Lament XIV

Where are those gates through which so long ago

Orpheus¹ descended to the realms below

To seek his lost one? Little daughter, I

Would find that path and pass that ford whereby

The grim-faced boatman ferries pallid shades

And drives them forth to joyless cypress glades.

But do thou not desert me, lovely lute!

Be thou the furtherance of my mournful suit

Before dread Pluto², till he shall give ear

To our complaints and render up my dear.

To his dim dwelling all men must repair,

And so must she, her father’s joy and heir;

But let him grant the fruit now scarce in flower

To fill and ripen till the harvest hour!

Yet if that god doth bear a heart within

So hard that one in grief can nothing win,

What can I but renounce this upper air

And lose my soul, but also lose my care.

Przypisy:

1. Orpheus — legendary Greek singer and poet; in the mythic tale he went to the underworld, trying to charm Hades with his music in order to retrieve his dead wife, Euridice. [przypis edytorski]

2. Pluto — Roman god of the underworld, equivalent of Greek god Hades. [przypis edytorski]