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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Erotica Romana, by Johann Wolfgang Goethe
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Erotica Romana
+
+Author: Johann Wolfgang Goethe
+
+Release Date: April, 2005 [EBook #7889]
+Posting Date: August 4, 2009
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK EROTICA ROMANA ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Harry Haile and Mike Pullen
+
+
+
+
+
+EROTICA ROMANA
+
+By Johann Wolfgang Goethe
+
+
+
+
+
+I
+
+  Here's where I've planted my garden and here I shall care for love's blossoms--
+
+    As I am taught by my muse, carefully sort them in plots:
+
+  Fertile branches, whose product is golden fruit of my lifetime,
+
+    Set here in happier years, tended with pleasure today.
+
+  You, stand here at my side, good Priapus--albeit from thieves I've
+
+    Nothing to fear. Freely pluck, whosoever would eat.
+
+  --Hypocrites, those are the ones! If weakened with shame and bad conscience
+
+    One of those criminals comes, squinting out over my garden,
+
+  Bridling at nature's pure fruit, punish the knave in his hindparts,
+
+    Using the stake which so red rises there at your loins.
+
+
+
+
+II
+
+  Tell me ye stones and give me O glorious palaces answer.
+
+    Speak O ye streets but one word. Genius, art thou alive?
+
+  Yes, here within thy sanctified walls there's a soul in each object,
+
+    ROMA eternal. For me, only, are all things yet mute.
+
+  Who will then tell me in whispers and where must I find just the window
+
+    Where one day she'll be glimpsed: creature who'll scorch me with love?
+
+  Can't I divine yet the paths through which over and over
+
+    To her and from her I'll go, squandering valuable time?
+
+  Visiting churches and palaces, all of the ruins and the pillars,
+
+    I, a responsible man, profit from making this trip.
+
+  With my business accomplished, ah, then shall only one temple,
+
+    AMOR's temple alone, take the initiate in.
+
+  Rome, thou art a whole world, it is true, and yet without love this
+
+    World would not be the world, Rome would cease to be Rome.
+
+
+
+
+III
+
+  More than ever I dreamed, I have found it: my happy good fortune!
+
+    Cupid sagaciously led past those palazzos so fine.
+
+  He of course knows very well (and I have also discovered)
+
+    What, beneath tapestries rich, gilded boudoirs conceal.
+
+  One may if one wishes call him a blind, wanton boy--but I know you,
+
+    Clever Cupid, too well! O, incorruptible god!
+
+  We were by no means inveigled to enter façades so majestic;
+
+    Somber cortilé we passed, balcony high and gallant,
+
+  Hastening onward until an humble but exquisite portal
+
+    Offered a refuge to both, ardent seeker and guide.
+
+  Here he provides me with ev'rything, sees that I get what I call for;
+
+    Each day that passes he spreads freshly plucked roses for me.
+
+  --Isn't that heaven on earth? Say, beautiful Lady Borghese,
+
+    What would you give to me more? --You, Nipotina, what yours?
+
+  Banquets and game tables, operas, balls, promenades down the Corso?
+
+    These but deprive my sweet boy of his most opportune times.
+
+  Finery, haughtiness do not entice me. Does one not lift a
+
+    Gown of the finest brocade just as one lifts common wool?
+
+  If she's to press in comfort a lover against that soft bosom,
+
+    Doesn't he want her to be free from all brooches and chains?
+
+  Must not the jewelry, and then the lace and the bustles and whalebone
+
+    All of it come off entire, if he's to learn how she feels?
+
+  I encounter no troubles like those. Simple dress of rough homespun,
+
+    At but a lover's mere touch, tumbles in folds to the floor.
+
+  Quickly he carries the girl as she's clad in chemise of coarse linen--
+
+    Just as a nursemaid might, playfully up to her bed.
+
+  Drapings of satin are absent; the mattress is quite unembroidered.
+
+    Large is this room where the bed offers its comfort for two.
+
+  Jupiter's welcome to more from his Juno if he can get it;
+
+    Let any mortal find rest, softer, wherever he can.
+
+  We are content with Cupid's delights, authentic and naked--
+
+    And with the exquisite creak /crack of the bed as it rocks.
+
+
+
+
+IV
+
+  Ask whomever you will but you'll never find out where I'm lodging,
+
+    High society's lords, ladies so groomed and refined.
+
+  "Tell me, was Werther authentic? Did all of that happen in real life?"
+
+    "Lotte, oh where did she live, Werther's only true love?"
+
+  How many times have I cursed those frivolous pages that broadcast
+
+    Out among all mankind passions I felt in my youth!
+
+  Were he my brother, why then I 'd have murdered poor Werther.
+
+    Yet his despondent ghost couldn't have sought worse revenge.
+
+  That's the way "Marlborough," the ditty, follows the Englishman's travels
+
+    Down to Livorno from France, thence from Livorno to Rome,
+
+  All of the way into Naples and then, should he flee on to Madras,
+
+    "Marlborough" will surely be there, "Marlborough" sung in the port.
+
+  Happily now I've escaped, and my mistress knows Werther and Lotte
+
+    Not a whit better than who might be this man in her bed:
+
+  That he's a foreigner, footloose and lusty, is all she could tell you,
+
+    Who beyond mountains and snow, dwelt in a house made of wood.
+
+
+
+
+V
+
+  Do not, beloved, regret that you yielded to me so quickly:
+
+    I entertain no base, insolent thoughts about you.
+
+  Arrows of Cupid work divers effects. Some do but scratch us:
+
+    Slow and insidious these poison our hearts over years.
+
+  Yet with a head freshly honed and cunningly fledged, certain others
+
+    Pierce to the marrow, inflame rapidly there our blood.
+
+  When gods and goddesses in days of heroes made love, then
+
+    Lust followed look and desire, with no delay, was indulged.
+
+  Surely you don't think the goddess of love lost a moment reflecting
+
+    When, in Idean grove, Anchises caught her eye.
+
+  Nor did Luna delay about kissing that beautiful dreamer--
+
+    Jealous Aurora had else hastily wakened the lad.
+
+  At the loud banquet Hero regarded Leander--then promptly
+
+    Into dark waters he plunged, ardently swam toward his love.
+
+  When Rhea Silvia, princess and virgin, came down to the Tiber
+
+    Just to fetch water, a god seized her and that is the way
+
+  Mars begat himself sons, a pair of twins whom a she wolf
+
+    Suckled. Today a proud Rome claims to be queen of the world.
+
+
+
+
+VI
+
+  We are so pious, we lovers. Discreetly we worship all powers,
+
+    Hoping for favor from each god and each goddess as well.
+
+  We are like you, ye victorious Romans, in this:  for we offer
+
+    Gods of all peoples and tribes, over the whole world, a home--
+
+  May the Egyptian, black and austere out of primeval basalt,
+
+    Or from the marble a Greek, form them charming and white--
+
+  Yet the eternal ones do not object to particularism
+
+    (Incense of most precious sort, strewn for just one of their host).
+
+  Therefore we gladly confess to singling a special immortal
+
+    And our devotions each day pledging but solely to her.
+
+  Mischievous celebrants we at these mysteries gay, and so solemn:
+
+    Silence exactly befits rites at which we're adepts.
+
+  Rather onto our heels by horrible deeds the Erinyes
+
+    We would allure, even Zeus' punishment sooner we'd dare--
+
+  Under that rock, or bound to a tumbling wheel we'd endure it--
+
+    Than we'd withdraw our hearts from the delights of her cult.
+
+  Sweet Opportunity, that is her name. You should meet her.
+
+    Often will she turn up, ever in a new form.
+
+  Daughter of Proteus might well she be whom he sired upon Thetis.
+
+    In metamorphoses they've many a hero deceived.
+
+  So now the daughter beguiles the naive and bedazzles the foolish,
+
+    Teases you while you're asleep; when you awaken, she's flown.
+
+  Eagerly yields herself up to the quick, to the active man only.
+
+    He discovers she's tame, playful and tender and sweet.
+
+  Once she appeared to me, too: a dark-skinned girl, tumbling
+
+    Over her forehead the hair down in waves heavy and dark.
+
+  Round about a delicate neck curled short little ringlets;
+
+    Up from the crown of her head crinkled the unbraided hair.
+
+  When she dashed by me I seized her, mistaking her not. Lovingly
+
+    Kiss and embrace she returned, knowing and teaching me how.
+
+  O how enraptured I was! Ah, say now no more. It's a bygone.
+
+    But, O pigtails of Rome, still I'm entrammled in you.
+
+
+
+
+VII
+
+  Happily now on classical soil I feel inspiration.
+
+    Voices from present and past speak here evocatively.
+
+  Heeding ancient advice, I leaf through the works of the Ancients
+
+    With an assiduous hand. Daily the pleasure's renewed.
+
+  Throughout the night, in a different way, I'm kept busy by Cupid--
+
+    If erudition is halved, rapture is doubled that way.
+
+  Do then I not become wise when I trace with my eye her sweet bosom's
+
+    Form, and the line of her hips stroke with my hand? I acquire,
+
+  As I reflect and compare, my first understanding of marble,
+
+    See with an eye that feels, feel with a hand that sees.
+
+  While my beloved, I grant it, deprives me of moments of daylight,
+
+      She in the nighttime hours gives compensation in full.
+
+  And we do more than just kiss; we prosecute reasoned discussions
+
+    (Should she succumb to sleep, that gives me time for my thoughts).
+
+  In her embrace--it's by no means unusual--I've composed poems
+
+    And the hexameter's beat gently tapped out on her back,
+
+  Fingertips counting in time with the sweet rhythmic breath of her slumber.
+
+    Air from deep in her breast penetrates mine and there burns.
+
+  Cupid, while stirring the flame in our lamp, no doubt thinks of those days when
+
+      For the triumvirs he similar service performed.
+
+
+
+
+VIII
+
+  "Can you be cruel enough to sadden me thus with reproaches?
+
+    Germans speak, I suppose, bitterly when they're in love.
+
+  Bear it I must when the gossips bring forth accusations: I'm guilty--
+
+    Or am I not? But, alas, all of my guilt was with you.
+
+  Clothes that you've given bear witness for envious neighbors
+
+      That the poor widow no more grieves for her husband alone.
+
+  Did you not thoughtlessly visit me in the disguise of a cleric,
+
+      Muffled all up in a cloak, hair all rounded behind?
+
+  Who was it chose that gray monk if not you? Well then a prelate
+
+    Now is my lover--Ah, who is my prelate but you?
+
+  Never, incredible as it may sound in this clerical city,
+
+    Has any cleric brought me--swear it I will--to his bed.
+
+  I was sufficiently poor, sad to say. I was young. The seducers
+
+    Noted it well. Falconier ogled me often enough.
+
+  One of the pimps for Albani with billets doux very impressive
+
+    Called me to Ostia once. Quattro Fontani next time.
+
+  Who was it did not appear there? Why, who but the very same girl who
+
+    Hated with all of her heart stockings both violet and red.
+
+  For: 'In the end you poor girls are the ones who are sure to be cheated.'
+
+    So said my father although--Mother was not much impressed.
+
+  Father was right. Here I stand in the end being cheated and scolded.
+
+    You don't believe your own words. They're your excuse to escape.
+
+  Go, then. Unworthy of women are men. We, who carry your children
+
+    Next to our hearts, in these hearts loyalty we bear you, too.
+
+  As for you men, when you've poured out your potency in our embraces
+
+    And your desires dissipate, love with them passes away."
+
+  These things expressed, and taking her child from its chair, my beloved
+
+    Presses it close to her heart, kisses it, tears in her eyes.
+
+  I'm now so very ashamed of myself for having permitted
+
+    Gossip of neighbors to spoil picture so eloquent.
+
+  For a short moment a fire may burn darkly while smoke swirls about it.
+
+    Water dashed on the coals suddenly smothers their glow.
+
+  Rapidly then renewed heat overcomes those lowering vapors,
+
+    Sends up a flame that anew bright and more powerful gleams.
+
+
+
+
+IX
+
+  How very happy I am here in Rome when I think of the bad days
+
+    Far back there in the north, wrapped in a grayish light.
+
+  Over my head there the heavens weighed down so dismal and gloomy;
+
+    Colorless, formless, that world round this exhausted man lay.
+
+  Seeking myself in myself, an unsatisfied spirit, I brooded,
+
+    Spying out pathways dark, lost in dreary reflection.
+
+  Here in an æther more clear now a luster encircles my forehead.
+
+    Phoebus the god evokes forms, clear are his colors by day.
+
+  Bright with the stars comes the evening, ringing with songs that are tender,
+
+    And the glow of the moon, brighter than northern sun.
+
+  What blessedness mortals may know! Am I now dreaming? Or welcomes
+
+    Jupiter, Father, as guest--me, to ambrosial halls?
+
+  See, I lie here extending my arms toward your knees. I am praying:
+
+    Hospitality's god, Jupiter Xenius! Hear:
+
+  How I am come to this place I no longer can say--I was
+
+    Seized up by Hebe.  'Twas she led to this sacred hill.
+
+  Did you command her a hero to seek and deliver before you?
+
+    May be she erred. Then forgive. Let her mistake profit me!
+
+  Does not Fortuna, your daughter, when strewing her glorious presents,
+
+    After the manner of girls, yield to each passing whim?
+
+  You, O hospitable god, will by no means now banish a stranger
+
+    From your Olympian heights back to the base earth again.
+
+  "Poet, come to your senses!"--Forgive me, Jupiter, is not
+
+    Rome's Capitoline Hill second Olympus to you?
+
+  Suffer me, Jupiter, here and let Hermes guide me at last then
+
+    Past Cestius' Tomb gently to Orkus below.
+
+
+
+
+X
+
+  When you were small, you say, neither did others consider you f air, nor
+
+    Even your mother find praise--and I believe it--
+
+  Till you grew bigger, developing quietly over the years. I
+
+    Picture you to myself as an unusual child.
+
+  Also the blossoms on grapevines are wanting in shape and in color,
+
+    Although the fruit when it's ripe pleases both mankind and gods.
+
+
+
+
+XI
+
+  Kindling autumnal fire in a rustic, convivial fireplace
+
+    (How the sticks crackle and spew flames and glittering sparks!)
+
+  Strikes me especially pleasant this evening.  Before all my tinder
+
+    Dies away into coals, coals then to ashes decline,
+
+  She will be back and new faggots as well as big logs will be blazing,
+
+    Making a festival where lovers will warm up the night.
+
+  Then in the morning, officious, she'll leave the bed of her lover,
+
+    Rouse adroitly the flames out from their ashes anew.
+
+  Cupid has lent to her above others the gift of cajoling
+
+    Up from the ashes desire, just when slumber's begun.
+
+
+
+
+XII
+
+  All of those greats: Alexander, Caesar and Henry and Fredrick,
+
+    Gladly would share with me half of their hard fought renown,
+
+  Could I but grant them my bed for one single night, and its comfort,
+
+    But the poor wretches are held stark in cold Orkian grip.
+
+  Therefore, ye living, rejoice that love keeps you warm for a while yet,
+
+    Until cold Lethe anoints, captures your foot in its flight.
+
+
+
+
+XIII
+
+  They are for you, O ye graces, just a few leaves by a poet
+
+    Onto your pure altar laid, buds of the rose beside,
+
+  Offered in confidence.  Artists enjoy ateliers which are furnished
+
+    So as to make for a space Pantheon-like in decor:
+
+  Jupiter lowers that godly brow while his Juno looks upward;
+
+    Phoebus takes forward strides, shaking his curly head;
+
+  While phlegmatic Minerva peers down on us, frivolous Hermes
+
+    Seems to be looking askance, roguish, though tender as well.
+
+  But it's to Bacchus, the sensuous dreamer, Cythera sends glances
+
+    Bathed in sweetest desire--even in marble they're damp.
+
+  Thinking about his embrace and its pleasures, she seems to be asking
+
+    Shouldn't our glorious son here at our side stand erect?
+
+
+
+
+XIV
+
+  Can't you hear voices, beloved, out on the Via Flamina?
+
+    Reapers are now going home, back from harvesting grain.
+
+  They had journeyed to Rome from afar, and here plaited for Ceres
+
+    Wreaths which the Romans today scorn to make for themselves.
+
+  Festivals no longer celebrate Ceres, the nourishing goddess
+
+    Who replaced acorns of old, giving man golden wheat.
+
+  Let us commemorate her then ourselves in festival private
+
+    (Two constitute a whole tribe, when they are two in love).
+
+  Have you by any chance heard how that mystical, strange celebration
+
+    Followed victorious troops back from Eleusis to Rome?
+
+  Greeks were the ones who began it, and only to Greeks they proclaimed it
+
+    Even within Roman walls: "Come to the sanctified night."
+
+  Those who were not of the cult kept their distance; neophytes trembled,
+
+    Waiting in garments of white, symbol of all that is pure.
+
+  Then the initiates must aimlessly wander about through the eerie
+
+    Circles of figures as if pilgriming through their own dreams.
+
+  Snakes on the ground were writhing about. Now virgins came bearing
+
+    Caskets securely locked, richly wreathéd with grain.
+
+  Surely the gestures of murmuring priests must contain some deep meaning--
+
+    Impatient acolytes wait, anxiously hoping for light.
+
+  Not until after many a testing and trial did they discover
+
+    What, within sacred ring, secretive image concealed.
+
+  What was this mystery other than this:   that Demeter, goddess,
+
+    Once upon a time had to a hero been kind.
+
+  It was to Jason, powerful king of the Cretans, she granted
+
+    Of her immortal self hidden sweet parts to explore.
+
+  That made the fortune of Crete! The marital bed of the goddess
+
+    Soon grew pregnant with grain, heavy her bounteous fields.
+
+  As for the rest of the world, it languished away, while Ceres,
+
+    Derelict of her true task, dalliance offered in love.
+
+  --Now the initiate youths, having followed this tale, all astonished,
+
+    Turned and beckoned their loves--love, do you comprehend?
+
+  See there the sacred shade beneath that bushy-boughed myrtle?
+
+    Our satisfaction will there scarcely endanger a world.
+
+
+
+
+XV
+
+  Cupid is always a scoundrel, and if you believe him he'll cheat you.
+
+    Here's what the hypocrite said: "Trust me just once more, this time.
+
+  I have the best of intentions toward you who have now dedicated--
+
+    I recognize it with thanks--life and writings to me.
+
+  Lo, I have followed you hither to Rome, and I'd like to do something
+
+    Here in this far away land pleasing to such an old friend.
+
+  Every traveller I've ever known has complained of poor treatment:
+
+    He whom I recommend treatment delicious receives.
+
+  You've now regarded with awe all the structures which lie here in ruins,
+
+    Cultivated your eye, sensing each hallowéd space.
+
+  How you've revered the formative will of those ancient artists!
+
+    In their own ateliers often I 've visited them.
+
+  As for their works, why, I formed those myself--now this time I'm boasting
+
+    Not. Oh come now, admit what I am saying is true.
+
+  Where are your own creations, your service to me having slackened?
+
+    Where is invention's glow now? Where is the color all gone?
+
+  Friend, do you hope you can create again? --The school of the Ancients
+
+    Yet remains open.  Its gates, years have not closed them to you.
+
+  I am eternally young, and as teacher I still love the young ones.
+
+    Wisdom that comes with old age pleases me not. Listen here:
+
+  Wasn't antiquity young when those fortunate Ancients were living?
+
+    Happy then be your life, too: in it antiquity lives.
+
+  Where will you find a fit theme for your song? --It is I must provide it.
+
+    As for a style truly grand, love can alone give you that."
+
+  All of these claims that sophist asserted. Could I contradict him?
+
+    I am wont to obey, when my commander decrees.
+
+  Treacherous now he is keeping his word: giving me themes for my poems
+
+    While he is stealing my time, potency, presence of mind.
+
+  Gazing into her eyes, holding hands, giving kisses, exchanging
+
+    Syllables sweet and those words lovers alone understand,
+
+  Murmuring our conversations we stutter in sweet oratory.
+
+    Hymns of such sort pass away, wanting prosodical tact.
+
+  Goddess of morning, Aurora, as friend of my muse I once knew you.
+
+    Has the unprincipled god, Cupid, seduced you now too?
+
+  So that these mornings you come as his sweetheart, awakening me at
+
+    His festive altar again, where I must celebrate him?
+
+  Here on my breast flows her hair, an abundance of curls, while her head rests,
+
+    Pressing my arm as it's bent, so as to pillow her neck.
+
+  What a delicious condition, if only these few tranquil moments
+
+    Could in my memory fix firmly that image of joy
+
+  When the night rocked us to sleep--but in slumber she's moving away now,
+
+    From my side turns, as she goes leaving her hand in my hand.
+
+  Love in our hearts makes us one, as the genuine need there stays constant;
+
+    Only returning desire knows oscillation or change.
+
+  Gently her hand presses mine, now she opens her eyes and is looking
+
+    Into my own eyes. No--don't. Let my thoughts rest on your form!
+
+  Please close your eyes. They're inebriation, confusion, they rob me
+
+    All too soon of the joy quiet reflection affords.
+
+  Grand are the forms of this body and nobly positioned each member.
+
+    Had Ariadne lain thus, Theseus never had fled.
+
+  Only a single kiss for these lips and then, O Theseus, leave her;
+
+    Look at her eyes--she's awake! Now you're eternally bound.
+
+
+
+
+XVI
+
+  Boy, won't you light me a lamp. "But dear master, there's light in the sky yet.
+
+    Don't waste your oil and the wick. Don't close the shutters so soon.
+
+  Only the houses are blocking the sun there, it's not yet the mountains.
+
+    Until the curfew shall ring, full half an hour must pass."
+
+  Wretched young fellow, be gone and obey me! My loved one is coming.
+
+    Lamplight, console me till then, harbinger warm of the night.
+
+
+
+
+XVII
+
+  Poets of old in chorus cried out against those two serpents,
+
+    Making them horrible names, hated in all of the world:
+
+  Python the one, the other the Hydra of Lerna. These monsters
+
+    Both have now been destroyed, thanks to the deeds of the gods.
+
+  Fire-breathing, venomous once, they no longer now depredate our
+
+    Flocks and meadows and woods, fields of golden grain.
+
+  How is it then that some spiteful god in his wrath has
+
+    Raised from the poisonous slime offspring so monstrous again?
+
+  There's an insidious viper creeps into the loveliest gardens,
+
+    Lying in wait to attack all who seek pleasure therein.
+
+  Noble Hesperian dragon, I call you courageous and forthright.
+
+    Boldly defending your own beautiful apples of gold.
+
+  As for this worm, why he is not guarding at all, for his presence
+
+    Sullies both garden and fruit, till they deserve no defense.
+
+  Secretly coiled beneath bushes, where he befouls the sweet wellsprings,
+
+    Turning to poisonous drool Cupid's lifegiving dew.
+
+  Happy Lucretius knew how in his day to forego love completely,
+
+    Fearing not to enjoy pleasure in anyone's arms.
+
+  Fortunate Ancient, Propertius, for you a slave fetched the girls down
+
+    From the Aventine Hill, from Tarpeia's grove.
+
+  Cynthia then, when driving you out of such unchaste embraces,
+
+    Found you unfaithful, it's true, but she did find you whole.
+
+  Who would today dare attempt to escape from fidelity's ennui?
+
+    Love does not hold one back--only concern for one's health.
+
+  Even the woman we love may afford us uncertain enjoyment;
+
+    Nowhere can feminine lap safely encouch a man's head.
+
+  Matrimonial bed's insecure and so's fornication;
+
+    Husband, lover and wife pass to each other the hurt.
+
+  Think of those ages of gold when Jupiter followed his urges,
+
+    Chose Callisto one day, turned to Semel the next.
+
+  It was important to him to find thresholds of temples so sacred
+
+    Pure when, enamoured, he sought powerful entry to them.
+
+  Can you imagine the ragings of Juno if in love's skirmish
+
+    Poisonous weapons on her by her own spouse had been turned?
+
+  But we neo-pagans may not after all be abandoned entirely:
+
+    Yet there is speeding a god mercifully over the earth,
+
+  Quick and assiduous. Everyone knows him and ought to adore him,
+
+    Herald of Zeus: Hermes, the healing god.
+
+  Although his father's temple be fallen, and though of its pillars
+
+    Scarcely a pair yet records ancient glory adored,
+
+  Nevertheless the son's place of worship still stands, and forever
+
+    Will there the ardent requests alternate with the thanks.
+
+  Only one favor I beg of you, Graces (I ask it in secret--
+
+    Fervent my prayer and deep, out of a passionate breast):
+
+  My little garden, my sweet one, protect it and do not let any
+
+    Evil come near it nor me. Cupid will hold out his hand:
+
+  O, and entrusting myself to the rascal, I beg you please may I
+
+    Do so in pleasure with no danger or worry or fear.
+
+
+
+
+XVIII
+
+  I cannot think I'd have gone with Julius Caesar to Britain;
+
+    To the Popina right here, Florus would tug me with ease.
+
+  Fogs of the dreary north remain a more baleful remembrance
+
+    Than in the kitchens of Rome tribes of assiduous fleas.
+
+  After today, I'll remember you even more kindly, tavernas,
+
+    You osterias, as you are called, aptly by those here in Rome.
+
+  That was the place I encountered my mistress today with the uncle
+
+    Whom she so often deceives, so that she can have me.
