Epistulae

Ovid

Ovid. The Epistles of Ovid. London: J. Nunn, 1813.

He, pleased with the omen, fondly kissed me: To your care, says he, I recommend my palace, my kingdom, and the Trojan guest. Scarcely could I refrain from laughter; and, while I strove to stifle it, I would only answer, It shall be so. He, it is true, spread his sails for Crete with a favorable wind; yet do not, from this, fancy yourself wholly secure. My husband, though absent, has still watchful eyes over me. Are you unacquainted with the proverb, that princes have long hands? My fame too is a great obstacle; for the more lavish you are in my praise, the more reasonable ground has he for suspicion. That glory, once so grateful, is now my bane; far better it had been to be less known to fame. Nor wonder at his absence, or that I am here left with you: he trusted to my virtue and unspotted life. My beauty and shape implied danger; but my probity and fame made him secure. You desire me not to lose so fair a season, or neglect the opportunity given by the simple good-natured man. I am willing, but afraid; my resolution is still unfixed, and my breast glows with all the anguish of

suspense. My husband is absent; you pine in a solitary bed, and we are each blest with a form that mutually pleases. The nights are long; we often converse; one house contains us; and you are kind and pressing. Let me die, if all things do not conspire to crown our loves; and yet I do not know what fear still holds me back. It would be better to employ force, than court with words; my bashfulness might have been overcome by a gentle violence. Wrongs are sometimes grateful even to those who suffer them; it is thus I would be made happy by a seeming force: but let us strive rather to suppress in its birth the growing flame; a little water easily extinguishes the kindling spark. Strangers are incapable of a lasting love; their passion wanders like themselves; and while we fondly believe it to be sure and unchanged, all is over. Hypsipyle and the Minoian maid are examples of this, who both were left to

mourn their deserted beds. You too, faithless man, are said to have abandoned Œnone, who had been dear to you for so many years. You must not attempt to deny it; for know, that it has been my care to search narrowly into all. Add, that, were you inclined to a constant faithful love, it is not in your power; already the impatient Trojans prepare your sails. While you are yet in discourse with me, while the wished-for night is assigned, a propitious gale calls you away to your own country. You must abandon the unfinished pursuit, and break asunder our new-felt joys; the relentless winds will bear away my love. Shall I then follow, as you advise, and visit the famed towers of Troy? Shall I become a wife to the grandson of mighty Laomedon? I am not yet so indifferent to the reports of spreading fame, as to suffer it thus to fill the earth with the sound of my reproach. What may Sparta say of me, and all Greece? What the nations of Asia, and even your own Troy? What will Priam, Hecuba, and your brothers think? and what will all the modest Phrygian matrons? And even you, what confidence can you have in my fidelity, or how avoid an anxiety from my compliance in your own case?

Every stranger who may arrive upon the Phrygian coast will be a fresh cause of fear on my account. In your rage you will not fail to upbraid me with my crime, forgetting the part you bear in it yourself. You, who are the author of my guilt, will be the first to reproach me. O may the earth rather overwhelm me for ever! But I shall shine in Troj in riches, and all the ornaments of a happy dress. You tell me, that I shall meet with a reception far beyond even your promises; that purple and embroidered garments shall be given me; and that I shall be enriched by a mass of gold. But forgive the trank confession; these gifts have no charms for me: the ties that bind me to my own country, are far more powerful. Who among the Phrygians will resent the injuries which may be offered? What aid from brothers or a father could I there implore? Deceitful Jason won Medea by his unbounded promises; but was he less ready to banish her from the house of his father Æson? She had then no Aeetes to whom she could fly for relief, no mother Ipsea, or sister Chalciope to hear her complaints. I indeed fear none of this; but neither did Medea fear: love often contributes to its own deceit. What ship now tossed by stormy waves did not sail first from the port with a favorable wind? I am terrified too by the flaming torch, which, in your mother's dream, seemed to spring from her womb before your birth. Add to this the prophecies which fortell that Ilium shall be consumed with Grecian fire. It is true that Venus favors us, because she carried off the prize, and by your judgement triumphed over two. But then I fear again the resentment of the two, who in this contest, so much to your honor, lost their cause by your sentence. Nor can it be doubetd, if I follow you, that troops will be raised to recover me. Our love (alas!) must make

its way through sword and slaughter. Did Hippodamia of Atrace instigate the Thessalian heroes to that cruel slaughter of the Centaurs? And can you fancy that Menclaus will be slow to revenge in so just a cause, or that my brothers and father will not contribute their aid? You boast highly of your valor, and recount your noble acts: but your face gains no great credit to your words. Those limbs are better formed for the delights of Venus, than the rude encounters of Mars: let heroes distinguish themselves in war; Paris will shine in the softer pursuits of love. Hector, whom you so much commend, may bravely defend you against the foe: a different warfare suits those graceful motions. Were I bold and daring as many of my sex, I would throw myself into your soft embraces; but time and you may at last bring me to yield, when, laying aside this foolish shame, I will gladly extend my consenting hand. You demand a private meeting, that you may acquaint me fully with all: I know your meaning, and what you aim at by this conference. But you are too forward; now is your harvest yet come to ripeness. This short delay may perhaps