Lucius Seneca - Yale Required Reading - Collected Works (Vol. 2)

Bloodless of high sacrifice, how thirsts each desolate altar!

This, when her husband fell, Laodamia did heed,

Rapt from a bridegroom new, from his arms forced early to part her.

Early; for hardly the first winter, another again,

Yet in many a night's long dream had sated her yearning,

So that love might wear cheerly, the master away;

Which not long should abide, so presag'd surely the Parcae,

If to the wars her lord hurry, for Ilion arm.

Now to revenge fair Helen, had Argos' chiefs, her puissance,

Set them afield; for Troy rous'd them, a cry not of home,

Troy, dark death universal, of Asia grave and Europe,

Altar of heroes Troy, Troy of heroical acts,

Now to my own dear brother abhorred worker of ancient

Death. Ah woeful soul, brother, unhappily lost,

Ah fair light unblest, in darkness sadly receding,

All our house lies low, brother, inearthed in you,

Quench'd untimely with you, joy waits not ever a morrow,

Joy which alive your love's bounty fed hour upon hour.

Now on a distant shore, no kind mortality near him,

Far all household love, every familiar urn,

Tomb'd in Troy the malign, in Troy the unholy reposing,

Strangely the land's last verge holds him, a dungeon of earth.

Thither in haste all Greece, one armed people assembling,

Flock'd on an ancient day, left the recesses of home,

Lest in a safe content, unreach'd, his stolen adultress.

Paris inarm, in soft luxury quietly lain.

E'en such chance, fair queen, such misery, Laodamia,

Brought thee a loss as life precious, as heavenly breath.

Loss of a bridegroom dear; such whirling passion in eddies

Suck'd thee adown, so drew sheer to a sudden abyss,

Deep as Graian abyss near Pheneos o'er Cyllene,

Strainer of ooze impure milk'd from a watery fen;

Hewn, so stories avouch, in a mountain's kernel; an hero

Hew'd it, falsely declar'd Amphytrionian, he,

When those monster birds near grim Stymphalus his arrow

Smote to the death; such task bade him a dastardly lord.

So that another God might tread that portal of heaven

Freely, nor Hebe fair wither a chaste eremite.

Yet than abyss more deep thy love, thy depth of emotion;

Love which school'd thy lord, made of a master a thrall.

Not to a grandsire old so priz'd, so lovely the grandson

One dear daughter alone rears i' the soft of his years;

He, long-wish'd for, an heir of wealth ancestral arriving,—

Scarcely the tablets' marge holds him, a name to the will,

Straight all hopes laugh'd down, each baffled kinsman usurping

Leaves to repose white hairs, stretches, a vulture, away;

Not in her own fond mate so turtle snowy delighteth,

Tho' unabash'd, 'tis said, she the voluptuous hours

Snatches a thousand kisses, in amorous extasy biting.

Yet, more lightly than all ranges a womanly will.

Great their love, their frenzy; but all their frenzy before thee

Fail'd, once clasp'd thy lord splendid in aureat hair.

Worthy in all or part thee, Laodamia, to rival,

Sought me my own sweet love, journey'd awhile to my arms.

Round her playing oft ran Cupid thither or hither,

Lustrous, array'd in bright broidery, saffron of hue.

What, to Catullus alone if a wayward fancy resort not?

Must I pale for a stray frailty, the shame of an hour?

Nay; lest all too much such jealous folly provoke her.

Juno's self, a supreme glory celestial, oft

Crushes her eager rage, in wedlock-injury flaring,

Knowing yet right well Jove, what a losel is he.

Yet, for a man with Gods shall never lawfully match him

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So, it is all I can, take, Allius, answer, a little

Verse to requite thy much friendship, a contrary boon.

So your household names no rust nor seamy defacing

Soil this day, that new morrow, the next to the last.

Gifts full many to these heaven send as largely requiting,

Gifts Themis ever wont deal to the pious of yore.

Joys come plenty to thee, to thy own fair lady together,

Come to that house of mirth, come to the lady within;

Joy to the forward friend, our love's first fashioner, Anser,

Author of all this fair history, founder of all.

Lastly beyond them, above them, on her more lovely than even

Life, my lady, for whose life it is happy to be.

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Rufus, it is no wonder if yet no woman assenting

Softly to thine embrace tender a delicate arm.

Not tho' a gift should seek, some robe most filmy, to move her;

Not for a cherish'd gem's clarity, lucid of hue.

Deep in a valley, thy arms, such evil story maligns thee,

Rufus, a villain goat houses, a grim denizen.

All are afraid of it, all; what wonder? a rascally creature,

Verily! not with such company dally the fair.

Slay, nor pity the brute, our nostril's rueful aversion.

Else admire not if each ravisher angrily fly.

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Saith my lady to me, no man shall wed me, but only

Thou; no other if e'en Jove should approach me to woo;

Yea; but a woman's words, when a lover fondly desireth,

Limn them on ebbing floods, write on a wintery gale.

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Lesbia, thou didst swear thou knewest only Catullus,

Cared'st not, if him thine arms chained, a Jove to retain.

Then not alone I loved thee, as each light lover a mistress,

Lov'd as a father his own sons, or an heir to the name.

Now I know thee aright; so, if more hotly desiring,

Yet must count thee a soul cheaper, a frailty to scorn.

'Friend,' thou say'st, 'you cannot.' Alas! such injury leaveth

Blindly to doat poor love's folly, malignly to will.

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Never again think any to work aught kindly soever,

Dream that in any abides honour, of injury free.

Love is a debt in arrear; time's parted service avails not;

Rather is only the more sorrow, a heavier ill:

Chiefly to me, whom none so fierce, so deadly deceiving

Troubleth, as he whose friend only but inly was I.

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Gellius heard that his uncle in ire exploded, if any

Dared, some wanton, a fault practise, a levity speak.

Not to be slain himself, see Gellius handle his uncle's

Lady; no Harpocrates muter, his uncle is hush'd.

So what he aim'd at, arriv'd at, anon let Gellius e'en this

Uncle abuse; not a word yet will his uncle assay.

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Brothers twain has Gallus, of whom one owns a delightful