Book I, Elegy 11

Cynthia, while thou tak'st thine ease in Baiae's midst, where the causeway built by Hercules lies stretched along the shore, and now marvellest at the waves that wash Thesprotus' realm, now at those that spread hard by renowned Misenum, dost thou ever think that I, alas! pass weary nights haunted by memories of thee? Hast thou room for me even in the outer borders of thy love? Has some enemy with empty show of passion stolen thee away from thy place in my songs? Would rather that some little boat, trusting in tiny oars, kept thee safe on the Lucrine lake, or that the waters yielding with ease to the swimmer's either hand held thee retired by the shallow waves of Teuthras, than that thou shouldst listen at ease to the fond murmurs of another as thou liest soft reclined on the silent strand; for when there is none to watch her a maid will break her troth and go astray, remembering not the gods of mutual love. Not that I doubt thee, for I know that thy virtue is well tried, but at Baiae all love's advances give cause for fear. Pardon me, therefore, if my books have brought thee aught of bitterness; lay all the blame upon my fear. For I watch not over my beloved mother more tenderly than over thee, nor without thee would life be worth a thought.

Thou only, Cynthia, art my home, thou only my parents, thou art each moment of my joy. Be I gay or grave to the friends I meet, whate'er my mood, I will say: "Cynthia was the cause." Only do thou with all speed leave the lewd life of Baiae; to many a loving pair shall those shores bring severance, shores that have aye proved ill for modest maids. Perish the Baian waters, that bring reproach on love!