propertius book 2

By | December 6, 2020

(This slender Muse of mine is your great glory.) Also, with meaning, he added the wings of the wind, and made the god hover in the human heart: true, since we’re thrown about on shifting winds, and the breeze never lingers in one place. Then, when they set you in the front rank of the circling dance, and Bacchus there in the middle with his cunning wand, then will I let the sacred ivy berries hang about my head: since without you my genius has no power. So, cruel girl, through all the years now, have I, who supported you and your household, have I ever seemed a free man to you? I, whatever the place, am yours in every moment, whether I am in sickness or in health. Let another girl hold and fondle me in passion’s embrace: yes, another, if she will not grant me space: or if by chance she’s made angry by my attentions to her, let her know there’s another who would be mine! The iron blade’s eaten away by rust and the flint by drops of water: but love’s not worn away by a mistress’s threshold if it stays to suffer and hear threats undeserved. If, perhaps, she turned her mind to peace with kindness, I might then withstand Jupiter’s enmity. Saturday 1/2 *Zoom option … In this new edition of Propertius, G. P. Goold solves some longstanding questions of interpretation and gives us a faithful and stylish prose translation. When death closes my eyes at last, then, hear what shall serve as my funeral. In the following poem Propertius … Why the Appian Way, so often, to Lanuvium? … Briseis, too, clutching dead Achilles, beat at her own bright face with frenzied hands, and, a weeping slave, she bathed her bloodstained lord, as he lay by the yellow waters of Simois, besmirched her hair, and lifted the mighty bones and flesh of great Achilles with her weak hands. No wonder Pompey’s Portico with its shady colonnade, famed for its canopy of cloth of gold, seems worthless, and its rising rows of evenly planted plane-trees, and the waters that fall from slumbering Maro, lightly bubbling liquid through the city, till Triton buries the stream again in his mouth. 15 BC. Not even if coursing the air on Pegasus’s back, nor if the wings of Perseus moved your feet. Book II.11:1-6 ‘Let other men write about you’, Book II.13:1-16 His wish for Cynthia’s appreciation of his verse, Book II.13A:17-58 His wishes for his funeral, Book II.17:1-18 His faithfulness, though ignored, Book II.19:1-32 Cynthia is off to the country, Book II.21:1-20 Cynthia deceived by Panthus, Book II.23:1-24 The advantage of a bought woman, Book II.24:1-16 Propertius’s book well-known, Book II.25:1-48 Constancy and Inconstancy, Book II.33:1-22 Cynthia performing the rites. The Monobiblos must have attracted the attention of Maecenas, a patron of the arts who took Propertius … Or ask so many times: ‘What colonnade shades her now?’ or: ‘Which direction did she take on the Plain of Mars?’. If any man wants to outdo the fame of ancient paintings, let him take my lady as model for his art: If he shows her to the East, to the West, he’ll inflame the West, and inflame the East. This shopping feature will continue to load items when the Enter key is pressed. But take pity on us both, not just on one! But though it’s fact I’ll take care not to change my mistress: then she’ll cry, when she senses loyalty, in me. 232), Sophocles, Volume II. You can hardly find rest for a single month, poor thing, and now there’ll be another disgraceful book about you. Her joy was greater that old Tithonus was alive, than her grief was heavy at the loss of Memnon. Now, you’re ready to go to Phrygia, cruel one, now, across the waves and seek by ship the shore of Hyrcanian seas. This is the whole of my law, that alone among lovers, I don’t leave off in a hurry; I don’t begin without thought. Unable to add item to List. And but now, drowned in the waters of Hell, dead Gallus washed multiple wounds, from lovely Lycoris! Let doves coupled together in love prove your image: male and female wholly joined. Were they for this, the vows I undertook for your health, when the waters of Styx had all but gone over your head, and we friends stood, weeping, round your bed? She’s only safe, Cynthia, who’s ashamed to sin. Cynthia, delight to lie with me, in caves of dew, by mossy hills. They say that Venus herself was