Don’t fear! I wish that your swift ship had come then. Perhaps Nephele, Helle’s devoted mother, may have come. Hermione to Orestes 9. An apple caught Cydippe, an apple Atalanta: But it would have been better, if the Boy held you, whom you say has all those torches, to behave. and the memory of your words remains in her ears. Stanford Libraries' official online search tool for books, media, journals, databases, government documents and more. Its flame shines forth its own betrayer. The "Heroides" is now available in a verse translation written by the poet Daryl Hine. Jupiter delights in these intrigues, and lovely Venus: such an intrigue surely gave you Jove for a father. I shall go, O nymph, to seek out the cliff thou toldst of; away with fear – my maddening passion casts it out. than the seaweeds in the waters of Hellespont: how brief the time granted us for that secret passion. To have power to ruin is enough, if anyone delight in power for itself; but to save me will be greater glory. Diana doesn’t merit being disappointed as well: if you. Sometimes a wrong benefits those who suffer it. 7. – to trust myself to the sea, woman though I was, and now with guilt upon me. in letting such a carefree time be idly lost. Ovid's Heroides by itself deserves four stars, and one off for this translation. would be a source of troublesome fear to you. Hero to Leander When you’re finally forced to confess you’re caught. Cydippe to Acontius. with immense borders that can scarcely be surveyed. Don’t think I divided the waves with my ship carrying goods –. As the gentle zephyr sets a-quiver the slender stalk of grain, as wintry breezes shake the poplar leaves, even thus – yea even more – did I tremble. and I blushed at the signs you didn’t sufficiently hide. Soon Aurora, Tithonus’s bride, would chase away the night: we shower hasty kisses, quickly, without thought. That same glory I delight in, as it now is, harms me. EPISTLES 1 - 5. and the journey seemed to be made in an idle boat. When you have shunned him, remember to shun others; think that many Hectors are there; and see that you say, as oft as you make ready for the fight: “Laodamia bade me spare herself.” If it be fated Troy shall fall before the Argolic host, let it also fall without your taking a single wound! [79] O ye sons of Dardanus, spare, I pray, from so many foes at least one, lest my blood flow from that body! ‘Tis shame I had not in my misery the right to die! Jupiter’s consort mentioned kingdoms: his daughter valour: I might wish to think about power or being brave. I, too, was inflamed by love; I felt some god in my glowing heart, and knew him from what I sued to hear he was. Oenone to Paris. Why is the law of use to you now, my needing to swear by rote. If truth be known, coming to you from here I was a swimmer. Our love would travel among weapons, alas! Unless perhaps a new choice text. 16. If justice, or what is right, was your care. Ovid's Heroides: A New Translation and Critical Essays: Murgatroyd, Professor of Classics Paul, Reeves, Bridget, Parker, Sarah: Selecteer uw cookievoorkeuren We gebruiken cookies en vergelijkbare tools om uw winkelervaring te verbeteren, onze services aan te bieden, te begrijpen hoe klanten onze services gebruiken zodat we verbeteringen kunnen aanbrengen, en om … Let others go to the wars; let Protesilaus love! What do you want here? Theseus who also took you, snatched the Minoan, Ariadne: yet Minos did not call on the Cretans to take up arms. why throw yourself at me? What wonder if the age of first down has carried me away, and the years that stir men’s love? you’ll bear a famous name, to all posterity. but moves her head, sleep stealing upon the old woman. This too, if you would believe it: to you the way seemed smooth: from you returning, a hill of inert water. if to desire what you love is held to be craft. Unhappy she who first shall weep for her slain lord! Fate did not permit me to shed o’er thee the tears I owed, nor to bear to thy tomb the shorn lock; I have not bent o’er thee, nor culled the kiss from thy cold lips. And now I look out, and now I pray in a fearful voice. and we beguile the long wait with feminine art. And as Venus favours you, because she triumphed, and holds. made your pledge binding, with her as divine witness. You don’t know my worth, and my strength’s deceptive: you, who’ll be his future bride, don’t know the man. so that I might reach your harbour, and my wish. What when the Pleiades, and