Elegy VI. Anno Aetates Undevigesimo.[1]

As yet a stranger to the gentle fires     That Amathusia's smiling Queen[2] inspires,     Not seldom I derided Cupid's darts,     And scorn'd his claim to rule all human hearts.     Go, child, I said, transfix the tim'rous dove,     An easy conquest suits an infant Love;     Enslave the sparrow, for such prize shall be     Sufficient triumph to a Chief like thee;     Why aim thy idle arms at human kind?     Thy shafts prevail not 'gainst the noble mind.                  The Cyprian[3] heard, and, kindling into ire,     (None kindles sooner) burn'd with double fire.          It was the Spring, and newly risen day     Peep'd o'er the hamlets on the First of May;     My eyes too tender for the blaze of light,     Still sought the shelter of retiring night,     When Love approach'd, in painted plumes arrayed;     Th'insidious god his rattling darts betray'd,     Nor less his infant features, and the sly     Sweet intimations of his threat'ning eye.                  Such the Sigeian boy[4] is seen above,     Filling the goblet for imperial Jove;     Such he, on whom the nymphs bestow'd their charms,     Hylas,[5] who perish'd in a Naiad's arms.     Angry he seem'd, yet graceful in his ire,     And added threats, not destitute of fire.     "My power," he said, "by others pain alone,     'Twere best to learn; now learn it by thy own!     With those, who feel my power, that pow'r attest!     And in thy anguish be my sway confest!             I vanquish'd Phoebus, though returning vain     From his new triumph o'er the Python slain,     And, when he thinks on Daphne,[6] even He     Will yield the prize of archery to me.     A dart less true the Parthian horseman[7] sped,     Behind him kill'd, and conquer'd as he fled,     Less true th'expert Cydonian, and less true     The youth, whose shaft his latent Procris slew.[8]     Vanquish'd by me see huge Orion bend,     By me Alcides,[9] and Alcides's friend.[10]                         At me should Jove himself a bolt design,     His bosom first should bleed transfix'd by mine.     But all thy doubts this shaft will best explain,     Nor shall it teach thee with a trivial pain,     Thy Muse, vain youth! shall not thy peace ensure,     Nor Phoebus' serpent yield thy wound a cure.[11]          He spoke, and, waving a bright shaft in air,     Sought the warm bosom of the Cyprian fair.          That thus a child should bluster in my ear     Provok'd my laughter more than mov'd my fear.             I shun'd not, therefore, public haunts, but stray'd     Careless in city, or suburban shade,     And passing and repassing nymphs that mov'd     With grace divine, beheld where'er I rov'd.     Bright shone the vernal day, with double blaze,     As beauty gave new force to Phoebus' rays.     By no grave scruples check'd I freely eyed     The dang'rous show, rash youth my only guide,     And many a look of many a Fair unknown     Met full, unable to control my own.                 But one I mark'd (then peace forsook my breast)     One--Oh how far superior to the rest!     What lovely features! Such the Cyprian Queen     Herself might wish, and Juno wish her mien.     The very nymph was she, whom when I dar'd     His arrows, Love had even then prepar'd.     Nor was himself remote, nor unsupplied     With torch well-trimm'd and quiver at his side;     Now to her lips he clung, her eye-lids now,     Then settled on her cheeks or on her brow.         And with a thousand wounds from ev'ry part     Pierced and transpierced my undefended heart.     A fever, new to me, of fierce desire     Now seiz'd my soul, and I was all on fire,     But she, the while, whom only I adore,     Was gone, and vanish'd to appear no more.     In silent sadness I pursue my way,     I pause, I turn, proceed, yet wish to stay,     And while I follow her in thought, bemoan     With tears my soul's delight so quickly flown.             When Jove had hurl'd him to the Lemnian coast[12]     So Vulcan sorrow'd for Olympus lost,     And so Oeclides, sinking into night,     From the deep gulph look'd up to distant light.[13]          Wretch that I am, what hopes for me remain     Who cannot cease to love, yet love in vain?     Oh could I once, once more, behold the Fair,     Speak to her, tell her of the pangs I bear,     Perhaps she is not adamant, would show     Perhaps some pity at my tale of woe.                     Oh inauspicious flame--'tis mine to prove     A matchless instance of disastrous love.     Ah spare me, gentle Pow'r!--If such thou be     Let not thy deeds, and nature disagree.     Now I revere thy fires, thy bow, thy darts:     Now own thee sov'reign of all human hearts.     Spare me, and I will worship at no shrine     With vow and sacrifice, save only thine.     Remove! no--grant me still this raging woe!     Sweet is the wretchedness, that lovers know:     But pierce hereafter (should I chance to see     One destined mine) at once both her and me.     ___________________________________________________________[14]     Such were the trophies, that in earlier days,     By vanity seduced I toil'd to raise,     Studious yet indolent, and urg'd by youth,     That worst of teachers, from the ways of Truth;     Till learning taught me, in his shady bow'r,     To quit love's servile yoke, and spurn his pow'r.     Then, on a sudden, the fierce flame supprest,     A frost continual settled on my breast,     Whence Cupid fears his flames extinct to see,     And Venus dreads a Diomede[15] in me.