Long have I borne much, mad thy faults me make; Dishonest love, my wearied breast forsake! Now have I freed myself, and fled the chain, And what I have borne, shame to bear again. We vanquish, and tread tamed love under feet, Victorious wreaths[420] at length my temples greet. Suffer, and harden: good grows by this grief, Oft bitter juice brings to the sick relief. I have sustained, so oft thrust from the door, To lay my body on the hard moist floor. 10 I know not whom thou lewdly didst embrace, When I to watch supplied a servant's place. I saw when forth a tirËd lover went. His side past service, and his courage spent, Yet this is less than if he had seen me; May that shame fall mine enemies' chance to be. When have not I, fixed to thy side, close laid? I have thy husband, guard, and fellow played. The people by my company she pleased; My love was cause that more men's love she seized. 20 What, should I tell her vain tongue's filthy lies, And, to my loss, god-wronging perjuries? What secret becks in banquets with her youths, With privy signs, and talk dissembling truths? Hearing her to be sick, I thither ran, But with my rival sick she was not than. These hardened me, with what I keep obscure:[421] Some other seek, who will these things endure. Now my ship in the wishËd haven crowned, With joy hears Neptune's swelling waters sound. 30 Leave thy once-powerful words, and flatteries, I am not as I was before, unwise. Now love and hate my light breast each way move, But victory, I think, will hap to love. I'll hate, if I can; if not, love 'gainst my will, Bulls hate the yoke, yet what they hate have still. I fly her lust, but follow beauty's creature, I loathe her manners, love her body's feature. Nor with thee, nor without thee can I live, And doubt to which desire the palm to give. 40 Or less fair, or less lewd would thou might'st be: Beauty with lewdness doth right ill agree. Her deeds gain hate, her face entreateth love; Ah, she doth more worth than her vices prove! Spare me, oh, by our fellow bed, by all The gods, who by thee, to be perjured fall.[422] And by thy face to me a power divine, And by thine eyes, whose radiance burns out mine! Whate'er thou art, mine art thou: choose this course, Wilt have me willing, or to love by force. 50 Rather I'll hoist up sail, and use the wind, That I may love yet, though against my mind. FOOTNOTES: [419] Not in Isham copy or ed. A. [420] The original has "Venerunt capiti cornua sera meo." [421] "Et que taceo." [422] "Qui dant fallendos se tibi saepe, deos." ELEGIA XII.[423] Dolet amicam suam ita suis carminibus innotuisse ut rivales multos sibi pararit.