Book I, Elegy 6: To Delia (Postgate)

Love, thou dost always meet me with smiling visage to draw me on; but after that, poor wretch, I find thee frowning and angry. What hast thou to do with me, cruel boy ? Is there great glory to a god in laving snares for a man ?

For the net is spread to take me ; now cunning Delia clasps a gallant covertly in the hush of night. She denies it, indeed, and on oath ; but 'tis hard to believe her. Thus touching me, too, she denies every hour to her husband. Poor wretch, it was I who taught her the ways of tricking her watchers, and now alas ! by my own craft am I sore bestead. Then learned she how to frame excuses for lying alone, and then how to turn the door without a sound from the hinges. Then I gave her juices and herbs to efface the dark signs which the teeth in love's communion imprint upon the flesh.

And thou, the unwary mate of a faithless wife, watching me with the rest that she may never sin, take care that she talk not much or oft with young men, nor use nods to deceive thee, or recline with loose robe and bosom bare ; and see she take not wine on her fingers and trace signs on the table's round. Have thy fears when she goes out often, or if she say that she would witness the rites of the Good Goddess which no male must go nigh.

But trust her to my keeping ; and I, I only., will attend her to that altar. Then for my eyes need I have no fear.

Many a time on the plea of judging her gem and its image can I remember how I touched her hand. Many a time my neat wine has put thee to sleep whilst drank in triumph the sober cup of substituted water. I did not wrong thee of purpose — forgive me, now I own it — 'twas at Love's bidding. And who may fight against a god? It was I — nor will I blush to speak the truth — whom thy dog was menacing the whole night through !

What good is a gentle wife to thee ? If thine own treasures thou canst not guard, the key is vainly turned in the door. Her arms are round thee ; but her sighs are for another, an absent love. And of a sudden she feigns the throes of headache.

Thou shouldst trust her to my keeping. Then I recoil not from torturing stripes, nor shrink from shackles on my feet. Then far.be ye all who dress your hair with art and whose togas fall slack with copious folds. And let whosoever meets us, that no sin may be his, [stand aloof or pass by another road.]

That this be done doth God himself command ; and this hath the great priestess revealed to me with voice inspired. She, when Bellona's impulse drives her, fears in that frenzy neither searching flames nor twisted scourge. Fiercely with axe in hand she hacks at her own arms. With the gushing blood is the goddess sprinkled ; but she goes without scathe. Erect with wounds on her breast, erect with the spit standing out from her side, she chaunts the words of fate that the great goddess prompts. " See to it that ye do no despite to the maid whom love doth guard; lest hereafter a great mischief lesson you to your woe. If any touch her, his fortune shall waste as the blood doth from my wound, and as these ashes are scattered by the wind."

And for thee, my Delia, she named a punishment. If notwithstanding thou shouldst I pray let her be merciful. Not for thyself do I spare thee. It is thy aged mother moves me; before her golden nature sinks my wrath. She brings me to thee in the dark, and in fear and trembling secretly and silently she joins our hands. Long life to thee still, dear dame. Did but heaven allow, to thy stock of years would I add my own. I will love thee always, and thy daughter for thy sake ; whatever she does, she is of thy blood after all. Only teach her to be chaste, though no band of the matrons' fillets confines her hair, nor their long robe her feet.

And for me let there be hard terms; let me never praise a woman without her flying at my eyes, and if she should think I have done her wrong, let me be taken by the hair, though I be guiltless, and pitched forward down the steep. I would not wish to strike thee, Delia, but if such madness come to me, I would pray to have no hands. Yet be not chaste through cruel fear, but by loyal heart ; and when absent, let love on thy side keep thee safe for me.

[The faithful have their reward.] But she whom no one has found true, thereafter poor and bowed with age draws out the twisted yarn with shaking hand and for hire fastens firm the leashes to the loom and pulls and cleans the handfuls of snowy wool. The troops of young are glad at heart to see her plight, and declare that she deserves to suffer so many woes in age. Venus from her throne on high Olympus looks upon her weeping, and bids us mark how sharp she is with the faithless. Upon others, Delia, let these curses fall : but let us twain still be pattern lovers when our hair is white.