Bootës. Breeze, come – bear me up; my limbs have no great weight. There is in it – there was, at least – a shrine to Diana, wherein stands the goddess, a golden image fashioned by barbaric hand. Penelope to Ulysses 2. I rise, and clutch with trembling hand the steel. She’ll hear, and recalling what she’s heard, she’ll ask. If the forces of love are in the seed it could hardly be. [7] Ah me! If it could be he deserved his death, let it be judged he did – ah, wretched child, it is my fault he suffers for! They were all worthy of winning, and as judge I lamented. Three times I’ve left my clothes on the dry sands: three times, naked, painfully, I’ve tried to swim the roads: the swollen sea opposed my youthful undertaking. I’d have embarked with him, except that when he cast off. Ovid's Heroides: A New Translation and Critical Essays: Murgatroyd, Professor of Classics Paul, Reeves, Bridget, Parker, Sarah: no different to a road traversed by many wheels. Twilight had just settled on the earth; it was the last part of day and the first of night. then demand the rights of the promised bed by law. 3. and was fluent in a verse that brought me little luck. Did Theseus repent, so that Paris might succeed him. And I think you might have set out to trap me again, except that. The parrot. And you’d return my pledge of faith, lest I be joined to you. I want to persuade you not to do as I urge. perhaps some other, whom I’d least wish, is present. Why did my feet touch the painted fabric of that swift vessel? drives out into the deep, carried back by tide and surge. and complain how little the night lingers. I ask a great reward it’s true, and not one that is due me: Guided by this, I’ve made my uncertain way over the wide sea. the double trophy through your choice (the apple and her beauty). [1] And yet1 for you, I remember, I the queen of Colchis could find time, when you besought that my art might bring you help. now, joined to you, I warm you with my heart. she coughs and gives me the sign we agreed on. when you shine out, silver, with clear rays. While I don’t reject them, gifts are always the most acceptable. Hypsipyle to Jason 7. now dilute the wine that circles in the twilight hours. Still if you expect it, I’ll add my voice also to the fact: I burn – now you own the word that declares my heart. and Medusa before her hair was knotted with snakes. [45] And now for the ninth time had Phoebus’ fairest sister risen, and for the tenth time the moon was driving on her light-bearing steeds. There was no one did not see me; yet I rent my robe and laid bare my breast. What can I tell you of the crowds, and the host of warriors? So many vain things move me, wrong that’s done deceives. it would not, trust me, be shameful to be mine. our fate, the aid through which I could be made well again. Ariadne to Theseus. He bears ill the loss of a single kinsman’s death, and complains that too little blood was shed. Spare me, I beg you, and release a more gentle breeze! For what Jove could I be said to be happily at fault? Don’t think that he, who’s intended for my husband. The fields you frequent, O Phaon, lie far away, by Typhoean Aetna; and I – heat not less than the fires of Aetna preys on me. When Taenarus’s shore welcomed you, driven by stormy seas. and don’t shamefully make a prize of my honour. Yet unharmed and victorious you return to Haemonia’s towns, and the golden fleece is laid before your fathers’ gods. Endymion would not allow you to be hard-hearted: I beg you, turn your face to my secret enterprise! Trust me, that thought’s full of idle fear. Nay, even the branches have laid aside their leafage, and no birds warble their sweet complaint; only the Daulian bird, most mournful mother who wreaked unholy vengeance on her lord, laments in son Ismarian Itys. Why did you wish to use force, rather than persuasion. As long as I could gaze upon my lord, to gaze was my delight, and I followed your eyes ever with my own; when I could no longer see you, I still could see your sails, and long your sails detained my eyes. The Bacchic frenzy. One prophesied that Troy would be burnt by Paris’s fire –. Venus who rose from the sea makes way on the sea for he lover. Is it presents like this, O my sire, you give me on my marriage? Phaedra to Hippolytus 5. Soon, when sleep, the best reason for extended privacy. While I was stunned, gazing – as I held a cup tightly –. cried out, as our ships were ready to sail: ‘Where are you rushing