+
+  Here's where I sat at a table surrounded by good-natured Germans;
+
+    Over on that side the girl, finding a seat for herself
+
+  Next to her mother where, frequently shifting her bench, she arranged
+
+    Nicely for me to perceive profile and curve of her neck;
+
+  Speaks just a little more loudly than women in Rome are accustomed;
+
+    Significant glance as she pours--misses the glass with the wine
+
+  So that it spills on the table, and she with a delicate finger
+
+    Over its surface can draw circles in damp arabesque:
+
+  Her name entwining in mine, while my eyes most eagerly follow
+
+    All that her fingertip writes. She is of course well aware
+
+  That I am watching, so finally makes the V of the Roman
+
+    Five, with a virgule before. Quickly, as soon as I've seen,
+
+  She interlaces the circles, reducing them all to ornatest
+
+    Patterns--but still the sweet IV stood as engraved in my eye.
+
+  I sat there mutely and biting my passionate lips almost bloody
+
+    Half from delight at the ruse, partly from stifled desire:
+
+  Such a long time until dark, then another four hours of waiting.
+
+    --Sun, who tarries on high, contemplating Rome:
+
+  Greater never you've nor shall you in future see greater
+
+    Than Rome, O sun, as your priest, Horace, enraptured foretold.
+
+  Tarry no longer today. Go seek other realms beneath heaven.
+
+    Sooner depart and leave Rome's seven famed hills to me.
+
+  Please do the poet a favor and shorten the glorious hours
+
+    Which the painter devours, eagerly filling his eyes.
+
+  Cast now but one ardent glance, while descending, on noble façades and
+
+    Cupolas, pillars, and--last--up at the obelisks. Then
+
+  Hastily plunge to the ocean. Come view all the sooner tomorrow
+
+    That which, for centuries now, gods have let you enjoy:
+
+  Italy's shoreline so long overgrown with moist reeds, elevations
+
+    Somberly rising to shades cast by the bushes and trees.
+
+  First were but few simple dwellings here, suddenly sunlight discovered
+
+    Nations enlivening hills teeming with fortunate thieves.
+
+  Onto this spot they assembled such plunder, in your eye so splendid
+
+    All earth's remaining orb scarcely was worthy of note.
+
+  You watched a world being born here, watched the same world sink to ruin,
+
+    And from those ruins yet arise world again greater, perhaps.
+
+  O may I long by your light now behold this Rome. May the Parcæ
+
+    Spin the fine thread of my life slowly, taking great care.
+
+  O but come rushing the moment my love designated so sweetly.
+
+    Wonderful! Sound already the chimes? --No, but I heard at least three.
+
+  Thus, my dear muses, again you've beguiled the monotony for me.
+
+    Of this long interval while I was apart from my love.
+
+  All of you now, farewell! I'll be going now--don't be offended.
+
+    For, though you're proud, you'll concede: Cupid in my heart comes first.
+
+
+
+
+XIX
+
+  Why did you fail to appear at the cot in the vineyard today, Love?
+
+    As I had promised I would, long I awaited you there.
+
+  "Dear, I had almost arrived when I saw, by good fortune, your uncle
+
+    Standing right there by the vines, looking now this way, now that.
+
+  Stealthily I slipped away." --Alas, what a misapprehension!
+
+    You saw the scarecrow, that's all. Nothing else drove you away.
+
+  Reeds and some discarded garments all hastily cobbled together--
+
+    I helped to make it myself: diligent in my own grief.
+
+  "Well, now his wish is fulfilled. The old gardner's most dissolute crow has
+
+    Left on this day unscathed nice little garden and niece."
+
+
+
+
+XX
+
+  While there is many an unpleasant sound, I hate to hear barking
+
+    Worse than anything else. Bellowing dogs split my ears.
+
+  Nevertheless I do like to hear, and take pleasure in listening
+
+    To the loud howl of the dog raised from a pup next door.
+
+  That is the dog that so bayed one time at my girl that he almost
+
+    Gave our secret away (when she was visiting me).
+
+  Now, when I hear the dog barking I think my beloved is coming--
+
+    Or I remember the time, when long awaited she came.
+
+
+
+
+XXI
+
+  I can tell not only about a discomfort far greater than others,
+
+    But of a horror besides, thinking of which will arouse
+
+  Every fiber in me to revulsion. My friends, I confess it:
+
+    Great displeasure I take lying alone in my bed.
+
+  But it's a horror to fear on the pathways of love you'll discover
+
+    Snakes and their venom beneath roses of eager desire--
+
+  That at the moment supreme, when I'm yielding to pleasure so fully,
+
+    Right at my head as it droops, hissing disease may approach.
+
+  That's why Faustina as my companion in bed makes me happy:
+
+    Loving she always remains faithful, as I am to her.
+
+  Young men are aroused in their passions by obstacles and by excitement;
+
+    I prefer to go slow, savoring pleasures secure.
+
+  Is it not bliss to exchange tender kisses containing no dangers,
+
+    Sucking into our lungs, carefree, our partner's own life?
+
+  That is the way our long nights of enjoyment are passed. We listen,
+
+    Breast against breast, to the storm, pouring down rain in the wind
+
+  Morning begins to dawn, we expect from these hours approaching
+
+    Blossoms that will adorn festive the coming new day.
+
+  Quirites, permit me the joy, and may this, of all pleasures on earth the
+
+    First and the last, be vouchsafed all of mankind by the god.
+
+
+
+
+XXII
+
+  Ah, to uphold one's respectable name is not easy. The Lady
+
+    Fame has an ancient foe: Cupid, my master and lord.
+
+  Oh, by the way, have you heard of the cause of their mutual hatred?
+
+    It's an old story, I think--Let me just tell it again.
+
+  Powerful ever the goddess, but nevertheless to her fellows
+
+    Overbearing and rude, quite unendurable. She
+
+  Had by the gods since time out of mind at their banquets been dreaded,
+
+    Yelling with brassiest voice orders to great and to small.
+
+  Once, in her arrogance even maintained that she had subjected
+
+    To her own will, as her slave, Jove's most illustrious son.
+
+  "One of these days, O father of deities," cried she in triumph,
+
+    "I shall be bringing you my--Hercules, as if new born.
+
+  Don't think that Hercules be still that boy whom Alcmene once bore you;
+
+    His adulation of me makes him now god upon earth.
+
+  When toward Olympus he gazes, I've no doubt you hope that he's looking
+
+    Piously toward your knees. Hardly. He's looking for me.
+
+  Worthiest man! O the vision of winning my favor makes easy
+
+    Hitherto unexplored paths, under that powerful foot.
+
+  I do my part, for I meet him halfway and proclaim his adventures
+
+    Praising his name in advance, even before he's begun.
+
+  One day you'll wed me to Hercules.  Hero who Amazons conquered
+
+    That day will overwhelm me. Happily I'll call him:  spouse."
+
+  All of the gods kept their counsel, and none would reply to the braggart,
+
+    Lest in a pique she devise vengeance against one of them.
+
+  Cupid, escaping attention, slipped off to enslave, however, her hero:
+
+    Artlessly conquering by--force of a beautiful girl,
+
+  Afterward decked out his couple in mute masquerade:  lionskin
+
+    Over her shoulders, the club leaned (by much toil) at her side;
+
+  Wiry stiff hair of the hero larded with blossoms, a distaff
+
+    Laid in his fist, to conform strength to the dalliance of love.
+
+  Scene now completed and ready to tease, he goes scampering, shouting
+
+    For all Olympus to hear: "Come, see these glorious deeds!
+
+  Heaven and Earth and the Sun on his indefatigable journey
+
+    Over that infinite path never did witness the like!"
+
+  Everyone hastened, gulled by the dissolute boy, who feigning
+
+    Earnest, had summoned them all (Fame by no means lagged behind).
+
+  Which of the gods will now smile in sweet condescension on Cupid?
+
+    --Juno! delighted, of course, seeing a man humbled so.
+
+  Fame, on the other hand, stood there ashamed, embarrassed, despairing.
+
+    First she just laughed, saying: "Gods, be not deceived. It's a masque.
+
+  I know my hero too well to be fooled by disguises of actors."
+
+    Soon, though, in pain she perceived: Hercules, none but he.
+
+  (Vulcan had not been one thousandth so vexed to discover his playmate
+
+    Under his meshes ensnared, caught with his own lusty friend,
+
+  Lying just as the wiles of the net at the most crucial moment
+
+    Deftly embraced their embrace, trapping their instant of joy.
+
+  How those boys, Bacchus and Mercury, guffawed, and freely admitted:
+
+    Sweet must be the repose, lying on bosom so fine
+
+  Of this magnificent woman. They turned to Vulcan entreating:
+
+    "Do not release them just yet. Let us inspect them once more."
+
+  And the old cuckold was cuckold enough to comply with their wishes.)
+
+    As for poor Fame, in all haste, burning with wrath she must flee.
+
+  Since then no armistice has been proclaimed to the feuding between them.
+
+    Let her but favor a man, hot in pursuit is the boy.
+
+  He whom Fame honors most can least defend against Cupid,
+
+    And her most dang'rous attacks strike the most morally proud.
+
+  Whoever tries to escape him is dragged down from bad deeds to worse ones.
+
+    Yes, he will offer you girls--if like a fool you despise
+
+  These, only then do you feel from his bow the arrows most vicious:
+
+    Heat of man's love for man, ardent desires toward beasts.
+
+  For those ashamed of him Cupid reserves the bitterest passions,
+
+    Mingling for hypocrites their pleasure in vice and remorse.
+
+  But, at the same time, the goddess seeks him, she's watching and list'ning.
+
+    Should find him with you, ill disposed will she be:
+
+  Frighten you, frowning austerely, contemptuously, violently casting
+
+    Into the worst of repute houses he's known to frequent.
+
+  Ah, it's the same with me, too. I haven't escaped her, the goddess.
+
+    Jealously she seeks me out, sweet secret love to expose.
+
+  I will submit to the ancient law and in silence revere her,
+
+    For, when great lords fall out, I like the Greeks must atone.
+
+
+
+
+XXIII
+
+  However comely be strength, or free and undaunted comportment,
+
+    Secrecy is for a man most important of all.
+
+  Mighty subduer of cities, Discretion, O princess of nations,
+
+    Goddess whom I adore, safely you've led me thus far.
+
+  Now, though, what fate shall befall me? My frivolous muse has now opened
+
+    --Cupid, the scamp--opens lips hitherto sealed so well.
+
+  Difficult is it, alas, to conceal the shame of a monarch;
+
+    Hide it can neither his crown, nor a tight Phrygian cap:
+
+  Midas has asses ears! the first servant discovers--O horror!
+
+    Shame of this secret so weighs, Midas unburdens his heart.
+
+  Into the earth for safekeeping the servant must bury the story,
+
+    Easing in this way the king:  earth must conceal the tale.
+
+  Reeds in a trice are sprouting and rustling in murmuring breezes:
+
+    "Midas, o Midas the King--bears the ears of an ass!"
+
+  Mine is a secret more pleasant, but even more difficult keeping:
+
+    Out of abundance of heart eagerly speaketh my mouth.
+
+  None of my ladyfriends dare I confide in, for they would but chide me;
+
+    Nor any gentleman friend, lest he be rival to me.
+
+  Rapture proclaim to the grove, to the echoing cliffs perorate it?
+
+    One can do that if one's young, or if one's lonely enough.
+
+  I to hexameters tell, in pentameters I will confide it:
+
+    During the day she was joy, happiness all the night long.
+
+  Courted by so many suitors, avoided the snares that were set her
+
+    Now by one bolder than I, now by another in guile,
+
+  Cleverly, daintily, always slipped past them, and sure of the byways,
+
+    Comes to her lover's embrace, where he so eagerly waits.
+
+  Luna! Don't rise yet. She's coming, and must not be seen by the neighbor!
+
+    Breezes, rustle the leaves: muffle the sound of her feet.
+
+  And as for you, little poems, o grow and flower, your blossoms
+
+    Cradling themselves in the air, tepid and soft with love's breath.
+
+  Wafting, betray to Quirites, as Midas' reeds did with cheap gossip,
+
+    One happy couple in love, and their sweet secret, at last.
+
+
+
+
+XXIV
+
+  I in the back of the garden, the last of the gods, in a corner,
+
+    Ineptly formed, must I stand. Evil the inroads of time.
+
+  Cucumber vines grow entwining about this primeval lingam,
+
+    Cracking it almost in two under the weight of the fruit.
+
+  Faggots are heaped all about me against the cold of the winter,
+
+    Which I so hate for the crows settling then down on my head,
+
+  Which they befoul very shamefully. Summer's no better: the servants
+
+    Empty their bowels and show insolent, naked behinds.
+
+  Filth, above and below! I was clearly in danger of turning
+
+    Into filth myself, toadstool, rotten wood!
+
+  Now, by your efforts, O noblest of artists, I shall recover
+
+    With fellow gods my just place. And it's no more than my due.
+
+  Jupiter's throne, so dishonestly won, it was I who secured it:
+
+    Color and ivory, marble and bronze, not to mention the poems.
+
+  Now, all intelligent men look upon me in kindness. They like to
+
+    Form their own image of me, just as the poet has done.
+
+  Nor do the girls take offense when they see me--by no means the matrons.
+
+    None finds me ugly today, though I am monstrously strong.
+
+  Half a foot long, as reward, your glorious rod (dear poet)
+
+    Proudly shall strut from your loins, when but your dearest commands,
+
+  Nor shall your member grow weary until you've enjoyed the full dozen
+
+    Artful positions the great poet Philainis describes.
+
+
+
+
+ABOUT THE ELEGIES
+
+
+Goethe cultivated a special, italianate hand for this portfolio of
+twenty-four "elegies," so called because he was emulating the elegiasts
+of Imperial Rome, Tibullus, Propertius, Catullus.  The Elegies have
+never before been published as here, together in the cyclical form of
+their original conception.  Experts even denied that the two priapeia (I
+& XXIV) were by Goethe at all, although they are in the same hand as the
+rest.  To be sure, these two are not numbered, so that I was long
+undecided as to just what their proper position might be.  At one time I
+imagined they must belong at the middle of the cycle where at the end of
+Elegy XIII Priapus' mother summons her son.  Obviously Goethe, just
+returned north from his two years in Italy (1786-88), and alienated from
+prim, courtly friends (especially since he had taken a girlfriend into
+his cottage), had no thought of publication when he indited these
+remembrances of Ancient Rome.  But he did show them to close friends,
+one of whom was the wonderful dramatist Friedrich Schiller.  In 1795,
+Schiller undertook a new periodical, Die Horen.  This thoughtful and
+responsible man initiated the journal with an essay of his own,
+explaining how forms of entertainment are actually at the same time our
+primary modes of education.  It makes for pretty difficult reading in
+our present, less interested epoch.  But he did break the essay up with
+diversions solicited from the best minds of his era.  For a discussion
+of all this, see
+
+_Professor Worthy's Page_
+
+For now, it is enough to say that among Schiller's examples for
+"aesthetic education," as he called it, were these Elegies by his much
+admired friend, Wolfgang Goethe.  Editor and author made substantial
+changes for propriety's sake--despite Goethe's having lashed out to the
+contrary in the first Elegy (which he now suppressed, along with the
+final one).  My attempt has been--for the very first time by the way, in
+any language--to restore Goethe's cycle to his early conception.  Since
+I have been unwilling to intrude with learned notes, I must apologize
+for Goethe's many classical allusions, which were as familiar to his own
+readership as are, in our publications today, the dense references to
+media celebrities.  Modern editors of what they call the "Roman Elegies"
+bring abundant annotation, and often detail Goethe's own emendations.
+What I bring here is merely translated from his manuscript in the
+Goethe-Schiller Archive in Weimar.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's Erotica Romana, by Johann Wolfgang Goethe
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK EROTICA ROMANA ***
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+<?xml version="1.0" encoding="iso-8859-1"?>
+
+<!DOCTYPE html
+   PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN"
+   "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" >
+
+<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en">
+  <head>
+    <title>
+      Erotica Romana, by Johann Wolfgang Goethe
+    </title>
+    <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve">
+    
+    body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify}
+    P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; }
+    H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; }
+    hr  { width: 50%; text-align: center;}
+    .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; }
+    blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;}
+    .mynote    {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;}
+    .toc       { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;}
+    .toc2      { margin-left: 20%;}
+    div.fig    { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; }
+    div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; }
+    .figleft   {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;}
+    .figright  {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;}
+    .pagenum   {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal;
+               margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%;
+               text-align: right;}
+    pre        { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;}
+    
+</style>
+  </head>
+  <body>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Erotica Romana, by Johann Wolfgang Goethe
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Erotica Romana
+
+Author: Johann Wolfgang Goethe
+
+Release Date: August 4, 2009 [EBook #7889]
+Last Updated: January 25, 2013
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK EROTICA ROMANA ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Harry Haile, Mike Pullen, and David Widger
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <h1>
+      EROTICA ROMANA
+    </h1>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <h2>
+      By Johann Wolfgang Goethe
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      <br /> <br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <br /> <br />
+    </p>
+    <blockquote>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big>
+      </p>
+      <p>
+        <br />
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> I </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> II </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> III </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> IV </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> V </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0006"> VI </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0007"> VII </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0008"> VIII </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0009"> IX </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0010"> X </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0011"> XI </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0012"> XII </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0013"> XIII </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0014"> XIV </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#linkfifteen"> XV </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0015"> XVI </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0016"> XVII </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0017"> XVIII </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0018"> XIX </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0019"> XX </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0020"> XXI </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0021"> XXII </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0022"> XXIII </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0023"> XXIV </a>
+      </p>
+      <p>
+        <br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0024"> ABOUT THE ELEGIES </a>
+      </p>
+    </blockquote>
+    <p>
+      <br /> <br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      I
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+  Here's where I've planted my garden and here I shall care for love's blossoms&mdash;
+
+    As I am taught by my muse, carefully sort them in plots:
+
+  Fertile branches, whose product is golden fruit of my lifetime,
+
+    Set here in happier years, tended with pleasure today.
+
+  You, stand here at my side, good Priapus&mdash;albeit from thieves I've
+
+    Nothing to fear. Freely pluck, whosoever would eat.
+
+  &mdash;Hypocrites, those are the ones! If weakened with shame and bad conscience
+
+    One of those criminals comes, squinting out over my garden,
+
+  Bridling at nature's pure fruit, punish the knave in his hindparts,
+
+    Using the stake which so red rises there at your loins.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      II
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+  Tell me ye stones and give me O glorious palaces answer.
+
+    Speak O ye streets but one word. Genius, art thou alive?
+
+  Yes, here within thy sanctified walls there's a soul in each object,
+
+    ROMA eternal. For me, only, are all things yet mute.
+
+  Who will then tell me in whispers and where must I find just the window
+
+    Where one day she'll be glimpsed: creature who'll scorch me with love?
+
+  Can't I divine yet the paths through which over and over
+
+    To her and from her I'll go, squandering valuable time?
+
+  Visiting churches and palaces, all of the ruins and the pillars,
+
+    I, a responsible man, profit from making this trip.
+
+  With my business accomplished, ah, then shall only one temple,
+
+    AMOR's temple alone, take the initiate in.
+
+  Rome, thou art a whole world, it is true, and yet without love this
+
+    World would not be the world, Rome would cease to be Rome.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      III
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+  More than ever I dreamed, I have found it: my happy good fortune!
+
+    Cupid sagaciously led past those palazzos so fine.
+
+  He of course knows very well (and I have also discovered)
+
+    What, beneath tapestries rich, gilded boudoirs conceal.
+
+  One may if one wishes call him a blind, wanton boy&mdash;but I know you,
+
+    Clever Cupid, too well! O, incorruptible god!
+
+  We were by no means inveigled to enter façades so majestic;
+
+    Somber cortilé we passed, balcony high and gallant,
+
+  Hastening onward until an humble but exquisite portal
+
+    Offered a refuge to both, ardent seeker and guide.
+
+  Here he provides me with ev'rything, sees that I get what I call for;
+
+    Each day that passes he spreads freshly plucked roses for me.
+
+  &mdash;Isn't that heaven on earth? Say, beautiful Lady Borghese,
+
+    What would you give to me more? &mdash;You, Nipotina, what yours?
+
+  Banquets and game tables, operas, balls, promenades down the Corso?
+
+    These but deprive my sweet boy of his most opportune times.
+
+  Finery, haughtiness do not entice me. Does one not lift a
+
+    Gown of the finest brocade just as one lifts common wool?
+
+  If she's to press in comfort a lover against that soft bosom,
+
+    Doesn't he want her to be free from all brooches and chains?
+
+  Must not the jewelry, and then the lace and the bustles and whalebone
+
+    All of it come off entire, if he's to learn how she feels?
+
+  I encounter no troubles like those. Simple dress of rough homespun,
+
+    At but a lover's mere touch, tumbles in folds to the floor.
+
+  Quickly he carries the girl as she's clad in chemise of coarse linen&mdash;
+
+    Just as a nursemaid might, playfully up to her bed.
+
+  Drapings of satin are absent; the mattress is quite unembroidered.
+
+    Large is this room where the bed offers its comfort for two.
+
+  Jupiter's welcome to more from his Juno if he can get it;
+
+    Let any mortal find rest, softer, wherever he can.
+
+  We are content with Cupid's delights, authentic and naked&mdash;
+
+    And with the exquisite creak /crack of the bed as it rocks.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      IV
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+  Ask whomever you will but you'll never find out where I'm lodging,
+
+    High society's lords, ladies so groomed and refined.
+
+  "Tell me, was Werther authentic? Did all of that happen in real life?"
+
+    "Lotte, oh where did she live, Werther's only true love?"
+
+  How many times have I cursed those frivolous pages that broadcast
+
+    Out among all mankind passions I felt in my youth!
+
+  Were he my brother, why then I 'd have murdered poor Werther.
+
+    Yet his despondent ghost couldn't have sought worse revenge.
+
+  That's the way "Marlborough," the ditty, follows the Englishman's travels
+
+    Down to Livorno from France, thence from Livorno to Rome,
+
+  All of the way into Naples and then, should he flee on to Madras,
+
+    "Marlborough" will surely be there, "Marlborough" sung in the port.
+
+  Happily now I've escaped, and my mistress knows Werther and Lotte
+
+    Not a whit better than who might be this man in her bed:
+
+  That he's a foreigner, footloose and lusty, is all she could tell you,
+
+    Who beyond mountains and snow, dwelt in a house made of wood.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      V
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+  Do not, beloved, regret that you yielded to me so quickly:
+
+    I entertain no base, insolent thoughts about you.
+
+  Arrows of Cupid work divers effects. Some do but scratch us:
+
+    Slow and insidious these poison our hearts over years.
+
+  Yet with a head freshly honed and cunningly fledged, certain others
+
+    Pierce to the marrow, inflame rapidly there our blood.
+
+  When gods and goddesses in days of heroes made love, then
+
+    Lust followed look and desire, with no delay, was indulged.
+
+  Surely you don't think the goddess of love lost a moment reflecting
+
+    When, in Idean grove, Anchises caught her eye.
+
+  Nor did Luna delay about kissing that beautiful dreamer&mdash;
+
+    Jealous Aurora had else hastily wakened the lad.
+
+  At the loud banquet Hero regarded Leander&mdash;then promptly
+
+    Into dark waters he plunged, ardently swam toward his love.
+
+  When Rhea Silvia, princess and virgin, came down to the Tiber
+
+    Just to fetch water, a god seized her and that is the way
+
+  Mars begat himself sons, a pair of twins whom a she wolf
+
+    Suckled. Today a proud Rome claims to be queen of the world.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0006" id="link2H_4_0006">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      VI
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+  We are so pious, we lovers. Discreetly we worship all powers,
+
+    Hoping for favor from each god and each goddess as well.
+
+  We are like you, ye victorious Romans, in this:  for we offer
+
+    Gods of all peoples and tribes, over the whole world, a home&mdash;
+
+  May the Egyptian, black and austere out of primeval basalt,
+
+    Or from the marble a Greek, form them charming and white&mdash;
+
+  Yet the eternal ones do not object to particularism
+
+    (Incense of most precious sort, strewn for just one of their host).
+
+  Therefore we gladly confess to singling a special immortal
+
+    And our devotions each day pledging but solely to her.
+
+  Mischievous celebrants we at these mysteries gay, and so solemn:
+
+    Silence exactly befits rites at which we're adepts.
+
+  Rather onto our heels by horrible deeds the Erinyes
+
+    We would allure, even Zeus' punishment sooner we'd dare&mdash;
+
+  Under that rock, or bound to a tumbling wheel we'd endure it&mdash;
+
+    Than we'd withdraw our hearts from the delights of her cult.
+
+  Sweet Opportunity, that is her name. You should meet her.
+
+    Often will she turn up, ever in a new form.
+
+  Daughter of Proteus might well she be whom he sired upon Thetis.
+
+    In metamorphoses they've many a hero deceived.
+
+  So now the daughter beguiles the naive and bedazzles the foolish,
+
+    Teases you while you're asleep; when you awaken, she's flown.
+
+  Eagerly yields herself up to the quick, to the active man only.
+
+    He discovers she's tame, playful and tender and sweet.
+
+  Once she appeared to me, too: a dark-skinned girl, tumbling
+
+    Over her forehead the hair down in waves heavy and dark.
+
+  Round about a delicate neck curled short little ringlets;
+
+    Up from the crown of her head crinkled the unbraided hair.
+
+  When she dashed by me I seized her, mistaking her not. Lovingly
+
+    Kiss and embrace she returned, knowing and teaching me how.
+
+  O how enraptured I was! Ah, say now no more. It's a bygone.
+
+    But, O pigtails of Rome, still I'm entrammled in you.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0007" id="link2H_4_0007">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      VII
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+  Happily now on classical soil I feel inspiration.
+
+    Voices from present and past speak here evocatively.
+
+  Heeding ancient advice, I leaf through the works of the Ancients
+
+    With an assiduous hand. Daily the pleasure's renewed.
+
+  Throughout the night, in a different way, I'm kept busy by Cupid&mdash;
+
+    If erudition is halved, rapture is doubled that way.