corrupted by libidinous Mars, but was always honoured, nevertheless, in heaven. But I’ve not bought a single night with costly presents: whatever I’ve been, it’s through the great grace of your spirit. Even though you’re leaving Rome against my wish, I’m glad, Cynthia, since you’re without me, you’re in the country, off the beaten track. This work may be freely reproduced, stored and transmitted, electronically or otherwise, for any non-commercial purpose. O happy me! Treated as such, it has been used to support a surprising variety of conclusions. But you, Venus, O, help me in my pain: let his incessant lust destroy his member! Let them admire the fact, now, that so lovely a girl serves me, and that they talk of my power throughout the city! My ears are deaf to whatever they say of you: only don’t doubt my seriousness. The elegies of Propertius were written during the peaceful and progressive age of Augustus. Though you give all your kisses, they’ll prove all too few. Should I be ashamed to serve but one mistress? Though he sits at the oar among the Stygian reeds, and views the mournful sails of the boat of Hell, should the breath of his mistress’s voice but recall him, he’ll return by a road acknowledged by no known law. Often his mood alters with a single word: she will scarcely be satisfied with your blood. that I’ll be yours, mea vita, to the final shadows: one day, one faith will carry both away. Say either no, if you’re cruel or, if you’re not cruel, come! Magic roots are worth nothing here, nor Colchian witch of night, nor herbs distilled by Perimede’s hand, since we see no cause or visible blow anywhere: still, it’s a dark path such evils come by. Your name’s not been tarnished by being caught with drugs: Apollo bears witness that your hands are clean. Please try again. This edition is designed for the pocket of the university student, but it should find a wider audience among classicists of all ages. Why didn’t your hands let you down? Book … But no old age would lead me away from loving you, not even if I was Nestor, or Tithonus. But if she’ll grant me such nights with her as this, one year will seem as long as a lifetime. Let first youth sing of Love, the end of life of tumult: I sing war now my girl is done. Then you can start reading Kindle books on your smartphone, tablet, or computer - no Kindle device required. I was persuaded to keep away from the streets, yet water fetched from the lake now tastes sweet to me. Surely it’s not because Jupiter removed the wild aspect from your face, you’ve for that reason been made a proud goddess? Nor for Phryne, so rich from many lovers, she might have rebuilt the ruined walls of Thebes. Though it be for me to taste Phaedra’s chalice, from which Hippolytus took no harm; or for me to die of Circe’s herbs; or for Medea to heat the Colchian cauldron over Iolcus’s fire; yet since one woman alone has stolen my senses, it’s from her house my funeral cortege shall go. This one pain, above all others, is sharpest for a lover, if she suddenly refuses to come as he’d hoped. The Elegies of Propertius are divided into four books according to their subject matter. Look at me, with hardly any wealth left my family, with no ancestral triumphs long ago, but here I rule the fun, among the crowd of girls, by means of the intellect you disparage! 21). Cynthia, I wish you’d walk here when you’re free! Melampus the prophet, accepted shame in chains, convicted of stealing Iphiclus’s cattle, but Pero’s great beauty drove him not profit, she his bride to be in Amythaons’ house. What matter if my life’s laid down for your body? An illustration of an audio speaker. What use to you are songs on Aeschylus’s lyre? There is also a discussion of ‘Book 2b’, which he begins with 2.13. He walks about – yet suddenly his funeral startles his friends. Virgil can sing of Actium’s shores that Phoebus watches over, and of Caesar’s brave ships: he, who brings to life the battles of Aeneas of Troy, and the walls that he built on Lavinium’s coast. Select a street name: 3. The bond between love and death has long been recognised as a defining characteristic of the elegies of Propertius, but scholars have rarely clarified how or to what degree Propertius differed from other love poets in associating these themes. II.1:1-78 To Maecenas: His subject