to? victorious, she retraced her steps to the sky. life, and the tide, together, abandoned the wretched creature, Whatever it means, I’m frightened: don’t mock my dream. He swims: but the same wave. but he draws nothing from Ulysses’s race, that you mistrust. If my mind has seen gentle sleep through those nights. Also, let my letter have injured you as much as you wish. [43] Thought of my violent father’s mandates struck away my fear. Here I had laid my wearied limbs and given way to tears, when there stood before my eyes a Naiad. I believe, you’re often ill. She protects your interests, she’s anxious lest you perjure yourself. claim my service, as we swore, in complete faith. We use cookies for essential site functions and for social media integration. But let us meet, from opposite directions, in mid-strait. When I can see you clearly, your watching. And you won’t concede, nor does he think himself inferior. – you have dared to say: “Withdraw from the palace of Aeson’s line!” At your bidding I have withdrawn from your palace, taking with me our two children, and – what follows me evermore – my love for you. didn’t happen without the counsel and will of the gods. and are afraid now of the straits you despised before? I don’t seem to have merited the gods being offended. born from the sea, she no doubt has power at sea. Why, when you sought me, did you think it unnecessary. and the funeral torch, not the wedding torch, is here. While you grope for my embrace and toss your slumberous arms, your hand is almost wounded by my blade. From here Deucalion, inflamed with love for Pyrrha, cast himself down, and struck the waters with body all unharmed. Yet you trim sail to leave your homes, though the sea forbids! Your cast is not the same; do you fight merely to live, and to return to your faithful queen’s embrace. The place is but cheap ground; he was the dower that made it rich. I am seized by the hair, and dragged from my father’s feet – such reward my love for duty won! and the reward appear less to you than your labour. Can you show me deeds like these, in his early youth: can you train the son of Atreus in my arts? as ones to be despised, if you approve a noble name. and it’s fitting that new delights overflow for you. Perhaps, cruel one, you’ll still sleep with me, unwillingly. True you are worthy of the heavens, but linger still on earth. In it, without doubt, in true vision, I saw a dolphin. Why did such a moment die, and you not seize the time? the light, who makes the Sun’s terrified horses shy from the feast: nor is Priam’s father red, with his wife’s father’s murder: a Pelops, who stained the Myrtoan waters with his crime: Nor is Tantalus my ancestor, snatching fruit in Styx’s waters. Mayhap I shall repent me of what I do – but I repent me, too, of regard for a faithless husband’s good. But I, alas, am so wretched! I fear nothing like that, but nor did Medea fear: often hope’s deceived by its own presentiments of good. And, while the few threads I’ve finished fall to the floor. Also, persistent man, I notice what you do now, when the tables are laid, though I try to pretend –. in the gleaming gymnasium, a woman among the naked men. And why are they ignorant? After my grief had found itself, I felt no shame to beat my breast, and rend my hair, and shriek, not otherwise than when the loving mother of a son whom death has taken bears to the high-built funeral pile his empty frame. : you’re a judge of beauty: end the goddesses’ quarrel, one beauty is worthy of conquering the other two.’. Lest you think I’m only to be feared in hand-to-hand combat. Though you flee some you can’t escape all the nets. There I, Medea, was what here your new bride is; as rich as her sire is, so rich was mine. Of the marriage-altar. and I’d pray for the waters never to be calm. and scarcely a boat remains safe at its moorings. Compare Amores II. that you left when you plunged into the Hellespont’s waters? and let whatever on earth pleases you be yours! I felt the whole of both cheeks had reddened. 695 ff., refers to the story of Protesilaus, and Euripides uses it in his Protesilaus. You venture in safety: to me rejection’s worse than death. You’ll say to yourself, when you see I endure it all: ‘He who serves so well, he may serve me!’