+
+  Do then I not become wise when I trace with my eye her sweet bosom's
+
+    Form, and the line of her hips stroke with my hand? I acquire,
+
+  As I reflect and compare, my first understanding of marble,
+
+    See with an eye that feels, feel with a hand that sees.
+
+  While my beloved, I grant it, deprives me of moments of daylight,
+
+      She in the nighttime hours gives compensation in full.
+
+  And we do more than just kiss; we prosecute reasoned discussions
+
+    (Should she succumb to sleep, that gives me time for my thoughts).
+
+  In her embrace&mdash;it's by no means unusual&mdash;I've composed poems
+
+    And the hexameter's beat gently tapped out on her back,
+
+  Fingertips counting in time with the sweet rhythmic breath of her slumber.
+
+    Air from deep in her breast penetrates mine and there burns.
+
+  Cupid, while stirring the flame in our lamp, no doubt thinks of those days when
+
+      For the triumvirs he similar service performed.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0008" id="link2H_4_0008">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      VIII
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+  "Can you be cruel enough to sadden me thus with reproaches?
+
+    Germans speak, I suppose, bitterly when they're in love.
+
+  Bear it I must when the gossips bring forth accusations: I'm guilty&mdash;
+
+    Or am I not? But, alas, all of my guilt was with you.
+
+  Clothes that you've given bear witness for envious neighbors
+
+      That the poor widow no more grieves for her husband alone.
+
+  Did you not thoughtlessly visit me in the disguise of a cleric,
+
+      Muffled all up in a cloak, hair all rounded behind?
+
+  Who was it chose that gray monk if not you? Well then a prelate
+
+    Now is my lover&mdash;Ah, who is my prelate but you?
+
+  Never, incredible as it may sound in this clerical city,
+
+    Has any cleric brought me&mdash;swear it I will&mdash;to his bed.
+
+  I was sufficiently poor, sad to say. I was young. The seducers
+
+    Noted it well. Falconier ogled me often enough.
+
+  One of the pimps for Albani with billets doux very impressive
+
+    Called me to Ostia once. Quattro Fontani next time.
+
+  Who was it did not appear there? Why, who but the very same girl who
+
+    Hated with all of her heart stockings both violet and red.
+
+  For: 'In the end you poor girls are the ones who are sure to be cheated.'
+
+    So said my father although&mdash;Mother was not much impressed.
+
+  Father was right. Here I stand in the end being cheated and scolded.
+
+    You don't believe your own words. They're your excuse to escape.
+
+  Go, then. Unworthy of women are men. We, who carry your children
+
+    Next to our hearts, in these hearts loyalty we bear you, too.
+
+  As for you men, when you've poured out your potency in our embraces
+
+    And your desires dissipate, love with them passes away."
+
+  These things expressed, and taking her child from its chair, my beloved
+
+    Presses it close to her heart, kisses it, tears in her eyes.
+
+  I'm now so very ashamed of myself for having permitted
+
+    Gossip of neighbors to spoil picture so eloquent.
+
+  For a short moment a fire may burn darkly while smoke swirls about it.
+
+    Water dashed on the coals suddenly smothers their glow.
+
+  Rapidly then renewed heat overcomes those lowering vapors,
+
+    Sends up a flame that anew bright and more powerful gleams.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0009" id="link2H_4_0009">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      IX
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+  How very happy I am here in Rome when I think of the bad days
+
+    Far back there in the north, wrapped in a grayish light.
+
+  Over my head there the heavens weighed down so dismal and gloomy;
+
+    Colorless, formless, that world round this exhausted man lay.
+
+  Seeking myself in myself, an unsatisfied spirit, I brooded,
+
+    Spying out pathways dark, lost in dreary reflection.
+
+  Here in an æther more clear now a luster encircles my forehead.
+
+    Phoebus the god evokes forms, clear are his colors by day.
+
+  Bright with the stars comes the evening, ringing with songs that are tender,
+
+    And the glow of the moon, brighter than northern sun.
+
+  What blessedness mortals may know! Am I now dreaming? Or welcomes
+
+    Jupiter, Father, as guest&mdash;me, to ambrosial halls?
+
+  See, I lie here extending my arms toward your knees. I am praying:
+
+    Hospitality's god, Jupiter Xenius! Hear:
+
+  How I am come to this place I no longer can say&mdash;I was
+
+    Seized up by Hebe.  'Twas she led to this sacred hill.
+
+  Did you command her a hero to seek and deliver before you?
+
+    May be she erred. Then forgive. Let her mistake profit me!
+
+  Does not Fortuna, your daughter, when strewing her glorious presents,
+
+    After the manner of girls, yield to each passing whim?
+
+  You, O hospitable god, will by no means now banish a stranger
+
+    From your Olympian heights back to the base earth again.
+
+  "Poet, come to your senses!"&mdash;Forgive me, Jupiter, is not
+
+    Rome's Capitoline Hill second Olympus to you?
+
+  Suffer me, Jupiter, here and let Hermes guide me at last then
+
+    Past Cestius' Tomb gently to Orkus below.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0010" id="link2H_4_0010">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      X
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+  When you were small, you say, neither did others consider you f air, nor
+
+    Even your mother find praise&mdash;and I believe it&mdash;
+
+  Till you grew bigger, developing quietly over the years. I
+
+    Picture you to myself as an unusual child.
+
+  Also the blossoms on grapevines are wanting in shape and in color,
+
+    Although the fruit when it's ripe pleases both mankind and gods.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0011" id="link2H_4_0011">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      XI
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+  Kindling autumnal fire in a rustic, convivial fireplace
+
+    (How the sticks crackle and spew flames and glittering sparks!)
+
+  Strikes me especially pleasant this evening.  Before all my tinder
+
+    Dies away into coals, coals then to ashes decline,
+
+  She will be back and new faggots as well as big logs will be blazing,
+
+    Making a festival where lovers will warm up the night.
+
+  Then in the morning, officious, she'll leave the bed of her lover,
+
+    Rouse adroitly the flames out from their ashes anew.
+
+  Cupid has lent to her above others the gift of cajoling
+
+    Up from the ashes desire, just when slumber's begun.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0012" id="link2H_4_0012">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      XII
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+  All of those greats: Alexander, Caesar and Henry and Fredrick,
+
+    Gladly would share with me half of their hard fought renown,
+
+  Could I but grant them my bed for one single night, and its comfort,
+
+    But the poor wretches are held stark in cold Orkian grip.
+
+  Therefore, ye living, rejoice that love keeps you warm for a while yet,
+
+    Until cold Lethe anoints, captures your foot in its flight.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0013" id="link2H_4_0013">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      XIII
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+  They are for you, O ye graces, just a few leaves by a poet
+
+    Onto your pure altar laid, buds of the rose beside,
+
+  Offered in confidence.  Artists enjoy ateliers which are furnished
+
+    So as to make for a space Pantheon-like in decor:
+
+  Jupiter lowers that godly brow while his Juno looks upward;
+
+    Phoebus takes forward strides, shaking his curly head;
+
+  While phlegmatic Minerva peers down on us, frivolous Hermes
+
+    Seems to be looking askance, roguish, though tender as well.
+
+  But it's to Bacchus, the sensuous dreamer, Cythera sends glances
+
+    Bathed in sweetest desire&mdash;even in marble they're damp.
+
+  Thinking about his embrace and its pleasures, she seems to be asking
+
+    Shouldn't our glorious son here at our side stand erect?
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0014" id="link2H_4_0014">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      XIV
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+  Can't you hear voices, beloved, out on the Via Flamina?
+
+    Reapers are now going home, back from harvesting grain.
+
+  They had journeyed to Rome from afar, and here plaited for Ceres
+
+    Wreaths which the Romans today scorn to make for themselves.
+
+  Festivals no longer celebrate Ceres, the nourishing goddess
+
+    Who replaced acorns of old, giving man golden wheat.
+
+  Let us commemorate her then ourselves in festival private
+
+    (Two constitute a whole tribe, when they are two in love).
+
+  Have you by any chance heard how that mystical, strange celebration
+
+    Followed victorious troops back from Eleusis to Rome?
+
+  Greeks were the ones who began it, and only to Greeks they proclaimed it
+
+    Even within Roman walls: "Come to the sanctified night."
+
+  Those who were not of the cult kept their distance; neophytes trembled,
+
+    Waiting in garments of white, symbol of all that is pure.
+
+  Then the initiates must aimlessly wander about through the eerie
+
+    Circles of figures as if pilgriming through their own dreams.
+
+  Snakes on the ground were writhing about. Now virgins came bearing
+
+    Caskets securely locked, richly wreathéd with grain.
+
+  Surely the gestures of murmuring priests must contain some deep meaning&mdash;
+
+    Impatient acolytes wait, anxiously hoping for light.
+
+  Not until after many a testing and trial did they discover
+
+    What, within sacred ring, secretive image concealed.
+
+  What was this mystery other than this:   that Demeter, goddess,
+
+    Once upon a time had to a hero been kind.
+
+  It was to Jason, powerful king of the Cretans, she granted
+
+    Of her immortal self hidden sweet parts to explore.
+
+  That made the fortune of Crete! The marital bed of the goddess
+
+    Soon grew pregnant with grain, heavy her bounteous fields.
+
+  As for the rest of the world, it languished away, while Ceres,
+
+    Derelict of her true task, dalliance offered in love.
+
+  &mdash;Now the initiate youths, having followed this tale, all astonished,
+
+    Turned and beckoned their loves&mdash;love, do you comprehend?
+
+  See there the sacred shade beneath that bushy-boughed myrtle?
+
+    Our satisfaction will there scarcely endanger a world.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      <br /> <br /> <br /><a name="linkfifteen" id="linkfifteen"></a> <br />
+    </p>
+    <h2>
+      XV
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+
+
+  Cupid is always a scoundrel, and if you believe him he'll cheat you.
+
+    Here's what the hypocrite said: "Trust me just once more, this time.
+
+  I have the best of intentions toward you who have now dedicated&mdash;
+
+    I recognize it with thanks&mdash;life and writings to me.
+
+  Lo, I have followed you hither to Rome, and I'd like to do something
+
+    Here in this far away land pleasing to such an old friend.
+
+  Every traveller I've ever known has complained of poor treatment:
+
+    He whom I recommend treatment delicious receives.
+
+  You've now regarded with awe all the structures which lie here in ruins,
+
+    Cultivated your eye, sensing each hallowéd space.
+
+  How you've revered the formative will of those ancient artists!
+
+    In their own ateliers often I 've visited them.
+
+  As for their works, why, I formed those myself&mdash;now this time I'm boasting
+
+    Not. Oh come now, admit what I am saying is true.
+
+  Where are your own creations, your service to me having slackened?
+
+    Where is invention's glow now? Where is the color all gone?
+
+  Friend, do you hope you can create again? &mdash;The school of the Ancients
+
+    Yet remains open.  Its gates, years have not closed them to you.
+
+  I am eternally young, and as teacher I still love the young ones.
+
+    Wisdom that comes with old age pleases me not. Listen here:
+
+  Wasn't antiquity young when those fortunate Ancients were living?
+
+    Happy then be your life, too: in it antiquity lives.
+
+  Where will you find a fit theme for your song? &mdash;It is I must provide it.
+
+    As for a style truly grand, love can alone give you that."
+
+  All of these claims that sophist asserted. Could I contradict him?
+
+    I am wont to obey, when my commander decrees.
+
+  Treacherous now he is keeping his word: giving me themes for my poems
+
+    While he is stealing my time, potency, presence of mind.
+
+  Gazing into her eyes, holding hands, giving kisses, exchanging
+
+    Syllables sweet and those words lovers alone understand,
+
+  Murmuring our conversations we stutter in sweet oratory.
+
+    Hymns of such sort pass away, wanting prosodical tact.
+
+  Goddess of morning, Aurora, as friend of my muse I once knew you.
+
+    Has the unprincipled god, Cupid, seduced you now too?
+
+  So that these mornings you come as his sweetheart, awakening me at
+
+    His festive altar again, where I must celebrate him?
+
+  Here on my breast flows her hair, an abundance of curls, while her head rests,
+
+    Pressing my arm as it's bent, so as to pillow her neck.
+
+  What a delicious condition, if only these few tranquil moments
+
+    Could in my memory fix firmly that image of joy
+
+  When the night rocked us to sleep&mdash;but in slumber she's moving away now,
+
+    From my side turns, as she goes leaving her hand in my hand.
+
+  Love in our hearts makes us one, as the genuine need there stays constant;
+
+    Only returning desire knows oscillation or change.
+
+  Gently her hand presses mine, now she opens her eyes and is looking
+
+    Into my own eyes. No&mdash;don't. Let my thoughts rest on your form!
+
+  Please close your eyes. They're inebriation, confusion, they rob me
+
+    All too soon of the joy quiet reflection affords.
+
+  Grand are the forms of this body and nobly positioned each member.
+
+    Had Ariadne lain thus, Theseus never had fled.
+
+  Only a single kiss for these lips and then, O Theseus, leave her;
+
+    Look at her eyes&mdash;she's awake! Now you're eternally bound.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0015" id="link2H_4_0015">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      XVI
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+  Boy, won't you light me a lamp. "But dear master, there's light in the sky yet.
+
+    Don't waste your oil and the wick. Don't close the shutters so soon.
+
+  Only the houses are blocking the sun there, it's not yet the mountains.
+
+    Until the curfew shall ring, full half an hour must pass."
+
+  Wretched young fellow, be gone and obey me! My loved one is coming.
+
+    Lamplight, console me till then, harbinger warm of the night.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0016" id="link2H_4_0016">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      XVII
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+  Poets of old in chorus cried out against those two serpents,
+
+    Making them horrible names, hated in all of the world:
+
+  Python the one, the other the Hydra of Lerna. These monsters
+
+    Both have now been destroyed, thanks to the deeds of the gods.
+
+  Fire-breathing, venomous once, they no longer now depredate our
+
+    Flocks and meadows and woods, fields of golden grain.
+
+  How is it then that some spiteful god in his wrath has
+
+    Raised from the poisonous slime offspring so monstrous again?
+
+  There's an insidious viper creeps into the loveliest gardens,
+
+    Lying in wait to attack all who seek pleasure therein.
+
+  Noble Hesperian dragon, I call you courageous and forthright.
+
+    Boldly defending your own beautiful apples of gold.
+
+  As for this worm, why he is not guarding at all, for his presence
+
+    Sullies both garden and fruit, till they deserve no defense.
+
+  Secretly coiled beneath bushes, where he befouls the sweet wellsprings,
+
+    Turning to poisonous drool Cupid's lifegiving dew.
+
+  Happy Lucretius knew how in his day to forego love completely,
+
+    Fearing not to enjoy pleasure in anyone's arms.
+
+  Fortunate Ancient, Propertius, for you a slave fetched the girls down
+
+    From the Aventine Hill, from Tarpeia's grove.
+
+  Cynthia then, when driving you out of such unchaste embraces,
+
+    Found you unfaithful, it's true, but she did find you whole.
+
+  Who would today dare attempt to escape from fidelity's ennui?
+
+    Love does not hold one back&mdash;only concern for one's health.
+
+  Even the woman we love may afford us uncertain enjoyment;
+
+    Nowhere can feminine lap safely encouch a man's head.
+
+  Matrimonial bed's insecure and so's fornication;
+
+    Husband, lover and wife pass to each other the hurt.
+
+  Think of those ages of gold when Jupiter followed his urges,
+
+    Chose Callisto one day, turned to Semel the next.
+
+  It was important to him to find thresholds of temples so sacred
+
+    Pure when, enamoured, he sought powerful entry to them.
+
+  Can you imagine the ragings of Juno if in love's skirmish
+
+    Poisonous weapons on her by her own spouse had been turned?
+
+  But we neo-pagans may not after all be abandoned entirely:
+
+    Yet there is speeding a god mercifully over the earth,
+
+  Quick and assiduous. Everyone knows him and ought to adore him,
+
+    Herald of Zeus: Hermes, the healing god.
+
+  Although his father's temple be fallen, and though of its pillars
+
+    Scarcely a pair yet records ancient glory adored,
+
+  Nevertheless the son's place of worship still stands, and forever
+
+    Will there the ardent requests alternate with the thanks.
+
+  Only one favor I beg of you, Graces (I ask it in secret&mdash;
+
+    Fervent my prayer and deep, out of a passionate breast):
+
+  My little garden, my sweet one, protect it and do not let any
+
+    Evil come near it nor me. Cupid will hold out his hand:
+
+  O, and entrusting myself to the rascal, I beg you please may I
+
+    Do so in pleasure with no danger or worry or fear.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0017" id="link2H_4_0017">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      XVIII
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+  I cannot think I'd have gone with Julius Caesar to Britain;
+
+    To the Popina right here, Florus would tug me with ease.
+
+  Fogs of the dreary north remain a more baleful remembrance
+
+    Than in the kitchens of Rome tribes of assiduous fleas.
+
+  After today, I'll remember you even more kindly, tavernas,
+
+    You osterias, as you are called, aptly by those here in Rome.
+
+  That was the place I encountered my mistress today with the uncle
+
+    Whom she so often deceives, so that she can have me.
+
+  Here's where I sat at a table surrounded by good-natured Germans;
+
+    Over on that side the girl, finding a seat for herself
+
+  Next to her mother where, frequently shifting her bench, she arranged
+
+    Nicely for me to perceive profile and curve of her neck;
+
+  Speaks just a little more loudly than women in Rome are accustomed;
+
+    Significant glance as she pours&mdash;misses the glass with the wine
+
+  So that it spills on the table, and she with a delicate finger
+
+    Over its surface can draw circles in damp arabesque:
+
+  Her name entwining in mine, while my eyes most eagerly follow
+
+    All that her fingertip writes. She is of course well aware
+
+  That I am watching, so finally makes the V of the Roman
+
+    Five, with a virgule before. Quickly, as soon as I've seen,
+
+  She interlaces the circles, reducing them all to ornatest
+
+    Patterns&mdash;but still the sweet IV stood as engraved in my eye.
+
+  I sat there mutely and biting my passionate lips almost bloody
+
+    Half from delight at the ruse, partly from stifled desire:
+
+  Such a long time until dark, then another four hours of waiting.
+
+    &mdash;Sun, who tarries on high, contemplating Rome:
+
+  Greater never you've nor shall you in future see greater
+
+    Than Rome, O sun, as your priest, Horace, enraptured foretold.
+
+  Tarry no longer today. Go seek other realms beneath heaven.
+
+    Sooner depart and leave Rome's seven famed hills to me.
+
+  Please do the poet a favor and shorten the glorious hours
+
+    Which the painter devours, eagerly filling his eyes.
+
+  Cast now but one ardent glance, while descending, on noble façades and
+
+    Cupolas, pillars, and&mdash;last&mdash;up at the obelisks. Then
+
+  Hastily plunge to the ocean. Come view all the sooner tomorrow
+
+    That which, for centuries now, gods have let you enjoy:
+
+  Italy's shoreline so long overgrown with moist reeds, elevations
+
+    Somberly rising to shades cast by the bushes and trees.
+
+  First were but few simple dwellings here, suddenly sunlight discovered
+
+    Nations enlivening hills teeming with fortunate thieves.
+
+  Onto this spot they assembled such plunder, in your eye so splendid
+
+    All earth's remaining orb scarcely was worthy of note.
+
+  You watched a world being born here, watched the same world sink to ruin,
+
+    And from those ruins yet arise world again greater, perhaps.
+
+  O may I long by your light now behold this Rome. May the Parcæ
+
+    Spin the fine thread of my life slowly, taking great care.
+
+  O but come rushing the moment my love designated so sweetly.
+
+    Wonderful! Sound already the chimes? &mdash;No, but I heard at least three.
+
+  Thus, my dear muses, again you've beguiled the monotony for me.
+
+    Of this long interval while I was apart from my love.
+
+  All of you now, farewell! I'll be going now&mdash;don't be offended.
+
+    For, though you're proud, you'll concede: Cupid in my heart comes first.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0018" id="link2H_4_0018">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      XIX
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+  Why did you fail to appear at the cot in the vineyard today, Love?
+
+    As I had promised I would, long I awaited you there.
+
+  "Dear, I had almost arrived when I saw, by good fortune, your uncle
+
+    Standing right there by the vines, looking now this way, now that.
+
+  Stealthily I slipped away." &mdash;Alas, what a misapprehension!
+
+    You saw the scarecrow, that's all. Nothing else drove you away.
+
+  Reeds and some discarded garments all hastily cobbled together&mdash;
+
+    I helped to make it myself: diligent in my own grief.
+
+  "Well, now his wish is fulfilled. The old gardner's most dissolute crow has
+
+    Left on this day unscathed nice little garden and niece."
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0019" id="link2H_4_0019">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      XX
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+  While there is many an unpleasant sound, I hate to hear barking
+
+    Worse than anything else. Bellowing dogs split my ears.
+
+  Nevertheless I do like to hear, and take pleasure in listening
+
+    To the loud howl of the dog raised from a pup next door.
+
+  That is the dog that so bayed one time at my girl that he almost
+
+    Gave our secret away (when she was visiting me).
+
+  Now, when I hear the dog barking I think my beloved is coming&mdash;
+
+    Or I remember the time, when long awaited she came.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0020" id="link2H_4_0020">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      XXI
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+  I can tell not only about a discomfort far greater than others,
+
+    But of a horror besides, thinking of which will arouse
+
+  Every fiber in me to revulsion. My friends, I confess it:
+
+    Great displeasure I take lying alone in my bed.
+
+  But it's a horror to fear on the pathways of love you'll discover
+
+    Snakes and their venom beneath roses of eager desire&mdash;
+
+  That at the moment supreme, when I'm yielding to pleasure so fully,
+
+    Right at my head as it droops, hissing disease may approach.
+
+  That's why Faustina as my companion in bed makes me happy:
+
+    Loving she always remains faithful, as I am to her.
+
+  Young men are aroused in their passions by obstacles and by excitement;
+
+    I prefer to go slow, savoring pleasures secure.
+
+  Is it not bliss to exchange tender kisses containing no dangers,
+
+    Sucking into our lungs, carefree, our partner's own life?
+
+  That is the way our long nights of enjoyment are passed. We listen,
+
+    Breast against breast, to the storm, pouring down rain in the wind
+
+  Morning begins to dawn, we expect from these hours approaching
+
+    Blossoms that will adorn festive the coming new day.
+
+  Quirites, permit me the joy, and may this, of all pleasures on earth the
+
+    First and the last, be vouchsafed all of mankind by the god.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0021" id="link2H_4_0021">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      XXII
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+  Ah, to uphold one's respectable name is not easy. The Lady
+
+    Fame has an ancient foe: Cupid, my master and lord.
+
+  Oh, by the way, have you heard of the cause of their mutual hatred?
+
+    It's an old story, I think&mdash;Let me just tell it again.
+
+  Powerful ever the goddess, but nevertheless to her fellows
+
+    Overbearing and rude, quite unendurable. She
+
+  Had by the gods since time out of mind at their banquets been dreaded,
+
+    Yelling with brassiest voice orders to great and to small.
+
+  Once, in her arrogance even maintained that she had subjected
+
+    To her own will, as her slave, Jove's most illustrious son.
+
+  "One of these days, O father of deities," cried she in triumph,
+
+    "I shall be bringing you my&mdash;Hercules, as if new born.
+
+  Don't think that Hercules be still that boy whom Alcmene once bore you;
+
+    His adulation of me makes him now god upon earth.
+
+  When toward Olympus he gazes, I've no doubt you hope that he's looking
+
+    Piously toward your knees. Hardly. He's looking for me.
+
+  Worthiest man! O the vision of winning my favor makes easy
+
+    Hitherto unexplored paths, under that powerful foot.
+
+  I do my part, for I meet him halfway and proclaim his adventures
+
+    Praising his name in advance, even before he's begun.
+
+  One day you'll wed me to Hercules.  Hero who Amazons conquered
+
+    That day will overwhelm me. Happily I'll call him:  spouse."
+
+  All of the gods kept their counsel, and none would reply to the braggart,
+
+    Lest in a pique she devise vengeance against one of them.
+
+  Cupid, escaping attention, slipped off to enslave, however, her hero:
+
+    Artlessly conquering by&mdash;force of a beautiful girl,
+
+  Afterward decked out his couple in mute masquerade:  lionskin
+
+    Over her shoulders, the club leaned (by much toil) at her side;
+
+  Wiry stiff hair of the hero larded with blossoms, a distaff
+
+    Laid in his fist, to conform strength to the dalliance of love.
+
+  Scene now completed and ready to tease, he goes scampering, shouting
+
+    For all Olympus to hear: "Come, see these glorious deeds!
+
+  Heaven and Earth and the Sun on his indefatigable journey
+
+    Over that infinite path never did witness the like!"
+
+  Everyone hastened, gulled by the dissolute boy, who feigning
+
+    Earnest, had summoned them all (Fame by no means lagged behind).
+
+  Which of the gods will now smile in sweet condescension on Cupid?
+
+    &mdash;Juno! delighted, of course, seeing a man humbled so.
+
+  Fame, on the other hand, stood there ashamed, embarrassed, despairing.
+
+    First she just laughed, saying: "Gods, be not deceived. It's a masque.
+
+  I know my hero too well to be fooled by disguises of actors."
+
+    Soon, though, in pain she perceived: Hercules, none but he.
+
+  (Vulcan had not been one thousandth so vexed to discover his playmate
+
+    Under his meshes ensnared, caught with his own lusty friend,
+
+  Lying just as the wiles of the net at the most crucial moment
+
+    Deftly embraced their embrace, trapping their instant of joy.
+
+  How those boys, Bacchus and Mercury, guffawed, and freely admitted:
+
+    Sweet must be the repose, lying on bosom so fine
+
+  Of this magnificent woman. They turned to Vulcan entreating:
+
+    "Do not release them just yet. Let us inspect them once more."
