Epistulae

Ovid

Ovid. The Epistles of Ovid. London: J. Nunn, 1813.

But that she may not be ignorant of what was contained in the writing, repeat to her the words you at that time read in the temple. Marry without hesitation, will she say, the youth to whom the gracious Gods have joined you: let him only be my son-in-law, whom you have solemnly sworn to accept in that character. Whoever he may be, as he has already made himself agreeable to Diana, he is agreeable also to me. Such will be your mother's behaviour, if she really acts the part of a mother to you. Yet you may admonish her to enquire who and what I am; nor will she find the Goddess to have been wholly regardless of your happiness. An isle, by name Ceos, formerly ennobled by the Corycian nymphs, is surrounded by the Ægean sea. This is my native country: and, if you are pleased with illustrious names, my ancestors will not fall below your hopes. I have also riches; my morals are without reproach; and, if no other recommendations existed, love makes you mine by the justest claim. You might even be pleased with such a husband, had no vow passed your lips; such an one might be acceptable, did no prior engagement intervene. These words the illustrious huntress dictated to me in my sleep; these too wakeful love commanded me boldly to write. I am already deeply wounded by Cupid's darts; it is yours, fair nymph, to beware of being pierced by the

arrows of Diana. Our welfare is inseparable; have compassion both on me and yourself. Why do you delay the only cure that remains for both? If I should accomplish this object, I will, when the sacred solemnity begins, and Delos is sprinkledwith votive blood, consecrate a golden image of the happy apple, and upon it inscribe our fates in the following distich:

"Acontius proclaims, by the consecrated image of this apple, that the inscription engraven upon it, was fulfilled to his desire."

But not to fatigue you, already too much exhausted by a long epistle, and to end all in the usual terms of concluding, Farewell.