That is not all: injury comes to us from him: we have both been wounded deeply, in fact. and every healing root, growing in the world. If you spare not yourself, spare the maid beloved by you, who never will be safe unless you are so! There was a war: he proudly withdrew, refusing battle. Helen to Paris if of Patroclus, dying in Achilles’s armour. Your mother, worthy, by her energy, of her son, bore you. The Heroides XII XII Medea to Jason. by her son, her hope and heir, the mother cursed him. The Greek heifer comes, who will destroy you house and lands! You may chide and be angry as much as you will, if only you let me enjoy you while you are angry. – you would have thought ill of my body, and now it would need no help; but I met with praise, and now I groan; now you two with your strife are my despair, and my own beauty itself wounds me. You lied about it all: for your lying tongue did not. Why, O tardy loiterer, are you so often away from me? so, no doubt, you could return quickly to my harm. or the supreme power entrusted to you by the sceptre. and their deaths not requiring your efforts, the watchful dragon guarding the hide of the ram. Scamander, rush backwards, turn your streams around! Me wrongs imaginary fret, while the real I cannot know, and either error stirs equal gnawings in my heart. [39] What, meanwhile, I say through so long a time, you ask? What land do you live in, or with whom do you delay so long? The words you read come from stolen Briseis, an alien who has learned some Greek. May the false swearing of my lady come upon my head, I pray; mine be the penalty, and she thus be safe! The Heroides (The Heroines), or Epistulae Heroidum (Letters of Heroines), is a collection of fifteen epistolary poems composed by Ovid in Latin elegiac couplets and presented as though written by a selection of aggrieved heroines of Greek and Roman mythology in address to their heroic lovers who have in some way mistreated, neglected, or abandoned them. What you are eager for, Leander – to swim is the sailor’s fear; ‘tis that follows ever on the wreck of ships. Ah me, my flattering speech was for a rival! You dared to embrace me, and, clinging to my neck. was sponsor and guarantor to me of marriage? She bewitches absent folk: she pierces wax effigies. 15. Set aside the gods, and the holy things you profane by touching! see, I was born the daughter of Thoas and of Ariadne. Go, now, and keep your name as a fond lover! Ovid (Publius Ovidius Naso, 43 BCE –17 CE), born at Sulmo, studied rhetoric and law at Rome.Later he did considerable public service there, and otherwise devoted himself to poetry and to society. Indeed, I now, lest I might be thought no child of Minos. He sits by me, indeed, as much as he may, but does not forget that mine is a virgin bed. Long to me is all delay that defers our joys. Allecto was there, entwined with tiny snakes. 5. Allow that death is fit punishment for this theft of you, it will be less than not to have possessed you. Don’t reply to me however: come yourself. download 19 Files download 10 Original. Then let us both from diverse ways come together in mid sea, and give each other kisses on the waters’ crest, and so return again each to his own town; ‘twill be little, but more than naught! [65] In fine, so only you are forced to confess yourself caught, be, if you will, a maid caught by my treachery. nor suffer my hair to be pulled out in your presence, with you saying lightly: ‘She too was mine.’. When he has touched the threshold, and sees tears and dread of death, and much that is far removed from the ways he keeps, with his own hand he tears the garlands from his brow and casts them forth, and dries the dense balsam from his glistening locks; he shames to stand forth glad in a gloomy throng, and the blush that was in his mantle passes to his cheeks. When have I not feared dangers worse than all realities? Yet neither Juno nor Hymen, but dismal bloodstained Erinys. [189] Do not believe that he whose destined wife I am lays his hand on me to fondle my sick limbs. Destroyed for others, Troy remains, for me alone. What lacks rest now and then, will not last: rest renews the powers, and restores weary limbs. Whether the earth is warmed by day, or the cold stars shine. In this series, Prof. Noe looks at the “Heroides” (The Heroines), a set of poems by Publius Ovidius Naso. 6. Excuse for past offence your ignorance will supply – the agreement you read had fallen from your mind. without the Thracian sea bringing Athenian ships. In the end my love is safe: here no war’s prepared. –. I took no oath – I read words that formed an oath; that was no way for you to be chosen to husband by me. 2. to be sent as a gift to some woman of Priam’s household. I saw my husband, how dear to me, spilled on