Epistulae

Ovid

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

For, when this fury abates, I am informed of all; and silent feel that conscious love rages in my breast. Perhaps, I am urged to this love by the fate of my blood, and Venus exacts this tribute of all our race. Jupiter loved Europa (hence the first rise of our family) disguising the god under the form of a bull. Pasiphae my mother, enjoyed by a deluded bull, was in time delivered of her guilty load. Perfidious Theseus, guided by the faithful thread, escaped by my sister's help the deluding labyrinth. Lo, I too, that I might not belie the race of Minos, yield the last to the powerful laws of my blood. Surely it was our destiny; one house gained the inclinations of both. I am charmed with your shape and appearance; my sister yielded to the attractions of your father. Theseus and his son have triumphed over two sister nymphs. Raise trophies of your victory over our race. Oh how I wish that I had been wandering in the fields of Crete, when first I saw you enter Eleusis, the city of Ceres! It was then chiefly (yet even before that time you had charmed me), that the penetrating flame of love raged in my bones. White was your robe; your hair was adorned