Tag: Sulpicia

Tandem venit amor, qualem texisse pudori
quam nudasse alicui sit mihi fama magis.
exorata meis illum Cytherea Camenis
attulit in nostrum deposuitque sinum.
exsolvit promissa Venus: mea gaudia narret,
dicetur si quis non habuisse sua.
non ego signatis quicquam mandare tabellis,
ne legat id nemo quam meus ante, velim,
sed peccasse iuvat, vultus componere famae
taedet: cum digno digna fuisse ferar.
(Sulpicia, Corpus Tibullianum 3.13)

At last love has come; and such a love it is that the rumor of having concealed it would shame me more than baring all. Entreated by my Muses’ prayers, Cythera’s mistress has brought and placed him in my lap. Venus has fulfilled her promises. Let my joys be told by all of whom it can be said that they have missed their own. I would not choose to entrust my messages to tablets under seal, that none might read them before my lover. Instead my sin delights me, and I am loath to compose a mask for rumor. Let me be said to have been worthy of my worthy beloved. (tr. Alison Keith)

Invisus natalis adest, qui rure molesto
et sine Cerintho tristis agendus erit.
dulcius urbe quid est? an villa sit apta puellae
atque Arrentino frigidus amnis agro?
iam, nimium Messalla mei studiose, quiescas,
non tempestivae saepe, propinque, viae.
hic animum sensusque meos abducta relinquo,
arbitrio quam vis non sinit esse meo.
(Sulpicia, Corpus Tibullianum 3.14)

My hated birthday is at hand, to be kept all joylessly in the odious country and without Cerinthus. What is more pleasant than the town? Would a grange be fit place for a girl, or the chill river of Arretium and its fields? Rest now, Messalla, from thy excessive zeal for me. Journeys, my kinsman, are oft ill-timed. They take me away, but here I leave my soul and heart, since force forbids my living mistress of myself. (tr. John Percival Postgate)

Alternatively:

Invisus natalis adest, qui rure molesto
et sine Cerintho tristis agendus erit.
dulcius urbe quid est? an villa sit apta puellae
atque Arretino frigidus amnis agro?
iam nimium Messalla mei studiose, quiescas.
non tempestivae, saepe propinque, viae.
hic animum sensusque meos abducta relinquo,
arbitrio quamvis non sinis esse meo.
(Sulpicia, Corpus Tibullianum 3.14)

My hated birthday is near and I must spend it without Cerinthus but in tears out in the boring countryside. What is sweeter than the city? How can a country house and a freezing river in Arretine country be right for a girl? Now Messalla, you worry about me too much. Relax. Sometimes journeys are ill-timed, my dear. Kidnapped, I leave my heart and mind behind, even though you won’t allow me to be my own boss. (tr. Genevieve Liveley)