Epistulae

I swell, and am ready to burst with envy (yet why do I thus relate all?) when he folds his flowing robe round your tender limbs. But when you give and take in my presence the melting kisses, I am then forced to take the cup, and hold it before my eyes. As often as you close in strict embraces, I cast my eyes upon the ground; and the loathed food becomes more and more nauseous to my taste. I often sigh to myself, and have observed you repaying my sighs with a scornful smile. Oft have I essayed to conquer my flame with wine; but it continued to increase; and drinking, I found, added fuel to the fire. Sometimes I turned away my eyes, that I might not see too much; but you soon called back my wandering sight. What can I do? I am pierced with grief to witness all; but it is still a greater grief not to gaze upon your charms.

I strive with all my power to hide my flame; but the dissembled passion breaks through all restraints. Nor is it my aim to deceive; my wounds are well, to well known to you: O that they were only known to you! How often have I turned away my face, to hide the falling tears, lest he should enquire the cause of my sadness! How oft, when warmed with wine, have I told some tale of love, applying every word to your dear face; and, under a feigned name, have made a discovery of my own passion? In these instances, if you knew it not, I was the true lover. Sometimes I have even feigned intoxication, to excuse my greater freedoms in discourse. Once I remember your loose garments revealed your naked breasts, and discovered them freely to my gazing eyes; breasts whiter than milk, or the purest snow; whiter than Jove, when in the shape of a swan he made love to your mother. Whilst surprised at the sight I stood gazing (for by chance the cup was in my hand), the wreathed handle insensibly slipped from my fingers. If you kissed your young Hermione, I instantly snatched from her lips the envied bliss. Sometimes, laid supinely along, I sang love-songs, and by winks and nods gave secret signs of my flame. I even tried, with all the softness of eloquence, to persuade your favorite attendants, Æthra and Clymene, to promote my addresses: but their answers served only to heighten my despair, and they cruelly deserted me in the midst of my entrea-