If I am not the cause of your deliverance, yet neither is it right that you should cause my death. Canace to Macareus Another name for Ascanius, the son of Aeneas. Ovid is today best known for his grand epic, Metamorphoses, and elegiac works like the Ars Amatoria and Heroides.  I am not worth enough – ah, why do I not wrongly rate you? Standing in shrine of marble is an image of Sychaeus I hold sacred – in the midst of green fronds hung about, and fillets of white wool. Ariadne to Theseus. Of rocks and mountains were you begotten, and of the oak sprung from the lofty cliff, of savage wild beasts, or of the sea – such a sea as even now you look upon, tossed by the winds, on which you are none the less making ready to sail, despite the threatening floods. Do you only, by your mother I pray, and by the weapons of your brother, his arrows, and by the divine companions of your flight, the gods of Dardanus – so may those rise above fate whom savage Mars has saved from out your race, so may that cruel war be the last of misfortunes to you, and so may Ascanius fill happily out his years, and the bones of old Anchises rest in peace! I would have been Medea to Medea! What has little Ascanius done, or what your Penates, to deserve ill fate? 10.  We both live, Theseus, and I am not yours! To her passes the full measure of your exploits – yield up what you possess; your mistress is heir to your praise. The love he allowed himself, he will concede to his daughter’s chosen; my mother, loved by him, will aid with her precedent. The son of Tantalus was ruler over all, over Achilles himself. ‘Twas Medea I feared.  Ah, cruel slumbers, why did you hold me thus inert? ‘Tis a costly and a dear-bought hate that you indulge if, to be quit of me, you account it cheap to die. And who is to keep the swords of men from piercing my side? To the fate of the mother will be added that of the wretched babe, and you will be the cause of doom to your yet unborn child; with his own mother will Iulus’ brother die, and one fate will bear us both away together. In weeping I let pour forth my ire, and over my bosom course the tears like a flowing stream. The home of Achilles.  The vengeful deed of the Lemnian women I condemn, Jason, I do not marvel at it; passion itself drives the weak, however powerless, to take up arms. Reading groups available related to college commentaries (probably Amores) One of these is a collected history of travels around the world;  More than Juno, Venus has been your bane. From there – for I found the winds cruel, too – I beheld your sails stretched full by the headlong southern gale. Dido as Ovid portrays her in Heroides 7 is quite different from the widely known Dido of Vergil’s Aeneid. Oenone to Paris. I marvel not – ah, no! These are also available as as eBooks;Heroides and the Amores 2. You are as much less than she, O greatest of men, as it was greater to vanquish you than those you vanquished. Ovid hat für eine zweite Ausgabe die Sammlung um den pikanten Briefwechsel von Paris mit Helena, von Acontius mit Cydippe und, am bekanntesten, von Leander mit Hero erweitert. Deianira to Hercules What lieth heavy in thy bosom from me – may it come to live, and may we both share in its parentage!”. Deianira to Hercules 10. Nessus, stricken with the arrow in his lustful heart, “This blood,” he said, “has power over love.” The robe of Nessus, saturated with poisonous gore, I sent to you. Over hard paths I fly, and my enemy pursues. ... Heroides and Amores by Ovid, 43 B.C.-17 or 18 A.D; Showerman, Grant, 1870-1935; Ovid, 43 B.C.-17 or 18 A.D. 5. For the grid of relationships between VIGOR and VIRGO, see Maltby, R., A lexicon of ancient Latin etymologies (Leeds 1991) s.vv. Before your mistress’ feet . And for you to disgrace yourself by wearing the Maeonian zone, like a wanton girl – feel you no shame for that? What matters aught, if sin is to be set before devotion, and she has won her husband with the very crime she brought him as her dower? Do you not shrink, Alcides, from laying to the polished wool-basket the hand that triumphed over a thousand toils; do you draw off with stalwart thumb the coarsely spun strands, and give back to the hand of a pretty mistress the just portion she weighed out? Nor when I have been consumed upon the pyre, shall my inscription read: ELISSA, WIFE OF SYCHAEUS; yet there shall be one the marble of my tomb these lines: My lord is ever absent from me – he is better known to me as guest than husband – ever pursuing monsters and dreadful beasts. If noble blood and generous lineage move you – lo, I am known as daughter of Minoan Thoas! What death would you not deserve as the price of your perfidy? The call you none the less obeyed; and the pierced throat of Aegisthus stained with blood the dwelling your father’s blood had reddened before.5 The son of Aeacus assails your name, and turns your praise to blame – and yet shrinks not before my gaze. I was not made acquaint with you in stealthy wise; Juno was there to join us when we were wed, and Hymen, his temples bound with wreaths. 