matter, II.7:1-20 Lifting of the law that bachelors must marry, II.11:1-6 ‘Let other men write about you’, II.13:1-16 His wish for Cynthia’s appreciation of his verse, II.17:1-18 His faithfulness, though ignored, II.23:1-24 The advantage of a bought woman, Book II.1:1-78 To Maecenas: His subject matter, Book II.7:1-20 Lifting of the law that bachelors must marry. And then, our eyes search out their own wound, if some beauty sits there, her breast not veiled, or if drifting hair strays over a chaste forehead, hair that an Indian jewel clasps at the crown: such that, if she says no to me, perhaps with a stern look, cold sweat falls from my brow. The woman who acts out simulated love for many must be hard: she, whoever she is, who prepares herself for more than a single man. Why weep more sadly than Andromache, the anxious prisoner? Don’t seek to compare me with the noble, or rich: they’ll scarcely come gathering your ashes on your last day. You were the author of that crime, Romulus, reared on a she-wolf’s savage milk: you taught them to rape Sabine virgins, and go free: through you, Love dares what he pleases now in Rome. Reviewed in the United States on August 26, 2004. While I wandered last night, mea lux, in drink, and with never a servant’s hand there to guide me, a crowd of I don’t know how many tiny boys came against me (it was fear alone stopped me counting them); some held little torches, and some held arrows, and some seemed ready to drape me with chains. Where did the gifts come from?’ O great your happiness Rome, these days, if a single girl swims against the stream. He ordered me not to despise the lesser Muses and told me to live like this in Ascra’s grove: not so that the oaks of Mount Pierus would follow my sweet words, or so I could lead wild creatures down to Ismara’s valley, but more that Cynthia might wonder at my verse. Erythra’s not armed with as many Persian shafts, as the arrows Love has fixed in my chest. But you, you, impious girl, can’t stay free a single night, or remain alone a single day! Jupiter, for Alcmene, halted both the Bears, and the heavens went two nights without their king: yet he still didn’t take up his lightning wearily, even so. Unique woman, born to beauty, you, the object of my pain, since fate excludes me from your saying: ‘Come, often’: your form will be made most famous by my books: with your permission, Calvus: and Catullus, peace to you, with yours. You’re the only one who pleases me: let me please you, Cynthia, alone: that love will be more to me than being called ‘father’. Goold's translations are lovely. I can’t even sleep at the crossroads under the clear moon, or send my words through the crack in the door. Can anybody buy her love with gifts, then? So she looked to me, shedding recent sleep. Let that man contend with me in ingenuity, contend in art: let him be taught how to love in one place first. This is a good edition of Propertius, with a helpful translation. This Golden Age was the hallmark of Latin literature; it was an age where poets enjoyed idyllic leisure and generous funding for their works. Yet if Glaucus had seen your eyes, by chance, you’d have become a mermaid among Ionian seas, and the Nereids would have chided you, from envy, white Nesaee and sea-green Cymothoe. Though Jupiter himself can’t separate two lovers against their will. Now the medicine’s wasted on the ashes. She, with her lips, opening my eyelids weary with sleep, and saying: ‘Is this how you lie here, laggard?’. About … This paper sets out in section I the most useful evidence we possess for the dating of Propertius Book 1, Tibullus Book 1, and Propertius Books 2a and 2b.2 The evidence squares with a sequence of … What deceitful fortune-teller have I not been victim of, what old woman has not pondered my dreams ten times? Jupiter I forgive you your rapes of old. Now I want to talk about squadrons brave in fight, and mention my leader’s Roman camp. But it’s easy for you to weave lies and deceits: that’s one art that women have always learned. You drink, indifferent: are you not wrecked by midnight, and is your hand not weary throwing the dice? But if I follow the true camp of my mistress, Castor’s horse will not be grand enough for me. Look, no breath panting from my whole body, confessing to some adultery.’ Speaking, she pushed my face away with her hand, and leapt up, loosened sandals on her feet. © Copyright 2000-2020 A. S. Kline, All Rights Reserved. Everything hurts me: I’m afraid: (forgive my fear) and, wretched, suspect a man under every shift. Phoebus’s gold colonnade was opened today by mighty Caesar; such a great sight, adorned with columns from Carthage, and between them the crowd of old Danaus’s daughters. I was stunned: she’d never looked lovelier to me, not even when she went, in her purple shift, and told her dreams to virginal Vesta, lest they threatened harm to her or me. But the Sibyl’s whole lifetime will not change me: nor Hercules’s labours: nor death’s black day. Medicine cures all human sorrows: only love likes no doctor for its disease. Select an address number: 4. Happy that Corydon who tries to snatch virgin Alexis, delight of his master, the farmer! ‘But Caesar’s mighty.’ But Caesar’s might’s in armies: conquered people are worth nothing in love. You see a form that expresses the Greek, or you see our beauties, either aspect grips you. When you were born, mea vita, did Love, dressed in white, not sneeze a clear omen for you, in your first hours of daylight? The hand that first painted obscene pictures and set up disgraceful things to view in innocent homes corrupted the unknowing eyes of young girls, and denied them ignorance of sin itself. For a sad prison will achieve nothing against your will. Still there’s one excuse for which I’d forgive such crime, that your words were astray from too much wine. Why do some men slash their arms with sacred knives, and are cut to pieces to frenzied Phrygian rhythms? Sagging breasts don’t stop you from toying yet: let them think of it that childbirth’s already shamed. So Jason, the stranger, once deceived Medea of Colchis: she was thrown out of the house (and Creusa gained it next). Who gave her wealth? Could you have lived then with the shame? Excluded by birth, a barbarian stamps his foot, and now, suddenly blessed, he occupies my kingdom! Does anyone perform his vows in mid-storm, when often a ship drifts shattered in the harbour? What joy is it for you, Amor, to inhabit my thirsty heart? There was a problem loading your book clubs. What guards shall I set for you, then, what lintel that no hostile foot shall ever cross? Propertius: Elegies: Book II by Propertius, W a Camps (Editor) starting at $25.47. I’m only glad you’ve joined our god. ‘You would say that: now you’re common talk because of that notorious book, now your Cynthia’s viewed by the whole Forum?’ Who wouldn’t bead with sweat at those words in the circumstances, whether from honest shame, or wishing to keep quiet his affairs? Nor will you be able to suffer harsh love on your own. So many nights wasted? You, mea vita, if you venture anything, remember I’ll be coming there for you, in a few days time. And surely you’ll follow: scratches on your bare breasts; and never weary of calling my name; and place the last kiss on my frozen lips, when the onyx jar with its Syrian nard is granted. It would be no dishonourable death. At least let me keep within bounds! When was Propertius' Elegies Book 4 written? Wouldn’t it be better to harden at the Gorgon’s gaze, or even suffer those Caucasian vultures? Even India, Augustus, bows its neck to your triumph, and Arabia’s virgin house trembles at you; and if any country removes itself to the furthest ends of the earth, let it feel your hand later, once it’s captive.’. So sing the writings of lustful Catullus, whose Lesbia’s known more widely than Helen. Something more than the Iliad’s being born. One mourned the Gauls thrown from Parnassus’s peak, and the other the death, of Niobe, Tantalus’s daughter. Let your table be drenched with more jets of Falernian, and foam higher in your golden cup. Click here for a complete list of city events. Is there no insult sufficient to quench my tears? Please refer to our Privacy Policy. Then when you’ve carried through the Labours the story tells of, for her to write ‘Have you any little thing for me?’ so you can face a surly guard, or often, imprisoned, lurk in some vile hole. Why do you weary the gods, crazy girl, with tales of my deceit? You who said that nothing could touch you now, you’re caught: that pride of yours is fallen!

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