Book II, Elegy 4: Female Covetousness: To Nemesis (Postgate)

Here see I slavery and mistress waiting for me. Now, ancient freedom of my fathers, fare thee well. Yea, harsh slavery is my lot — chains to hold me and Love that never slackens the wretched prisoner's bonds, and burns me whether I have deserved to suffer or have done no wrong. Ah, how I burn ! Take the torch away, thou cruel girl.

Oh, not to feel such pangs as these, would I were rather a stone on the bleak hills or cliff exposed to the frenzy of the winds on which beats the ship-wrecking wave of the desolate sea. Now bitter is the day and bitterer still the shades of night, for every moment is steeped in acrid gall.

Nor doth elegy help or Apollo, inspirer of my song. Her hollowed palm is ever stretched out for gold. Away, ye Muses, if ye have no aid for the lover; I court you not that I may sing of wars. Nor tell I of the goings of the Sun, nor how when she has accomplished her circuit the Moon wheels her horses and returns. Easy access to my lady is all I seek by song. Off with ye, Muses, if the song is of no avail.

Yet by crime and slaughter must I get gifts, that I may not lie lamenting before closed doors. Or I must seize the ornaments that hang in holy temples. But Venus must I pillage first. Tis she that prompts the evil deed, 'tis she that gives me a grasping mistress; so let her feel my sacrilegious hands.

Ah, ruin to all who gather the emeralds green or with Tyrian purple dye the snowy sheepskin. The stuffs of Cos and the bright pearl from out of the red seas sow greed in lasses. Tis these have made them evil. From these hath the door learned to feel the key, and the dog been set to guard the threshold. But if thou comest with a great fee, keys are no hindrance, and the very dog is mute. Ah, that god who gave beauty to the covetous girl, what a pearl did he bring to a herd of mischiefs ! From this comes the noise of weeping and of bickering. This, in brief, is the cause that Love now roams the earth dishonoured.

But thou, that dost shut out lovers whom gold has vanquished, may wind and fire sweep off the wealth that thou hast gained. Nay, may the young then see thy house ablaze, and none bestir himself to put water on the fire. Or, if 'tis death that comes to thee, let there be none to mourn thee or come with offering to thy woful burial. But she that has been kind and free from greed, though she live a hundred years, shall be wept by the burning pyre. And some aged man in homage to his ancient love will yearly place a garland on her mounded tomb, and, as he goes, will say : Sleep well and peacefully, and above thy untroubled ashes let the earth be light. "

Tis a true warning ; but of what help is the truth to me? I must ply my love as she ordains. Yea, if she bid me sell the home of my forefathers, then, gods of the household, ye must stoop to be labelled at her word. All Circe's, all Medea's potions, all the herbs that the land of Thessaly bears, even the hippomanes which drips from the yearning mare when Venus breathes passion into unbridled herds, yea, a thousand herbs beside may my Nemesis mingle in the draught, and, so she look kindly on me, I will drink.