this rape will draw after it a cruel war, or that powerful Greece will summon her strength to recover you. Who, of the many that have been thus stolen, was demanded back by arms? These, trust me, are vain and frivolous fears. The Thracians, under the name of Boreas, stole the daughter of Erechtheus; and yet the kingdom of Thrace was not attacked by war. Jason of Thessaly carried off in his flying bark the Colchian maid; yet Thessaly was got invaded or distressed by an army from Colchis. Theseus too, who stole you, stole also the daughter of Minos; yet Minos did not once think of arming the Cretans to recover her. In these cases, the fear always exceeds the danger; and, when that is over, we begin to be ashamed of our fear. But suppose, if you will, that a dreadful war may ensure; I have strength to repel it, and my darts can wound. Nor does the power of Asia yield to that of Greece;—it is a rich land, abounding both in men and horses. Nor does Menelaus exceed Paris in bravery, or deserve the preference for military skill. While I was a mere boy, I recovered the stolen herds after slaying my foes, and thence borrowed a new name. While yet a boy, I carried off the prize in various exercises from the other youths, among whom were even Ilioneus and Deiphobus. Nor think

that I am only to be dreaded in close combat; my arrows always hit the appointed mark. Can you ascribe to him these acts of early youth? Can you honor the son of Atreus with my envied skill? But were you to allow him all these, will you also boast that he has such a brother as Hector? This one hero is equivalent to whole armies. You know not the extent of my power; my strength is in a great measure hidden from you; nor do you imagine what kind of man he is, who solicits to be received for your husband. Either therefore no war will be raised to demand you back; or the Grecian army must be vanquished by my superior force. Nor think that I shall be unwilling to draw the sword for such a wife. A prize so noble, is well worthy of the contest. You too, if all the world should arm for your sake, will acquire a name famous to the remotest ages. Fly hence then, full of hope, while the Gods are propitious, and demand with full assurance that I make good these promises.

WHEN your epistle violated my chaste eyes, it seemed no small glory to write back my resentment. Dare you, a stranger, in defiance of the most sacred rights of hospitality, presume thus to invade the just allegiance of a lawful wife? Was it for this that our Laconian harbours sheltered you from stormy winds and seas? Were our palace gates frankly opened to you, though from a foreign court, that you might return this injury, as the reward of so much good usage?

Was it a stranger or an enemy whom we received with so much kindness and friendship? These just complaints, I doubt not, will to your partial judgment appear rustic. Of what consequence is the imputation of rusticity, while my chastity is unstained, and the whole tenor of my life above reproach? Though I have not a countenance severe with dissembled looks, nor form my eye-brows into an artful frown, my fame is yet unspotted; my easy frankness never rose to a crime; nor can any vain seducer boast the spoils of my virtue. I therefore may reasonably be astonished at the bold scheme, and wonder whence your hopes came to share of my favors. Was it because the hero of Neptune's race forced me away? Did you conclude that, being once compelled, I was fit to

be made a second prey? Mine would have been the crime, had I been enticed to a compliance; but, as I was carried off by violence, what could I do more than show reluctance? Nor did he ultimately obtain the desired reward of his boldness; I returned unhurt by any thing but fear. The forward youth snatched by rude force a few reluctant kisses; but that was all he ever had of me. You, wicked as you are, would not have been thus satisfied: but the Gods were more favorable; he was of a temper very different from you. He restored me untouched, and by a modest usage atoned for his crime: it is evident that the young man repented the bold insult. Did Theseus repent, that Paris might succeed, and my name never cease to be the object of busy tongues? Nor am I yet displeased, (for who was ever offended with love?) if the affection you profess is sincere and undissembled. But that I doubt; not that I suspect your honor, or distrust the power of my own charms; but, because I know that a too easy faith often proves fatal to our sex, and dissembling man ruins us by feigned professions. What if others yield, or matrons are seldom chaste; may not my name occur among the rare instances of virtue? My mother's story seems, at the first view, a fit example to soften me to a compliance: but my mother was

deceived by a borrowed shape, and harmless feathers covered the unsuspected ravisher. If I offend, what have I to plead? by what error can I excuse the darling sin? Her frailty was happily redeemed by the dignity of the ravisher; but what Jupiter will take from the infamy of my crime?

You boast your descent from a race of kings and heroes. What then? Our line too is sufficiently ennobled by illustrious names. Not to mention my father-in-law Atreus, the great-grandson of Jupiter, or the honorable pedigree of Tyndareus, and Pelops the son of Tantalus; Leda, deceived by a borrowed shape, who fondly cherished in her bosom the unsuspected bird, gives me Jupiter for my father. Go then, and boast your Phrygian descent, and the honorable race of Priam, which I am far from undervaluing: but Jupiter, who ennobles your line,