6. Are you resolved, Aeneas, to break at the same time from your moorings and from your pledge, and to follow after the fleeting realms of Italy, which lie you know not where? ‘Tis not the Simois of your fathers you seek, but the waves of the Tiber – and yet, forsooth, should you arrive at the place you wish, you will be but a stranger; and the land of your quest so hides from your sight, so draws away from contact with your keels, that ‘twill scarce be your lot to reach it in old age. The ways of deceit they know not; for the rest, they are like their father. Ill sought by herbs is love that should be won by virtue and by beauty. what have I done? Yet he also wrote a Medea, now unfortunately lost.  And now, too, I have brought forth; rejoice for us both, Jason! For references specifically relating to that subject, please see the relevant bibliography of the Double Heroides. ‘Tis not for me, O Crete composed of the hundred cities, to look upon thee, land known to the infant Jove! Ovid Heroides 7 151 accedet fatis matris miserabilis infans, et nondum nati funeris auctor eris, cumque parente sua frater morietur Iuli, poenaque conexos auferet una duos. Heroides and Amores Item Preview remove-circle Share or Embed This Item. Hermione to Orestes  Is this too little for me to endure? Are my bones to lie unburied, the prey of hovering birds of the shore? Table of Contents.  Are you resolved none the less to go, and to abandon wretched Dido,2 and shall the same winds bear away from me at once your sails and your promises? By Oeneus, for slaying a brother. From within it four times have I heard myself called by a voice well known; ‘twas he himself crying in faintly sounding tone: “Elissa, come!”. should anyone break open your pens and steal away your herds, would you resort to arms? But as for your mistress – with my own hand I would have dashed my face with her blood, and your face, that she stole away with her poisonous arts!  Can it be some fate has come upon our house and pursued it through the years even to my time, that we Tantalid women are ever victims ready to the ravisher’s hand? HEROIDES CONTENTS. I shall not rehearse the lying words of the swan upon the stream, nor complain of Jove disguised in plumage.6 Where the sea is sundered in two by the far-stretched Isthmus, Hippodamia7 was borne away in the car of the stranger; she of Taenarus, stolen away across the seas by the stranger-guest from Ida, roused to arms in her behalf all the men of Argos. You, too have ancestors – Pelops, and the father of Pelops; should you care to count more closely, you could call yourself fifth from Jove.4. 6 sed meriti famam corpusque animumque pudicum 7 cum male perdiderim, perdere verba leve est. Let your father-in-law Menelaus be your example, he who demanded back the wife taken from him, and had in a woman righteous cause for war. If not, I will end my misery with my life; nor shall it be long in your power to use me thus barbarously. When will it be your fortune, think you, to found a city like to Carthage, and from the citadel on high to look down upon peoples of your own? Hercules was the lover of Omphale, or Iardanis (v. 103), queen of Lydia, sold to her by Hermes as a slave. – to have you perish flying from me over the long seas.  These things, however, I had only heard; I could distrust men’s words, and the pain hit on my senses softly, through the ear – but now my very eyes must look upon a stranger-mistress8 led before them, nor may I now dissemble what I suffer! Dido’s husband in Tyre. Aeneas my eyes cling to through all my waking hours; Aeneas is my heart through the night and through the day. 6. FROM AENEAS CAME THE CAUSE OF HER DEATH, AND FROM HIM THE BLADE;  Yet I am said to be well mated, because I am called the wife of Hercules, and because the father of my lord is he who thunders on high with impetuous steeds.  These hands, wearied with beating of my sorrowful breast, unhappy I stretch toward you over the long seas; these locks – such as remain – in grief I bid you look upon! 8. Dido Aeneae. . and does new-founded Carthage not touch you, nor her rising walls, nor the sceptre of supreme power placed in your hand? 14. Regret it not – twice you have fought for the sake of men. Farthest east and west. 5. – the penalty due Sychaeus.4 To absolve it now I go – ah me, wretched that I am, and overcome with shame! The very place felt the will to aid me in my woe.  While he tells the details of his story, such are the eagerness and quickness of his speech that of his own nature he reveals the wounds that have been dealt me. Frater is often so used. What is the significance of that? My body is a-quiver like standing corn struck by the northern blast, and the letters I am tracing falter beneath my trembling hand. When I have looked on the sea, and on the land, and on the wide-stretching shore, I know many dangers threaten me on land, and many on the waters. What could you worse, if you did not know of the power of raging seas? 13. 