Amores 3 15 wikisource autobiography

Amores 3 15 wikisource autobiography: ​P. OVI′DIUS NASO was born

Now you rush by, full of melted snow from the mountain, and your swollen waters roll on, in murky flood. All marvellous untruths told by ancient poets: things that never existed and never will. Rivers should help young people in love: rivers themselves have known what love is. Inachus ran pale for Melie the Bithynian they say, and his icy waves grew warm.

The ten-year war at Troy was not yet done, when Neaera dazzled your eyes, Xanthe. You too Peneus, spirited away Creusa, to Phthian country, she betrothed to Xutho. Calydon was not worth it, nor all Aetolia, Deinara alone was worth it, all the same. Rich Nile that flows through seven mouths, who hides so well the source of all his waters, could not conquer the flame Evanthe kindled, they say, with his swirling flood, she the daughter of Asopus.

Enipeus ordered his waters to abate, to embrace Salmonis, on dry land: he commanded and the waters receded. Why so dishevelled? Why wandering alone, with no white ribbon to tie back your hair? Why do you weep, reddening your wet eyes with tears, and why do you beat your naked breasts in frenzy? He who can look with indifference at the tears on your sweet face, has a heart of iron and flint.

Iliahave no fears! My palace waits for you, my waves will cherish you. Ilia, have no fears! She cast her modest gaze on the ground and sprinkled a shower of tears on her tender breast. Three times she tried to run, three times stood rooted, by those deep waters, fear robbing her of strength to flee. Why linger, be pointed out as an adulteress by the crowd?

Let the face of infamy die, that carries the mark of shame! They say the river placed his slippery hands on her breast, and gave her command over his marriage bed. I believe you also were warmed by some girl: but woods and groves hide your crime. Why rage at me? Why delay shared delights? Why rudely interrupt the road I started on? What thirsty passer-by could drink from you?

Alas for me then! Madly telling the loves of rivers! A shame to let fall such names disgracefully. For your services, I wish you, unclear torrents, devouring suns, and ever thirsty winters! Yet I held her, all in vain, completely slack, lay there a limp reproach, a burden to the bed: though I really wanted it, and the girl wanted it too, I could get no more from my exhausted parts.

She threw her ivory arms around my neck, arms whiter than the Scythian snows, struggling, she mingled tongues in eager kisses, and slipped a wanton thigh beneath my thigh, and spoke coaxing words, called me her master, and all those usual words that might help. Yet my member, as if touched by cold hemlock, was sluggish and denied my every effort: I lay an inert body, a sham, a useless weight, unsure whether I was a body or a ghost.

What old age will come, to me, if it does come, when youth itself amores 3 15 wikisource autobiographies me in this way? She rose like a holy priestess going to the eternal flame, like an elder sister leaving a beloved brother. Yet I lately had golden Chlide twice, Pitho the beautiful and Libas, three times without stopping: I remember Corinna, in one short night, demanded I keep it up for her nine times together.

Has some Thessalian poison weakened my cursed body?

Amores 3 15 wikisource autobiography: Every lover is a soldier,

Do charms and herbs hurt my poor self now, some witch transfixes my name in scarlet wax and sticks fine needles right into my liver? Charms turn the stricken wheat to barren grasses, charms stop the stricken waters at their source, through incantations oaks drop acorns, vines their grapes, and the apples fall down without being shaken. Add shame to it: the shame itself, of it, hurt me: that was the secondary cause of my failure.

But what a girl, whom I only saw and touched! Just as her slip itself touches her. At her touch Nestor might be made young again, and Tithonus stronger in old age. I held her, but she did not hold a man. What can I think of now to beg for in prayer? I wanted to be welcomed — I was truly welcome: to kiss — I kissed: to be near her — I was.

What was such good luck worth? Why have and not enjoy? Why eager for wealth and not possess its power? Has anyone ever risen early from his girl so he can go straight to the gods and pray? She could have moved heavy oak-trees, stirred hard adamant, or the deafest stones. What joy can deaf ears have when Phemis sings? What joy can blind Thamyras have in painted things?

But what silent delights my mind invented! What did I not imagine, all the various ways! You failed your master: I was left weaponless, through you, enduring sad hurt and great embarrassment. Either some Circean sorceress has bewitched you, or you come here wearied by another lover. Quae mihi ventura est, siquidem ventura, senectus, cum desit numeris ipsa iuventa suis?

Num mea Thessalico languent devota veneno corpora? At qualem vidi tantum tetigique puellam! Sed, puto, non blanda: non optima perdidit in me oscula; non omni sollicitavit ope! At quae non tacita formavi gaudia mente! Hanc etiam non est mea dedignata puella molliter admota sollicitare manu; sed postquam nullas consurgere posse per artes inmemoremque sui procubuisse videt, 'quid me ludis?

Et quisquam ingenuas etiamnunc suspicit artes, aut tenerum dotes carmen habere putat? Ecce, recens dives parto per vulnera censu praefertur nobis sanguine pastus eques! Iuppiter, admonitus nihil esse potentius auro, corruptae pretium virginis ipse fuit. Contra te sollers, hominum natura, fuisti et nimium damnis ingeniosa tuis. Memnona si mater, mater ploravit Achillem, et tangunt magnas tristia fata deas, flebilis indignos, Elegia, solve capillos!

Scilicet omne sacrum mors inportuna profanat, omnibus obscuras inicit illa manus! Quid vos sacra iuvant? Sed tamen hoc melius, quam si Phaeacia tellus ignotum vili supposuisset humo. Delia discedens 'felicius' inquit 'amata sum tibi; vixisti, dum tuus ignis eram. Annua venerunt Cerealis tempora sacri; secubat in vacuo sola puella toro. Te, dea, munificam gentes, ubi quaeque, loquuntur, nec minus humanis invidet ulla bonis.

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Amores 3 15 wikisource autobiography: Amores is Ovid's first completed book

Author Discussion. Read Edit View history. Tools Tools. In other projects. Find a new poet, mother of gentle Loves elegies! Mantua rejoices in Virgil, Verona in Catullus: I will be known as the glory of the Pelignian race, whom whose own liberty had gathered honest arms, when anxious Rome feared allied bands. Horned Bacchus clangs with a heavier wand: a greater space must be beaten by greater horses.