+
+  And the old cuckold was cuckold enough to comply with their wishes.)
+
+    As for poor Fame, in all haste, burning with wrath she must flee.
+
+  Since then no armistice has been proclaimed to the feuding between them.
+
+    Let her but favor a man, hot in pursuit is the boy.
+
+  He whom Fame honors most can least defend against Cupid,
+
+    And her most dang'rous attacks strike the most morally proud.
+
+  Whoever tries to escape him is dragged down from bad deeds to worse ones.
+
+    Yes, he will offer you girls&mdash;if like a fool you despise
+
+  These, only then do you feel from his bow the arrows most vicious:
+
+    Heat of man's love for man, ardent desires toward beasts.
+
+  For those ashamed of him Cupid reserves the bitterest passions,
+
+    Mingling for hypocrites their pleasure in vice and remorse.
+
+  But, at the same time, the goddess seeks him, she's watching and list'ning.
+
+    Should find him with you, ill disposed will she be:
+
+  Frighten you, frowning austerely, contemptuously, violently casting
+
+    Into the worst of repute houses he's known to frequent.
+
+  Ah, it's the same with me, too. I haven't escaped her, the goddess.
+
+    Jealously she seeks me out, sweet secret love to expose.
+
+  I will submit to the ancient law and in silence revere her,
+
+    For, when great lords fall out, I like the Greeks must atone.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0022" id="link2H_4_0022">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      XXIII
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+  However comely be strength, or free and undaunted comportment,
+
+    Secrecy is for a man most important of all.
+
+  Mighty subduer of cities, Discretion, O princess of nations,
+
+    Goddess whom I adore, safely you've led me thus far.
+
+  Now, though, what fate shall befall me? My frivolous muse has now opened
+
+    &mdash;Cupid, the scamp&mdash;opens lips hitherto sealed so well.
+
+  Difficult is it, alas, to conceal the shame of a monarch;
+
+    Hide it can neither his crown, nor a tight Phrygian cap:
+
+  Midas has asses ears! the first servant discovers&mdash;O horror!
+
+    Shame of this secret so weighs, Midas unburdens his heart.
+
+  Into the earth for safekeeping the servant must bury the story,
+
+    Easing in this way the king:  earth must conceal the tale.
+
+  Reeds in a trice are sprouting and rustling in murmuring breezes:
+
+    "Midas, o Midas the King&mdash;bears the ears of an ass!"
+
+  Mine is a secret more pleasant, but even more difficult keeping:
+
+    Out of abundance of heart eagerly speaketh my mouth.
+
+  None of my ladyfriends dare I confide in, for they would but chide me;
+
+    Nor any gentleman friend, lest he be rival to me.
+
+  Rapture proclaim to the grove, to the echoing cliffs perorate it?
+
+    One can do that if one's young, or if one's lonely enough.
+
+  I to hexameters tell, in pentameters I will confide it:
+
+    During the day she was joy, happiness all the night long.
+
+  Courted by so many suitors, avoided the snares that were set her
+
+    Now by one bolder than I, now by another in guile,
+
+  Cleverly, daintily, always slipped past them, and sure of the byways,
+
+    Comes to her lover's embrace, where he so eagerly waits.
+
+  Luna! Don't rise yet. She's coming, and must not be seen by the neighbor!
+
+    Breezes, rustle the leaves: muffle the sound of her feet.
+
+  And as for you, little poems, o grow and flower, your blossoms
+
+    Cradling themselves in the air, tepid and soft with love's breath.
+
+  Wafting, betray to Quirites, as Midas' reeds did with cheap gossip,
+
+    One happy couple in love, and their sweet secret, at last.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0023" id="link2H_4_0023">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      XXIV
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+  I in the back of the garden, the last of the gods, in a corner,
+
+    Ineptly formed, must I stand. Evil the inroads of time.
+
+  Cucumber vines grow entwining about this primeval lingam,
+
+    Cracking it almost in two under the weight of the fruit.
+
+  Faggots are heaped all about me against the cold of the winter,
+
+    Which I so hate for the crows settling then down on my head,
+
+  Which they befoul very shamefully. Summer's no better: the servants
+
+    Empty their bowels and show insolent, naked behinds.
+
+  Filth, above and below! I was clearly in danger of turning
+
+    Into filth myself, toadstool, rotten wood!
+
+  Now, by your efforts, O noblest of artists, I shall recover
+
+    With fellow gods my just place. And it's no more than my due.
+
+  Jupiter's throne, so dishonestly won, it was I who secured it:
+
+    Color and ivory, marble and bronze, not to mention the poems.
+
+  Now, all intelligent men look upon me in kindness. They like to
+
+    Form their own image of me, just as the poet has done.
+
+  Nor do the girls take offense when they see me&mdash;by no means the matrons.
+
+    None finds me ugly today, though I am monstrously strong.
+
+  Half a foot long, as reward, your glorious rod (dear poet)
+
+    Proudly shall strut from your loins, when but your dearest commands,
+
+  Nor shall your member grow weary until you've enjoyed the full dozen
+
+    Artful positions the great poet Philainis describes.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0024" id="link2H_4_0024">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      ABOUT THE ELEGIES
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      Goethe cultivated a special, italianate hand for this portfolio of
+      twenty-four "elegies," so called because he was emulating the elegiasts of
+      Imperial Rome, Tibullus, Propertius, Catullus. The Elegies have never
+      before been published as here, together in the cyclical form of their
+      original conception. Experts even denied that the two priapeia (I &amp;
+      XXIV) were by Goethe at all, although they are in the same hand as the
+      rest. To be sure, these two are not numbered, so that I was long undecided
+      as to just what their proper position might be. At one time I imagined
+      they must belong at the middle of the cycle where at the end of Elegy XIII
+      Priapus' mother summons her son. Obviously Goethe, just returned north
+      from his two years in Italy (1786-88), and alienated from prim, courtly
+      friends (especially since he had taken a girlfriend into his cottage), had
+      no thought of publication when he indited these remembrances of Ancient
+      Rome. But he did show them to close friends, one of whom was the wonderful
+      dramatist Friedrich Schiller. In 1795, Schiller undertook a new
+      periodical, Die Horen. This thoughtful and responsible man initiated the
+      journal with an essay of his own, explaining how forms of entertainment
+      are actually at the same time our primary modes of education. It makes for
+      pretty difficult reading in our present, less interested epoch. But he did
+      break the essay up with diversions solicited from the best minds of his
+      era. For a discussion of all this, see
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <i>Professor Worthy's Page</i>
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      For now, it is enough to say that among Schiller's examples for "aesthetic
+      education," as he called it, were these Elegies by his much admired
+      friend, Wolfgang Goethe. Editor and author made substantial changes for
+      propriety's sake&mdash;despite Goethe's having lashed out to the contrary
+      in the first Elegy (which he now suppressed, along with the final one). My
+      attempt has been&mdash;for the very first time by the way, in any language&mdash;to
+      restore Goethe's cycle to his early conception. Since I have been
+      unwilling to intrude with learned notes, I must apologize for Goethe's
+      many classical allusions, which were as familiar to his own readership as
+      are, in our publications today, the dense references to media celebrities.
+      Modern editors of what they call the "Roman Elegies" bring abundant
+      annotation, and often detail Goethe's own emendations. What I bring here
+      is merely translated from his manuscript in the Goethe-Schiller Archive in
+      Weimar.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's Erotica Romana, by Johann Wolfgang Goethe
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+</pre>
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+</html>
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Erotica Romana, by Johann Wolfgang Goethe
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Erotica Romana
+
+Author: Johann Wolfgang Goethe
+
+Release Date: April, 2005 [EBook #7889]
+Posting Date: August 4, 2009
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK EROTICA ROMANA ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Harry Haile and Mike Pullen
+
+
+
+
+
+EROTICA ROMANA
+
+By Johann Wolfgang Goethe
+
+
+
+
+
+I
+
+  Here's where I've planted my garden and here I shall care for love's blossoms--
+
+    As I am taught by my muse, carefully sort them in plots:
+
+  Fertile branches, whose product is golden fruit of my lifetime,
+
+    Set here in happier years, tended with pleasure today.
+
+  You, stand here at my side, good Priapus--albeit from thieves I've
+
+    Nothing to fear. Freely pluck, whosoever would eat.
+
+  --Hypocrites, those are the ones! If weakened with shame and bad conscience
+
+    One of those criminals comes, squinting out over my garden,
+
+  Bridling at nature's pure fruit, punish the knave in his hindparts,
+
+    Using the stake which so red rises there at your loins.
+
+
+
+
+II
+
+  Tell me ye stones and give me O glorious palaces answer.
+
+    Speak O ye streets but one word. Genius, art thou alive?
+
+  Yes, here within thy sanctified walls there's a soul in each object,
+
+    ROMA eternal. For me, only, are all things yet mute.
+
+  Who will then tell me in whispers and where must I find just the window
+
+    Where one day she'll be glimpsed: creature who'll scorch me with love?
+
+  Can't I divine yet the paths through which over and over
+
+    To her and from her I'll go, squandering valuable time?
+
+  Visiting churches and palaces, all of the ruins and the pillars,
+
+    I, a responsible man, profit from making this trip.
+
+  With my business accomplished, ah, then shall only one temple,
+
+    AMOR's temple alone, take the initiate in.
+
+  Rome, thou art a whole world, it is true, and yet without love this
+
+    World would not be the world, Rome would cease to be Rome.
+
+
+
+
+III
+
+  More than ever I dreamed, I have found it: my happy good fortune!
+
+    Cupid sagaciously led past those palazzos so fine.
+
+  He of course knows very well (and I have also discovered)
+
+    What, beneath tapestries rich, gilded boudoirs conceal.
+
+  One may if one wishes call him a blind, wanton boy--but I know you,
+
+    Clever Cupid, too well! O, incorruptible god!
+
+  We were by no means inveigled to enter facades so majestic;
+
+    Somber cortile we passed, balcony high and gallant,
+
+  Hastening onward until an humble but exquisite portal
+
+    Offered a refuge to both, ardent seeker and guide.
+
+  Here he provides me with ev'rything, sees that I get what I call for;
+
+    Each day that passes he spreads freshly plucked roses for me.
+
+  --Isn't that heaven on earth? Say, beautiful Lady Borghese,
+
+    What would you give to me more? --You, Nipotina, what yours?
+
+  Banquets and game tables, operas, balls, promenades down the Corso?
+
+    These but deprive my sweet boy of his most opportune times.
+
+  Finery, haughtiness do not entice me. Does one not lift a
+
+    Gown of the finest brocade just as one lifts common wool?
+
+  If she's to press in comfort a lover against that soft bosom,
+
+    Doesn't he want her to be free from all brooches and chains?
+
+  Must not the jewelry, and then the lace and the bustles and whalebone
+
+    All of it come off entire, if he's to learn how she feels?
+
+  I encounter no troubles like those. Simple dress of rough homespun,
+
+    At but a lover's mere touch, tumbles in folds to the floor.
+
+  Quickly he carries the girl as she's clad in chemise of coarse linen--
+
+    Just as a nursemaid might, playfully up to her bed.
+
+  Drapings of satin are absent; the mattress is quite unembroidered.
+
+    Large is this room where the bed offers its comfort for two.
+
+  Jupiter's welcome to more from his Juno if he can get it;
+
+    Let any mortal find rest, softer, wherever he can.
+
+  We are content with Cupid's delights, authentic and naked--
+
+    And with the exquisite creak /crack of the bed as it rocks.
+
+
+
+
+IV
+
+  Ask whomever you will but you'll never find out where I'm lodging,
+
+    High society's lords, ladies so groomed and refined.
+
+  "Tell me, was Werther authentic? Did all of that happen in real life?"
+
+    "Lotte, oh where did she live, Werther's only true love?"
+
+  How many times have I cursed those frivolous pages that broadcast
+
+    Out among all mankind passions I felt in my youth!
+
+  Were he my brother, why then I 'd have murdered poor Werther.
+
+    Yet his despondent ghost couldn't have sought worse revenge.
+
+  That's the way "Marlborough," the ditty, follows the Englishman's travels
+
+    Down to Livorno from France, thence from Livorno to Rome,
+
+  All of the way into Naples and then, should he flee on to Madras,
+
+    "Marlborough" will surely be there, "Marlborough" sung in the port.
+
+  Happily now I've escaped, and my mistress knows Werther and Lotte
+
+    Not a whit better than who might be this man in her bed:
+
+  That he's a foreigner, footloose and lusty, is all she could tell you,
+
+    Who beyond mountains and snow, dwelt in a house made of wood.
+
+
+
+
+V
+
+  Do not, beloved, regret that you yielded to me so quickly:
+
+    I entertain no base, insolent thoughts about you.
+
+  Arrows of Cupid work divers effects. Some do but scratch us:
+
+    Slow and insidious these poison our hearts over years.
+
+  Yet with a head freshly honed and cunningly fledged, certain others
+
+    Pierce to the marrow, inflame rapidly there our blood.
+
+  When gods and goddesses in days of heroes made love, then
+
+    Lust followed look and desire, with no delay, was indulged.
+
+  Surely you don't think the goddess of love lost a moment reflecting
+
+    When, in Idean grove, Anchises caught her eye.
+
+  Nor did Luna delay about kissing that beautiful dreamer--
+
+    Jealous Aurora had else hastily wakened the lad.
+
+  At the loud banquet Hero regarded Leander--then promptly
+
+    Into dark waters he plunged, ardently swam toward his love.
+
+  When Rhea Silvia, princess and virgin, came down to the Tiber
+
+    Just to fetch water, a god seized her and that is the way
+
+  Mars begat himself sons, a pair of twins whom a she wolf
+
+    Suckled. Today a proud Rome claims to be queen of the world.
+
+
+
+
+VI
+
+  We are so pious, we lovers. Discreetly we worship all powers,
+
+    Hoping for favor from each god and each goddess as well.
+
+  We are like you, ye victorious Romans, in this:  for we offer
+
+    Gods of all peoples and tribes, over the whole world, a home--
+
+  May the Egyptian, black and austere out of primeval basalt,
+
+    Or from the marble a Greek, form them charming and white--
+
+  Yet the eternal ones do not object to particularism
+
+    (Incense of most precious sort, strewn for just one of their host).
+
+  Therefore we gladly confess to singling a special immortal
+
+    And our devotions each day pledging but solely to her.
+
+  Mischievous celebrants we at these mysteries gay, and so solemn:
+
+    Silence exactly befits rites at which we're adepts.
+
+  Rather onto our heels by horrible deeds the Erinyes
+
+    We would allure, even Zeus' punishment sooner we'd dare--
+
+  Under that rock, or bound to a tumbling wheel we'd endure it--
+
+    Than we'd withdraw our hearts from the delights of her cult.
+
+  Sweet Opportunity, that is her name. You should meet her.
+
+    Often will she turn up, ever in a new form.
+
+  Daughter of Proteus might well she be whom he sired upon Thetis.
+
+    In metamorphoses they've many a hero deceived.
+
+  So now the daughter beguiles the naive and bedazzles the foolish,
+
+    Teases you while you're asleep; when you awaken, she's flown.
+
+  Eagerly yields herself up to the quick, to the active man only.
+
+    He discovers she's tame, playful and tender and sweet.
+
+  Once she appeared to me, too: a dark-skinned girl, tumbling
+
+    Over her forehead the hair down in waves heavy and dark.
+
+  Round about a delicate neck curled short little ringlets;
+
+    Up from the crown of her head crinkled the unbraided hair.
+
+  When she dashed by me I seized her, mistaking her not. Lovingly
+
+    Kiss and embrace she returned, knowing and teaching me how.
+
+  O how enraptured I was! Ah, say now no more. It's a bygone.
+
+    But, O pigtails of Rome, still I'm entrammled in you.
+
+
+
+
+VII
+
+  Happily now on classical soil I feel inspiration.
+
+    Voices from present and past speak here evocatively.
+
+  Heeding ancient advice, I leaf through the works of the Ancients
+
+    With an assiduous hand. Daily the pleasure's renewed.
+
+  Throughout the night, in a different way, I'm kept busy by Cupid--
+
+    If erudition is halved, rapture is doubled that way.
+
+  Do then I not become wise when I trace with my eye her sweet bosom's
+
+    Form, and the line of her hips stroke with my hand? I acquire,
+
+  As I reflect and compare, my first understanding of marble,
+
+    See with an eye that feels, feel with a hand that sees.
+
+  While my beloved, I grant it, deprives me of moments of daylight,
+
+      She in the nighttime hours gives compensation in full.
+
+  And we do more than just kiss; we prosecute reasoned discussions
+
+    (Should she succumb to sleep, that gives me time for my thoughts).
+
+  In her embrace--it's by no means unusual--I've composed poems
+
+    And the hexameter's beat gently tapped out on her back,
+
+  Fingertips counting in time with the sweet rhythmic breath of her slumber.
+
+    Air from deep in her breast penetrates mine and there burns.
+
+  Cupid, while stirring the flame in our lamp, no doubt thinks of those days when
+
+      For the triumvirs he similar service performed.
+
+
+
+
+VIII
+
+  "Can you be cruel enough to sadden me thus with reproaches?
+
+    Germans speak, I suppose, bitterly when they're in love.
+
+  Bear it I must when the gossips bring forth accusations: I'm guilty--
+
+    Or am I not? But, alas, all of my guilt was with you.
+
+  Clothes that you've given bear witness for envious neighbors
+
+      That the poor widow no more grieves for her husband alone.
+
+  Did you not thoughtlessly visit me in the disguise of a cleric,
+
+      Muffled all up in a cloak, hair all rounded behind?
+
+  Who was it chose that gray monk if not you? Well then a prelate
+
+    Now is my lover--Ah, who is my prelate but you?
+
+  Never, incredible as it may sound in this clerical city,
+
+    Has any cleric brought me--swear it I will--to his bed.
+
+  I was sufficiently poor, sad to say. I was young. The seducers
+
+    Noted it well. Falconier ogled me often enough.
+
+  One of the pimps for Albani with billets doux very impressive
+
+    Called me to Ostia once. Quattro Fontani next time.
+
+  Who was it did not appear there? Why, who but the very same girl who
+
+    Hated with all of her heart stockings both violet and red.
+
+  For: 'In the end you poor girls are the ones who are sure to be cheated.'
+
+    So said my father although--Mother was not much impressed.
+
+  Father was right. Here I stand in the end being cheated and scolded.
+
+    You don't believe your own words. They're your excuse to escape.
+
+  Go, then. Unworthy of women are men. We, who carry your children
+
+    Next to our hearts, in these hearts loyalty we bear you, too.
+
+  As for you men, when you've poured out your potency in our embraces
+
+    And your desires dissipate, love with them passes away."
+
+  These things expressed, and taking her child from its chair, my beloved
+
+    Presses it close to her heart, kisses it, tears in her eyes.
+
+  I'm now so very ashamed of myself for having permitted
+
+    Gossip of neighbors to spoil picture so eloquent.
+
+  For a short moment a fire may burn darkly while smoke swirls about it.
+
+    Water dashed on the coals suddenly smothers their glow.
+
+  Rapidly then renewed heat overcomes those lowering vapors,
+
+    Sends up a flame that anew bright and more powerful gleams.
+
+
+
+
+IX
+
+  How very happy I am here in Rome when I think of the bad days
+
+    Far back there in the north, wrapped in a grayish light.
+
+  Over my head there the heavens weighed down so dismal and gloomy;
+
+    Colorless, formless, that world round this exhausted man lay.
+
+  Seeking myself in myself, an unsatisfied spirit, I brooded,
+
+    Spying out pathways dark, lost in dreary reflection.
+
+  Here in an aether more clear now a luster encircles my forehead.
+
+    Phoebus the god evokes forms, clear are his colors by day.
+
+  Bright with the stars comes the evening, ringing with songs that are tender,
+
+    And the glow of the moon, brighter than northern sun.
+
+  What blessedness mortals may know! Am I now dreaming? Or welcomes
+
+    Jupiter, Father, as guest--me, to ambrosial halls?
+
+  See, I lie here extending my arms toward your knees. I am praying:
+
+    Hospitality's god, Jupiter Xenius! Hear:
+
+  How I am come to this place I no longer can say--I was
+
+    Seized up by Hebe.  'Twas she led to this sacred hill.
+
+  Did you command her a hero to seek and deliver before you?
+
+    May be she erred. Then forgive. Let her mistake profit me!
+
+  Does not Fortuna, your daughter, when strewing her glorious presents,
+
+    After the manner of girls, yield to each passing whim?
+
+  You, O hospitable god, will by no means now banish a stranger
+
+    From your Olympian heights back to the base earth again.
+
+  "Poet, come to your senses!"--Forgive me, Jupiter, is not
+
+    Rome's Capitoline Hill second Olympus to you?
+
+  Suffer me, Jupiter, here and let Hermes guide me at last then
+
+    Past Cestius' Tomb gently to Orkus below.
+
+
+
+
+X
+
+  When you were small, you say, neither did others consider you f air, nor
+
+    Even your mother find praise--and I believe it--
+
+  Till you grew bigger, developing quietly over the years. I
+
+    Picture you to myself as an unusual child.
+
+  Also the blossoms on grapevines are wanting in shape and in color,
+
+    Although the fruit when it's ripe pleases both mankind and gods.
+
+
+
+
+XI
+
+  Kindling autumnal fire in a rustic, convivial fireplace
+
+    (How the sticks crackle and spew flames and glittering sparks!)
+
+  Strikes me especially pleasant this evening.  Before all my tinder
+
+    Dies away into coals, coals then to ashes decline,
+
+  She will be back and new faggots as well as big logs will be blazing,
+
+    Making a festival where lovers will warm up the night.
+
+  Then in the morning, officious, she'll leave the bed of her lover,
+
+    Rouse adroitly the flames out from their ashes anew.
+
+  Cupid has lent to her above others the gift of cajoling
+
+    Up from the ashes desire, just when slumber's begun.
+
+
+
+
+XII
+
+  All of those greats: Alexander, Caesar and Henry and Fredrick,
+
+    Gladly would share with me half of their hard fought renown,
+
+  Could I but grant them my bed for one single night, and its comfort,
+
+    But the poor wretches are held stark in cold Orkian grip.
+
+  Therefore, ye living, rejoice that love keeps you warm for a while yet,
+
+    Until cold Lethe anoints, captures your foot in its flight.
+
+
+
+
+XIII
+
+  They are for you, O ye graces, just a few leaves by a poet
+
+    Onto your pure altar laid, buds of the rose beside,
+
+  Offered in confidence.  Artists enjoy ateliers which are furnished
+
+    So as to make for a space Pantheon-like in decor:
+
+  Jupiter lowers that godly brow while his Juno looks upward;
+
+    Phoebus takes forward strides, shaking his curly head;
+
+  While phlegmatic Minerva peers down on us, frivolous Hermes
+
+    Seems to be looking askance, roguish, though tender as well.
+
+  But it's to Bacchus, the sensuous dreamer, Cythera sends glances
+
+    Bathed in sweetest desire--even in marble they're damp.
+
+  Thinking about his embrace and its pleasures, she seems to be asking
+
+    Shouldn't our glorious son here at our side stand erect?
+
+
+
+
+XIV
+
+  Can't you hear voices, beloved, out on the Via Flamina?
+
+    Reapers are now going home, back from harvesting grain.
+
+  They had journeyed to Rome from afar, and here plaited for Ceres
+
+    Wreaths which the Romans today scorn to make for themselves.
+
+  Festivals no longer celebrate Ceres, the nourishing goddess
+
+    Who replaced acorns of old, giving man golden wheat.
+
+  Let us commemorate her then ourselves in festival private
+
+    (Two constitute a whole tribe, when they are two in love).
+
+  Have you by any chance heard how that mystical, strange celebration
+
+    Followed victorious troops back from Eleusis to Rome?
+
+  Greeks were the ones who began it, and only to Greeks they proclaimed it
+
+    Even within Roman walls: "Come to the sanctified night."
+
+  Those who were not of the cult kept their distance; neophytes trembled,
+
+    Waiting in garments of white, symbol of all that is pure.
+
+  Then the initiates must aimlessly wander about through the eerie
+
+    Circles of figures as if pilgriming through their own dreams.
+
+  Snakes on the ground were writhing about. Now virgins came bearing
+
+    Caskets securely locked, richly wreathed with grain.
+
+  Surely the gestures of murmuring priests must contain some deep meaning--
+
+    Impatient acolytes wait, anxiously hoping for light.
+
+  Not until after many a testing and trial did they discover
+
+    What, within sacred ring, secretive image concealed.
+
+  What was this mystery other than this:   that Demeter, goddess,
+
+    Once upon a time had to a hero been kind.
+
+  It was to Jason, powerful king of the Cretans, she granted
+
+    Of her immortal self hidden sweet parts to explore.
+
+  That made the fortune of Crete! The marital bed of the goddess
+
+    Soon grew pregnant with grain, heavy her bounteous fields.
+
+  As for the rest of the world, it languished away, while Ceres,
+
+    Derelict of her true task, dalliance offered in love.
+
+  --Now the initiate youths, having followed this tale, all astonished,
+
+    Turned and beckoned their loves--love, do you comprehend?
+
+  See there the sacred shade beneath that bushy-boughed myrtle?
+
+    Our satisfaction will there scarcely endanger a world.
+
+
+
+
+XV
+
+  Cupid is always a scoundrel, and if you believe him he'll cheat you.
+
+    Here's what the hypocrite said: "Trust me just once more, this time.
+
+  I have the best of intentions toward you who have now dedicated--
+
+    I recognize it with thanks--life and writings to me.
