Book II, Elegy 16

Of late, Cynthia, a praetor came from the land of Illyria, to thee the hugest plunder, to me the hugest care. Could he not have lost his life by the Ceraunian rocks? Ah, Neptune, what gifts would I have given thee!

Now feasts are spread on laden tables, and I am not there! Now all night long thy door stands open, but not for me! Wherefore, if thou art wise, neglect not the harvest offered thee and pluck thy stolid beast, while yet his fleece is whole! Then when his gifts are spent and he left poor, bid him set sail again to fresh Illyrias.

Cynthia follows not the rods of office, cares naught for honours; her lovers' purse she ever weighs as none other can. But do thou, Venus, aid me in my grief; let his insatiate lusts break all his strength.

So then shall any stranger purchase her love with gifts? Jove! 'tis an unworthy thing that such traffic should have power to corrupt the heart of woman. Ever she sends me to the marge of ocean to seek her gems, and bids me bring gifts from Tyre itself. Would that no men at Rome were wealthy and that our lord and master himself dwelt in a thatched cottage. Never then would one's mistress sell herself for a gift, but girls would grow grey in the house of one only lover. Never wouldst thou lie far from me for seven nights long, thy white arms lapped about so foul a lover; nor dost thou thus because I have sinned — to that I call thee to testify — but because the fair are ever faithless.

A barbarian shut out from bliss stamps at thy door, and lo! of a sudden a blessing falls on him and now he rules where I once reigned supreme.

See what bitter woe gifts brought to Eriphyla, and in what agony the bride Creusa burned! Will all the wrong thou dost me ne'er assuage my tears? or must this grief of mine attend thy sins for ever? So many days have past away since the theatre and the Campus lost all charms for me, and my table ceased to please. Yet truly shame, yea, shame should set me free! But perchance, as men say, dishonourable love is ever deaf. Behold the chief, who of late filled the waves of Actium with the fruitless groaning of the soldiers he dragged down to death! 'Twas infamous love bade him wheel his ships and turn his back to the foe and seek flight in the utmost bounds of earth. This is Caesar's claim to virtue, this Caesar's claim to glory; the hand that conquered sheathed the sword in peace.

But, oh that I may see all his gifts, the fine raiment, the emeralds and the yellow-gleaming chrysolite, borne by swift storms into empty space; may they become vile earth or water in thy hands! Not always does Jove calmly laugh at lovers' perjuries and turn a deaf ear to prayer. Thou hast perceived the thunderclap run through all the sky, and the levin bolt leap from its airy home. 'Tis neither the Pleiades nor dark Orion that brings these things to pass; 'tis not for nothing that the wrath of the lightning falls. 'Tis then that Jove is wont to punish faithless girls, since he also once wept for a woman's treachery. Wherefore count not thy Sidonian raiment worth the terror thou must feel whene'er the South Wind rolls up clouds of storm.