. Theoi Project © Copyright 2000 - 2017 Aaron J. Atsma, New Zealand. Who allowed you to gather in my crops before time? You, who so often seek whom you love, as often leave her. and an unlucky hour saw my journey start. Canace to Macareus loves to lie with on the ridges of Mount Ida. and he praises me less boldly and gives me fewer kisses. But she might do better to favour my virgin years. and don’t trust yourself to the sea unless it’s tranquil. Don’t be angry if my belief in you comes only with great difficulty: trust in important things usually builds slowly. Aeolus catches up the child and reveals the pretended sacrifice; the whole palace resounds with his maddened cries. This, too, moves me, that the winds forbid your keels to fare forth – yet you make ready to sail despite the seas. and when the sea is stirred, my mind is stirred. then, when the flood had dashed it against the thirsty sands. nor any man who played the husband to become one. Certainly I’ve not recovered from that wound. With her own hand the newly wedded bride will set the helmet upon her valiant husband’s head, and give into his hands the Dardanian arms. Choose another from the single girls, one not yet claimed: if you don’t know: this object has an owner. If the fates are good to me, if the gods accompany me with love. to have been low-born, were signs of my secret nobility. Her father promised it, she swore herself to be in love: in once case a man, in the other the goddess is witness. I only pray my hope is not allowed to die, oh you. Online meetings will take place daily 8:30 a.m. to 12:00 noon, Eastern time US, with a break in the middle. To Mars the bulls belonged, raging with more than mere horns, for their breathing was of terrible fire; of solid bronze were their feet, wrought round with bronze their nostrils, made black, too, by the blasts of their own breath. I’ll endure anything: I only fear that your hand. Where then was your rich dowry? So when day’s done, and night’s more friendly hour. What heart do you think was mine then, O my brother – for you can judge from your own – when the enemy before my eyes bore away to the deep forests the fruit of my bosom to be devoured by mountain wolves? Surely, the poets sing of these and more, Neptune. my blameworthy body would not have needed help: now I grieve that I was praised, now you destroy me. 8. as well as the gods, he sits by you in your illness. You may accept or manage cookie usage at any time. – She whom I follow is herself a goddess. do you act in such a way that she can never be yours? In fact I’d prefer it hidden, until the time is granted, But I dissimulate badly: who in truth could have hidden a fire. He alone would be like having innumerable soldiers. When you see the refinement of our race of men. It was a favourable one. But don’t ignore me: I seek from the god of Delphi, who foretells. How much perfidy, vile wretch, would have perished with you, and how many woes been averted from my head! I can’t pretend ignorance, if I sin: nor would there be any error. May I die if you were worthy of my speaking truthfully: but I’m more just to you than you deserve. I’m content that men’s eyes approve my beauty: Venus praising me would be a cause of envy. Perhaps she’ll even touch you, with her snow-white teeth, bringing you to her lips, when she wishes to break your seal.’. And more misery, that when I’m far away from there. There’s no greater loveliness than hers, after yours and Venus’s: if you don’t believe my words, look for yourself! I’m enfeebled by emaciation: my colour is bloodless. None the less, while you, a soldier in a distant world, will be bearing arms, I keep a waxen image to give back your features to my sight; it hears the caressing phrase, it hears the words of love that are yours by right, and it receives my embrace. If indeed the place outdoes this one in wealth and numbers of men, It’s true your letter offers such rich gifts. Either I haven’t learnt how rash I might be. and the light that showed me a path through the sea. So that whenever you try to be unfaithful. the lines from the stern, he was in view from all Abydos. On every side shine bright the lamps girt round with gold; unholy incense is scattered on unwilling altar-fires; the crowd cry “Hymen, Hymenaeus!” The god shuns their cry; Jove’s very consort has withdrawn from the city of her choice! Clare Pollard's ambition to update Ovid's Heroides – letters from Greek heroines to absent menfolk – has succeeded wittily Natalie Haynes Fri … I wish this shame, that forces us to love in secret. Nor have I come just to visit the towns of Greece: I seek you, whom lovely Venus drives