I ask not envy nor the people's stare:--
Wisest is he who loves with silent joy.

With thee in gloomy woods my life were gay,
Where pathway ne'er was found for human feet,
Thou art my balm of care, in dark my day,
In wildest waste, society complete.

If Heaven should send a goddess to my bed,
All were in vain. My pulse would never rise.
I swear thee this by Juno's holy head--
Greatest to us of all who hold the skies.

What madness this? I give away my case!
Swear a fool's oath! Thy tears my safety won.
Now wilt thou flirt, and tease me to my face--
Such mischief has my babbling fully done.

Now am I but thy slave: yet thine remain,
My mistress' yoke I never shall undo.
To Venus' altar let me drag my chain!
She brands the proud, and smiles on lovers true.




OVID'S LAMENT FOR TIBULLUS' DEATH


If tears for their dead sons, in deep despair,