Book I, Elegy 3

Like as the maid of Cnossus lay swooning on the desert strand whilst the bark of Theseus sped swift away, or as Andromeda, child of Cepheus, sank into her first sleep, freed at last from her hard couch of rock, or as the Thracian maenad, no less foredone by the unending dance, lies sunk in slumber on the grassy banks of Apidanus, even so, meseemed, did Cynthia breathe the spirit of gentle rest, her head propped on faltering hands, when I came dragging home my reeling feet, drunken with deep draughts of wine, and the slaves were shaking their dying torches in the gloom of night far-spent.

Not yet were all my senses drowned, and I strove to approach her where she lay, and lightly pressed against her couch. And although a twofold frenzy had laid hold upon me, and the two inexorable gods of wine and love urged on this side and on that, with gentle touch I tried to pass mine arm about her where she lay, and with outstretched hand take passionate toll of kisses; yet I had not dared to break in upon my mistress' rest (for I feared the bitter chidings of that cruel tongue, so oft endured by me), but fixed my gaze upon her with tireless eyes, even as Argus glared on the strange horned brow of the daughter of Inachus. And now I loosed the chaplets from my brow and placed them, Cynthia, about thy head, and now rejoiced to compose thy straying locks; and stealthily with hollowed hands gave thee apples, and on thy thankless slumbers lavished every gift, gifts poured abundantly from my bosom as I bowed above thee. And if at times thou didst move and sigh, I started for fear (though vain was the presage which won my belief) that visions of the night brought thee strange terrors or that some phantom-lover constrained thee to be his against thy will.

But at last the moon gliding past the windows over against her couch, the officious moon with lingering light, opened her fast-closed eyes with its gentle beams. Then with elbow propped on the soft couch she cried:

"At length another's scorn has driven thee forth and closed the doors against thee and brought thee home to my bed once more. For where hast thou passed long hours of the night, that was plighted to me, thou that comest to me outworn when the stars — ah, me! — are driven from the sky? Mayst thou, cruel heart, endure the long agony of nights such as ever thou bidst me broken-hearted keep. For but now I was beguiling mine eyes from slumber with purple broidery, and then, work-wearied, with the music of Orpheus' lyre. And ever and anon, left thus forlorn, I made gentle moan unto myself, that oft thou lingerest locked in another's arms, till at the last I sank down and sleep fanned my limbs with kindly wings. That was my last thought amid my tears."