Say that thy love with Cephalus were not known,
Then thinkest thou thy loose life is not shown?
Would Tithon might but talk of thee awhile!
Not one in heaven should be more base and vile.
Thou leav'st his bed, because he's faint through age,
And early mount'st thy hateful carriage:
But held'st[207] thou in thy arms some Cephalus,
Then would'st thou cry, "Stay night, and run not thus." 40
Dost punish[208] me because years make him wane?
I did not bid thee wed an aged swain.
The moon sleeps with Endymion every day;
Thou art as fair as she, then kiss and play.
Jove, that thou should'st not haste but wait his leisure,
Made two nights one to finish up his pleasure.
I chid[209] no more; she blushed, and therefore heard me,
Yet lingered not the day, but morning scared me.

FOOTNOTES:

[204] So Dyce for "from" of the old eds.

[205] This line is omitted in ed. A.

[206] Isham copy and ed. A "This."

[207] Isham copy and ed. A "had'st."

[208] Isham copy and ed. A "Punish ye me."

[209] So the Isham copy. The other old eds. "chide."

ELEGIA XIV.[210]

Puellam consolatur cui prae nimia cura comae deciderant.

Leave colouring thy tresses, I did cry;
Now hast thou left no hairs at all to dye.
But what had been more fair had they been kept?
Beyond thy robes thy dangling locks had swept.
Fear'dst thou to dress them being fine and thin,
Like to the silk the curious[211] Seres spin.
Or threads which spider's slender foot draws out,
Fastening her light web some old beam about?
Not black nor golden were they to our view,
Yet although [n]either, mixed of either's hue; 10
Such as in hilly Ida's watery plains,
The cedar tall, spoiled of his bark, retains.
Add[212] they were apt to curl a hundred ways,
And did to thee no cause of dolour raise.
Nor hath the needle, or the comb's teeth reft them,
The maid that kembed them ever safely left them.
Oft was she dressed before mine eyes, yet never,
Snatching the comb to beat the wench, outdrive her.
Oft in the morn, her hairs not yet digested,
Half-sleeping on a purple bed she rested; 20
Yet seemly like a Thracian Bacchanal,
That tired doth rashly[213] on the green grass fall.
When they were slender and like downy moss,
Thy[214] troubled hairs, alas, endured gre