Book I, Elegy 1

Ah! woe is me! 'twas Cynthia first ensnared me with her eyes; till then my heart had felt no passion's fire. But then Love made me lower my glance of pride unbending, and with implanted feet bowed down my head, till of his cruelty he taught me to spurn all honest maids, and to live a life of recklessness.

A year has passed and my madness is not stayed, though my suit perforce endures the frown of heaven. Yet Milanion shrank not, Tullus, from any toils, howsoe'er hard, and so subdued the cruel heart of the unrelenting daughter of Iasus. For now he wandered love-distraught in the Parthenian caverns, and went to face the shaggy creatures of the wild. Nay, more, hard-stricken once by the club of Hylaeus, he groaned in agony on the rocks of Arcady. So at last was he able to conquer the swift-footed maid; such is the reward that prayers and loyal service win for love. But for me, slow-witted Love hath lost his craft and forgets to tread the paths that once he trod.

But ye who beguile men's hearts by luring the moon from heaven, and toil to solemnise dread rites on magic altars, go change my mistress' heart and make her cheeks grow paler than mine own. Then will I trust your claims to have power over stars and rivers to lead them whithersoever ye will by Colchian charms.

Or else do ye, my friends, that would recall me all too late from the downward slope, seek all the remedies for a heart diseased. Bravely will I bear the cruel cautery and the knife, if only I may win liberty to speak the words mine anger prompts. Ah! bear me far thro' nations and seas at the world's end, where never a woman may trace my path. Do ye abide at home, to whose prayer the god gives easy audience and answers "Yea," and either to other make equal response of love unperilous. Against me Venus, our common mistress, plies nights of bitterness, and Love that hath no respite faileth never.

Lovers, I warn ye all. Fly the woe that now is mine: cling each one to his own beloved, and never change when love has found its home. But if any all too late give ear to these my warnings, ah! with what agony will he recall my words!