towards my bed: I wished for you before you were known to me. Another light’s more certain for me: my love. I didn’t stand there armed with shield and axe. The light splutters in fact – for I write where it’s placed –. Or that my mother seems suited to you, by whose example, you may think you can sway me too: it’s an error: my mother. may the gods be my witness! and let the cliffs of Latmia suggest themselves to your mind. Nor do I think Menelaus will be preferred to me, in your mind, I’ll certainly not give you Atreus as a father-in-law, who banishes. I wondered why your name was ‘Acontius’: that blade which wounds from far off, has ‘acuteness’. my diligent nurse led me to the high temple also. What good is it to me that no great width of sea divides us? As the sea is set a-trembling when a light breeze passes o’er, as the ashen branch is shaken by the tepid breeze from the south, so might you have seen my blanching members quiver; the couch was a-quake with the body that lay upon it. Theseus snatched you, the Twins took the daughters of Leucippus: I’ll be numbered there too, as a fourth example. Why should such a crime fail of its reward? or because I’m distressed by some new rumour. 2. Besides, white pigeons oft are mated with those of different hue, and the black turtle-dove, too, is loved by the bird of green.2 If none shall be yours unless deemed worthy of you for her beauty’s sake, then none shall be yours at all. quidquid ab illo produxi vitam 2 tempore, poena fuit. Let it be unsure whether you can be caught: you’ll be caught for sure. You’ll see endless cities, and golden palaces. If I am not dazzling fair, Cepheus’ Andromeda was fair in Perseus’ eyes, though dusky with the hue of her native land. and herself placed the robes on my shoulders. and also that proud mother, Niobe, her body rising as rock. [103] Whether Phoebus be hid, or high above the earth he rise, you are my care by day, you come to me in the night; and yet more by night that in the light of day – night is welcome to women beneath whose necks an embracing arm is placed. and my cause, though good, is lost, with no defence. [21] Yet I shall essay to write. Thou, who but now wert rich, so rich as to seem worthy even of Jove, liest naked upon the naked ground. Choose, as you’ve wrought: don’t try to appease Diana. and fame’s almost unkind to your beauty. and though it spares me, it has an evil name. that you’re accustomed to suffer whenever you try to deceive. Don’t fear if you’re snatched away fierce war will pursue us. As far as I could remember, you had such looks. 25 hoc illic Medea fui, nova nupta quod hic est; quam pater est illi, tam mihi dives erat. hic Ephyren bimarem, Scythia tenus ille nivosa omne tenet, Ponti qua plaga laeva iacet. agree with mine, I beg, that the sea indeed ends its wrath. I’ve long been grateful: since the fact that you accepted my letter. and I’m unable to speak of, all I saw there. Indeed, so that I might use lascivious words. I agitate my mind with the first moments of my secret affair. You’ll bring fire back with you! Whither your headlong course? Yet delight too greatly I did – else, when once the strange craft had been beached upon our sands and brought us her bold crew, all unanointed would the unremembering son of Aeson have gone forth to meet the fires exhaled from the flame-scorched nostrils of the bulls; he would have scattered the seeds – as many as the seeds were the enemy, too – for the sower himself to fall in strife with his own sowing! Also someone complains, now that vague rumour whispers it. so that the gods will be ready to hear your prayers. I am more vigorous and the shore comes nearer. What is your quest in so great a war but a shameful wanton? Asia is no less wealthy than your country: Nor does Menelaus, son of Atreus, have more courage. Rather he sits here, as long as he’s allowed to: but he remembers that mine is a virgin bed. carries the body of Leander and my hopes. 1. 