HKB
jealous folly provoke her. Juno's self, a supreme glory celestial, oft 140 Crushes her eager rage, in wedlock-injury flaring, Knowing yet right well Jove, what a losel is he. (140)
Yet, for a man with Gods shall never lawfully match him . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 145 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 150 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 155 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 160 . . . . . . . . . . . Lift thy father, a weak burden, unholpen, abhorr'd. Not that a father's hand my love led to me, nor odours Wafted her home on rich airs, of Assyria born; Stealthy the gifts she gave me, a night unspeakable o'er us, 165 (145) Gifts from her husband's dreams verily stolen, his own. Then 'tis enough for me, if mine, mine only remaineth That one day, whose stone shines with an happier hue.
So, it is all I can, take, Allius, answer, a little Verse to requite thy much friendship, a contrary boon. 170 (150) So your household names no rust nor seamy defacing Soil this day, that new morrow, the next to the last. Gifts full many to these heaven send as largely requiting, Gifts Themis ever wont deal to the pious of yore. Joys come plenty to thee, to thy own fair lady together, 175 (155) Come to that house of mirth, come to the lady within; Joy to the forward friend, our love's first fashioner, Anser, Author of all this fair history, founder of all. Lastly beyond them, above them, on her more lovely than even Life, my lady, for whose life it is happy to be. 180 (160)
LXIX.
Rufus, it is no wonder if yet no woman assenting Softly to thine embrace tender a delicate arm. Not tho' a gift should seek, some robe most filmy, to move her; Not for a cherish'd gem's clarity, lucid of hue.
Deep in a valley, thy arms, such evil story maligns thee, 5 Rufus, a villain goat houses, a grim denizen. All are afraid of it, all; what wonder? a rascally creature, Verily! not with such company dally the fair.
Slay, nor pity the brute, our nostril's rueful aversion. Else admire not if each ravisher angrily fly. 10
LXX.
Saith my lady to me, no man shall wed me, but only Thou; no other if e'en Jove should approach me to woo; Yea; but a woman's words, when a lover fondly desireth, Limn them on ebbing floods, write on a wintery gale.
LXXII.
Lesbia, thou didst swear thou knewest only Catullus, Cared'st not, if him thine arms chained, a Jove to retain. Then not alone I loved thee, as each light lover a mistress, Lov'd as a father his own sons, or an heir to the name.