What forbids me to apply illustrations from great matters to small ones, and not to be standing in awe of the name of a general? To this person the skilful general has entrusted a hundred to be ruled with the twig of vine; [1108] to this one so many cavalry; to that one he has given the standard to defend. Do you, too, consider, to what use each of us is suited, and class each one in his assigned position. Let the rich man give his presents; let him that professes the law, defend; the eloquent man may often plead the cause of his client. We who compose verse, verses alone let us contribute. This throng, before all others, is susceptible of love. Far and wide do we herald the praises of the beauty that pleases us. Nemesis [1109] has fame; Cynthia, too, has fame. The West and the lands of the East know of Lycoris: and many a one is enquiring who my Corinna is. Besides, all deceit is wanting in the hallowed. Poets, and even our art contributes to forming our manners. No ambition influences us, no love of gain; despising the Courts, the couch and the shade are the objects of our commendation. But we are easily attracted, and are consumed by a lasting heat; and we know how to love with a constancy most enduring. Indeed, we have our feelngs softened by the gentle art; and our manners are in conformity with our pursuits.
Be kind, ye fair, to the Aonian bards. In them there is inspiration, and the Pierian maids show favour unto them. In us a Divinity exists: and we have intercourse with the heavens. From the realms of the skies does that inspiration proceed. 'Tis a crime to look for a present from the learned Poets. Ah wretched me! of this crime no fair one stands in dread. Still, do act the dissemblers, and at the very first sight, do not be ravenous. On seeing your nets, a new lover will stop short. But neither can the rider manage with the same reins the horse which has but lately felt the bridle, and that which is well-trained; nor yet must the same path be trod by you in order to captivate the feelings that are steadied by years, and inexperienced youth.
The latter is raw, and now for the first time known in the camp of Love, who, a tender prey, has reached your chamber; with you alone is he acquainted; to you alone would he ever prove constant. Shun a rival; so long as you alone shall possess him, you will be the conqueror. Both sovereignties and love do not last long with one to share in them. The other, the veteran soldier, will love you gradually, and with moderation; and he will put up with much that will not be endured by the novice. He will neither break down your door-posts, nor burn them with raging flames; nor will he fly at the tender cheek of his mistress with his nails. He will neither tear his own clothes, nor yet the clothes of the fair; nor will her torn locks be a cause for grieving. These things befit boys, who are heated with youthful years and with passion: the other, with tranquil feelings, will put up with cruel wounds. With slowly consuming fires will he smoulder, just like a damp torch; or like the wood that has been cut down upon the mountain ridge. This passion is more sure; the former is short-lived and more bounteous. With speedy hand do you pluck the fruit that passes away.
Let all points be surrendered; the gates we have opened to the enemy, and let confidence be placed in this perfidious betrayal. That which is easily conceded, but badly supports a lasting passion. A repulse must now and then be mingled with your joyous dalliance. Let him lie down before your doors: "Cruel door!" let him exclaim; and let him do many a thing in humble, many in threatening mood. The sweet we cannot endure; with bitter potions we may be refreshed. Full oft does the bark perish, overwhelmed by favouring gales. This it is that does not permit wives to be loved; husbands have access to them, whenever they please. Shut your door, [1110] and let your porter say to you with surly lips, "You cannot come in, desire will seize you as well, thus shut out."
Now lay aside the blunted swords; let the battle be fought with sharpened ones. And I doubt not but that I myself shall be aimed at with weapons of my own furnishing. While the lover that has been captured only of late is falling into your toils, let him hope that he alone has admission to your chamber. But soon let him be aware of a rival, and a division of the privileges of your favours. Remove these contrivances; and his passion will grow effete. Then does the high-mettled courser run well, the starting-place being opened, when he has both competitors to pass by, and those for him to follow. Harshness rekindles the flame, even if gone out. Myself to wit, I confess it, I do not love unless I am ill-used.
Still, the cause for grief should not be too manifest: and in his anxiety he ought to suspect that there is more than what he actually knows. The harsh supervision, too, of some feigned servant should excite him, and the irksome watchfulness of a husband too severe. The pleasure that is enjoyed in safety, is the least valued of all. Though you are more at liberty than even Thais, [1111] still feign apprehensions. Whereas you could do it far better by the door, admit him through the window; and on your countenance show the signs of fear. Let the cunning maid rush in, and exclaim, "We are undone!" and then do you hide the youth in his fright in any spot. Still, an enjoyment without anxiety must be interspersed with his alarms; lest he should not think your favours to be worth so much trouble.
But I was about to omit by what methods the cunning husband may be eluded, and how the watchful keeper. Let the wife stand in awe of her husband; let the safe keeping of a wife be allowed. That is proper; that the laws, and justice, and decency ordain. But for you as well to be watched, whom the Lictor's rod [1112] has but just set at liberty, who can endure it? Come to my sacred rites, that you may learn how to deceive. Even if as many eyes shall be watching you, as Argus had, if there is only a fixed determination, you will deceive them all. And shall a keeper, forsooth, hinder you from being able to write, when an opportunity is given you for taking the bath? When a female confidant can carry the note you have penned, which her broad girth [1113] can conceal in her warm bosom? When she can conceal the paper fastened to her calf, and carry the tender note beneath her sandalled foot.
Should the keeper be proof against these contrivances; in place of paper, let your confidant afford her shoulders; and upon her own person let her carry your words. Letters, too, written in new milk, are safe and escape the eye; touch them with powdered coals, and you will read them. The writing, too, which is made with the stalk of wetted flax, [1114] will deceive, and the clean surface will bear the secret marks. The care of watching a fair one fell to Acrisius; still, through his own fault, did she make him a grandsire. What can a keeper do, when there are so many Theatres in the City? When, eagerly she is a spectator of the harnessed steeds? When she is sitting in attendance upon the sistra of the Pharian heifer, and at the place where her male friends are forbidden to go? While, too, the Good Goddess [1115] expels the gaze of males from her temples, except any that, perchance, she bids to come: while, as the keeper watches outside the clothes of the fair, the baths may in safety conceal the lovers who are hiding there; while, so often as is requisite, some pretended she-friend may be sick, and, ill as she is, may give place for her in her couch. While the false key, too, tells [1116] by its name what we are to do, and it is not the door alone that gives the access you require.
The watchfulness of the keeper is eluded by plenty of wine; even though [1117] the grapes be gathered on the hills of Spain. There are drugs, too, which create deep sleep; and let them close the eyes overpowered by Lethæan night. And not amiss does the confidant occupy the troublesome fellow with dalliance to create delay, and in his company spins out the time.
What need is there to be teaching stratagems and trifling precepts, when the keeper may be purchased by the smallest present? Believe me, presents influence both men and Gods: on gifts being presented, Jupiter himself is appeased. What is the wise man to do, when even the fool is gratified with a present? The husband himself, on receiving a present, will be silent. But once only throughout the long year must the keeper be bought; full oft will he hold out the hand which he has once extended.