Cut in the air let these words come to nought,
And my presages of no weight be thought.
Forgive her gracious gods this one delict,
And on the next fault punishment inflict.

ELEGIA 15.

Ad annulum, quem dono amicæ 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 compass for her knuckles be.
Blest ring in my mistress' arms shall lie,
Myself, poor wretch, mine own gifts now envy.
O would that suddenly into my gift,

I could myself by secret magic shift!

Then would I wish thee touch my mistress' pap,
And hide thy left hand underneath her lap.
I would get off though straight, 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 wenches moist lips touch,
Only I'll sign nought, that may grieve me much.
I would not out, might I in one place hit:*
But in less compass her small fingers knit.
My life! that I will shame thee never fear,
Or be a load thou should'st refuse to bear.

ELEGIES.

`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.

ELEGIA 16.

Ad amicam, ut ad rura sua veniat.

SUL MO, Peligny's third part, me contains,
A small, but wholesome soil with watery veins,
Although the sun to rive the earth incline,
And the Icarian froward dog-star shine;
Pilignian fields whi h liquid rivers flow,

And on the soft ground fertile green grass 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 grassy turf the moistened earth doth hide.
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 fix'd.
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 perséver so.

Then on the rough Alps should I tread aloft,
My hard way with my mistress would seem soft.

With her I durst the Lybian Sirtes break through,
And raging seas in boisterous south-winds plough.
No barking dogs, that Scylla's intrails bear,
Nor thy gulphs, crooked Malea, would I fear.
Nor flowing waves with drowned ships forth-poured
By cloyed Charibdis, and again devoured.
But if stern Neptune's windy power prevail,
And waters' force, force helping gods to sail,
With thy white arms upon my shoulders seize,
So sweet a burden I will bear with ease.
The youth oft swimming to his Hero kind,
Had then swam over, but the way was blind.
But without thee, although vine-planted ground
Contains me; though the streams the fields surround;
Though hinds in brooks the running waters bring,
And cool gales shake the tall trees leafy spring:
Healthful Peligny! I esteem nought worth,
Nor do I like the country of my birth.
Scythia, Cilicia, Brittany are as good,

And rocks dyed crimson with Prometheus' blood.
Elms love the vines, the vines with elms abide,
Why doth my mistress from me oft divide?
Thou swear'dst, 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 godly 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.

But when she comes, your swelling mounts sink down, And falling vallies be the smooth ways crown.

ELEGIA 17.

Quod Corinnæ soli sit serviturus.

To serve a wench if any think it shame,
He being judge, I am convinc'd of blame.
Let me be slandered, while my fire she hides,
That Paphos, and the flood-beat Cithera guides.
Would I had been my mistress' gentle prey,
Since some fair one I should of force obey.
Beauty gives heart, Corinna's looks excel,
Ay me, why is it known to her so well?
But by her glass disdainful pride she learns,
Nor she herself, but first trim'd up, discerns.
Not though thy face in all things make thee reign,
(O face, most cunning mine eyes to detain !)
Thou ought'st therefore to scorn me for thy mate,
Small things with greater may be copulate.
Love-snar'd Calypso is suppos'd to pray
A mortal nymph's refusing lord to stay.
Who doubts, with Peleus Thetis did consort,
Egeria with just Numa had good sport.

Venus with Vulcan, though smiths' tools laid by,
With his stump foot he halts ill-favouredly.
This kind of verse is not alike, yet fit,

With shorter numbers the heroic sit.
And thou, my light, accept me howsoever,
Lay in the mid bed, there be my lawgiver.
My stay no crime, my flight no joy shall breed,

Nor of our love, to be asham'd we need.
For great revenues I good verses have,
And many by me to get glory crave.
I know a wench reports herself Corinne,

What would not she give that fair name to win?
But sundry floods in one bank never go,
Eurotas cold, and poplar-bearing Po.

Nor in my books shall one but thou be writ,
Thou dost alone give matter to my

ELEGIA 18.

wit.

Ad Macrum, quod de amoribus scribat.

To tragic verse while thou Achilles train'st,
And new sworn soldiers' maiden arms restrain'st.
We, Macer, sit in Venus' slothful shade,

And tender love hath great things hateful made.
Often at length, my wench depart, I bid,

She in my lap sits still as erst she did.
I said it irks me, half to weeping fram'd,
Ay me! she cries, to love, why art ashamed?
Then wreathes about my neck her winding arms,
And thousand kisses gives, that work my harms:
I yield, and back my wit from battles bring,
Domestic acts, and mine own wars to sing.
Yet tragedies, and sceptres fill'd my lines,
But though I apt were for such high designs,
Love laugh'd at my cloak, and buskins painted,
And rule, so soon with private hands acquainted.
My mistress' deity also drew me from it,
And love triumpheth o'er his busking poet.