Book I, Elegy 5: To Delia (Postgate)

I was angry. I vowed I could bear our severance well. But now my proud vaunting has left me far and far away. For I am driven as a top that springs before the lash over the level ground, whirled by a quick boy's practised art.

Bring brands and tortures for the untamed creature, that he may have no love of talking loud hereafter : quell his wild utterances.

Yet spare me, by the bonds of our stealthy union, I entreat thee, by our love and the head that has lain by mine. It was I, they say, whose vows snatched thee from peril when thou layest exhausted in sickness gloomy hold. It was I that scattered all about thee the cleansing sulphur, the beldame first chaunting her magic spell. I appeased the cruel Dreams that had thrice to be honoured with offering of holy meal, that they might work no harm.

In woollen headdress and ungirdled tunic I made nine vows to Trivia in the stilly night. All have I paid ; but another hath now my love. He is the fortunate one, and reaps the fruit of all my prayers. Yet I used to dream that, if thou wert spared, there would be a happy life for me. Madman ! a god said No.

"In the country" I said, "I will live. My Delia shall be there to keep watch upon the grain, while the threshing-floor winnows the harvest in the blazing sun ; or she shall watch the grapes in the brimming trough when the quick feet tread the gleaming must. She shall learn to count the flock ; she shall teach the prattling serf-child to play on a loving mistress' lap. To the god that tends the country she will know what gifts to offer — for vines a cluster, spiked ears for cornfield, drink offering for flock. All folk shall she direct, and all things be her care. I shall love to be but a cipher in the house. Hither shall come my own Messalla. From chosen trees shall Delia pull him down sweet fruit. In homage to his greatness she shall give him zealous tendance, and prepare and carry him the repast, herself his waiting-maid."

Such were my dreams and prayers, now tost from East Wind unto South over all Armenia's scented land.

Often have I sought to banish love's troubles with strong drink ; but pain turned all the wane to tears. Often have I held another in my arms ; but on the very brink of delight Love bade me think of my mistress and forsook me. Then the woman, departing; declared me bewitched, and spread the tale (oh, shame !) that my love was versed in unholy arts. Not by charms does my lass do this. 'Tis her beauty, soft arms and golden hair bewitch me. Such was Thetis, the sea-blue Nereid, when in old days she rode on her bridled fish to Peleus of Haemonia.

These charms have been my bane. A rich lover waits for the lass. So the crafty bawd is bent on my undoing. May the hag's food be mixed with blood. May the cup she puts to her gory lips be bitterly charged with gall. May ghosts flit round her always, bemoaning their fate, and the fierce vampire bird shrill from her roof ; and she herself, frantic from hunger's goad, hunt for weeds upon the graves and for bones which the wild wolves have left, and with middle bare run and shriek through the towns, and a savage troop of dogs from the crossways chase her from behind.

Thus shall it be. A god gives the sign. There are powers to guard the lover, and Love shows no ruth, when left for a lawless tie.

But do thou, Delia, with all speed leave the school of the grasping witch. There is no love that gifts will not master. The poor man will ever be at hand for thy service; he will come to thee first and cleave to thy tender side. The poor man, a trusty companion in the trooping crowds, will push below with his hands and make thee a way. The poor man [will take thee privately to the abodes of his friends] and himself unlace the boots from thy snowy feet.

Alas! in vain do I sing ; no words will win her door to open. Nay, the hand that knocks upon it must be filled.

But thou who art victor now must fear that my fate awaits thee. Chance turns lightly on her swift-rolling wheel. Not without reason even now some one stands patient on the threshold, looks oft id front, retreats, feigns to pass by the house, but soon runs back again alone, and hawks without cease before the very door. Stealthy Love has some scheme afoot. Take thy good, I beg, while thou mayst; for in calm waters is thy shallop.