Epistulae

took my way to the cold beach. We parted in sadness: I entered the virginsea, often looking back, while my mistress remained in view. If any credit is due to truth, when making for your coast I swim with cease, but, as I return, am threatened to be overwhelmed. Believe me farther when I tell you, that the way to my Hero is by a gently declining path; but in leaving you I seem to climb an immoveable mountain of waves. Who can believe it? I return to my native country with reluctance: it is now against my will that I remain in my own city. Alas! why, when thus conjoined in inclination, are we separated by the waves? Why, as we have the same mind, do we not inhabit the same soil? Let me either dwell in your Sestos, or you in my Abydos; for the earth which you tread is as dear to me, as that which I tread is to you. Why am I thus troubled as often as the sea is disturbed by storms? Why are the winds an unstable cause of anxiety to me/ The bending dolphins are now conscious of out tender loves; nor are the fishes of the sea strangers to my flame. The course of the well-known waves is now distinctly marked, like a high-way paved by the frequent attrition of the chariot-wheel. I have often complained that there was no way given but this: but now I complain that this also is shut up by the cruel winds. The streights of the Hellespont foam by the breaking of

the enormous waves; nor are the ships secure even within their harbours. Such, I imagine, was this raging sea, when it first bore the name of the unhappy virgin. This spot is already too infamous by the fate of Helle; and, though I am spared, the name will be a monument of its crime. I envy Phryxus, who safely crossed those stormy seas upon the ram that yielded the golden fleece. Nor do I yet require the aid of ram or bark; let me have only a smooth sea, that with nimble joints I may plough the yielding deep I depend upon no art; let me only have leave to swim; I will at once be ship, mariner, and pilot. I mind not Helice and Arctos, the constellations that guide the Tyrian mariner. A love like mine asks no aid of vulgar stars. Let others