Part 8 (2/2)

”O, where are Delphi and its train?

”The Sibyl, whither fled?”

Happy the days, forever flown, When even immortal G.o.ds could dare Proudly to serve at Venus' throne, Nor blushed her chain to wear!

”Irreverent fables!” I am told.

But lovers true these tales receive: Rather a thousand such they hold, Than loveless G.o.ds believe.

O Ceres, who didst charm away My Nemesis from life in Rome, May barren glebe thy pains repay And scanty harvest come!

A curse upon thy merry trade!

Young Bacchus, giver of the vine!

Thy vine-yards have ensnared a maid Far sweeter than thy wine.

Let herbs and acorns be our meat!

Drink good old water! Better so Than that my fickle beauty's feet To those far hills should go!

Did not our sires on acorns feed, And love-sick rove o'er hill and dale?

Our furrowed fields they did not need, Nor did love's harvest fail.

When pa.s.sion did their hearts employ, And o'er them breathed the blissful hour, Mild Venus freely found them joy In every leafy bower.

No chaperone was there, no door Against a lover's sighs to stand.

Delicious age! May Heaven restore Its customs to our land!

Nay, take me! In my lady's train Some stubborn field I fain would plough Lay on the lash and clamp the chain!

I bear them meekly now.

ELEGY THE FOURTH

ON HIS LADY'S AVARICE

A woman's slave am I, and know it well.

Farewell, my birthright! farewell, liberty!

In wretched slavery and chains I dwell, For love's sad captives never are set free.

Whether I smile or curse, love just the same Brands me and burns. O, cruel woman, spare!

O would I were a rock, to 'scape this flame Far off upon the frosty mountains there!

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