| ETSI me assiduo confectum
cura dolore |
1 |
THOUGH I am worn out with
constant grief, |
seuocat a doctis, Hortale,
uirginibus,
|
2 |
Hortalus,
and sorrow calls me away, apart from the learned Maids,
|
| nec potis est dulcis Musarum
expromere fetus |
3 |
nor can the thoughts of
my heart utter the sweet births of the Muses, |
mens animi, tantis fluctuat ipsa malis--
|
4 |
tossed as it is with such waves of trouble;
|
| namque mei nuper Lethaeo
in gurgite fratris |
5 |
so lately the creeping
wave of the Lethaean flood |
Pallidulum manans alluit unda pedem,
|
6 |
has lapped my own brother's death-pale
foot,
|
| Troia Rhoeteo quem subter
litore tellus |
7 |
on whom, torn away from
our sight, |
ereptum nostris obterit ex oculis.
|
8 |
under the shore of Rboeteum the soil
of Troy lies heavy.
|
| alloquar, audiero numquam
tua facta loquentem, |
9 |
Never shall I speak to
thee, never hear thee tell of thy life; |
numquam ego te, uita frater amabilior,
|
10 |
never shall I see thee again, brother
more beloved than life.
|
| aspiciam posthac? at certe
semper amabo, |
11 |
But surely I shall always
love thee, |
semper maesta tua carmina morte canam,
|
12 |
always sing strains of mourning for thy
death,
|
| qualia sub densis ramorum
concinit umbris |
13 |
as under the thick shadows
of the boughs sings |
Daulias, absumpti fata gemens Ityli--
|
14 |
the Daulian bird bewailing the fate of
Itylus lost.
|
| sed tamen in tantis maeroribus,
Ortale, mitto |
15 |
Yet, in such sorrows,
Hortalus, I send |
haec expressa tibi carmina Battiadae,
|
16 |
to you these verses of Battiades translated,
|
| ne tua dicta uagis nequiquam
credita uentis |
17 |
lest haply you should
think that your words have slipped from my mind, |
effluxisse meo forte putes animo,
|
18 |
vainly committed to wandering winds:
|
| ut missum sponsi furtiuo
munere malum |
19 |
as an apple sent as a
secret gift from her betrothed lover |
procurrit casto uirginis e gremio,
|
20 |
falls out from the chaste bosom of the
girl,
|
| quod miserae oblitae molli
sub ueste locatum, |
21 |
which -- poor child, she
forgot it! -- put away in her soft gown, |
dum aduentu matris prosilit, excutitur,
|
22 |
is shaken out as she starts forward when
her mother comes;
|
| atque illud prono praeceps
agitur decursu, |
23 |
then, see, onward, downward
swiftly it rolls and runs; |
huic manat tristi conscius ore rubor.
|
24 |
a conscious blush creeps over her downcast
face.
|