Epistulae
Ovid
Ovid. The Epistles of Ovid. London: J. Nunn, 1813.
messenger of your success? Why did I first hear from report, that the bulls sacred to the stern god of war had submitted to the yoke,—that harvests of armed men sprang from the sowing of the dragon's teeth, and did not want your right hand to cut them off,—that the yellow fleecy spoils, though guarded by a vigilant dragon, were yet a prey to your valiant arm? If I could assure those who believe with diffidence, that all this was confirmed to me by a letter from yourself, how great would be my happiness! Why do I complain that my husband by so long an absence has failed in the respect he owes me? If your heart continues mine, I have still all I ask. You are said to have brought with you a barbarian enchantress, and admitted her to a share of that bed which you had promised to me. Love is credulous and full of fears. I wish it may be found that I have rashly charged my husband with false crimes. A stranger lately arrived here from Thessaly: scarcely had he touched the threshold, when I enquired how my Jason was. He, overcome with shame, stood silent, and fixed his eyes upon the ground. Impatient, I ran up to him;