the cruel earth. Immediately the perjury of your false tongue will strike you. Treacherous Theseus, following the guiding thread. Here two summers and two winters passed you by. See you relate in order how you first became known to me, while she was herself making sacrifice to the goddess of the quiver; how at sight of you, if perchance you noticed, I straight stood still with eyes fixed on your charms; and how, while I gazed on you too eagerly – sure mark of love’s madness – my cloak slipped from my shoulder and fell; how, after than, in some way came the rolling apple, with its treacherous words in clever character; and how, because they were read in holy Diana’s presence, you were bound by a pledge with deity to witness. And one seated at table describes the fierce battle, here mangled Hector scared the galloping horses.’. May the gods alter that! Often I have begged, impiously, of the gods that you be well. the reason for taking them all away, he was. Spare us, impetuous one, and mingle thy battles out upon the open deep! Tell me what I have done, except to love unwisely? In the twenty-one poems of the Heroides, Ovid gave voice to the heroines and heroes of epic and myth.These deeply moving literary epistles reveal the happiness and torment of love, as the writers tell of their pain at separation, forgiveness of infidelity or anger at betrayal. How could reading a letter harm you? [229] These words Phoebe, she of the darts, bade me in my dreams to write you; these words in my waking hours Love bade me write. and there are people who might believe him, saying: ‘It wasn’t Jason, but Medea of Phasis, Aeetes’s daughter, who stripped the golden fleece from the Phrixean ram’, Alcimede, your mother, doesn’t approve – seek her council! not knowing if she will be at all kind to me. strumming the Thracian lyre with your fingers. Agamemnon regrets his anger. Ah me, wretched, that I may not be the one to carry out the bidding of your doctors,6 and may not stroke your hands and sit at the side of your bed! Wounded chastity is restored. I have often wished I might return, deceiving my guard: but whoever might catch this timid girl, is an enemy. Atalanta, who lost the race by stopping for the golden apples dropped by Hippomenes. If I could praise the rest of your charms, I should be happier; yet I doubt not that the work is like in all its parts. It’s right and natural that shame is mingled with love: love ordered me to write, to say what shames me. Niobe, with the children of whom she boasted, was slain by Diana and Apollo. 2. to King Agamemnon – however this is your fault: when Eurybates and Talthybius both called to take me. and lays out all Greece, in mourning, before your feet. she could move woods, and natural rocks, from their place. nor to be spoken of as one of Priam’s many daughters: however Priam would not refuse to be father-in-law to a nymph. and runs clear to the last day of my existence: My husband, Sychaeus, died at the altar of his house. Original: This work was published before January 1, 1925, and is in the public domain worldwide because the author died at least 100 years ago. Were it a woman, and I should know, I should die of grieving, believe me; sin against me at once, if you desire my death! words of prayer, imagine that you can also see my tears! Ovid's Metamorphoses, tr. Can you embrace her, without fear, in the one bed. Love that comes late is deeper. The letter you read comes from Briseis, a captive: its Greek, hardly written well by … Why, but now when your life was in doubt, did your frightened parents weep with fear, whom you keep ignorant of your crime? [207] You write for leave to come and see me in my illness. that brings the cloud, when tomorrow’s dawn shines clear. say, wretch, with what look would you have gazed at me, and your children? and they rule in your palace, without restraint: they tear your possessions to pieces, and my heart. Grant forgiveness of my sin: he was worthy, he who deceived me: that it was him removes the evil from my offence. If you’ve no care for me: spare your child Iulus! Often lying on straw, and in the deep hay. Having conquered, he’ll give his cruel hand.’. Glancing at each other’s face, they questioned. Cydippe to Acontius. Where do you flee to? the conditions for peace, here too a place for arms. Nurse took it up, looked in amaze, and “Read it through!” she said. and kill so many men, with the help of one! Ah! so many nights, and no recall. Translated by A. S. Kline © Copyright 2001 All Rights Reserved. 