+
+  Lo, I have followed you hither to Rome, and I'd like to do something
+
+    Here in this far away land pleasing to such an old friend.
+
+  Every traveller I've ever known has complained of poor treatment:
+
+    He whom I recommend treatment delicious receives.
+
+  You've now regarded with awe all the structures which lie here in ruins,
+
+    Cultivated your eye, sensing each hallowed space.
+
+  How you've revered the formative will of those ancient artists!
+
+    In their own ateliers often I 've visited them.
+
+  As for their works, why, I formed those myself--now this time I'm boasting
+
+    Not. Oh come now, admit what I am saying is true.
+
+  Where are your own creations, your service to me having slackened?
+
+    Where is invention's glow now? Where is the color all gone?
+
+  Friend, do you hope you can create again? --The school of the Ancients
+
+    Yet remains open.  Its gates, years have not closed them to you.
+
+  I am eternally young, and as teacher I still love the young ones.
+
+    Wisdom that comes with old age pleases me not. Listen here:
+
+  Wasn't antiquity young when those fortunate Ancients were living?
+
+    Happy then be your life, too: in it antiquity lives.
+
+  Where will you find a fit theme for your song? --It is I must provide it.
+
+    As for a style truly grand, love can alone give you that."
+
+  All of these claims that sophist asserted. Could I contradict him?
+
+    I am wont to obey, when my commander decrees.
+
+  Treacherous now he is keeping his word: giving me themes for my poems
+
+    While he is stealing my time, potency, presence of mind.
+
+  Gazing into her eyes, holding hands, giving kisses, exchanging
+
+    Syllables sweet and those words lovers alone understand,
+
+  Murmuring our conversations we stutter in sweet oratory.
+
+    Hymns of such sort pass away, wanting prosodical tact.
+
+  Goddess of morning, Aurora, as friend of my muse I once knew you.
+
+    Has the unprincipled god, Cupid, seduced you now too?
+
+  So that these mornings you come as his sweetheart, awakening me at
+
+    His festive altar again, where I must celebrate him?
+
+  Here on my breast flows her hair, an abundance of curls, while her head rests,
+
+    Pressing my arm as it's bent, so as to pillow her neck.
+
+  What a delicious condition, if only these few tranquil moments
+
+    Could in my memory fix firmly that image of joy
+
+  When the night rocked us to sleep--but in slumber she's moving away now,
+
+    From my side turns, as she goes leaving her hand in my hand.
+
+  Love in our hearts makes us one, as the genuine need there stays constant;
+
+    Only returning desire knows oscillation or change.
+
+  Gently her hand presses mine, now she opens her eyes and is looking
+
+    Into my own eyes. No--don't. Let my thoughts rest on your form!
+
+  Please close your eyes. They're inebriation, confusion, they rob me
+
+    All too soon of the joy quiet reflection affords.
+
+  Grand are the forms of this body and nobly positioned each member.
+
+    Had Ariadne lain thus, Theseus never had fled.
+
+  Only a single kiss for these lips and then, O Theseus, leave her;
+
+    Look at her eyes--she's awake! Now you're eternally bound.
+
+
+
+
+XVI
+
+  Boy, won't you light me a lamp. "But dear master, there's light in the sky yet.
+
+    Don't waste your oil and the wick. Don't close the shutters so soon.
+
+  Only the houses are blocking the sun there, it's not yet the mountains.
+
+    Until the curfew shall ring, full half an hour must pass."
+
+  Wretched young fellow, be gone and obey me! My loved one is coming.
+
+    Lamplight, console me till then, harbinger warm of the night.
+
+
+
+
+XVII
+
+  Poets of old in chorus cried out against those two serpents,
+
+    Making them horrible names, hated in all of the world:
+
+  Python the one, the other the Hydra of Lerna. These monsters
+
+    Both have now been destroyed, thanks to the deeds of the gods.
+
+  Fire-breathing, venomous once, they no longer now depredate our
+
+    Flocks and meadows and woods, fields of golden grain.
+
+  How is it then that some spiteful god in his wrath has
+
+    Raised from the poisonous slime offspring so monstrous again?
+
+  There's an insidious viper creeps into the loveliest gardens,
+
+    Lying in wait to attack all who seek pleasure therein.
+
+  Noble Hesperian dragon, I call you courageous and forthright.
+
+    Boldly defending your own beautiful apples of gold.
+
+  As for this worm, why he is not guarding at all, for his presence
+
+    Sullies both garden and fruit, till they deserve no defense.
+
+  Secretly coiled beneath bushes, where he befouls the sweet wellsprings,
+
+    Turning to poisonous drool Cupid's lifegiving dew.
+
+  Happy Lucretius knew how in his day to forego love completely,
+
+    Fearing not to enjoy pleasure in anyone's arms.
+
+  Fortunate Ancient, Propertius, for you a slave fetched the girls down
+
+    From the Aventine Hill, from Tarpeia's grove.
+
+  Cynthia then, when driving you out of such unchaste embraces,
+
+    Found you unfaithful, it's true, but she did find you whole.
+
+  Who would today dare attempt to escape from fidelity's ennui?
+
+    Love does not hold one back--only concern for one's health.
+
+  Even the woman we love may afford us uncertain enjoyment;
+
+    Nowhere can feminine lap safely encouch a man's head.
+
+  Matrimonial bed's insecure and so's fornication;
+
+    Husband, lover and wife pass to each other the hurt.
+
+  Think of those ages of gold when Jupiter followed his urges,
+
+    Chose Callisto one day, turned to Semel the next.
+
+  It was important to him to find thresholds of temples so sacred
+
+    Pure when, enamoured, he sought powerful entry to them.
+
+  Can you imagine the ragings of Juno if in love's skirmish
+
+    Poisonous weapons on her by her own spouse had been turned?
+
+  But we neo-pagans may not after all be abandoned entirely:
+
+    Yet there is speeding a god mercifully over the earth,
+
+  Quick and assiduous. Everyone knows him and ought to adore him,
+
+    Herald of Zeus: Hermes, the healing god.
+
+  Although his father's temple be fallen, and though of its pillars
+
+    Scarcely a pair yet records ancient glory adored,
+
+  Nevertheless the son's place of worship still stands, and forever
+
+    Will there the ardent requests alternate with the thanks.
+
+  Only one favor I beg of you, Graces (I ask it in secret--
+
+    Fervent my prayer and deep, out of a passionate breast):
+
+  My little garden, my sweet one, protect it and do not let any
+
+    Evil come near it nor me. Cupid will hold out his hand:
+
+  O, and entrusting myself to the rascal, I beg you please may I
+
+    Do so in pleasure with no danger or worry or fear.
+
+
+
+
+XVIII
+
+  I cannot think I'd have gone with Julius Caesar to Britain;
+
+    To the Popina right here, Florus would tug me with ease.
+
+  Fogs of the dreary north remain a more baleful remembrance
+
+    Than in the kitchens of Rome tribes of assiduous fleas.
+
+  After today, I'll remember you even more kindly, tavernas,
+
+    You osterias, as you are called, aptly by those here in Rome.
+
+  That was the place I encountered my mistress today with the uncle
+
+    Whom she so often deceives, so that she can have me.
+
+  Here's where I sat at a table surrounded by good-natured Germans;
+
+    Over on that side the girl, finding a seat for herself
+
+  Next to her mother where, frequently shifting her bench, she arranged
+
+    Nicely for me to perceive profile and curve of her neck;
+
+  Speaks just a little more loudly than women in Rome are accustomed;
+
+    Significant glance as she pours--misses the glass with the wine
+
+  So that it spills on the table, and she with a delicate finger
+
+    Over its surface can draw circles in damp arabesque:
+
+  Her name entwining in mine, while my eyes most eagerly follow
+
+    All that her fingertip writes. She is of course well aware
+
+  That I am watching, so finally makes the V of the Roman
+
+    Five, with a virgule before. Quickly, as soon as I've seen,
+
+  She interlaces the circles, reducing them all to ornatest
+
+    Patterns--but still the sweet IV stood as engraved in my eye.
+
+  I sat there mutely and biting my passionate lips almost bloody
+
+    Half from delight at the ruse, partly from stifled desire:
+
+  Such a long time until dark, then another four hours of waiting.
+
+    --Sun, who tarries on high, contemplating Rome:
+
+  Greater never you've nor shall you in future see greater
+
+    Than Rome, O sun, as your priest, Horace, enraptured foretold.
+
+  Tarry no longer today. Go seek other realms beneath heaven.
+
+    Sooner depart and leave Rome's seven famed hills to me.
+
+  Please do the poet a favor and shorten the glorious hours
+
+    Which the painter devours, eagerly filling his eyes.
+
+  Cast now but one ardent glance, while descending, on noble facades and
+
+    Cupolas, pillars, and--last--up at the obelisks. Then
+
+  Hastily plunge to the ocean. Come view all the sooner tomorrow
+
+    That which, for centuries now, gods have let you enjoy:
+
+  Italy's shoreline so long overgrown with moist reeds, elevations
+
+    Somberly rising to shades cast by the bushes and trees.
+
+  First were but few simple dwellings here, suddenly sunlight discovered
+
+    Nations enlivening hills teeming with fortunate thieves.
+
+  Onto this spot they assembled such plunder, in your eye so splendid
+
+    All earth's remaining orb scarcely was worthy of note.
+
+  You watched a world being born here, watched the same world sink to ruin,
+
+    And from those ruins yet arise world again greater, perhaps.
+
+  O may I long by your light now behold this Rome. May the Parcae
+
+    Spin the fine thread of my life slowly, taking great care.
+
+  O but come rushing the moment my love designated so sweetly.
+
+    Wonderful! Sound already the chimes? --No, but I heard at least three.
+
+  Thus, my dear muses, again you've beguiled the monotony for me.
+
+    Of this long interval while I was apart from my love.
+
+  All of you now, farewell! I'll be going now--don't be offended.
+
+    For, though you're proud, you'll concede: Cupid in my heart comes first.
+
+
+
+
+XIX
+
+  Why did you fail to appear at the cot in the vineyard today, Love?
+
+    As I had promised I would, long I awaited you there.
+
+  "Dear, I had almost arrived when I saw, by good fortune, your uncle
+
+    Standing right there by the vines, looking now this way, now that.
+
+  Stealthily I slipped away." --Alas, what a misapprehension!
+
+    You saw the scarecrow, that's all. Nothing else drove you away.
+
+  Reeds and some discarded garments all hastily cobbled together--
+
+    I helped to make it myself: diligent in my own grief.
+
+  "Well, now his wish is fulfilled. The old gardner's most dissolute crow has
+
+    Left on this day unscathed nice little garden and niece."
+
+
+
+
+XX
+
+  While there is many an unpleasant sound, I hate to hear barking
+
+    Worse than anything else. Bellowing dogs split my ears.
+
+  Nevertheless I do like to hear, and take pleasure in listening
+
+    To the loud howl of the dog raised from a pup next door.
+
+  That is the dog that so bayed one time at my girl that he almost
+
+    Gave our secret away (when she was visiting me).
+
+  Now, when I hear the dog barking I think my beloved is coming--
+
+    Or I remember the time, when long awaited she came.
+
+
+
+
+XXI
+
+  I can tell not only about a discomfort far greater than others,
+
+    But of a horror besides, thinking of which will arouse
+
+  Every fiber in me to revulsion. My friends, I confess it:
+
+    Great displeasure I take lying alone in my bed.
+
+  But it's a horror to fear on the pathways of love you'll discover
+
+    Snakes and their venom beneath roses of eager desire--
+
+  That at the moment supreme, when I'm yielding to pleasure so fully,
+
+    Right at my head as it droops, hissing disease may approach.
+
+  That's why Faustina as my companion in bed makes me happy:
+
+    Loving she always remains faithful, as I am to her.
+
+  Young men are aroused in their passions by obstacles and by excitement;
+
+    I prefer to go slow, savoring pleasures secure.
+
+  Is it not bliss to exchange tender kisses containing no dangers,
+
+    Sucking into our lungs, carefree, our partner's own life?
+
+  That is the way our long nights of enjoyment are passed. We listen,
+
+    Breast against breast, to the storm, pouring down rain in the wind
+
+  Morning begins to dawn, we expect from these hours approaching
+
+    Blossoms that will adorn festive the coming new day.
+
+  Quirites, permit me the joy, and may this, of all pleasures on earth the
+
+    First and the last, be vouchsafed all of mankind by the god.
+
+
+
+
+XXII
+
+  Ah, to uphold one's respectable name is not easy. The Lady
+
+    Fame has an ancient foe: Cupid, my master and lord.
+
+  Oh, by the way, have you heard of the cause of their mutual hatred?
+
+    It's an old story, I think--Let me just tell it again.
+
+  Powerful ever the goddess, but nevertheless to her fellows
+
+    Overbearing and rude, quite unendurable. She
+
+  Had by the gods since time out of mind at their banquets been dreaded,
+
+    Yelling with brassiest voice orders to great and to small.
+
+  Once, in her arrogance even maintained that she had subjected
+
+    To her own will, as her slave, Jove's most illustrious son.
+
+  "One of these days, O father of deities," cried she in triumph,
+
+    "I shall be bringing you my--Hercules, as if new born.
+
+  Don't think that Hercules be still that boy whom Alcmene once bore you;
+
+    His adulation of me makes him now god upon earth.
+
+  When toward Olympus he gazes, I've no doubt you hope that he's looking
+
+    Piously toward your knees. Hardly. He's looking for me.
+
+  Worthiest man! O the vision of winning my favor makes easy
+
+    Hitherto unexplored paths, under that powerful foot.
+
+  I do my part, for I meet him halfway and proclaim his adventures
+
+    Praising his name in advance, even before he's begun.
+
+  One day you'll wed me to Hercules.  Hero who Amazons conquered
+
+    That day will overwhelm me. Happily I'll call him:  spouse."
+
+  All of the gods kept their counsel, and none would reply to the braggart,
+
+    Lest in a pique she devise vengeance against one of them.
+
+  Cupid, escaping attention, slipped off to enslave, however, her hero:
+
+    Artlessly conquering by--force of a beautiful girl,
+
+  Afterward decked out his couple in mute masquerade:  lionskin
+
+    Over her shoulders, the club leaned (by much toil) at her side;
+
+  Wiry stiff hair of the hero larded with blossoms, a distaff
+
+    Laid in his fist, to conform strength to the dalliance of love.
+
+  Scene now completed and ready to tease, he goes scampering, shouting
+
+    For all Olympus to hear: "Come, see these glorious deeds!
+
+  Heaven and Earth and the Sun on his indefatigable journey
+
+    Over that infinite path never did witness the like!"
+
+  Everyone hastened, gulled by the dissolute boy, who feigning
+
+    Earnest, had summoned them all (Fame by no means lagged behind).
+
+  Which of the gods will now smile in sweet condescension on Cupid?
+
+    --Juno! delighted, of course, seeing a man humbled so.
+
+  Fame, on the other hand, stood there ashamed, embarrassed, despairing.
+
+    First she just laughed, saying: "Gods, be not deceived. It's a masque.
+
+  I know my hero too well to be fooled by disguises of actors."
+
+    Soon, though, in pain she perceived: Hercules, none but he.
+
+  (Vulcan had not been one thousandth so vexed to discover his playmate
+
+    Under his meshes ensnared, caught with his own lusty friend,
+
+  Lying just as the wiles of the net at the most crucial moment
+
+    Deftly embraced their embrace, trapping their instant of joy.
+
+  How those boys, Bacchus and Mercury, guffawed, and freely admitted:
+
+    Sweet must be the repose, lying on bosom so fine
+
+  Of this magnificent woman. They turned to Vulcan entreating:
+
+    "Do not release them just yet. Let us inspect them once more."
+
+  And the old cuckold was cuckold enough to comply with their wishes.)
+
+    As for poor Fame, in all haste, burning with wrath she must flee.
+
+  Since then no armistice has been proclaimed to the feuding between them.
+
+    Let her but favor a man, hot in pursuit is the boy.
+
+  He whom Fame honors most can least defend against Cupid,
+
+    And her most dang'rous attacks strike the most morally proud.
+
+  Whoever tries to escape him is dragged down from bad deeds to worse ones.
+
+    Yes, he will offer you girls--if like a fool you despise
+
+  These, only then do you feel from his bow the arrows most vicious:
+
+    Heat of man's love for man, ardent desires toward beasts.
+
+  For those ashamed of him Cupid reserves the bitterest passions,
+
+    Mingling for hypocrites their pleasure in vice and remorse.
+
+  But, at the same time, the goddess seeks him, she's watching and list'ning.
+
+    Should find him with you, ill disposed will she be:
+
+  Frighten you, frowning austerely, contemptuously, violently casting
+
+    Into the worst of repute houses he's known to frequent.
+
+  Ah, it's the same with me, too. I haven't escaped her, the goddess.
+
+    Jealously she seeks me out, sweet secret love to expose.
+
+  I will submit to the ancient law and in silence revere her,
+
+    For, when great lords fall out, I like the Greeks must atone.
+
+
+
+
+XXIII
+
+  However comely be strength, or free and undaunted comportment,
+
+    Secrecy is for a man most important of all.
+
+  Mighty subduer of cities, Discretion, O princess of nations,
+
+    Goddess whom I adore, safely you've led me thus far.
+
+  Now, though, what fate shall befall me? My frivolous muse has now opened
+
+    --Cupid, the scamp--opens lips hitherto sealed so well.
+
+  Difficult is it, alas, to conceal the shame of a monarch;
+
+    Hide it can neither his crown, nor a tight Phrygian cap:
+
+  Midas has asses ears! the first servant discovers--O horror!
+
+    Shame of this secret so weighs, Midas unburdens his heart.
+
+  Into the earth for safekeeping the servant must bury the story,
+
+    Easing in this way the king:  earth must conceal the tale.
+
+  Reeds in a trice are sprouting and rustling in murmuring breezes:
+
+    "Midas, o Midas the King--bears the ears of an ass!"
+
+  Mine is a secret more pleasant, but even more difficult keeping:
+
+    Out of abundance of heart eagerly speaketh my mouth.
+
+  None of my ladyfriends dare I confide in, for they would but chide me;
+
+    Nor any gentleman friend, lest he be rival to me.
+
+  Rapture proclaim to the grove, to the echoing cliffs perorate it?
+
+    One can do that if one's young, or if one's lonely enough.
+
+  I to hexameters tell, in pentameters I will confide it:
+
+    During the day she was joy, happiness all the night long.
+
+  Courted by so many suitors, avoided the snares that were set her
+
+    Now by one bolder than I, now by another in guile,
+
+  Cleverly, daintily, always slipped past them, and sure of the byways,
+
+    Comes to her lover's embrace, where he so eagerly waits.
+
+  Luna! Don't rise yet. She's coming, and must not be seen by the neighbor!
+
+    Breezes, rustle the leaves: muffle the sound of her feet.
+
+  And as for you, little poems, o grow and flower, your blossoms
+
+    Cradling themselves in the air, tepid and soft with love's breath.
+
+  Wafting, betray to Quirites, as Midas' reeds did with cheap gossip,
+
+    One happy couple in love, and their sweet secret, at last.
+
+
+
+
+XXIV
+
+  I in the back of the garden, the last of the gods, in a corner,
+
+    Ineptly formed, must I stand. Evil the inroads of time.
+
+  Cucumber vines grow entwining about this primeval lingam,
+
+    Cracking it almost in two under the weight of the fruit.
+
+  Faggots are heaped all about me against the cold of the winter,
+
+    Which I so hate for the crows settling then down on my head,
+
+  Which they befoul very shamefully. Summer's no better: the servants
+
+    Empty their bowels and show insolent, naked behinds.
+
+  Filth, above and below! I was clearly in danger of turning
+
+    Into filth myself, toadstool, rotten wood!
+
+  Now, by your efforts, O noblest of artists, I shall recover
+
+    With fellow gods my just place. And it's no more than my due.
+
+  Jupiter's throne, so dishonestly won, it was I who secured it:
+
+    Color and ivory, marble and bronze, not to mention the poems.
+
+  Now, all intelligent men look upon me in kindness. They like to
+
+    Form their own image of me, just as the poet has done.
+
+  Nor do the girls take offense when they see me--by no means the matrons.
+
+    None finds me ugly today, though I am monstrously strong.
+
+  Half a foot long, as reward, your glorious rod (dear poet)
+
+    Proudly shall strut from your loins, when but your dearest commands,
+
+  Nor shall your member grow weary until you've enjoyed the full dozen
+
+    Artful positions the great poet Philainis describes.
+
+
+
+
+ABOUT THE ELEGIES
+
+
+Goethe cultivated a special, italianate hand for this portfolio of
+twenty-four "elegies," so called because he was emulating the elegiasts
+of Imperial Rome, Tibullus, Propertius, Catullus.  The Elegies have
+never before been published as here, together in the cyclical form of
+their original conception.  Experts even denied that the two priapeia (I
+& XXIV) were by Goethe at all, although they are in the same hand as the
+rest.  To be sure, these two are not numbered, so that I was long
+undecided as to just what their proper position might be.  At one time I
+imagined they must belong at the middle of the cycle where at the end of
+Elegy XIII Priapus' mother summons her son.  Obviously Goethe, just
+returned north from his two years in Italy (1786-88), and alienated from
+prim, courtly friends (especially since he had taken a girlfriend into
+his cottage), had no thought of publication when he indited these
+remembrances of Ancient Rome.  But he did show them to close friends,
+one of whom was the wonderful dramatist Friedrich Schiller.  In 1795,
+Schiller undertook a new periodical, Die Horen.  This thoughtful and
+responsible man initiated the journal with an essay of his own,
+explaining how forms of entertainment are actually at the same time our
+primary modes of education.  It makes for pretty difficult reading in
+our present, less interested epoch.  But he did break the essay up with
+diversions solicited from the best minds of his era.  For a discussion
+of all this, see
+
+_Professor Worthy's Page_
+
+For now, it is enough to say that among Schiller's examples for
+"aesthetic education," as he called it, were these Elegies by his much
+admired friend, Wolfgang Goethe.  Editor and author made substantial
+changes for propriety's sake--despite Goethe's having lashed out to the
+contrary in the first Elegy (which he now suppressed, along with the
+final one).  My attempt has been--for the very first time by the way, in
+any language--to restore Goethe's cycle to his early conception.  Since
+I have been unwilling to intrude with learned notes, I must apologize
+for Goethe's many classical allusions, which were as familiar to his own
+readership as are, in our publications today, the dense references to
+media celebrities.  Modern editors of what they call the "Roman Elegies"
+bring abundant annotation, and often detail Goethe's own emendations.
+What I bring here is merely translated from his manuscript in the
+Goethe-Schiller Archive in Weimar.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's Erotica Romana, by Johann Wolfgang Goethe
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Erotica Romana, by Johann Wolfgang Goethe
+#38 in our series by Johann Wolfgang Goethe
+
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+Title: Erotica Romana
+
+Author: Johann Wolfgang Goethe
+
+Release Date: April, 2005 [EBook #7889]
+[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule]
+[This file was first posted on May 31, 2003]
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+Edition: 10
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+Language: English
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+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK EROTICA ROMANA ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Harry Haile and Mike Pullen
+
+
+
+
+EROTICA ROMANA
+
+Johann Wolfgang Goethe
+
+
+
+
+I
+
+Here's where I've planted my garden and here I shall care for love's blossoms--
+
+  As I am taught by my muse, carefully sort them in plots:
+
+Fertile branches, whose product is golden fruit of my lifetime,
+
+  Set here in happier years, tended with pleasure today.
+
+You, stand here at my side, good Priapus--albeit from thieves I've
+
+  Nothing to fear. Freely pluck, whosoever would eat.
+
+--Hypocrites, those are the ones! If weakened with shame and bad conscience
+
+  One of those criminals comes, squinting out over my garden,
+
+Bridling at nature's pure fruit, punish the knave in his hindparts,
+
+  Using the stake which so red rises there at your loins.
+
+
+II
+
+Tell me ye stones and give me O glorious palaces answer.
+
+  Speak O ye streets but one word. Genius, art thou alive?
+
+Yes, here within thy sanctified walls there's a soul in each object,
+
+  ROMA eternal. For me, only, are all things yet mute.
+
+Who will then tell me in whispers and where must I find just the window
+
+  Where one day she'll be glimpsed: creature who'll scorch me with love?
+
+Can't I divine yet the paths through which over and over
+
+  To her and from her I'll go, squandering valuable time?
+
+Visiting churches and palaces, all of the ruins and the pillars,
+
+  I, a responsible man, profit from making this trip.
+
+With my business accomplished, ah, then shall only one temple,
+
+  AMOR's temple alone, take the initiate in.
+
+Rome, thou art a whole world, it is true, and yet without love this
+
+  World would not be the world, Rome would cease to be Rome.
+
+
+III
+
+More than ever I dreamed, I have found it: my happy good fortune!
+
+  Cupid sagaciously led past those palazzos so fine.
+
+He of course knows very well (and I have also discovered)
+
+  What, beneath tapestries rich, gilded boudoirs conceal.
+
+One may if one wishes call him a blind, wanton boy--but I know you,
+
+  Clever Cupid, too well! O, incorruptible god!
+
+We were by no means inveigled to enter facades so majestic;
+
+  Somber cortile we passed, balcony high and gallant,
+
+Hastening onward until an humble but exquisite portal
+
+  Offered a refuge to both, ardent seeker and guide.
+
+Here he provides me with ev'rything, sees that I get what I call for;
+
+  Each day that passes he spreads freshly plucked roses for me.
+
+--Isn't that heaven on earth? Say, beautiful Lady Borghese,
+
+  What would you give to me more? --You, Nipotina, what yours?
+
+Banquets and game tables, operas, balls, promenades down the Corso?