4.  By our unhappy line I swear, and by the parent of our line, he who shakes the seas, the land, and his own realms on high; by the bones of your father, uncle to me, which owe it to you that bravely avenged they lie beneath their burial mound – either I shall die before my time and in my youthful years be blotted out, or I, a Tantalid, shall be the wife of him sprung from Tantalus! O live; I pray it! When the breeze permits, you shall give your canvas to the gale; now the light seaweed detains your ship by the strand. I established a city, and lay about it the foundations of wide-reaching walls that stir the jealousy of neighbouring realms. Heroides VII by Ovid POP QUIZ! The Heroides (The Heroines), or Epistulae Heroidum (Letters of Heroines), are a collection of fifteen epistolary poems composed by Ovid in Latin elegiac couplets, and presented as though written by a selection of aggrieved heroines of Greek and Roman mythology, in address to their heroic lovers who have in some way mistreated, neglected, or abandoned them. I was not reared and cared for by your hand; and when I was promised in wedlock I had no mother to make ready the new chamber for my coming. ... (7.195–6)). Felt you no shame to bind with gold those strong arms, and to set the gem upon that solid brawn? And all the while I cried out “Theseus!” alone the entire shore, and the hollow rocks sent back your name to me; as often as I called out for you, so often did the place itself call out your name. It is neither by her beauty nor by her merits that she wins you, but by the incantations she knows and the baneful herbs she cuts with enchanted knife. 7.  Would that Peleus’ son had escaped the bow of Apollo!8 The father would condemn the son for his wanton deed; ‘twas not of yore the pleasure of Achilles, nor would it be now his pleasure, to see a widowed husband weeping for his stolen wife. VII. 3. I drew back my hands, a second time I made essay, and o’er the whole couch moved my arms – he was not there! Scarce had he well touched the threshold, when I cried, “How doth my lord, the son of Aeson?” Speechless he stood in embarrassment, his eyes fixed fast upon the ground.  I was given to you by Tyndareus, weighty of counsel both for his life and for his years; the grandsire was arbiter of the grandchild’s fate. My father Menelaus, too, will pardon our love – he himself succumbed to the darts of the wingèd god. “What art thou doing, son of Aeacus? . The differences arise from many sources including both the content and the basic nature and structure of the two works. There is a tower that looks from every side upon the waters round about; thither I betake myself, my face and bosom wet with tears. When I was wed to you, my union brought harm to none; if I wed with Pyrrhus, I shall deal a wound to you. Parts-People.Com, Inc 2 роки тому I get questions like this a lot but unfortunately I don't have a complete list of … “Lives he?” I cried, “or must fate call me too?” “He lives,” was his reply. For you, enough to have the credit for my death. I straight leaped up, and rent the garment from my breast. 12. ff. I land on shores unknown; escaped from my brother and the sea, I purchase the strand that I gave, perfidious man, to you. 4. Come, say, what if, driven by unfriendly gales, you had entered my harbours, as ‘twere fitting you had done, you and your companion, and I had come forth to meet you with my twin babes – surely you must have prayed earth to yawn for you – with what countenance could you have gazed upon your children, O wretched man, with what countenance upon me? Had he been spiritless, and drowsed in his deserted halls, my mother would still be wed to Paris, as she was before. Yet, even should you find the land of your desire, who will give it over to you for your own? Iole. You are false in everything – and I am not he first your tongue has deceived, nor am I the first to feel the blow from you. As the ill-mated steer yoked miserably at the plough, so fares the wife who is less than her mighty lord. I shall think myself treated with all indulgence, so I remain yours. Neither is Aegeus your father, nor are you the son of Pittheus’ daughter Aethra; they who begot you were the rocks and the deep!  You are the last of your band to board the sacred Argo.4 It flies upon its way; the wind bellies out the sail; the dark-blue wave glides from under the keel as it drives along; your gaze is on the land, and mine is on the sea. Theoi Project © Copyright 2000 - 2017 Aaron J. Atsma, New Zealand. The nymph-daughter of Jardanus7 has even tricked herself out in your arms, and won famous triumphs from the vanquished hero. O wicked Deianira, why hesitate to die? Paris to Helen Scarce with a god to witness could I believe you living. No one could now call the Heroides a neglected part of Ovid’s oeuvre.  