Thou, too, who dost have compassion on the females who are in labour, whose latent burden distends their bodies slowly moving; come, propitious Ilithyia, [438] and listen to my prayers. She is worthy for thee to command to become indebted to thee. I, myself, in white array, will offer frankincense at thy smoking altars; I, myself, will offer before thy feet the gifts that I have vowed. I will add _this_ inscription too; "Naso, for the preservation of Corinna, _offers these_." But if, amid apprehensions so great, I may be allowed to give you advice, let it suffice for you, Corinna, to have struggled in this _one_ combat. ELEGY XIV. _He reproaches his mistress for having attempted to procure abortion._ |Of what use is it for damsels to live at ease, exempt from war, and not with their bucklers, [439] to have any inclination to follow the bloodstained troops; if, without warfare, they endure wounds from weapons of their own, and arm their imprudent hands for their own destruction? She who was the first to teach how to destroy the tender embryo, was deserving to perish by those arms of her own. That the stomach, forsooth, may be without the reproach of wrinkles, the sand must [440] be lamentably strewed for this struggle of yours. If the same custom had pleased the matrons of old, through _such_ criminality mankind would have perished; and he would be required, who should again throw stones [441] on the empty earth, for the second time the original of our kind. Who would have destroyed the resources of Priam, if Thetis, the Goddess of the waves, had refused to bear _Achilles_, her due burden? If Ilia had destroyed [442] the twins in her swelling womb, the founder of the all-ruling City would have perished. If Venus had laid violent hands on Æneas in her pregnant womb, the earth would have been destitute of _its_ Cæsars. You, too, beauteous one, might have died at the moment you might have been born, if your mother had tried the same experiment which you have done. I, myself, though destined as I am, to die a more pleasing death by love, should have beheld no days, had my mother slain me. Why do you deprive the loaded vine of its growing grapes? And why pluck the sour apples with relentless hand? When ripe, let them fall of their own accord; _once_ put forth, let them grow. Life is no slight reward for a little waiting. Why pierce [443] your own entrails, by applying instruments, and _why_ give dreadful poisons to the _yet_ unborn? People blame the Colchian damsel, stained with the blood of her sons; and they grieve for Itys, Slaughtered by his own mother. Each mother was cruel; but each, for sad reasons, took vengeance on her husband, by shedding their common blood. Tell me what Tereus, or what Jason excites you to pierce your body with an anxious hand?