+
+  These but deprive my sweet boy of his most opportune times.
+
+Finery, haughtiness do not entice me. Does one not lift a
+
+  Gown of the finest brocade just as one lifts common wool?
+
+If she's to press in comfort a lover against that soft bosom,
+
+  Doesn't he want her to be free from all brooches and chains?
+
+Must not the jewelry, and then the lace and the bustles and whalebone
+
+  All of it come off entire, if he's to learn how she feels?
+
+I encounter no troubles like those. Simple dress of rough homespun,
+
+  At but a lover's mere touch, tumbles in folds to the floor.
+
+Quickly he carries the girl as she's clad in chemise of coarse linen--
+
+  Just as a nursemaid might, playfully up to her bed.
+
+Drapings of satin are absent; the mattress is quite unembroidered.
+
+  Large is this room where the bed offers its comfort for two.
+
+Jupiter's welcome to more from his Juno if he can get it;
+
+  Let any mortal find rest, softer, wherever he can.
+
+We are content with Cupid's delights, authentic and naked--
+
+  And with the exquisite creak /crack of the bed as it rocks.
+
+
+IV
+
+Ask whomever you will but you'll never find out where I'm lodging,
+
+  High society's lords, ladies so groomed and refined.
+
+"Tell me, was Werther authentic? Did all of that happen in real life?"
+
+  "Lotte, oh where did she live, Werther's only true love?"
+
+How many times have I cursed those frivolous pages that broadcast
+
+  Out among all mankind passions I felt in my youth!
+
+Were he my brother, why then I 'd have murdered poor Werther.
+
+  Yet his despondent ghost couldn't have sought worse revenge.
+
+That's the way "Marlborough," the ditty, follows the Englishman's travels
+
+  Down to Livorno from France, thence from Livorno to Rome,
+
+All of the way into Naples and then, should he flee on to Madras,
+
+  "Marlborough" will surely be there, "Marlborough" sung in the port.
+
+Happily now I've escaped, and my mistress knows Werther and Lotte
+
+  Not a whit better than who might be this man in her bed:
+
+That he's a foreigner, footloose and lusty, is all she could tell you,
+
+  Who beyond mountains and snow, dwelt in a house made of wood.
+
+
+V
+
+Do not, beloved, regret that you yielded to me so quickly:
+
+  I entertain no base, insolent thoughts about you.
+
+Arrows of Cupid work divers effects. Some do but scratch us:
+
+  Slow and insidious these poison our hearts over years.
+
+Yet with a head freshly honed and cunningly fledged, certain others
+
+  Pierce to the marrow, inflame rapidly there our blood.
+
+When gods and goddesses in days of heroes made love, then
+
+  Lust followed look and desire, with no delay, was indulged.
+
+Surely you don't think the goddess of love lost a moment reflecting
+
+  When, in Idean grove, Anchises caught her eye.
+
+Nor did Luna delay about kissing that beautiful dreamer--
+
+  Jealous Aurora had else hastily wakened the lad.
+
+At the loud banquet Hero regarded Leander--then promptly
+
+  Into dark waters he plunged, ardently swam toward his love.
+
+When Rhea Silvia, princess and virgin, came down to the Tiber
+
+  Just to fetch water, a god seized her and that is the way
+
+Mars begat himself sons, a pair of twins whom a she wolf
+
+  Suckled. Today a proud Rome claims to be queen of the world.
+
+
+VI
+
+We are so pious, we lovers. Discreetly we worship all powers,
+
+  Hoping for favor from each god and each goddess as well.
+
+We are like you, ye victorious Romans, in this:  for we offer
+
+  Gods of all peoples and tribes, over the whole world, a home--
+
+May the Egyptian, black and austere out of primeval basalt,
+
+  Or from the marble a Greek, form them charming and white--
+
+Yet the eternal ones do not object to particularism
+
+  (Incense of most precious sort, strewn for just one of their host).
+
+Therefore we gladly confess to singling a special immortal
+
+  And our devotions each day pledging but solely to her.
+
+Mischievous celebrants we at these mysteries gay, and so solemn:
+
+  Silence exactly befits rites at which we're adepts.
+
+Rather onto our heels by horrible deeds the Erinyes
+
+  We would allure, even Zeus' punishment sooner we'd dare--
+
+Under that rock, or bound to a tumbling wheel we'd endure it--
+
+  Than we'd withdraw our hearts from the delights of her cult.
+
+Sweet Opportunity, that is her name. You should meet her.
+
+  Often will she turn up, ever in a new form.
+
+Daughter of Proteus might well she be whom he sired upon Thetis.
+
+  In metamorphoses they've many a hero deceived.
+
+So now the daughter beguiles the naive and bedazzles the foolish,
+
+  Teases you while you're asleep; when you awaken, she's flown.
+
+Eagerly yields herself up to the quick, to the active man only.
+
+  He discovers she's tame, playful and tender and sweet.
+
+Once she appeared to me, too: a dark-skinned girl, tumbling
+
+  Over her forehead the hair down in waves heavy and dark.
+
+Round about a delicate neck curled short little ringlets;
+
+  Up from the crown of her head crinkled the unbraided hair.
+
+When she dashed by me I seized her, mistaking her not. Lovingly
+
+  Kiss and embrace she returned, knowing and teaching me how.
+
+O how enraptured I was! Ah, say now no more. It's a bygone.
+
+  But, O pigtails of Rome, still I'm entrammled in you.
+
+
+VII
+
+Happily now on classical soil I feel inspiration.
+
+  Voices from present and past speak here evocatively.
+
+Heeding ancient advice, I leaf through the works of the Ancients
+
+  With an assiduous hand. Daily the pleasure's renewed.
+
+Throughout the night, in a different way, I'm kept busy by Cupid--
+
+  If erudition is halved, rapture is doubled that way.
+
+Do then I not become wise when I trace with my eye her sweet bosom's
+
+  Form, and the line of her hips stroke with my hand? I acquire,
+
+As I reflect and compare, my first understanding of marble,
+
+  See with an eye that feels, feel with a hand that sees.
+
+While my beloved, I grant it, deprives me of moments of daylight,
+
+    She in the nighttime hours gives compensation in full.
+
+And we do more than just kiss; we prosecute reasoned discussions
+
+  (Should she succumb to sleep, that gives me time for my thoughts).
+
+In her embrace--it's by no means unusual--I've composed poems
+
+  And the hexameter's beat gently tapped out on her back,
+
+Fingertips counting in time with the sweet rhythmic breath of her slumber.
+
+  Air from deep in her breast penetrates mine and there burns.
+
+Cupid, while stirring the flame in our lamp, no doubt thinks of those days when
+
+    For the triumvirs he similar service performed.
+
+
+VIII
+
+"Can you be cruel enough to sadden me thus with reproaches?
+
+  Germans speak, I suppose, bitterly when they're in love.
+
+Bear it I must when the gossips bring forth accusations: I'm guilty--
+
+  Or am I not? But, alas, all of my guilt was with you.
+
+Clothes that you've given bear witness for envious neighbors
+
+    That the poor widow no more grieves for her husband alone.
+
+Did you not thoughtlessly visit me in the disguise of a cleric,
+
+    Muffled all up in a cloak, hair all rounded behind?
+
+Who was it chose that gray monk if not you? Well then a prelate
+
+  Now is my lover--Ah, who is my prelate but you?
+
+Never, incredible as it may sound in this clerical city,
+
+  Has any cleric brought me--swear it I will--to his bed.
+
+I was sufficiently poor, sad to say. I was young. The seducers
+
+  Noted it well. Falconier ogled me often enough.
+
+One of the pimps for Albani with billets doux very impressive
+
+  Called me to Ostia once. Quattro Fontani next time.
+
+Who was it did not appear there? Why, who but the very same girl who
+
+  Hated with all of her heart stockings both violet and red.
+
+For: 'In the end you poor girls are the ones who are sure to be cheated.'
+
+  So said my father although--Mother was not much impressed.
+
+Father was right. Here I stand in the end being cheated and scolded.
+
+  You don't believe your own words. They're your excuse to escape.
+
+Go, then. Unworthy of women are men. We, who carry your children
+
+  Next to our hearts, in these hearts loyalty we bear you, too.
+
+As for you men, when you've poured out your potency in our embraces
+
+  And your desires dissipate, love with them passes away."
+
+These things expressed, and taking her child from its chair, my beloved
+
+  Presses it close to her heart, kisses it, tears in her eyes.
+
+I'm now so very ashamed of myself for having permitted
+
+  Gossip of neighbors to spoil picture so eloquent.
+
+For a short moment a fire may burn darkly while smoke swirls about it.
+
+  Water dashed on the coals suddenly smothers their glow.
+
+Rapidly then renewed heat overcomes those lowering vapors,
+
+  Sends up a flame that anew bright and more powerful gleams.
+
+
+IX
+
+How very happy I am here in Rome when I think of the bad days
+
+  Far back there in the north, wrapped in a grayish light.
+
+Over my head there the heavens weighed down so dismal and gloomy;
+
+  Colorless, formless, that world round this exhausted man lay.
+
+Seeking myself in myself, an unsatisfied spirit, I brooded,
+
+  Spying out pathways dark, lost in dreary reflection.
+
+Here in an ather more clear now a luster encircles my forehead.
+
+  Phoebus the god evokes forms, clear are his colors by day.
+
+Bright with the stars comes the evening, ringing with songs that are tender,
+
+  And the glow of the moon, brighter than northern sun.
+
+What blessedness mortals may know! Am I now dreaming? Or welcomes
+
+  Jupiter, Father, as guest--me, to ambrosial halls?
+
+See, I lie here extending my arms toward your knees. I am praying:
+
+  Hospitality's god, Jupiter Xenius! Hear:
+
+How I am come to this place I no longer can say--I was
+
+  Seized up by Hebe.  'Twas she led to this sacred hill.
+
+Did you command her a hero to seek and deliver before you ?
+
+  May be she erred. Then forgive. Let her mistake profit me!
+
+Does not Fortuna, your daughter, when strewing her glorious presents,
+
+  After the manner of girls, yield to each passing whim?
+
+You, O hospitable god, will by no means now banish a stranger
+
+  From your Olympian heights back to the base earth again.
+
+"Poet, come to your senses!"--Forgive me, Jupiter, is not
+
+  Rome's Capitoline Hill second Olympus to you?
+
+Suffer me, Jupiter, here and let Hermes guide me at last then
+
+  Past Cestius' Tomb gently to Orkus below.
+
+
+X
+
+When you were small, you say, neither did others consider you f air, nor
+
+  Even your mother find praise--and I believe it--
+
+Till you grew bigger, developing quietly over the years. I
+
+  Picture you to myself as an unusual child.
+
+Also the blossoms on grapevines are wanting in shape and in color,
+
+  Although the fruit when it's ripe pleases both mankind and gods.
+
+
+XI
+
+Kindling autumnal fire in a rustic, convivial fireplace
+
+  (How the sticks crackle and spew flames and glittering sparks!)
+
+Strikes me especially pleasant this evening.  Before all my tinder
+
+  Dies away into coals, coals then to ashes decline,
+
+She will be back and new faggots as well as big logs will be blazing,
+
+  Making a festival where lovers will warm up the night.
+
+Then in the morning, officious, she'll leave the bed of her lover,
+
+  Rouse adroitly the flames out from their ashes anew.
+
+Cupid has lent to her above others the gift of cajoling
+
+  Up from the ashes desire, just when slumber's begun.
+
+
+XII
+
+All of those greats: Alexander, Caesar and Henry and Fredrick,
+
+  Gladly would share with me half of their hard fought renown,
+
+Could I but grant them my bed for one single night, and its comfort,
+
+  But the poor wretches are held stark in cold Orkian grip.
+
+Therefore, ye living, rejoice that love keeps you warm for a while yet,
+
+  Until cold Lethe anoints, captures your foot in its flight.
+
+
+XIII
+
+They are for you, O ye graces, just a few leaves by a poet
+
+  Onto your pure altar laid, buds of the rose beside,
+
+Offered in confidence.  Artists enjoy ateliers which are furnished
+
+  So as to make for a space Pantheon-like in decor:
+
+Jupiter lowers that godly brow while his Juno looks upward;
+
+  Phoebus takes forward strides, shaking his curly head;
+
+While phlegmatic Minerva peers down on us, frivolous Hermes
+
+  Seems to be looking askance, roguish, though tender as well.
+
+But it's to Bacchus, the sensuous dreamer, Cythera sends glances
+
+  Bathed in sweetest desire--even in marble they're damp.
+
+Thinking about his embrace and its pleasures, she seems to be asking
+
+  Shouldn't our glorious son here at our side stand erect?
+
+
+XIV
+
+Can't you hear voices, beloved, out on the Via Flamina?
+
+  Reapers are now going home, back from harvesting grain.
+
+They had journeyed to Rome from afar, and here plaited for Ceres
+
+  Wreaths which the Romans today scorn to make for themselves.
+
+Festivals no longer celebrate Ceres, the nourishing goddess
+
+  Who replaced acorns of old, giving man golden wheat.
+
+Let us commemorate her then ourselves in festival private
+
+  (Two constitute a whole tribe, when they are two in love).
+
+Have you by any chance heard how that mystical, strange celebration
+
+  Followed victorious troops back from Eleusis to Rome?
+
+Greeks were the ones who began it, and only to Greeks they proclaimed it
+
+  Even within Roman walls: "Come to the sanctified night."
+
+Those who were not of the cult kept their distance; neophytes trembled,
+
+  Waiting in garments of white, symbol of all that is pure.
+
+Then the initiates must aimlessly wander about through the eerie
+
+  Circles of figures as if pilgriming through their own dreams.
+
+Snakes on the ground were writhing about. Now virgins came bearing
+
+  Caskets securely locked, richly wreathed with grain.
+
+Surely the gestures of murmuring priests must contain some deep meaning--
+
+  Impatient acolytes wait, anxiously hoping for light.
+
+Not until after many a testing and trial did they discover
+
+  What, within sacred ring, secretive image concealed.
+
+What was this mystery other than this:   that Demeter, goddess,
+
+  Once upon a time had to a hero been kind.
+
+It was to Jason, powerful king of the Cretans, she granted
+
+  Of her immortal self hidden sweet parts to explore.
+
+That made the fortune of Crete! The marital bed of the goddess
+
+  Soon grew pregnant with grain, heavy her bounteous fields.
+
+As for the rest of the world, it languished away, while Ceres,
+
+  Derelict of her true task, dalliance offered in love.
+
+--Now the initiate youths, having followed this tale, all astonished,
+
+  Turned and beckoned their loves--love, do you comprehend?
+
+See there the sacred shade beneath that bushy-boughed myrtle?
+
+  Our satisfaction will there scarcely endanger a world.
+
+
+ XV
+
+Cupid is always a scoundrel, and if you believe him he'll cheat you.
+
+  Here's what the hypocrite said: "Trust me just once more, this time.
+
+I have the best of intentions toward you who have now dedicated--
+
+  I recognize it with thanks--life and writings to me.
+
+Lo, I have followed you hither to Rome, and I'd like to do something
+
+  Here in this far away land pleasing to such an old friend.
+
+Every traveller I've ever known has complained of poor treatment:
+
+  He whom I recommend treatment delicious receives.
+
+You've now regarded with awe all the structures which lie here in ruins,
+
+  Cultivated your eye, sensing each hallowed space.
+
+How you've revered the formative will of those ancient artists!
+
+  In their own ateliers often I''ve visited them.
+
+As for their works, why, I formed those myself--now this time I'm boasting
+
+  Not. Oh come now, admit what I am saying is true.
+
+Where are your own creations, your service to me having slackened?
+
+  Where is invention's glow now? Where is the color all gone?
+
+Friend, do you hope you can create again? --The school of the Ancients
+
+  Yet remains open.  Its gates, years have not closed them to you.
+
+I am eternally young, and as teacher I still love the young ones.
+
+  Wisdom that comes with old age pleases me not. Listen here:
+
+Wasn't antiquity young when those fortunate Ancients were living?
+
+  Happy then be your life, too: in it antiquity lives.
+
+Where will you find a fit theme for your song? --It is I must provide it.
+
+  As for a style truly grand, love can alone give you that."
+
+All of these claims that sophist asserted. Could I contradict him?
+
+  I am wont to obey, when my commander decrees.
+
+Treacherous now he is keeping his word: giving me themes for my poems
+
+  While he is stealing my time, potency, presence of mind.
+
+Gazing into her eyes, holding hands, giving kisses, exchanging
+
+  Syllables sweet and those words lovers alone understand,
+
+Murmuring our conversations we stutter in sweet oratory.
+
+  Hymns of such sort pass away, wanting prosodical tact.
+
+Goddess of morning, Aurora, as friend of my muse I once knew you.
+
+  Has the unprincipled god, Cupid, seduced you now too?
+
+So that these mornings you come as his sweetheart, awakening me at
+
+  His festive altar again, where I must celebrate him?
+
+Here on my breast flows her hair, an abundance of curls, while her head rests,
+
+  Pressing my arm as it's bent, so as to pillow her neck.
+
+What a delicious condition, if only these few tranquil moments
+
+  Could in my memory fix firmly that image of joy
+
+When the night rocked us to sleep--but in slumber she's moving away now,
+
+  From my side turns, as she goes leaving her hand in my hand.
+
+Love in our hearts makes us one, as the genuine need there stays constant;
+
+  Only returning desire knows oscillation or change.
+
+Gently her hand presses mine, now she opens her eyes and is looking
+
+  Into my own eyes. No--don't. Let my thoughts rest on your form!
+
+Please close your eyes. They're inebriation, confusion, they rob me
+
+  All too soon of the joy quiet reflection affords.
+
+Grand are the forms of this body and nobly positioned each member.
+
+  Had Ariadne lain thus, Theseus never had fled.
+
+Only a single kiss for these lips and then, O Theseus, leave her;
+
+  Look at her eyes--she's awake! Now you're eternally bound.
+
+
+XVI
+
+Boy, won't you light me a lamp. "But dear master, there's light in the sky yet.
+
+  Don't waste your oil and the wick. Don't close the shutters so soon.
+
+Only the houses are blocking the sun there, it's not yet the mountains.
+
+  Until the curfew shall ring, full half an hour must pass."
+
+Wretched young fellow, be gone and obey me! My loved one is coming.
+
+  Lamplight, console me till then, harbinger warm of the night.
+
+
+XVII
+
+Poets of old in chorus cried out against those two serpents,
+
+  Making them horrible names, hated in all of the world:
+
+Python the one, the other the Hydra of Lerna. These monsters
+
+  Both have now been destroyed, thanks to the deeds of the gods.
+
+Fire-breathing, venomous once, they no longer now depredate our
+
+  Flocks and meadows and woods, fields of golden grain.
+
+How is it then that some spiteful god in his wrath has
+
+  Raised from the poisonous slime offspring so monstrous again?
+
+There's an insidious viper creeps into the loveliest gardens,
+
+  Lying in wait to attack all who seek pleasure therein.
+
+Noble Hesperian dragon, I call you courageous and forthright.
+
+  Boldly defending your own beautiful apples of gold.
+
+As for this worm, why he is not guarding at all, for his presence
+
+  Sullies both garden and fruit, till they deserve no defense.
+
+Secretly coiled beneath bushes, where he befouls the sweet wellsprings,
+
+  Turning to poisonous drool Cupid's lifegiving dew.
+
+Happy Lucretius knew how in his day to forego love completely,
+
+  Fearing not to enjoy pleasure in anyone's arms.
+
+Fortunate Ancient, Propertius, for you a slave fetched the girls down
+
+  From the Aventine Hill, from Tarpeia's grove.
+
+Cynthia then, when driving you out of such unchaste embraces,
+
+  Found you unfaithful, it's true, but she did find you whole.
+
+Who would today dare attempt to escape from fidelity's ennui?
+
+  Love does not hold one back--only concern for one's health.
+
+Even the woman we love may afford us uncertain enjoyment;
+
+  Nowhere can feminine lap safely encouch a man's head.
+
+Matrimonial bed's insecure and so's fornication;
+
+  Husband, lover and wife pass to each other the hurt.
+
+Think of those ages of gold when Jupiter followed his urges,
+
+  Chose Callisto one day, turned to Semel the next.
+
+It was important to him to find thresholds of temples so sacred
+
+  Pure when, enamoured, he sought powerful entry to them.
+
+Can you imagine the ragings of Juno if in love's skirmish
+
+  Poisonous weapons on her by her own spouse had been turned?
+
+But we neo-pagans may not after all be abandoned entirely:
+
+  Yet there is speeding a god mercifully over the earth,
+
+Quick and assiduous. Everyone knows him and ought to adore him,
+
+  Herald of Zeus: Hermes, the healing god.
+
+Although his father's temple be fallen, and though of its pillars
+
+  Scarcely a pair yet records ancient glory adored,
+
+Nevertheless the son's place of worship still stands, and forever
+
+  Will there the ardent requests alternate with the thanks.
+
+Only one favor I beg of you, Graces (I ask it in secret--
+
+  Fervent my prayer and deep, out of a passionate breast):
+
+My little garden, my sweet one, protect it and do not let any
+
+  Evil come near it nor me. Cupid will hold out his hand:
+
+O, and entrusting myself to the rascal, I beg you please may I
+
+  Do so in pleasure with no danger or worry or fear.
+
+
+XVIII
+
+I cannot think I'd have gone with Julius Caesar to Britain;
+
+  To the Popina right here, Florus would tug me with ease.
+
+Fogs of the dreary north remain a more baleful remembrance
+
+  Than in the kitchens of Rome tribes of assiduous fleas.
+
+After today, I'll remember you even more kindly, tavernas,
+
+  You osterias, as you are called, aptly by those here in Rome.
+
+That was the place I encountered my mistress today with the uncle
+
+  Whom she so often deceives, so that she can have me.
+
+Here's where I sat at a table surrounded by good-natured Germans;
+
+  Over on that side the girl, finding a seat for herself
+
+Next to her mother where, frequently shifting her bench, she arranged
+
+  Nicely for me to perceive profile and curve of her neck;
+
+Speaks just a little more loudly than women in Rome are accustomed;
+
+  Significant glance as she pours--misses the glass with the wine
+
+So that it spills on the table, and she with a delicate finger
+
+  Over its surface can draw circles in damp arabesque:
+
+Her name entwining in mine, while my eyes most eagerly follow
+
+  All that her fingertip writes. She is of course well aware
+
+That I am watching, so finally makes the V of the Roman
+
+  Five, with a virgule before. Quickly, as soon as I've seen,
+
+She interlaces the circles, reducing them all to ornatest
+
+  Patterns--but still the sweet IV stood as engraved in my eye.
+
+I sat there mutely and biting my passionate lips almost bloody
+
+  Half from delight at the ruse, partly from stifled desire:
+
+Such a long time until dark, then another four hours of waiting.
+
+  --Sun, who tarries on high, contemplating Rome:
+
+Greater never you've nor shall you in future see greater
+
+  Than Rome, O sun, as your priest, Horace, enraptured foretold.
+
+Tarry no longer today. Go seek other realms beneath heaven.
+
+  Sooner depart and leave Rome's seven famed hills to me.
+
+Please do the poet a favor and shorten the glorious hours
+
+  Which the painter devours, eagerly filling his eyes.
+
+Cast now but one ardent glance, while descending, on noble facades and
+
+  Cupolas, pillars, and--last--up at the obelisks. Then
+
+Hastily plunge to the ocean. Come view all the sooner tomorrow
+
+  That which, for centuries now, gods have let you enjoy:
+
+Italy's shoreline so long overgrown with moist reeds, elevations
+
+  Somberly rising to shades cast by the bushes and trees.
+
+First were but few simple dwellings here, suddenly sunlight discovered
+
+  Nations enlivening hills teeming with fortunate thieves.
+
+Onto this spot they assembled such plunder, in your eye so splendid
+
+  All earth's remaining orb scarcely was worthy of note.
+
+You watched a world being born here, watched the same world sink to ruin,
+
+  And from those ruins yet arise world again greater, perhaps.
+
+O may I long by your light now behold this Rome. May the Parca
+
+  Spin the fine thread of my life slowly, taking great care.
+
+O but come rushing the moment my love designated so sweetly.
+
+  Wonderful! Sound already the chimes? --No, but I heard at least three.
+
+Thus, my dear muses, again you've beguiled the monotony for me.
+
+  Of this long interval while I was apart from my love.
+
+All of you now, farewell! I'll be going now--don't be offended.
+
+  For, though you're proud, you'll concede: Cupid in my heart comes first.
+
+
+XIX
+
+Why did you fail to appear at the cot in the vineyard today, Love?
+
+  As I had promised I would, long I awaited you there.
+
+"Dear, I had almost arrived when I saw, by good fortune, your uncle
+
+  Standing right there by the vines, looking now this way, now that.
+
+Stealthily I slipped away." --Alas, what a misapprehension!
+
+  You saw the scarecrow, that's all. Nothing else drove you away.
+
+Reeds and some discarded garments all hastily cobbled together--
+
+  I helped to make it myself: diligent in my own grief.
+
+"Well, now his wish is fulfilled. The old gardner's most dissolute crow has
+
+  Left on this day unscathed nice little garden and niece."
+
+
+XX
+
+While there is many an unpleasant sound, I hate to hear barking
+
+  Worse than anything else. Bellowing dogs split my ears.
+
+Nevertheless I do like to hear, and take pleasure in listening
+
+  To the loud howl of the dog raised from a pup next door.
+
+That is the dog that so bayed one time at my girl that he almost
+
+  Gave our secret away (when she was visiting me).
+
+Now, when I hear the dog barking I think my beloved is coming--
+
+  Or I remember the time, when long awaited she came.
