Gold from the earth instead of fruits we pluck; Soldiers by blood to be enriched have luck. Courts shut the poor out; wealth gives estimation. Thence grows the judge, and knight of reputation. All,[405] they possess: they govern fields and laws, They manage peace and raw war's bloody jaws. Only our loves let not such rich churls gain: 'Tis well if some wench for the poor remain. 60 Now, Sabine-like, though chaste she seems to live, One her[406] commands, who many things can give. For me, she doth keeper[407] and husband fear, If I should give, both would the house forbear. If of scorned lovers god be venger just, O let him change goods so ill-got to dust. FOOTNOTES: [400] Not in Isham copy or ed. A. [401] So ed. B.--Ed. C "his." ("Caput _hoc_ galeam portare solebat.") [402] Then. [403] Old eds. knew. [404] Marlowe has quite mistaken the meaning of the original "Proque bono versu primum deducite pilum." [405] A very loose rendering of Ovid's couplet-- "Omnia possideant; illis Campusque Forumque Serviat; hi pacem crudaque bella gerant." [406] So Dyce for "she" of the old eds. ("Imperat ut captae qui dare multa potest.") [407] The original has "Me prohibet custos: in me timet illa maritum." ELEGIA IX.[408] Tibulli mortem deflet. If Thetis and the Morn their sons did wail, And envious Fates great goddesses assail; Sad Elegy,[409] thy woful hairs unbind: Ah, now a name too true thou hast I find. Tibullus, thy work's poet, and thy fame, Burns his dead body in the funeral flame. Lo, Cupid brings his quiver spoilËd quite, His broken bow, his firebrand without light! How piteously with drooping wings he stands, And knocks his bare breast with self-angry hands. 10 The locks spread on his neck receive his tears, And shaking sobs his mouth for speeches bears. So[410] at ∆neas' burial, men report, Fair-faced Ilus, he went forth thy court. And Venus grieves, Tibullus' life being spent, As when the wild boar Adon's groin had rent. The gods' care we are called, and men of piety, And some there be that think we have a deity. Outrageous death profanes all holy things, And on all creatures obscure darkness brings. 20 To Thracian Orpheus what did parents good? Or songs amazing wild beasts of the wood? Where[411] Linus by his father Phoebus laid, To sing with his unequalled harp is said. See Homer from whose fountain ever filled Pierian dew to poets is distilled: Him the last day in black Avern hath drowned: Verses alone are with continuance crowned. The work of poets lasts: Troy's labour's fame, And that slow web night's falsehood did unframe. 30 So Nemesis, so Delia famous are, The one his first love, th' other his new care. What profit to us hath our pure life bred?