5. It may be the loving mother of Helle has come to the sea, and is lamenting in downpouring tears the drowning of her child1 – or is the step-dame, turned to a goddess of the waters, vexing the sea that is called by her step-child’s hated name?2 This place, such as ‘tis now, is aught but friendly to tender maids; by these waters Helle perished, by them my own affliction comes. Then you were truly cautious, and thinking first of me! Yet, instead of safety, conspicuous action pleased you. Grant a little space to your cruelty, and the sea: a safe path in future will be the great reward for your delay. Homer, Ovid and Heroides 1.15–16 - Volume 32 - Michael Kelly. Ah, may I rather perish than be wounded by such a crime, may fate overtake me ere you incur that guilt! 11. i.e. and the wild boar fall, pierced by your opposing spear: may the nymphs, though you’re said to hate the girls. I would have been Medea to Medea. I love! nor was Lemnos the kingdom of old Colchian King Aeetes. I’m not worth so much that you should perish, unjustly. I’d consider Hippolytus preferable to Jove! where would you find a wife, to love you like this? [93] This further – however much that writing of mine was a wrong to you, it is not I alone, you must know, of whom you have cause to complain. A great wonder in its time; built by Apollo of the horns of his sister’s sacrificial victims. 1. Thrice now has Hymenaeus come to the altars reared for me and fled, turning his back upon the threshold of my wedding-chamber; the lights so oft replenished by his lazy hand scarce rise again, scarce does he keep the torch alight by waving it. possunt MSS. and one punishment will destroy the two of us. escaped the labyrinth with the help of Ariadne, my sister. and your eyes will meet with my unburied body. If I now said to you: ‘Bravest, you too swear to me. Yet why should you come to me? and twelve horses, always accustomed to winning. You’re still determined to go, abandoning wretched Dido. He groans and sighs in his silent breast, for he suffers my displeasure without deserving it. CANACE TO MACAREUS [1] If aught of what I write is yet blotted deep and escapes your eye, ‘twill be because the little roll has been stained by its mistress’ blood. Did you return at my prayers, returning with another? and look out on your people from its high fortress? Let her find a husband from the Don, or the damp Scythian marshes. Akontion, a javelin, iaculum. Then, drawing with whirling spindle the twisted thread, with woman’s art we beguile the slow hours of waiting. which never ceases to be strung, grows slack. 7. I who cause it will likewise assuage the wrath I stirred, let me but have a slight chance of appeasing you. Ask your brother Hector, or Deiphobus or Polydamas. You’ll go - O pity me! might offer him the substance of my affections. with what great waves the shores are beaten, and what dark clouds envelop and hide the day! The arrows of the one of them have already wounded me; that the darts of the other wound not you, take heed! And now I had passed Myconos, now Tenos and Andros, and Delos gleamed3 before my eyes. Where’s the marriage oath. and you might have been betrayed yourself, by your rules: The swift Satyrs, with hasty foot, an insolent crowd, searched for me (I hid secretly in the woods). In a word, even grant you could compare their hazards, regard the issue – for she lies ill, and he is strong. the heart of a lover was chilled like ice. Or does your new wife forbid it? and how were so many oaths in one lying mouth? If you injure one you love, ‘twill be reason to love your foe – to save me, I pray you, will to wish my doom! the wife hangs on her husband’s words as he speaks. If Juno yielded me Jupiter, her husband and brother. were to be marked by this unaccustomed stain. Hero to Leander That day harmed me, when a sudden dark rainstorm. Already have I wearied enough with the pen my weakened members, and my sick hand refuses longer its office. To win their health, some maids submit to steel and fire; to others, bitter juices bring their gloomy aid. The storm I wished the pledge of your sorrows until you ’ join..., Absyrtus is greater of Diana, your weapons imitate Diana ’ s cast,... Be freely reproduced, stored and transmitted, electronically or otherwise, for any non-commercial purpose often, as attempt... ] who gave you oars so that one was betrayed by her son, bore you a tight circle or!, hair dishevelled will die, and the prudent reasoning of the absent, and love, was naked... Went away avail to you now s no ram here with a dowry and. Of death but the one thing you complain of fickle winds felled, and our joys be and. Smile upon your venture ; child of Minos born in Greece, in Phthia, or hills, or whom. Goddess whose joy is the jealous storm that beats you back the maiden pledged you is not fit! Say this timidly to the brother, believe me earn praise a breeze! Look, a little, of your going order me, and guilt will earn praise whoever your! 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