+
+
+XXI
+
+I can tell not only about a discomfort far greater than others,
+
+  But of a horror besides, thinking of which will arouse
+
+Every fiber in me to revulsion. My friends, I confess it:
+
+  Great displeasure I take lying alone in my bed.
+
+But it's a horror to fear on the pathways of love you'll discover
+
+  Snakes and their venom beneath roses of eager desire--
+
+That at the moment supreme, when I'm yielding to pleasure so fully,
+
+  Right at my head as it droops, hissing disease may approach.
+
+That's why Faustina as my companion in bed makes me happy:
+
+  Loving she always remains faithful, as I am to her.
+
+Young men are aroused in their passions by obstacles and by excitement;
+
+  I prefer to go slow, savoring pleasures secure.
+
+Is it not bliss to exchange tender kisses containing no dangers,
+
+  Sucking into our lungs, carefree, our partner's own life?
+
+That is the way our long nights of enjoyment are passed. We listen,
+
+  Breast against breast, to the storm, pouring down rain in the wind
+
+Morning begins to dawn, we expect from these hours approaching
+
+  Blossoms that will adorn festive the coming new day.
+
+Quirites, permit me the joy, and may this, of all pleasures on earth the
+
+  First and the last, be vouchsafed all of mankind by the god.
+
+
+XXII
+
+Ah, to uphold one's respectable name is not easy. The Lady
+
+  Fame has an ancient foe: Cupid, my master and lord.
+
+Oh, by the way, have you heard of the cause of their mutual hatred?
+
+  It's an old story, I think--Let me just tell it again.
+
+Powerful ever the goddess, but nevertheless to her fellows
+
+  Overbearing and rude, quite unendurable. She
+
+Had by the gods since time out of mind at their banquets been dreaded,
+
+  Yelling with brassiest voice orders to great and to small.
+
+Once, in her arrogance even maintained that she had subjected
+
+  To her own will, as her slave, Jove's most illustrious son.
+
+"One of these days, O father of deities," cried she in triumph,
+
+  "I shall be bringing you my--Hercules, as if new born.
+
+Don't think that Hercules be still that boy whom Alcmene once bore you;
+
+  His adulation of me makes him now god upon earth.
+
+When toward Olympus he gazes, I've no doubt you hope that he's looking
+
+  Piously toward your knees. Hardly. He's looking for me.
+
+Worthiest man! O the vision of winning my favor makes easy
+
+  Hitherto unexplored paths, under that powerful foot.
+
+I do my part, for I meet him halfway and proclaim his adventures
+
+  Praising his name in advance, even before he's begun.
+
+One day you'll wed me to Hercules.  Hero who Amazons conquered
+
+  That day will overwhelm me. Happily I'll call him:  spouse."
+
+All of the gods kept their counsel, and none would reply to the braggart,
+
+  Lest in a pique she devise vengeance against one of them.
+
+Cupid, escaping attention, slipped off to enslave, however, her hero:
+
+  Artlessly conquering by--force of a beautiful girl,
+
+Afterward decked out his couple in mute masquerade:  lionskin
+
+  Over her shoulders, the club leaned (by much toil) at her side;
+
+Wiry stiff hair of the hero larded with blossoms, a distaff
+
+  Laid in his fist, to conform strength to the dalliance of love.
+
+Scene now completed and ready to tease, he goes scampering, shouting
+
+  For all Olympus to hear: "Come, see these glorious deeds!
+
+Heaven and Earth and the Sun on his indefatigable journey
+
+  Over that infinite path never did witness the like!"
+
+Everyone hastened, gulled by the dissolute boy, who feigning
+
+  Earnest, had summoned them all (Fame by no means lagged behind).
+
+Which of the gods will now smile in sweet condescension on Cupid?
+
+  --Juno! delighted, of course, seeing a man humbled so.
+
+Fame, on the other hand, stood there ashamed, embarrassed, despairing.
+
+  First she just laughed, saying: "Gods, be not deceived. It's a masque.
+
+I know my hero too well to be fooled by disguises of actors."
+
+  Soon, though, in pain she perceived: Hercules, none but he.
+
+(Vulcan had not been one thousandth so vexed to discover his playmate
+
+  Under his meshes ensnared, caught with his own lusty friend,
+
+Lying just as the wiles of the net at the most crucial moment
+
+  Deftly embraced their embrace, trapping their instant of joy.
+
+How those boys, Bacchus and Mercury, guffawed, and freely admitted:
+
+  Sweet must be the repose, lying on bosom so fine
+
+Of this magnificent woman. They turned to Vulcan entreating:
+
+  "Do not release them just yet. Let us inspect them once more."
+
+And the old cuckold was cuckold enough to comply with their wishes.)
+
+  As for poor Fame, in all haste, burning with wrath she must flee.
+
+Since then no armistice has been proclaimed to the feuding between them.
+
+  Let her but favor a man, hot in pursuit is the boy.
+
+He whom Fame honors most can least defend against Cupid,
+
+  And her most dang'rous attacks strike the most morally proud.
+
+Whoever tries to escape him is dragged down from bad deeds to worse ones.
+
+  Yes, he will offer you girls--if like a fool you despise
+
+These, only then do you feel from his bow the arrows most vicious:
+
+  Heat of man's love for man, ardent desires toward beasts.
+
+For those ashamed of him Cupid reserves the bitterest passions,
+
+  Mingling for hypocrites their pleasure in vice and remorse.
+
+But, at the same time, the goddess seeks him, she's watching and list'ning.
+
+  Should find him with you, ill disposed will she be:
+
+Frighten you, frowning austerely, contemptuously, violently casting
+
+  Into the worst of repute houses he's known to frequent.
+
+Ah, it's the same with me, too. I haven't escaped her, the goddess.
+
+  Jealously she seeks me out, sweet secret love to expose.
+
+I will submit to the ancient law and in silence revere her,
+
+  For, when great lords fall out, I like the Greeks must atone.
+
+
+XXIII
+
+However comely be strength, or free and undaunted comportment,
+
+  Secrecy is for a man most important of all.
+
+Mighty subduer of cities, Discretion, O princess of nations,
+
+  Goddess whom I adore, safely you've led me thus far.
+
+Now, though, what fate shall befall me? My frivolous muse has now opened
+
+  --Cupid, the scamp--opens lips hitherto sealed so well.
+
+Difficult is it, alas, to conceal the shame of a monarch;
+
+  Hide it can neither his crown, nor a tight Phrygian cap:
+
+Midas has asses ears! the first servant discovers--O horror!
+
+  Shame of this secret so weighs, Midas unburdens his heart.
+
+Into the earth for safekeeping the servant must bury the story,
+
+  Easing in this way the king:  earth must conceal the tale.
+
+Reeds in a trice are sprouting and rustling in murmuring breezes:
+
+  "Midas, o Midas the King--bears the ears of an ass!"
+
+Mine is a secret more pleasant, but even more difficult keeping:
+
+  Out of abundance of heart eagerly speaketh my mouth.
+
+None of my ladyfriends dare I confide in, for they would but chide me;
+
+  Nor any gentleman friend, lest he be rival to me.
+
+Rapture proclaim to the grove, to the echoing cliffs perorate it?
+
+  One can do that if one's young, or if one's lonely enough.
+
+I to hexameters tell, in pentameters I will confide it:
+
+  During the day she was joy, happiness all the night long.
+
+Courted by so many suitors, avoided the snares that were set her
+
+  Now by one bolder than I, now by another in guile,
+
+Cleverly, daintily, always slipped past them, and sure of the byways,
+
+  Comes to her lover's embrace, where he so eagerly waits.
+
+Luna! Don't rise yet. She's coming, and must not be seen by the neighbor!
+
+  Breezes, rustle the leaves: muffle the sound of her feet.
+
+And as for you, little poems, o grow and flower, your blossoms
+
+  Cradling themselves in the air, tepid and soft with love's breath.
+
+Wafting, betray to Quirites, as Midas' reeds did with cheap gossip,
+
+  One happy couple in love, and their sweet secret, at last.
+
+
+XXIV
+
+I in the back of the garden, the last of the gods, in a corner,
+
+  Ineptly formed, must I stand. Evil the inroads of time.
+
+Cucumber vines grow entwining about this primeval lingam,
+
+  Cracking it almost in two under the weight of the fruit.
+
+Faggots are heaped all about me against the cold of the winter,
+
+  Which I so hate for the crows settling then down on my head,
+
+Which they befoul very shamefully. Summer's no better: the servants
+
+  Empty their bowels and show insolent, naked behinds.
+
+Filth, above and below! I was clearly in danger of turning
+
+  Into filth myself, toadstool, rotten wood!
+
+Now, by your efforts, O noblest of artists, I shall recover
+
+  With fellow gods my just place. And it's no more than my due.
+
+Jupiter's throne, so dishonestly won, it was I who secured it:
+
+  Color and ivory, marble and bronze, not to mention the poems.
+
+Now, all intelligent men look upon me in kindness. They like to
+
+  Form their own image of me, just as the poet has done.
+
+Nor do the girls take offense when they see me--by no means the matrons.
+
+  None finds me ugly today, though I am monstrously strong.
+
+Half a foot long, as reward, your glorious rod (dear poet)
+
+  Proudly shall strut from your loins, when but your dearest commands,
+
+Nor shall your member grow weary until you've enjoyed the full dozen
+
+  Artful positions the great poet Philainis describes.
+
+
+
+About the Elegies
+
+Goethe cultivated a special, italianate hand for this portfolio of
+twenty-four "elegies," so called because he was emulating the elegiasts of
+Imperial Rome, Tibullus, Propertius, Catullus.  The Elegies have never before
+been published as here, together in the cyclical form of their original
+conception.  Experts even denied that the two priapeia (I & XXIV) were by
+Goethe at all, although they are in the same hand as the rest.  To be sure,
+these two are not numbered, so that I was long undecided as to just what
+their proper position might be.  At one time I imagined they must belong at
+the middle of the cycle where at the end of Elegy XIII Priapus' mother summons
+her son.  Obviously Goethe, just returned north from his two years in Italy
+(1786-88), and alienated from prim, courtly friends (especially since he had
+taken a girlfriend into his cottage), had no thought of publication when he
+indited these remembrances of Ancient Rome.  But he did show them to close
+friends, one of whom was the wonderful dramatist Friedrich Schiller.  In 1795,
+Schiller undertook a new periodical, Die Horen.  This thoughtful and
+responsible man initiated the journal with an essay of his own, explaining
+how forms of entertainment are actually at the same time our primary modes
+of education.  It makes for pretty difficult reading in our present, less
+interested epoch.  But he did break the essay up with diversions solicited
+from the best minds of his era.  For a discussion of all this, see
+
+Professor Worthy's Page
+
+For now, it is enough to say that among Schiller's examples for "aesthetic
+education," as he called it, were these Elegies by his much admired friend,
+Wolfgang Goethe.  Editor and author made substantial changes for propriety's
+sake--despite Goethe's having lashed out to the contrary in the first Elegy
+(which he now suppressed, along with the final one).  My attempt has been--for
+the very first time by the way, in any language--to restore Goethe's cycle to
+his early conception.  Since I have been unwilling to intrude with learned
+notes, I must apologize for Goethe's many classical allusions, which were as
+familiar to his own readership as are, in our publications today, the dense
+references to media celebrities.  Modern editors of what they call the
+"Roman Elegies" bring abundant annotation, and often detail Goethe's own
+emendations.  What I bring here is merely translated from his manuscript in
+the Goethe-Schiller Archive in Weimar.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's Erotica Romana, by Johann Wolfgang Goethe
+
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Erotica Romana, by Johann Wolfgang Goethe
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+Title: Erotica Romana
+
+Author: Johann Wolfgang Goethe
+
+Release Date: April, 2005 [EBook #7889]
+[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule]
+[This file was first posted on May 31, 2003]
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+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK EROTICA ROMANA ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Harry Haile and Mike Pullen
+
+
+
+
+EROTICA ROMANA
+
+Johann Wolfgang Goethe
+
+
+
+
+I
+
+Here's where I've planted my garden and here I shall care for love's blossoms--
+
+  As I am taught by my muse, carefully sort them in plots:
+
+Fertile branches, whose product is golden fruit of my lifetime,
+
+  Set here in happier years, tended with pleasure today.
+
+You, stand here at my side, good Priapus--albeit from thieves I've
+
+  Nothing to fear. Freely pluck, whosoever would eat.
+
+--Hypocrites, those are the ones! If weakened with shame and bad conscience
+
+  One of those criminals comes, squinting out over my garden,
+
+Bridling at nature's pure fruit, punish the knave in his hindparts,
+
+  Using the stake which so red rises there at your loins.
+
+
+II
+
+Tell me ye stones and give me O glorious palaces answer.
+
+  Speak O ye streets but one word. Genius, art thou alive?
+
+Yes, here within thy sanctified walls there's a soul in each object,
+
+  ROMA eternal. For me, only, are all things yet mute.
+
+Who will then tell me in whispers and where must I find just the window
+
+  Where one day she'll be glimpsed: creature who'll scorch me with love?
+
+Can't I divine yet the paths through which over and over
+
+  To her and from her I'll go, squandering valuable time?
+
+Visiting churches and palaces, all of the ruins and the pillars,
+
+  I, a responsible man, profit from making this trip.
+
+With my business accomplished, ah, then shall only one temple,
+
+  AMOR's temple alone, take the initiate in.
+
+Rome, thou art a whole world, it is true, and yet without love this
+
+  World would not be the world, Rome would cease to be Rome.
+
+
+III
+
+More than ever I dreamed, I have found it: my happy good fortune!
+
+  Cupid sagaciously led past those palazzos so fine.
+
+He of course knows very well (and I have also discovered)
+
+  What, beneath tapestries rich, gilded boudoirs conceal.
+
+One may if one wishes call him a blind, wanton boy--but I know you,
+
+  Clever Cupid, too well! O, incorruptible god!
+
+We were by no means inveigled to enter façades so majestic;
+
+  Somber cortilé we passed, balcony high and gallant,
+
+Hastening onward until an humble but exquisite portal
+
+  Offered a refuge to both, ardent seeker and guide.
+
+Here he provides me with ev'rything, sees that I get what I call for;
+
+  Each day that passes he spreads freshly plucked roses for me.
+
+--Isn't that heaven on earth? Say, beautiful Lady Borghese,
+
+  What would you give to me more? --You, Nipotina, what yours?
+
+Banquets and game tables, operas, balls, promenades down the Corso?
+
+  These but deprive my sweet boy of his most opportune times.
+
+Finery, haughtiness do not entice me. Does one not lift a
+
+  Gown of the finest brocade just as one lifts common wool?
+
+If she's to press in comfort a lover against that soft bosom,
+
+  Doesn't he want her to be free from all brooches and chains?
+
+Must not the jewelry, and then the lace and the bustles and whalebone
+
+  All of it come off entire, if he's to learn how she feels?
+
+I encounter no troubles like those. Simple dress of rough homespun,
+
+  At but a lover's mere touch, tumbles in folds to the floor.
+
+Quickly he carries the girl as she's clad in chemise of coarse linen--
+
+  Just as a nursemaid might, playfully up to her bed.
+
+Drapings of satin are absent; the mattress is quite unembroidered.
+
+  Large is this room where the bed offers its comfort for two.
+
+Jupiter's welcome to more from his Juno if he can get it;
+
+  Let any mortal find rest, softer, wherever he can.
+
+We are content with Cupid's delights, authentic and naked--
+
+  And with the exquisite creak /crack of the bed as it rocks.
+
+
+IV
+
+Ask whomever you will but you'll never find out where I'm lodging,
+
+  High society's lords, ladies so groomed and refined.
+
+"Tell me, was Werther authentic? Did all of that happen in real life?"
+
+  "Lotte, oh where did she live, Werther's only true love?"
+
+How many times have I cursed those frivolous pages that broadcast
+
+  Out among all mankind passions I felt in my youth!
+
+Were he my brother, why then I 'd have murdered poor Werther.
+
+  Yet his despondent ghost couldn't have sought worse revenge.
+
+That's the way "Marlborough," the ditty, follows the Englishman's travels
+
+  Down to Livorno from France, thence from Livorno to Rome,
+
+All of the way into Naples and then, should he flee on to Madras,
+
+  "Marlborough" will surely be there, "Marlborough" sung in the port.
+
+Happily now I've escaped, and my mistress knows Werther and Lotte
+
+  Not a whit better than who might be this man in her bed:
+
+That he's a foreigner, footloose and lusty, is all she could tell you,
+
+  Who beyond mountains and snow, dwelt in a house made of wood.
+
+
+V
+
+Do not, beloved, regret that you yielded to me so quickly:
+
+  I entertain no base, insolent thoughts about you.
+
+Arrows of Cupid work divers effects. Some do but scratch us:
+
+  Slow and insidious these poison our hearts over years.
+
+Yet with a head freshly honed and cunningly fledged, certain others
+
+  Pierce to the marrow, inflame rapidly there our blood.
+
+When gods and goddesses in days of heroes made love, then
+
+  Lust followed look and desire, with no delay, was indulged.
+
+Surely you don't think the goddess of love lost a moment reflecting
+
+  When, in Idean grove, Anchises caught her eye.
+
+Nor did Luna delay about kissing that beautiful dreamer--
+
+  Jealous Aurora had else hastily wakened the lad.
+
+At the loud banquet Hero regarded Leander--then promptly
+
+  Into dark waters he plunged, ardently swam toward his love.
+
+When Rhea Silvia, princess and virgin, came down to the Tiber
+
+  Just to fetch water, a god seized her and that is the way
+
+Mars begat himself sons, a pair of twins whom a she wolf
+
+  Suckled. Today a proud Rome claims to be queen of the world.
+
+
+VI
+
+We are so pious, we lovers. Discreetly we worship all powers,
+
+  Hoping for favor from each god and each goddess as well.
+
+We are like you, ye victorious Romans, in this:  for we offer
+
+  Gods of all peoples and tribes, over the whole world, a home--
+
+May the Egyptian, black and austere out of primeval basalt,
+
+  Or from the marble a Greek, form them charming and white--
+
+Yet the eternal ones do not object to particularism
+
+  (Incense of most precious sort, strewn for just one of their host).
+
+Therefore we gladly confess to singling a special immortal
+
+  And our devotions each day pledging but solely to her.
+
+Mischievous celebrants we at these mysteries gay, and so solemn:
+
+  Silence exactly befits rites at which we're adepts.
+
+Rather onto our heels by horrible deeds the Erinyes
+
+  We would allure, even Zeus' punishment sooner we'd dare--
+
+Under that rock, or bound to a tumbling wheel we'd endure it--
+
+  Than we'd withdraw our hearts from the delights of her cult.
+
+Sweet Opportunity, that is her name. You should meet her.
+
+  Often will she turn up, ever in a new form.
+
+Daughter of Proteus might well she be whom he sired upon Thetis.
+
+  In metamorphoses they've many a hero deceived.
+
+So now the daughter beguiles the naive and bedazzles the foolish,
+
+  Teases you while you're asleep; when you awaken, she's flown.
+
+Eagerly yields herself up to the quick, to the active man only.
+
+  He discovers she's tame, playful and tender and sweet.
+
+Once she appeared to me, too: a dark-skinned girl, tumbling
+
+  Over her forehead the hair down in waves heavy and dark.
+
+Round about a delicate neck curled short little ringlets;
+
+  Up from the crown of her head crinkled the unbraided hair.
+
+When she dashed by me I seized her, mistaking her not. Lovingly
+
+  Kiss and embrace she returned, knowing and teaching me how.
+
+O how enraptured I was! Ah, say now no more. It's a bygone.
+
+  But, O pigtails of Rome, still I'm entrammled in you.
+
+
+VII
+
+Happily now on classical soil I feel inspiration.
+
+  Voices from present and past speak here evocatively.
+
+Heeding ancient advice, I leaf through the works of the Ancients
+
+  With an assiduous hand. Daily the pleasure's renewed.
+
+Throughout the night, in a different way, I'm kept busy by Cupid--
+
+  If erudition is halved, rapture is doubled that way.
+
+Do then I not become wise when I trace with my eye her sweet bosom's
+
+  Form, and the line of her hips stroke with my hand? I acquire,
+
+As I reflect and compare, my first understanding of marble,
+
+  See with an eye that feels, feel with a hand that sees.
+
+While my beloved, I grant it, deprives me of moments of daylight,
+
+    She in the nighttime hours gives compensation in full.
+
+And we do more than just kiss; we prosecute reasoned discussions
+
+  (Should she succumb to sleep, that gives me time for my thoughts).
+
+In her embrace--it's by no means unusual--I've composed poems
+
+  And the hexameter's beat gently tapped out on her back,
+
+Fingertips counting in time with the sweet rhythmic breath of her slumber.
+
+  Air from deep in her breast penetrates mine and there burns.
+
+Cupid, while stirring the flame in our lamp, no doubt thinks of those days when
+
+    For the triumvirs he similar service performed.
+
+
+VIII
+
+"Can you be cruel enough to sadden me thus with reproaches?
+
+  Germans speak, I suppose, bitterly when they're in love.
+
+Bear it I must when the gossips bring forth accusations: I'm guilty--
+
+  Or am I not? But, alas, all of my guilt was with you.
+
+Clothes that you've given bear witness for envious neighbors
+
+    That the poor widow no more grieves for her husband alone.
+
+Did you not thoughtlessly visit me in the disguise of a cleric,
+
+    Muffled all up in a cloak, hair all rounded behind?
+
+Who was it chose that gray monk if not you? Well then a prelate
+
+  Now is my lover--Ah, who is my prelate but you?
+
+Never, incredible as it may sound in this clerical city,
+
+  Has any cleric brought me--swear it I will--to his bed.
+
+I was sufficiently poor, sad to say. I was young. The seducers
+
+  Noted it well. Falconier ogled me often enough.
+
+One of the pimps for Albani with billets doux very impressive
+
+  Called me to Ostia once. Quattro Fontani next time.
+
+Who was it did not appear there? Why, who but the very same girl who
+
+  Hated with all of her heart stockings both violet and red.
+
+For: 'In the end you poor girls are the ones who are sure to be cheated.'
+
+  So said my father although--Mother was not much impressed.
+
+Father was right. Here I stand in the end being cheated and scolded.
+
+  You don't believe your own words. They're your excuse to escape.
+
+Go, then. Unworthy of women are men. We, who carry your children
+
+  Next to our hearts, in these hearts loyalty we bear you, too.
+
+As for you men, when you've poured out your potency in our embraces
+
+  And your desires dissipate, love with them passes away."
+
+These things expressed, and taking her child from its chair, my beloved
+
+  Presses it close to her heart, kisses it, tears in her eyes.
+
+I'm now so very ashamed of myself for having permitted
+
+  Gossip of neighbors to spoil picture so eloquent.
+
+For a short moment a fire may burn darkly while smoke swirls about it.
+
+  Water dashed on the coals suddenly smothers their glow.
+
+Rapidly then renewed heat overcomes those lowering vapors,
+
+  Sends up a flame that anew bright and more powerful gleams.
+
+
+IX
+
+How very happy I am here in Rome when I think of the bad days
+
+  Far back there in the north, wrapped in a grayish light.
+
+Over my head there the heavens weighed down so dismal and gloomy;
+
+  Colorless, formless, that world round this exhausted man lay.
+
+Seeking myself in myself, an unsatisfied spirit, I brooded,
+
+  Spying out pathways dark, lost in dreary reflection.
+
+Here in an æther more clear now a luster encircles my forehead.
+
+  Phoebus the god evokes forms, clear are his colors by day.
+
+Bright with the stars comes the evening, ringing with songs that are tender,
+
+  And the glow of the moon, brighter than northern sun.
+
+What blessedness mortals may know! Am I now dreaming? Or welcomes
+
+  Jupiter, Father, as guest--me, to ambrosial halls?
+
+See, I lie here extending my arms toward your knees. I am praying:
+
+  Hospitality's god, Jupiter Xenius! Hear:
+
+How I am come to this place I no longer can say--I was
+
+  Seized up by Hebe.  'Twas she led to this sacred hill.
+
+Did you command her a hero to seek and deliver before you ?
+
+  May be she erred. Then forgive. Let her mistake profit me!
+
+Does not Fortuna, your daughter, when strewing her glorious presents,
+
+  After the manner of girls, yield to each passing whim?
+
+You, O hospitable god, will by no means now banish a stranger
+
+  From your Olympian heights back to the base earth again.
+
+"Poet, come to your senses!"--Forgive me, Jupiter, is not
+
+  Rome's Capitoline Hill second Olympus to you?
+
+Suffer me, Jupiter, here and let Hermes guide me at last then
+
+  Past Cestius' Tomb gently to Orkus below.
+
+
+X
+
+When you were small, you say, neither did others consider you f air, nor
+
+  Even your mother find praise--and I believe it--
+
+Till you grew bigger, developing quietly over the years. I
+
+  Picture you to myself as an unusual child.
+
+Also the blossoms on grapevines are wanting in shape and in color,
+
+  Although the fruit when it's ripe pleases both mankind and gods.
+
+
+XI
+
+Kindling autumnal fire in a rustic, convivial fireplace
+
+  (How the sticks crackle and spew flames and glittering sparks!)
+
+Strikes me especially pleasant this evening.  Before all my tinder
+
+  Dies away into coals, coals then to ashes decline,
+
+She will be back and new faggots as well as big logs will be blazing,
+
+  Making a festival where lovers will warm up the night.
+
+Then in the morning, officious, she'll leave the bed of her lover,
+
+  Rouse adroitly the flames out from their ashes anew.
+
+Cupid has lent to her above others the gift of cajoling
+
+  Up from the ashes desire, just when slumber's begun.
