Epistulae

the quiet waves. How I envy the lot of the Trojan wives; for, if they are doomed to see the mournful funerals of their husbands, the enemy is however not far off. The youthful bride will with her own hand fix the helmet upon the head of her gallant spouse, and buckle on his shining armour. She will buckle on his armour, and, as she performs the task, often snatch a kiss. This sportive office will be grateful to both. She will partly attend him in his march, affectionately enjoin him to return, and advise him to caution, that he may triumph, and dedicate his arms to Jupiter. He, bearing in mind the fresh injunctions of his beloved spouse, will fight with due care of himself, and think of her whom he has left at home. At his return, she will take from him his shield, and unbuckle the ponderous helmet, while he reclines his wearied breast upon her soft bosom. Unhappy, we are racked with uncertainty; an anxious fear makes us apt to fancy you surrounded with a thousand dangers. Yet while you bear armour, and are fighting in remote lands, I take a pleasure in contemplating the wax which exhibits your likeness. As if you were present, I make use of the softest expressions, and address it in words due only to my Protesilaus: I even embrace and caress it. Surely it must be so: this

image is more than what it seems. Add speech to the statue, and it will be my Protesilaus himself. My eyes are incessantly fixed upon it; I press it to my bosom as if it were indeed my husband, and pour out my complaints to it, vainly hoping for an answer. I swear by yourself and your return, so dear to me above all things; by the nuptial torch, and that glowing heart which is only yours; by your beloved head, which, O ye propitious Gods, restore to me unhurt, and give me to see at length venerable with grey hairs; that I am ready to fly whithersoever you call me, and will readily share your fate, whether that should happen which, alas! I too much fear, or the Gods should graciously preserve you. Permit me to conclude my epistle with a small request: If you have yet any love for me, be sure to show it in the care you take of yourself.

HYPERMNESTRA sends to the only survivor of so many brothers: the rest have all perished by the crime of their wives. I am closely confined, and loaded with a weight of chains. My piety is the sole cause of my punishment. I am deemed guilty, because my hand trembled to urge the sword to my husband's throat. Had I dared to commit the bloody deed, I should have been extolled. It is better to be thus deemed guilty, than please a father by an act of barbarity. I can never repent that my hands are unstained withmurder.

Should my father torture me with the flames that I have not dared to violate, or throw in my face the torches used at the nuptial rites; should be pierce me with the very sword which he gave me for an inhuman purpose, and destroy the wife by the death from which she saved her husband; yet would all his cruelty be insufficient to make my dying lips own repentance: Hypermnestra is not one who will repent of her piety. Let Danaus and my bloody sisters testify penitence for their wickedness; this usually follows deeds of guilt. My heart sickens at the remembrance of that bloody night; and a sudden trembling enervates the joints of my right hand. That hand which was thought strong enough to engage in the murder of a husband, even dreads to write of a murder that it did not commit; yet will I attempt to describe the horrid scene. Twilight had overspread the earth; it was about the close of day, and night hastened on: we, the descendants of Inachus, are led to the palace of the great Pelasgus; and a father-in-law receives, into his house, daughters armed for the