Book II, Elegy 5

Is this true, Cynthia, that through all Rome thy name is a byword, and that thou livest in open wantonness? Did I deserve to look for this? Faithless one, I will punish thee, and the wind shall bear me, Cynthia, to some other haven. Though all womankind be deceitful, yet out of so many I shall find one that will be glad to be made famous by my song, that will not with heart hard as thine heap insult on my head, but will revile thy name. Alas! loved for so long, too late will fall thy tears!

Now is mine anger fresh, now is the time to part from thee: when the smart is over, believe me, love will return. Not so swiftly do the Carpathian waves change their hue beneath the North Wind's blasts, not so swiftly veers the dark storm-cloud before the South-West's shifting gale, as one word will lightly change the wrath of lovers. While yet thou mayst, Propertius, withdraw thy neck from the unjust yoke. Somewhat wilt thou suffer, but only on the first night; so but thou wilt endure, all love's ills are light.

But oh! by the sweet laws of our mistress Juno do thou, my life, spare by thy waywardness to harm thyself. Not only the bull strikes at its foe with curved horn; even the ewe when hurt resists the aggressor. I will not rend thy raiment from thy faithless limbs, nor shall my anger break down the doors thou barrest against me; I would not venture in my wrath to tear thy plaited tresses, nor bruise thee with cruel fist. Let some boor seek combats base as this, around whose head the ivy ne'er hath twined. I will but write words, that thy lifetime shall not see effaced: "Cynthia, mighty is thy beauty; Cynthia, light are thy words." Believe me, though thou spurn the whisper of scandal, this verse will drive the colour from thy cheek.