Certaine of Ovid's Elegies, by C. Marlowe. At Middlebourgh. 8vo. [no date.]
Marlowe's translations from Ovid are seldom to be met with. A small edition of twenty-five copies was lately printed for private circulation, and from it the present reprint has been taken.
AMORUM, LIB. I. ELEGIA 1.
Quemadmodum a Cupidine, pro bellis amoris scribere coactus sit.
WE which were Ovid's five books, now are three,
For these before the rest preferreth he:
If reading five thou 'plain'st of tediousness,
Two ta'en away, the labour will be less;
With muse uprear'd, I meant to sing of arms,
Choosing a subject fit for fierce alarms:
Both verses were alike till Love (men say)
Began to smile and take one foot away.
Rash boy, who gave thee power to change a line?
We are the Muses' prophets, none of thine.
What, if thy mother take Diana's bow,
Shall Dian fan when love begins to glow?
In woody groves is 't meet that Ceres reign,
And quiver bearing Dian till the plain?
Who set the fair tress'd son in battle 'ray,
While Mars doth take the Aonion harp to play?
Great are thy kingdoms, over strong and large,
Ambitious imp! why seek'st thou further charge?
Are all things thine? the Muses' Tempe thine?
Then scarce can Phoebus say, this harp is mine.
When in this work first verse I trod aloft,
I slack'd my muse, and made my number soft:
I have no mistress nor no favorite,
Being fittest matter for a wanton wit.
Thus I complain'd, but love unlock'd his quiver,
Took out the shaft, ordain'd my heart to shiver,
And bent his sinewy bow upon his knee,
Saying, Poet here's a work beseeming thee.
Oh, woe is me! he never shoots but hits,
I burn, love in my idle bosom sits:
Let my first verse be six, my last five feet;
Farewell stern war, for blunter poets meet!
Elegian muse, that warblest amorous lays,
Girt my shine brow, with seabank myrtle praise!
C. MARLOWE.
AMORUM, LIB. I. ELEGIA 3.
I ask but right, let her that conqu'd me late,
Either love, or cause that I may hate;
I crave too much-would she but let me love her;
Love knows with such like prayers I daily move her.
Accept him that will serve thee all his youth,
Accept him that will love thee with spotless truth.
If lofty titles cannot cause me to be thine,
That am descended but of knightly line;
(Soon may you plough the little lands I have;
I gladly grant my parents given to save ;)
Apollo, Bacchus, and the Muses may,
And Cupid who hath mark'd me for thy prey;
My spotless life, which but to gods gives place,
Naked simplicity, and modest grace.
I love but one, and he I love change never,
If men have faith, I'll live with thee for ever.
The years that fatal destiny shall give
I'll live with thee, and die, or thou shalt grieve.
Be thou the happy subject of my books
That I may write things worthy thy fair looks.
By verses horned Io got her name;
And she to whom in shape of Bull love came;
And she that on a feign'd Bull swam to land,
Griping his false horns with her virgin hand.
So likewise we will through the world be rung,
And with my name shall thine be always sung.
AMORUM, LIB. I. ELEGIA 5.
Corinnæ concubitus.
In summer's heat, and mid-time of the day,
To rest my limbs, upon a bed I lay;
One window shut, the other open stood,
Which gave such light, as twinkles in a wood,
Like twilight glimpse at setting of the sun
Or night being past, and yet not day begun;
Such light to shamefaced maidens must be shown
Where they sport, and seem to be unknown:
Then came Corinna in a long loose gown,
Her white neck hid with tresses hanging down,
Resembling fair Semiramis going to bed,
Or Lais of a thousand lovers spread,
I snatch'd her gown being thin, the harm was small, Yet striv'd she to be covered therewithal,
And striving thus as one that would be cast,
Betrayed herself, and yielded at the last.
Stark naked as she stood before mine eye,
Not one wen in her body could I spy.
What arms and shoulders did I touch and see,
How apt her breasts were to be press'd by me.
How smooth a belly, under her waist saw I,
How large a leg, and what a lusty thigh.
To leave the rest, all pleas'd me passing well,
I cling'd her fair white body, down she fell,
Judge you the rest, being tired she bade me kiss;
Jove send me more such afternoons as this!
AMORUM, LIB. III. ELEGIA 14.
Ad amicum si peccatura est, ut occulte peccet. Seeing thou art fair, I bar not thy false playing, But let not me poor soul wit of thy straying.
Nor do I give thee counsel to live chaste,
But that thou would'st dissemble when 'tis past.
She hath not trod awry that doth deny it ;
Such as confess have lost their good names by it.
What madness is't to tell night-sports by day,
Or hidden secrets openly to bewray,
The strumpet with the stranger will not do,
Before the room be clear, and door put-to.
Will you make shipwreck of your honest name?
And let the world be witness of the same.
Be more advis'd; walk as a puritan,
And I shall think you chaste do what you can.
Slip still, only deny it when 'tis done,
And before people immodest speeches shun.
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