Amores I.13

She is coming already over the ocean from her too-ancient husband — she of the golden hair who with rimy axle brings the day.

" Whither art thou hasting, Aurora? Stay! — so may his birds each year make sacrifice to the shades of Memnon their sire in the solemn combat! 'Tis now I delight to lie in the tender arms of my love; if ever, 'tis now I am happy to have her close by my side. Now, too, slumber is deep and the air is cool, and birds chant liquid song from their slender throats. Whither art thou hasting, O unwelcome to men, unwelcome to maids? Check with rosy hand the dewy rein!

" Before thy rising the seaman better observes his stars, and does not wander blindly in mid water; at thy coming rises the wayfarer, however wearied, and the soldier fits his savage hands to arms. Thou art the first to look on men tilling the field with the heavy mattock; thou art the first to summon the slow-moving steer beneath the curved yoke. Thou cheatest boys of their slumbers and givest them over to the master, that their tender hands may yield to the cruel stroke; and likewise many dost thou send as sponsors before the court, to undergo great losses through a single word. Thou bringest joy neither to lawyer nor to pleader; each is ever compelled to rise for cases new. 'Tis thou, when women might cease from toil, who callest back to its task the hand that works the wool.

" I could endure all else — but who, unless he were one without a maid, could bear that maids should rise betimes? How often have I longed that night should not give place to thee, that the stars should not be moved to fly before thy face! How often have I longed that either the wind should break thine axle, or thy steed be tripped by dense cloud, and fall! O envious, whither dost thou haste? The son born to thee was black, and that colour was the hue of his mother's heart.

Would Tithonus were free to tell of thee; no woman in heaven would be known for greater shame. Flying from him because long ages older, thou risest early from the ancient man to go to the chariot-wheels he hates. Yet, hadst thou thy favoured Cephalus in thy embrace, thou wouldst cry : ' Run softly, steeds of night! '

Why should I be harried in love because thy mate is wasting with years? Didst thou wed an ancient man because I made the match? Look, how many hours of slumber has Luna bestowed upon the youth she loves! — and her beauty is not second to thine. The very father of the gods, that he need not see thee so oft, made two nights into one to favour his desires."

I had brought my chiding to an end. You might know she had heard : she blushed — and yet the day arose no later than its wont!