12. Not to speak of Jupiter, my husband’s ancestor, and all the glory. Spare me for confessing it, I beg you, and don’t read the rest of this. When as usual that same sun returned to the east. Virgin, cease to fear! take away my life from me, your hope of me from you? How can a slight cause, the wind, oppose me? I knew not what caused the sudden pangs in me; to travail I was unused, a soldier new to the service. or I’ll follow you rather than your gifts. And I dared to address your close friends recently. But why rejoice? Dragons and maddened bulls, it seems, I could subdue; a man alone I could not; I, who could beat back fierce fire with wise drugs, have not the power to escape the flames of my own passion. Ovid - The Heroides: a new complete downloadable English translation. I, the maiden who am now at last become a barbarian in your eyes, who now am poor, who now seem baneful – I closed the lids of the flame-like eyes in slumber wrought by my drug, and gave into your hand the fleece to steal away unharmed. He who made thee mother will also make thee wife.”. You, too, Acontius, if you’re not lying about your love. Phyllis to Demophoon 3. May you soon be given many similar chances. And let Aeolus not command anything offensive to you! 2. 4. yield to, you who are the cause of my passion: your golden hair has done this, and your ivory throat. 1. to me in vain, she who’s urged me to take this course. do the weary limbs of the destined bride give way? I was fearful, and read your letter without a murmur. He is not one it befits to engage with bared steel in the shock of battle, to present a savage breast to the opposing foe; his might is greater for in love than on the field. and was a lawyer, advised by devious Love. but his swelling wrath he does not rule, and the realms of his possession are less wide than his faults. I could scarcely hold my laughter, which, with a struggle, I suppressed, and could say nothing except; ‘It shall be.’. For whom should I adorn myself, or whom should I strive to please? and Ida yielded me timbers without number. sleep stealthily overcomes my weary eyes. I may stretch my submissive hands out at your feet! When only a boy, I recovered our stolen herds, slaying the enemy. Some other can gaze at Andromeda, or bright Corona Borealis. I, who could charm the dragon to sleep, can bring none to myself; my effort brings more good to any one else soever than to me. If you’d had to be given up, still, before I produced you, Either I’d have taken your virginity, or I’d have snatched. For neither a wretched storm, nor some error brought me here: Sparta’s land was what my fleet sought out. [129] Why rehearse the tale of Pelias’ daughters, by devotion led to evil deeds – of how their maiden hands laid knife to the members of their sire?5 I may be blamed by others, but you perforce must praise me – you, for whom so many times I have been driven to crime. You write that you’d like to see this wasted body: you’re far from me, and you might still harm me by it. Now I fear, and am ashamed, though not conscious of any guilt. And often I’ve been fearful lest my husband might see it. rather than that my honour fall to a foreign lover. and ponder the reason for your delayed passage: or I watch the sea stirred by hostile winds. were presented to you for judgement on their beauty: if it were true, certainly the rest is fiction. I still refused to believe it, giving a look of denial. and other names I remember that I’ve read of. Beware of provoking the proud virgin’s cruel bow: she can still be gentle, if you’ll allow it. Now cruel Persephone beats harshly on my door. [135] But when Titan shows his face and lights up all the earth, I complain that sleep has deserted me so soon; I make for the grots and the wood, as if the wood and the grots could aid me – those haunts were in the secret of my joys. hac fruar; haec de te gaudia sola feram. and threw the divided entrails on the smoking fires. Before, I complained that this was the only way for me: but now I also complain that I fail because of the wind. If I were to know that grief, I’d die, believe me: But you will not sin, and I fear it foolishly. and temples you’d say were fit for the gods. Why did I cross the threshold? Canace to Macareus Oh I wish you would come! Lo, see, my hair lies scattered in disorder about my neck, my fingers are laden with no sparkling gems; I am clad in garment mean, no gold is in the strands of my hair, my locks are scented with no gifts of Araby. Then, look you, confused with wine, they come in rout amidst the cries of their companions; with fresh flowers in their dripping locks, all joyously they burst into the bridal chambers – the bridal chambers, their own tombs! And when the day’s here, that was chosen by my dear parents. And now, reclining there, I sang of ancient loves. [1] Hypermnestra sends this letter to the one brother left of so many but now alive – the rest of the company lied dead by the crime of their brides.