Book IV, Elegy 11

Cease, Paullus, to burden my grave with tears: no prayers may open the gate of darkness; when once the dead have passed beneath the rule of Hell the ways are barred with inexorable adamant. Though thine entreaty reach the ears of the god that reigns in the house of gloom, the shores of Styx shall drink thy tears unmoved. Heaven only is won by supplication: when the ferryman has received his toll, the pale portal closes on the world of shadows. Such was the burden of the trumpets' strain, when the loathed torch was placed beneath my pyre and the flames engulfed my head.

What availed me the wedded love of Paullus? what the triumphal chariot of mine ancestors, or those that live to bear witness to their mother's glory? Cornelia found not therefore the Fates less cruel, and lo! I am now but one little handful of dust. Dark night of doom, and ye, O shallow, stagnant meres, and every stream that winds about my feet, guiltless, though untimely, am I come hither, and may Father Dis deal gentle judgment to my soul. Else, if there be an Aeacus who sits in judgment with the urn at his side, let him punish my shade when the lot bearing my name is drawn. Let the two brothers sit by him, and near the seat of Minos let the stern band of Furies stand, while all the court is hushed to hear my doom. Sisyphus, be thou freed awhile from thy huge stone! Hushed be Ixion's wheel! And thou, baffling water, be thou caught by the lips of Tantalus! To-day let cruel Cerberus attack no shade, let his chain hang slack from its silent bar! Myself I plead my cause. If I plead falsely, let the woeful urn that is the Danaid sisters' doom bow down my shoulders!

If ancestral trophies have e'er won glory for any, why, then, the statues of my house tell of Numantine ancestry, while yonder is gathered a not less glorious band, the Libones of my mother's line: on either side my house is pillared with glory. Such was my birth; thereafter when the maid's robe of purple was laid aside before the torch of marriage, and a new wreath caught up and bound my hair, I was wedded to thy couch, my Paullus, doomed alas! to leave it thus. Behold the legend on this stone: "To one and one alone was she espoused." I call to witness the ashes of my sires, revered, O Rome, by thee; beneath their glory's record thou, Africa, liest beaten to the dust.... [I call the chiefs of Carthage and the East] and Perseus, whose soul was spurred by the thought that he came of Achilles' line and of his that shattered thy halls, Avernus, to witness that the censor's ordinance was ne'er relaxed for me and that my hearth ne'er blushed for sin of mine. Cornelia ne'er dimmed the lustre of such spoils of war; nay, even in that great house she was a pattern to be followed.

My life was changeless; through all its days it knew no slander: 'twixt torch of marriage and torch of death ours was a life of high renown. The laws I followed sprang from pride of blood: 'twas nature gave me them, that no fear of judgment might lead me toward virtue. I care not who the judges be that pass stern sentence on me; no woman shall be shamed by sitting at my side, not thou, Claudia, the peerless servant of the tower-crowned goddess, that didst lay hold of the cable and move Cybelle's lagging image, nor thou whose white linen robe showed that the hearth still lived, when Vesta demanded the fire thou hadst sworn to keep. Nor yet in aught have I wronged thee, sweet mother mine, Scribonia: what wouldst thou have me change save only my doom? My mother's tears and the laments of Rome give glory to my name and mine ashes are championed by the grief of Caesar. Moaning he cries that in me his daughter had a worthy sister, and we saw that even a god may weep.

Yet well did I merit the robe of honour, nor childless was the household whence I was snatched away. Thou, Lepidus, and thou, Paullus, are my comfort even in death; in your bosom were mine eyelids closed. My brother also I saw twice throned in the curule chair, and 'twas in the very hour of rejoicing, when they chose him consul, that I his sister was rapt away. And thou, my daughter, born to be the mirror of thy father's censorship, see thou follow mine example and wed one and one only. My children, get you children also to be pillars of the house: I grudge not now to put forth in the boat of death, since so many of my blood shall add fresh lustre to my deeds. This is the supreme honour of a woman's triumph, that outspoken rumour should praise her dead ashes.

And now to thee, Paullus, I commend our children, the common pledges of our love: this care yet lives deep-burned even into mine ashes. Father, 'tis thine to fill the mother's room; thy neck alone must bear all my children's throng. When thou dost kiss their tears away, add thereto their mother's kisses; henceforth the whole house must be thy burden. And if thou must weep at all, weep when they are not by; when they come to thee, cheat their kisses with tearless eye. Enough for thee, Paullus, be the nights thou wearest out with memories of me, enough the dreams wherein so oft thou thinkest to see my very self: and when in secret thou shalt speak unto mine image, breathe every word as though to one that should reply.

Yet if another couch shall front the portals of our hall, and a wary stepdame usurp my bed, my sons, praise and endure your father's spouse; your virtues shall win her heart to yield. Nor praise your mother overmuch: she will be angered if in unguarded speech ye compare her with her that was. Or if he forget me not, if my shade sufficeth him and he still doth prize mine ashes, learn even now to note how old age steals upon him, and leave no path for grief to assail his widowed heart. May the years that were snatched from me be added to your years; thus may my children's presence sweeten old age for Paullus. Aye, and 'tis well: ne'er did I don a mother's mourning weeds; all, all my children came to my graveside. My pleading is accomplished; rise, ye my witnesses that weep my loss, and wait Earth's kindly sentence that shall give the reward my life hath earned. Even heaven hath unbarred its gates to virtue; may my merit win its guerdon and mine ashes be borne to dwell with my glorious ancestors.