Perhaps, too, it is Dido soon to be mother, O evil-doer, whom you abandon now, and a part of your being lies hidden in myself. How ill to trust the wave whose might you have so often felt! I climb its slope – my spirit gave me strength – and thus with prospect broad I scan the billowy deep. I speak you well for your safety – so far as you give me chance; yet of this very thing I should have been informed by message of your own. Then at last I let flow my tears; till then my tender eyeballs had been dulled with pain. This unlucky child will join in his mother's death, and you will be responsible for the death of …  ‘Twas the time when the earth is first besprinkled with crystal rime, and songsters hid in the branch begin their plaint.  Well do I know the seas that break upon African shores; they have their times of granting and denying the way. There were fifty of them, and their father Thespius wished for fifty grandchildren of Hercules. – tidings that the sacred bulls of Mars had received the curving yoke; that at the scattering of the seed there sprang forth the harvest of men, who for their doom had no need of your right arm; that the spoil of the ram, the deep-gold fleece the unsleeping dragon guarded, had nevertheless been stolen away by your bold hand. Your comrades, too, demand repose, and your shattered fleet, but half refitted, calls for a short delay; by your past kindnesses, and by that other debt I still, perhaps, shall owe you, by my hope of wedlock, I ask for a little time – while the sea and my love grow calm, while through time and wont I learn the strength to endure my sorrows bravely. Alas! My own you went forth hence; my own you have not returned. Yon is the place that exacts the penalty for faithlessness, above all when ‘tis love has been wronged; for ‘twas from the sea, in Cytherean waters, so runs the tale, that the mother of the Loves, undraped, arose. 6. Dido to Aeneas (translated by Míceál F. Vaughan ) Receive, Dardanian, the song of dying Elissa; What you read from me are the final words I have read.  Am I, then, to die, and, dying, not behold my mother’s tears; and shall there be no one’s finger to close my eyes? Is this, forsooth, the god under whose guidance you are tossed about by unfriendly winds, and pass long years on the surging seas?  And am I to absolve these vows – vows but for Medea to enjoy? Grant Showerman. 2. Phyllis to Demophoon Leander to Hero, 19. As for myself, tearing my locks, not yet long, I began to cry aloud: “Mother, will you go away, and will you leave me behind?” For her lord was gone. Sappho to Phaon, 16. These only I still have, and still do I let them gush; my cheeks are wet and unsightly from their neverending found. She is one to strive to draw down from its course the unwilling moon, and to hide in darkness the horses of the sun; she curbs the waters and stays the down-winding streams; she moves from their places the woods and the living rocks. You are to me what my sire is to my mother, and to the part which once the Dardanian stranger played, Pyrrhus now plays. Fear struck away my sleep; in terror I arose, and threw myself headlong from my abandoned bed. – do you only spare the house which gives itself without condition into your hand. ‘Tis true he is in ingrate, and unresponsive to my kindnesses, and were I not fond I should be willing to have him go; yet, however ill his thought of me, I hate him not, but only complain of his faithlessness, and when I have complained I do but love more madly still. Spare, O Venus, the bride of thy son; lay hold of thy hard-hearted brother, O brother Love, and make him to serve in thy camp! Add thereto pure-hearted prayers, and vows mingled with fears – vows which I must now fulfil, since you are safe. Andromache’s son Astyanax was thrown from the walls. 11.  Gentler than you I have found every race of wild beasts; to none of them could I so ill have trusted as to you. Is my unhappy soul to go forth into stranger-air, and no friendly hand compose my limbs and drop them on the unguent due? 1. Burn me; I deserve it! It was the third harvest when you were compelled to set sail, and with your tears poured forth such words as these: “I am sundered from thee, Hypsipyle; but so the fates grant me return, thine own I leave thee now, and thine own will I ever be.  They say that you have held the wool-basket among the girls of Ionia, and been frightened at your mistress’ threats. Both bonds press you on to your duty. – and the stuffs that once grew warm beneath your limbs. Perhaps you will even drive away Aetolian Deianira, and her rival will lay aside the name of mistress, and be made your wife. Let the tempest be my grace! – if victory was thine, and the monster smote with his length the Cretan earth.