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But when she comes, your swelling mounts sink down, And falling vallies be the smooth ways crown.
Elec 1A 17.
Quod Corinnae 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, Ayme, 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.
ELEG 1 A 18.
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.
What lawful is, or we profess love's art:
And what poor Dido, with her drawn sword sharp,
Doth say, with her that lov'd the Aonian harp.
ELEG IA 19.
Let us, both lovers, hope and fear alike, And may repulse, place, for our wishes strike. What should I do with fortune that ne'er fails me? Nothing I love, that at all times avails me. Wily Corinna saw this blemish in me, And craftily knows by what means to win me. Ah, often, that her whole head ach'd, she lying, Will'd me, whose slow feet sought delay by flying; Ah, oft, how much she might, she feign'd offence; And doing wrong made shew of innocence. So having vex'd she nourish'd my warm fire, And was again most apt to my desire. To please me, what fair terms and sweet words has she, Great gods ! what kisses, and how many gave she Thou also that late took'st mine eyes away, Oft cozen me, oft being wood, say nay. And on thy threshold let me lie dispread, Suff'ring much cold by hoary night's frost bred. So shall my love continue many years; This doth delight me, this my courage cheers. Fat love, and too much fulsome me annoys, Even as sweet meat a glutted stomach cloys. In brazen tower had not Danaae dwelt, A mother's joy by Jove she had not felt. While Juno Io keeps, when horns she wore, Jove lik'd her better than he did before. Who covets lawful things takes leaves from woods, And drinks stol'n waters in surrounding floods.
Her lover let her mock, that long will reign,