Book I, Elegy 5

Envious, hush now at length thy unwelcome prayers, and let us go hand in hand along the path that now we tread. What wouldst thou, madman? Wouldst thou suffer frenzies such as mine? Poor wretch, thou hastest to acquaint thyself with the worst of ills, to tread on hidden fire to thy sorrow and drink all Thessaly's store of poison. Shouldst thou compare her, she is not like those flighty loves of thine; her anger is no light thing. Nay, even if perchance she frown not wholly on thy prayers, yet what a world of care she will bring thee! No more will she suffer thee to sleep nor thine eyes to range at will; she, as none other, can bind the fierce of heart. Ah, how often wilt thou run to my doors a rejected suitor, when thy brave speech shall fail for sobs, and a chill shuddering and bitter weeping shall come upon thee, when fear shall trace disfiguring lines upon thy face, and the words thou wouldst speak die on thy lips in the midst of thy complaining and thou canst no more tell, poor wretch, who or where thou art!

Then shalt thou be constrained to know how bitter a thing it is to bear my mistress' yoke, and what it means to return homeward when her doors are barred. Not any more shalt thou marvel so oft at the pallor of my face nor wherefore my whole frame is wasted into naught. Nor will thy high birth avail thee in thy love: Love scorns to yield to ancient ancestry. But if thou givest but the least sign of faithlessness, how soon will thy name, so powerful now, be a mere byword! I shall not then be able to console thee when thou comest asking aid, for mine own woe is cureless, but we shall be constrained, comrades in love and woe, to weep tears of sympathy, either on other's breast. Wherefore cease, Gallus, to seek to learn my Cynthia's power. Heavy the toll they pay in answer to whose prayer she comes.