+
+
+XII
+
+All of those greats: Alexander, Caesar and Henry and Fredrick,
+
+  Gladly would share with me half of their hard fought renown,
+
+Could I but grant them my bed for one single night, and its comfort,
+
+  But the poor wretches are held stark in cold Orkian grip.
+
+Therefore, ye living, rejoice that love keeps you warm for a while yet,
+
+  Until cold Lethe anoints, captures your foot in its flight.
+
+
+XIII
+
+They are for you, O ye graces, just a few leaves by a poet
+
+  Onto your pure altar laid, buds of the rose beside,
+
+Offered in confidence.  Artists enjoy ateliers which are furnished
+
+  So as to make for a space Pantheon-like in decor:
+
+Jupiter lowers that godly brow while his Juno looks upward;
+
+  Phoebus takes forward strides, shaking his curly head;
+
+While phlegmatic Minerva peers down on us, frivolous Hermes
+
+  Seems to be looking askance, roguish, though tender as well.
+
+But it's to Bacchus, the sensuous dreamer, Cythera sends glances
+
+  Bathed in sweetest desire--even in marble they're damp.
+
+Thinking about his embrace and its pleasures, she seems to be asking
+
+  Shouldn't our glorious son here at our side stand erect?
+
+
+XIV
+
+Can't you hear voices, beloved, out on the Via Flamina?
+
+  Reapers are now going home, back from harvesting grain.
+
+They had journeyed to Rome from afar, and here plaited for Ceres
+
+  Wreaths which the Romans today scorn to make for themselves.
+
+Festivals no longer celebrate Ceres, the nourishing goddess
+
+  Who replaced acorns of old, giving man golden wheat.
+
+Let us commemorate her then ourselves in festival private
+
+  (Two constitute a whole tribe, when they are two in love).
+
+Have you by any chance heard how that mystical, strange celebration
+
+  Followed victorious troops back from Eleusis to Rome?
+
+Greeks were the ones who began it, and only to Greeks they proclaimed it
+
+  Even within Roman walls: "Come to the sanctified night."
+
+Those who were not of the cult kept their distance; neophytes trembled,
+
+  Waiting in garments of white, symbol of all that is pure.
+
+Then the initiates must aimlessly wander about through the eerie
+
+  Circles of figures as if pilgriming through their own dreams.
+
+Snakes on the ground were writhing about. Now virgins came bearing
+
+  Caskets securely locked, richly wreathéd with grain.
+
+Surely the gestures of murmuring priests must contain some deep meaning--
+
+  Impatient acolytes wait, anxiously hoping for light.
+
+Not until after many a testing and trial did they discover
+
+  What, within sacred ring, secretive image concealed.
+
+What was this mystery other than this:   that Demeter, goddess,
+
+  Once upon a time had to a hero been kind.
+
+It was to Jason, powerful king of the Cretans, she granted
+
+  Of her immortal self hidden sweet parts to explore.
+
+That made the fortune of Crete! The marital bed of the goddess
+
+  Soon grew pregnant with grain, heavy her bounteous fields.
+
+As for the rest of the world, it languished away, while Ceres,
+
+  Derelict of her true task, dalliance offered in love.
+
+--Now the initiate youths, having followed this tale, all astonished,
+
+  Turned and beckoned their loves--love, do you comprehend?
+
+See there the sacred shade beneath that bushy-boughed myrtle?
+
+  Our satisfaction will there scarcely endanger a world.
+
+
+ XV
+
+Cupid is always a scoundrel, and if you believe him he'll cheat you.
+
+  Here's what the hypocrite said: "Trust me just once more, this time.
+
+I have the best of intentions toward you who have now dedicated--
+
+  I recognize it with thanks--life and writings to me.
+
+Lo, I have followed you hither to Rome, and I'd like to do something
+
+  Here in this far away land pleasing to such an old friend.
+
+Every traveller I've ever known has complained of poor treatment:
+
+  He whom I recommend treatment delicious receives.
+
+You've now regarded with awe all the structures which lie here in ruins,
+
+  Cultivated your eye, sensing each hallowéd space.
+
+How you've revered the formative will of those ancient artists!
+
+  In their own ateliers often I''ve visited them.
+
+As for their works, why, I formed those myself--now this time I'm boasting
+
+  Not. Oh come now, admit what I am saying is true.
+
+Where are your own creations, your service to me having slackened?
+
+  Where is invention's glow now? Where is the color all gone?
+
+Friend, do you hope you can create again? --The school of the Ancients
+
+  Yet remains open.  Its gates, years have not closed them to you.
+
+I am eternally young, and as teacher I still love the young ones.
+
+  Wisdom that comes with old age pleases me not. Listen here:
+
+Wasn't antiquity young when those fortunate Ancients were living?
+
+  Happy then be your life, too: in it antiquity lives.
+
+Where will you find a fit theme for your song? --It is I must provide it.
+
+  As for a style truly grand, love can alone give you that."
+
+All of these claims that sophist asserted. Could I contradict him?
+
+  I am wont to obey, when my commander decrees.
+
+Treacherous now he is keeping his word: giving me themes for my poems
+
+  While he is stealing my time, potency, presence of mind.
+
+Gazing into her eyes, holding hands, giving kisses, exchanging
+
+  Syllables sweet and those words lovers alone understand,
+
+Murmuring our conversations we stutter in sweet oratory.
+
+  Hymns of such sort pass away, wanting prosodical tact.
+
+Goddess of morning, Aurora, as friend of my muse I once knew you.
+
+  Has the unprincipled god, Cupid, seduced you now too?
+
+So that these mornings you come as his sweetheart, awakening me at
+
+  His festive altar again, where I must celebrate him?
+
+Here on my breast flows her hair, an abundance of curls, while her head rests,
+
+  Pressing my arm as it's bent, so as to pillow her neck.
+
+What a delicious condition, if only these few tranquil moments
+
+  Could in my memory fix firmly that image of joy
+
+When the night rocked us to sleep--but in slumber she's moving away now,
+
+  From my side turns, as she goes leaving her hand in my hand.
+
+Love in our hearts makes us one, as the genuine need there stays constant;
+
+  Only returning desire knows oscillation or change.
+
+Gently her hand presses mine, now she opens her eyes and is looking
+
+  Into my own eyes. No--don't. Let my thoughts rest on your form!
+
+Please close your eyes. They're inebriation, confusion, they rob me
+
+  All too soon of the joy quiet reflection affords.
+
+Grand are the forms of this body and nobly positioned each member.
+
+  Had Ariadne lain thus, Theseus never had fled.
+
+Only a single kiss for these lips and then, O Theseus, leave her;
+
+  Look at her eyes--she's awake! Now you're eternally bound.
+
+
+XVI
+
+Boy, won't you light me a lamp. "But dear master, there's light in the sky yet.
+
+  Don't waste your oil and the wick. Don't close the shutters so soon.
+
+Only the houses are blocking the sun there, it's not yet the mountains.
+
+  Until the curfew shall ring, full half an hour must pass."
+
+Wretched young fellow, be gone and obey me! My loved one is coming.
+
+  Lamplight, console me till then, harbinger warm of the night.
+
+
+XVII
+
+Poets of old in chorus cried out against those two serpents,
+
+  Making them horrible names, hated in all of the world:
+
+Python the one, the other the Hydra of Lerna. These monsters
+
+  Both have now been destroyed, thanks to the deeds of the gods.
+
+Fire-breathing, venomous once, they no longer now depredate our
+
+  Flocks and meadows and woods, fields of golden grain.
+
+How is it then that some spiteful god in his wrath has
+
+  Raised from the poisonous slime offspring so monstrous again?
+
+There's an insidious viper creeps into the loveliest gardens,
+
+  Lying in wait to attack all who seek pleasure therein.
+
+Noble Hesperian dragon, I call you courageous and forthright.
+
+  Boldly defending your own beautiful apples of gold.
+
+As for this worm, why he is not guarding at all, for his presence
+
+  Sullies both garden and fruit, till they deserve no defense.
+
+Secretly coiled beneath bushes, where he befouls the sweet wellsprings,
+
+  Turning to poisonous drool Cupid's lifegiving dew.
+
+Happy Lucretius knew how in his day to forego love completely,
+
+  Fearing not to enjoy pleasure in anyone's arms.
+
+Fortunate Ancient, Propertius, for you a slave fetched the girls down
+
+  From the Aventine Hill, from Tarpeia's grove.
+
+Cynthia then, when driving you out of such unchaste embraces,
+
+  Found you unfaithful, it's true, but she did find you whole.
+
+Who would today dare attempt to escape from fidelity's ennui?
+
+  Love does not hold one back--only concern for one's health.
+
+Even the woman we love may afford us uncertain enjoyment;
+
+  Nowhere can feminine lap safely encouch a man's head.
+
+Matrimonial bed's insecure and so's fornication;
+
+  Husband, lover and wife pass to each other the hurt.
+
+Think of those ages of gold when Jupiter followed his urges,
+
+  Chose Callisto one day, turned to Semel the next.
+
+It was important to him to find thresholds of temples so sacred
+
+  Pure when, enamoured, he sought powerful entry to them.
+
+Can you imagine the ragings of Juno if in love's skirmish
+
+  Poisonous weapons on her by her own spouse had been turned?
+
+But we neo-pagans may not after all be abandoned entirely:
+
+  Yet there is speeding a god mercifully over the earth,
+
+Quick and assiduous. Everyone knows him and ought to adore him,
+
+  Herald of Zeus: Hermes, the healing god.
+
+Although his father's temple be fallen, and though of its pillars
+
+  Scarcely a pair yet records ancient glory adored,
+
+Nevertheless the son's place of worship still stands, and forever
+
+  Will there the ardent requests alternate with the thanks.
+
+Only one favor I beg of you, Graces (I ask it in secret--
+
+  Fervent my prayer and deep, out of a passionate breast):
+
+My little garden, my sweet one, protect it and do not let any
+
+  Evil come near it nor me. Cupid will hold out his hand:
+
+O, and entrusting myself to the rascal, I beg you please may I
+
+  Do so in pleasure with no danger or worry or fear.
+
+
+XVIII
+
+I cannot think I'd have gone with Julius Caesar to Britain;
+
+  To the Popina right here, Florus would tug me with ease.
+
+Fogs of the dreary north remain a more baleful remembrance
+
+  Than in the kitchens of Rome tribes of assiduous fleas.
+
+After today, I'll remember you even more kindly, tavernas,
+
+  You osterias, as you are called, aptly by those here in Rome.
+
+That was the place I encountered my mistress today with the uncle
+
+  Whom she so often deceives, so that she can have me.
+
+Here's where I sat at a table surrounded by good-natured Germans;
+
+  Over on that side the girl, finding a seat for herself
+
+Next to her mother where, frequently shifting her bench, she arranged
+
+  Nicely for me to perceive profile and curve of her neck;
+
+Speaks just a little more loudly than women in Rome are accustomed;
+
+  Significant glance as she pours--misses the glass with the wine
+
+So that it spills on the table, and she with a delicate finger
+
+  Over its surface can draw circles in damp arabesque:
+
+Her name entwining in mine, while my eyes most eagerly follow
+
+  All that her fingertip writes. She is of course well aware
+
+That I am watching, so finally makes the V of the Roman
+
+  Five, with a virgule before. Quickly, as soon as I've seen,
+
+She interlaces the circles, reducing them all to ornatest
+
+  Patterns--but still the sweet IV stood as engraved in my eye.
+
+I sat there mutely and biting my passionate lips almost bloody
+
+  Half from delight at the ruse, partly from stifled desire:
+
+Such a long time until dark, then another four hours of waiting.
+
+  --Sun, who tarries on high, contemplating Rome:
+
+Greater never you've nor shall you in future see greater
+
+  Than Rome, O sun, as your priest, Horace, enraptured foretold.
+
+Tarry no longer today. Go seek other realms beneath heaven.
+
+  Sooner depart and leave Rome's seven famed hills to me.
+
+Please do the poet a favor and shorten the glorious hours
+
+  Which the painter devours, eagerly filling his eyes.
+
+Cast now but one ardent glance, while descending, on noble façades and
+
+  Cupolas, pillars, and--last--up at the obelisks. Then
+
+Hastily plunge to the ocean. Come view all the sooner tomorrow
+
+  That which, for centuries now, gods have let you enjoy:
+
+Italy's shoreline so long overgrown with moist reeds, elevations
+
+  Somberly rising to shades cast by the bushes and trees.
+
+First were but few simple dwellings here, suddenly sunlight discovered
+
+  Nations enlivening hills teeming with fortunate thieves.
+
+Onto this spot they assembled such plunder, in your eye so splendid
+
+  All earth's remaining orb scarcely was worthy of note.
+
+You watched a world being born here, watched the same world sink to ruin,
+
+  And from those ruins yet arise world again greater, perhaps.
+
+O may I long by your light now behold this Rome. May the Parcæ
+
+  Spin the fine thread of my life slowly, taking great care.
+
+O but come rushing the moment my love designated so sweetly.
+
+  Wonderful! Sound already the chimes? --No, but I heard at least three.
+
+Thus, my dear muses, again you've beguiled the monotony for me.
+
+  Of this long interval while I was apart from my love.
+
+All of you now, farewell! I'll be going now--don't be offended.
+
+  For, though you're proud, you'll concede: Cupid in my heart comes first.
+
+
+XIX
+
+Why did you fail to appear at the cot in the vineyard today, Love?
+
+  As I had promised I would, long I awaited you there.
+
+"Dear, I had almost arrived when I saw, by good fortune, your uncle
+
+  Standing right there by the vines, looking now this way, now that.
+
+Stealthily I slipped away." --Alas, what a misapprehension!
+
+  You saw the scarecrow, that's all. Nothing else drove you away.
+
+Reeds and some discarded garments all hastily cobbled together--
+
+  I helped to make it myself: diligent in my own grief.
+
+"Well, now his wish is fulfilled. The old gardner's most dissolute crow has
+
+  Left on this day unscathed nice little garden and niece."
+
+
+XX
+
+While there is many an unpleasant sound, I hate to hear barking
+
+  Worse than anything else. Bellowing dogs split my ears.
+
+Nevertheless I do like to hear, and take pleasure in listening
+
+  To the loud howl of the dog raised from a pup next door.
+
+That is the dog that so bayed one time at my girl that he almost
+
+  Gave our secret away (when she was visiting me).
+
+Now, when I hear the dog barking I think my beloved is coming--
+
+  Or I remember the time, when long awaited she came.
+
+
+XXI
+
+I can tell not only about a discomfort far greater than others,
+
+  But of a horror besides, thinking of which will arouse
+
+Every fiber in me to revulsion. My friends, I confess it:
+
+  Great displeasure I take lying alone in my bed.
+
+But it's a horror to fear on the pathways of love you'll discover
+
+  Snakes and their venom beneath roses of eager desire--
+
+That at the moment supreme, when I'm yielding to pleasure so fully,
+
+  Right at my head as it droops, hissing disease may approach.
+
+That's why Faustina as my companion in bed makes me happy:
+
+  Loving she always remains faithful, as I am to her.
+
+Young men are aroused in their passions by obstacles and by excitement;
+
+  I prefer to go slow, savoring pleasures secure.
+
+Is it not bliss to exchange tender kisses containing no dangers,
+
+  Sucking into our lungs, carefree, our partner's own life?
+
+That is the way our long nights of enjoyment are passed. We listen,
+
+  Breast against breast, to the storm, pouring down rain in the wind
+
+Morning begins to dawn, we expect from these hours approaching
+
+  Blossoms that will adorn festive the coming new day.
+
+Quirites, permit me the joy, and may this, of all pleasures on earth the
+
+  First and the last, be vouchsafed all of mankind by the god.
+
+
+XXII
+
+Ah, to uphold one's respectable name is not easy. The Lady
+
+  Fame has an ancient foe: Cupid, my master and lord.
+
+Oh, by the way, have you heard of the cause of their mutual hatred?
+
+  It's an old story, I think--Let me just tell it again.
+
+Powerful ever the goddess, but nevertheless to her fellows
+
+  Overbearing and rude, quite unendurable. She
+
+Had by the gods since time out of mind at their banquets been dreaded,
+
+  Yelling with brassiest voice orders to great and to small.
+
+Once, in her arrogance even maintained that she had subjected
+
+  To her own will, as her slave, Jove's most illustrious son.
+
+"One of these days, O father of deities," cried she in triumph,
+
+  "I shall be bringing you my--Hercules, as if new born.
+
+Don't think that Hercules be still that boy whom Alcmene once bore you;
+
+  His adulation of me makes him now god upon earth.
+
+When toward Olympus he gazes, I've no doubt you hope that he's looking
+
+  Piously toward your knees. Hardly. He's looking for me.
+
+Worthiest man! O the vision of winning my favor makes easy
+
+  Hitherto unexplored paths, under that powerful foot.
+
+I do my part, for I meet him halfway and proclaim his adventures
+
+  Praising his name in advance, even before he's begun.
+
+One day you'll wed me to Hercules.  Hero who Amazons conquered
+
+  That day will overwhelm me. Happily I'll call him:  spouse."
+
+All of the gods kept their counsel, and none would reply to the braggart,
+
+  Lest in a pique she devise vengeance against one of them.
+
+Cupid, escaping attention, slipped off to enslave, however, her hero:
+
+  Artlessly conquering by--force of a beautiful girl,
+
+Afterward decked out his couple in mute masquerade:  lionskin
+
+  Over her shoulders, the club leaned (by much toil) at her side;
+
+Wiry stiff hair of the hero larded with blossoms, a distaff
+
+  Laid in his fist, to conform strength to the dalliance of love.
+
+Scene now completed and ready to tease, he goes scampering, shouting
+
+  For all Olympus to hear: "Come, see these glorious deeds!
+
+Heaven and Earth and the Sun on his indefatigable journey
+
+  Over that infinite path never did witness the like!"
+
+Everyone hastened, gulled by the dissolute boy, who feigning
+
+  Earnest, had summoned them all (Fame by no means lagged behind).
+
+Which of the gods will now smile in sweet condescension on Cupid?
+
+  --Juno! delighted, of course, seeing a man humbled so.
+
+Fame, on the other hand, stood there ashamed, embarrassed, despairing.
+
+  First she just laughed, saying: "Gods, be not deceived. It's a masque.
+
+I know my hero too well to be fooled by disguises of actors."
+
+  Soon, though, in pain she perceived: Hercules, none but he.
+
+(Vulcan had not been one thousandth so vexed to discover his playmate
+
+  Under his meshes ensnared, caught with his own lusty friend,
+
+Lying just as the wiles of the net at the most crucial moment
+
+  Deftly embraced their embrace, trapping their instant of joy.
+
+How those boys, Bacchus and Mercury, guffawed, and freely admitted:
+
+  Sweet must be the repose, lying on bosom so fine
+
+Of this magnificent woman. They turned to Vulcan entreating:
+
+  "Do not release them just yet. Let us inspect them once more."
+
+And the old cuckold was cuckold enough to comply with their wishes.)
+
+  As for poor Fame, in all haste, burning with wrath she must flee.
+
+Since then no armistice has been proclaimed to the feuding between them.
+
+  Let her but favor a man, hot in pursuit is the boy.
+
+He whom Fame honors most can least defend against Cupid,
+
+  And her most dang'rous attacks strike the most morally proud.
+
+Whoever tries to escape him is dragged down from bad deeds to worse ones.
+
+  Yes, he will offer you girls--if like a fool you despise
+
+These, only then do you feel from his bow the arrows most vicious:
+
+  Heat of man's love for man, ardent desires toward beasts.
+
+For those ashamed of him Cupid reserves the bitterest passions,
+
+  Mingling for hypocrites their pleasure in vice and remorse.
+
+But, at the same time, the goddess seeks him, she's watching and list'ning.
+
+  Should find him with you, ill disposed will she be:
+
+Frighten you, frowning austerely, contemptuously, violently casting
+
+  Into the worst of repute houses he's known to frequent.
+
+Ah, it's the same with me, too. I haven't escaped her, the goddess.
+
+  Jealously she seeks me out, sweet secret love to expose.
+
+I will submit to the ancient law and in silence revere her,
+
+  For, when great lords fall out, I like the Greeks must atone.
+
+
+XXIII
+
+However comely be strength, or free and undaunted comportment,
+
+  Secrecy is for a man most important of all.
+
+Mighty subduer of cities, Discretion, O princess of nations,
+
+  Goddess whom I adore, safely you've led me thus far.
+
+Now, though, what fate shall befall me? My frivolous muse has now opened
+
+  --Cupid, the scamp--opens lips hitherto sealed so well.
+
+Difficult is it, alas, to conceal the shame of a monarch;
+
+  Hide it can neither his crown, nor a tight Phrygian cap:
+
+Midas has asses ears! the first servant discovers--O horror!
+
+  Shame of this secret so weighs, Midas unburdens his heart.
+
+Into the earth for safekeeping the servant must bury the story,
+
+  Easing in this way the king:  earth must conceal the tale.
+
+Reeds in a trice are sprouting and rustling in murmuring breezes:
+
+  "Midas, o Midas the King--bears the ears of an ass!"
+
+Mine is a secret more pleasant, but even more difficult keeping:
+
+  Out of abundance of heart eagerly speaketh my mouth.
+
+None of my ladyfriends dare I confide in, for they would but chide me;
+
+  Nor any gentleman friend, lest he be rival to me.
+
+Rapture proclaim to the grove, to the echoing cliffs perorate it?
+
+  One can do that if one's young, or if one's lonely enough.
+
+I to hexameters tell, in pentameters I will confide it:
+
+  During the day she was joy, happiness all the night long.
+
+Courted by so many suitors, avoided the snares that were set her
+
+  Now by one bolder than I, now by another in guile,
+
+Cleverly, daintily, always slipped past them, and sure of the byways,
+
+  Comes to her lover's embrace, where he so eagerly waits.
+
+Luna! Don't rise yet. She's coming, and must not be seen by the neighbor!
+
+  Breezes, rustle the leaves: muffle the sound of her feet.
+
+And as for you, little poems, o grow and flower, your blossoms
+
+  Cradling themselves in the air, tepid and soft with love's breath.
+
+Wafting, betray to Quirites, as Midas' reeds did with cheap gossip,
+
+  One happy couple in love, and their sweet secret, at last.
+
+
+XXIV
+
+I in the back of the garden, the last of the gods, in a corner,
+
+  Ineptly formed, must I stand. Evil the inroads of time.
+
+Cucumber vines grow entwining about this primeval lingam,
+
+  Cracking it almost in two under the weight of the fruit.
+
+Faggots are heaped all about me against the cold of the winter,
+
+  Which I so hate for the crows settling then down on my head,
+
+Which they befoul very shamefully. Summer's no better: the servants
+
+  Empty their bowels and show insolent, naked behinds.
+
+Filth, above and below! I was clearly in danger of turning
+
+  Into filth myself, toadstool, rotten wood!
+
+Now, by your efforts, O noblest of artists, I shall recover
+
+  With fellow gods my just place. And it's no more than my due.
+
+Jupiter's throne, so dishonestly won, it was I who secured it:
+
+  Color and ivory, marble and bronze, not to mention the poems.
+
+Now, all intelligent men look upon me in kindness. They like to
+
+  Form their own image of me, just as the poet has done.
+
+Nor do the girls take offense when they see me--by no means the matrons.
+
+  None finds me ugly today, though I am monstrously strong.
+
+Half a foot long, as reward, your glorious rod (dear poet)
+
+  Proudly shall strut from your loins, when but your dearest commands,
+
+Nor shall your member grow weary until you've enjoyed the full dozen
+
+  Artful positions the great poet Philainis describes.
+
+
+
+About the Elegies
+
+Goethe cultivated a special, italianate hand for this portfolio of
+twenty-four "elegies," so called because he was emulating the elegiasts of
+Imperial Rome, Tibullus, Propertius, Catullus.  The Elegies have never before
+been published as here, together in the cyclical form of their original
+conception.  Experts even denied that the two priapeia (I & XXIV) were by
+Goethe at all, although they are in the same hand as the rest.  To be sure,
+these two are not numbered, so that I was long undecided as to just what
+their proper position might be.  At one time I imagined they must belong at
+the middle of the cycle where at the end of Elegy XIII Priapus' mother summons
+her son.  Obviously Goethe, just returned north from his two years in Italy
+(1786-88), and alienated from prim, courtly friends (especially since he had
+taken a girlfriend into his cottage), had no thought of publication when he
+indited these remembrances of Ancient Rome.  But he did show them to close
+friends, one of whom was the wonderful dramatist Friedrich Schiller.  In 1795,
+Schiller undertook a new periodical, Die Horen.  This thoughtful and
+responsible man initiated the journal with an essay of his own, explaining
+how forms of entertainment are actually at the same time our primary modes
+of education.  It makes for pretty difficult reading in our present, less
+interested epoch.  But he did break the essay up with diversions solicited
+from the best minds of his era.  For a discussion of all this, see
+
+Professor Worthy's Page
+
+For now, it is enough to say that among Schiller's examples for "aesthetic
+education," as he called it, were these Elegies by his much admired friend,
+Wolfgang Goethe.  Editor and author made substantial changes for propriety's
+sake--despite Goethe's having lashed out to the contrary in the first Elegy
+(which he now suppressed, along with the final one).  My attempt has been--for
+the very first time by the way, in any language--to restore Goethe's cycle to
+his early conception.  Since I have been unwilling to intrude with learned
+notes, I must apologize for Goethe's many classical allusions, which were as
+familiar to his own readership as are, in our publications today, the dense
+references to media celebrities.  Modern editors of what they call the
+"Roman Elegies" bring abundant annotation, and often detail Goethe's own
+emendations.  What I bring here is merely translated from his manuscript in
+the Goethe-Schiller Archive in Weimar.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's Erotica Romana, by Johann Wolfgang Goethe
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK EROTICA ROMANA ***
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