My path forth from the east gate lay, Where cloud-like moved the girls at play. Numerous are they, as clouds so bright, But not on them my heart's thoughts light. Dressed in a thin white silk, with coiffure gray, Is she, my wife, my joy in life's low way. Forth by the covering wall's high tower, I went, and saw, like rush in flower, Each flaunting girl. Brilliant are they, But not with them my heart's thoughts stay. In thin white silk, with head-dress madder-dyed, Is she, my sole delight, 'foretime my bride. AN ENTREATY Along the great highway, I hold you by the cuff. O spurn me not, I pray, Nor break old friendship off. Along the highway worn, I hold your hand in mine. Do not as vile me scorn; Your love I can't resign. A WOMAN SCORNING HER LOVER O dear! that artful boy Refuses me a word! But, Sir, I shall enjoy My food, though you're absurd! O dear! that artful boy My table will not share! But, Sir, I shall enjoy My rest, though you're not there! A LADY MOURNS THE ABSENCE OF HER STUDENT LOVER You student, with the collar blue, Long pines my heart with anxious pain. Although I do not go to you, Why from all word do you refrain? O you, with girdle strings of blue, My thoughts to you forever roam! Although I do not go to you, Yet why to me should you not come? How reckless you, how light and wild, There by the tower upon the wall! One day, from sight of you exiled, As long as three long months I call. BOOK VIII _The Odes of Ts‘e_ A WIFE URGING HER HUSBAND TO ACTION His lady to the marquis says, "The cock has crowed; 'tis late. Get up, my lord, and haste to court. 'Tis full; for you they wait." She did not hear the cock's shrill sound, Only the blueflies buzzing round. Again she wakes him with the words, "The east, my lord, is bright. A crowded court your presence seeks; Get up and hail the light." 'Twas not the dawning light which shone, But that which by the moon was thrown. He sleeping still, once more she says, "The flies are buzzing loud. To lie and dream here by your side Were pleasant, but the crowd Of officers will soon retire; Draw not on you and me their ire!" THE FOLLY OF USELESS EFFORT The weeds will but the ranker grow, If fields too large you seek to till. To try to gain men far away With grief your toiling heart will fill. If fields too large you seek to till, The weeds will only rise more strong. To try to gain men far away Will but your heart's distress prolong.