Six poems by
SULPICIA
(in Tibullus Bk III)
written about 20 BC
translated by David Lake
(1)
At last there has come to me love, such a love that if folk said I hid it,
I’d feel more ashamed than if I should bare it to anyone else.
Pleased by the prayers that I made in my poems, the queen of Cythera,
The goddess, has brought him to me, and given him into my arms.
Venus has done what she promised; and let those tell of my gladness
Who may be said to have had never such joys of their own.
I wish that I wasn’t obliged to put a seal on my tablets
So nobody else can read my letter before my own love;
But I joy in the “fault” I’ve committed, I won’t wear a mask of discretion:
Let everyone hear, we have met – I worthy of him, he of me.
(2)
My hateful birthday’s at hand, which now I must spend in the boring
Country, and wretchedly too – Cerinthus will not be with me.
What is more pleasant than Town? Does a country-house suit a young lady,
Or that river so cold down in Arretian fields?
Rest now and don’t be so worried, so careful about me, Messalla:
Uncle, it’s often ill-timed, travelling over the roads;
You take me away, but it’s here that I leave my soul and my senses,
Since you forbid me to live in charge of my movements, and free.
(3)
Do you know – your girl is relieved of the plan of that horrible journey?
Now she’s allowed to remain here on her birthday, at Rome!
Let’s all celebrate that day of my birth together – yes, you too!
You didn’t expect it, but now it comes as a lovely surprise!
(4)
How nice – you’re so careless of me that you give yourself plenty of freedom,
So I won’t behave like a fool and straightaway fall for your charms.
Care more for a toga now than Sulpicia, Servius’ daughter,
Care more for a wench with a load of wool to be spun, a low whore!
But there are some anxious for me, for whom it’s the greatest disquiet
And fear, that I should now yield my love to some nobody’s bed.
(5)
Do you feel for your girl, Cerinthus, truly some tender emotion,
Since a hot fever now racks and troubles my weary limbs?
Ah, but I hardly would pray to conquer dreary diseases
Unless I imagined that you wished me recovery too.
What gain would it be to me to conquer diseases and fevers
If you can regard my pains with an indifferent heart?
(6)
Light of my life, let me be no longer to you such a passion
As I believe that I was just a few evenings ago,
If ever in all of my youth I once committed a folly
Of which I confess to you now I never repented so much
As this – that yesterday night I left you, deserted and lonely,
Because I was anxious to hide how great was the fire in my heart.
(Translated from the Latin)