Though it be so, shut me not out therefore;
Night goes away: I pray thee ope the door.
Err we? or do the turned hinges sound,
And opening doors with creaking noise abound?[158] 50
We err: a strong blast seemed the gates to ope:
Ay me, how high that gale did lift my hope!
If Boreas bears[159] Orithyia's rape in mind,
Come break these deaf doors with thy boisterous wind.
Silent the city is: night's dewy host[160]
March fast away: the bar strike from the post.
Or I more stern than fire or sword will turn,
And with my brand these gorgeous houses burn.
Night, love, and wine to all extremes persuade:
Night, shameless wine, and love are fearless made. 60
All have I spent: no threats or prayers move thee;
O harder than the doors thou guard'st I prove thee,
No pretty wench's keeper may'st thou be,
The careful prison is more meet for thee.
Now frosty night her flight begins to take,
And crowing cocks poor souls to work awake.
But thou, my crown, from sad hairs ta'en away,
On this hard threshold till the morning lay.
That when my mistress there beholds thee cast,
She may perceive how we the time did waste. 70
Whate'er thou art, farewell, be like me pained!
Careless farewell, with my fault not distained![161]
And farewell cruel posts, rough threshold's block,
And doors conjoined with an hard iron lock!
FOOTNOTES:
[154] Not in Isham copy or ed. A.
[155] Old eds. "dende."
[156] Sometime ("quondam").
[157] "Ante vel a membris dividar ipse meis."
[158] Qy. "rebound?"
[159] Dyce reads, "If, Boreas, bear'st" (_i.e._, "thou bear'st"). But
the change in the old eds. from the second to the third person is not
very harsh.
[160] A picturesque rendering of
"Vitreoque madentia rore
Tempora noctis eunt."
[161] "Lente nec admisso turpis amante ... vale." Of course "nec" should
be taken with "admisso."
ELEGIA VII.[162]
Ad pacandam amicam, quam verberaverat.
Bind fast my hands, they have deserved chains,
While rage is absent, take some friend the pains.
For rage against my wench moved my rash arm,
My mistress weeps whom my mad hand did harm.
I might have then my parents dear misused,
Or holy gods with cruel strokes abused.
Why, Ajax, master of the seven-fold shield,
Butchered the flocks he f
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