Book II: Elegy the Fourth: On His Lady's Avarice
A woman's slave am I, and know it well.Farewell, my birthright! farewell, liberty!In wretched slavery and chains I dwell,For love's sad captives never are set free.
Whether I smile or curse, love just the sameBrands me and burns. O, cruel woman, spare!O would I were a rock, to 'scape this flameFar off upon the frosty mountains there!
Would I were flint, to front the tempest's power,Wave-buffeted on some wild, wreckful shore!My sad days bring worse nights, and every hourFills me some cup of gall and brims it o'er.
What use are songs? Her greedy hands disdainApollo's gift. She says some gold is due.Farewell, ye Muses, I have sung in vain!Only in quest of her I followed you.
I sing no wars; nor how the moon and sunIn heavenly paths their circling chariots steer.To win my lady's smiles my numbers run;Farewell, ye Muses, if ye fail me here!
Let deeds of bloody crime now make me bold!No longer at her bolted door I whine;But I will find that necessary gold,Though I steal treasure from some holy shrine.
Venus I first will violate; for sheCompelled my crime, and did my heart enthrallTo beauty that requires a golden fee.Yes, Venus' shrine shall suffer worst of all.
Curse on that man who finds the emerald green,And Tyrian purples for our flattered girls!He makes them greedy. Now they must be seenIn Coan robe and gleaming Red Sea pearls.
It spoils them all. Now bolts and barriers holdTheir doors, and watch-dogs threaten through the dark;But let the lover overflow with gold,--All bolts fly back and not a dog will bark.
What God did beauty unto gold degrade,And mix one bliss with many a woe and shame?Tears, quarrels, curses were the gifts he made;And Love bears now a very evil name.
False girl, who dost for riches thrust asideLove's honest vow, may winds and flames conspireTo wreck thy wealth, while all thy beaux derideThe loss, nor throw one bowl-full on the fire!
O when dark Death shall be thy final guest,No lover true will shed the faithful tear,Nor bring an offering where thy ashes rest,Nor lay one garland on thy lonely bier I
But some warm-hearted lass who loved not gainShall live a hundred years, yet be much mourned;Her tomb shall be some lover's holiest fane,With annual gift of all sad flowers adorned.
"Farewell, true heart!" his trembling lips will say,"Let peace untroubled bless thy relics dear!"Oft will he visit, and departing pray,"Light lie this earth on her whose rest is here!"
Nay, it is vain such serious songs to breathe:I must be modern, if I would prevail.How much? Just all my ancestors bequeath?Come, Lares! You are advertised for sale.
Let Circe and Medea bring the leesOf some foul cup! Let Thessaly prepareIts direst poison! Bring hippomanes,Fierce philtre from the frantic, brooding mare!For if my mistress mix it with a smile,I drain a draught a thousand times as vile.
Words in this poem
- dwell v. i.
- To delay; to linger. [OE. dwellen, dwelien, to err, linger, AS. dwellan to deceive, hinder, delay, dwelian to err; akin to Icel. dvelja to delay, tarry, Sw. dväljas to dwell, Dan. dv]
- wreckful a.
- Causing wreck; involving ruin; destructive.
- enthrall v. t.
- To hold in thrall; to enslave. See Inthrall. [Pref. en- + thrall. Cf. Inthrall.]
- shall v. i.
- To owe; to be under obligation for. [OE. shal, schal, imp. sholde, scholde, AS. scal, sceal, I am obliged, imp. scolde, sceolde, inf. sculan; akin to OS. skulan, pres. skal, imp. skolda, D. zullen,]
- tyrian a.
- Of or pertaining to Tyre or its people.
- wealth n.
- Weal; welfare; prosperity; good. [OE. welthe, from wele; cf. D. weelde luxury. See Weal prosperity.]
- deride v. t.
- To laugh at with contempt; to laugh to scorn; to turn to ridicule or make sport of; to mock; to scoff at. [L. deridere, derisum; de- + rid to laugh. See Ridicule.]
- bier n.
- A handbarrow or portable frame on which a corpse is placed or borne to the grave. [OE. bæe, beere, AS. b, b; akin to D. baar, OHG. bara, G. bahre, Icel barar, Dbaare, L. feretrum, Gr. , from the same bear to produce. See 1st Bear, and cf. Barr]
- lass n.
- A youth woman; a girl; a sweetheart. [OE. lasse; prob. of Celtic origin; cf. W. llodes girl, fem. of llawd lad. (Lad a youth.]
- fane n.
- A temple; a place consecrated to religion; a church. [L. fanum a place dedicated to some deity, a sanctuary, fr. fari to speak. See Fame.]
- bequeath v. t.
- To give or leave by will; to give by testament; -- said especially of personal property. [OE. biquethen, AS. becwe to say, affirm, bequeath; pref. be- + cwe to say, speak. See Quoth.]
- philtre n.
- A potion or charm intended to excite the passion of love.
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
Book II: Elegy the Fourth: On His Lady's Avarice is in the public domain. This text is taken from The Elegies, Project Gutenberg ebook #9610, the Theodore Chickering Williams translation; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.
Cite as: Tibullus, Book II: Elegy the Fourth: On His Lady's Avarice, in The Elegies (1905), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #9610, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/tibullus-elegies/book-ii-elegy-the-fourth-on-his-lady-s-avarice.html, id L14427.
Form and metre
Book II: Elegy the Fourth: On His Lady's Avarice is 66 lines in 16 stanzas. The rhyme scheme is ABAB, complete in 11 of its 16 stanzas. The metre is iambic pentameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 88%). 97% of its stressed syllables fall where the metre puts the beat. The lines average 10.0 syllables. 5 lines end on an unstressed syllable, a feminine ending. 24% of the lines run on without a stop at the line end.
See other poems in iambic pentameter.
Measured by Laurel's pipeline, not copied from a handbook: how stress and metre are counted, how rhyme is lettered, how a drifted rhyme is found. Where the dictionary cannot confirm a rhyme the letter is withheld, not guessed.
Rhyme words, stanza by stanza
The word that ends each line, lettered by the rhyme it makes; a dash is a line whose rhyme the dictionary could not confirm.
- 1 A-A- wellA · liberty · dwellA · free
- 2 ABAB sameA · spareB · flameA · thereB
- 3 A-A- powerA · shore · hourA · o'er
- 4 ABAB disdainA · dueB · vainA · youB
- 5 ABAB sunA · steerB · runA · hereB
- 6 ABAB boldA · whineB · goldA · shrineB
- 7 ABAB sheA · enthrallB · feeA · allB
- 8 ABAB greenA · girlsB · seenA · pearlsB
- 9 ABAB holdA · darkB · goldA · barkB
- 10 ABAB degradeA · shameB · madeA · nameB
- 11 ABAB asideA · conspireB · derideA · fireB
- 12 A-A- guestA · tear · restA · i
- 13 ABAB gainA · mournedB · faneA · adornedB
- 14 ABAB sayA · dearB · prayA · hereB
- 15 -A-A breathe · prevailA · bequeath · saleA
- 16 -A-ABB lees · prepareA · hippomanes · mareA · smileB · vileB
Scansion, line by line
Each line with its syllable count and the stresses the words themselves fix: / stressed, ˘ unstressed, · a syllable the word leaves free and the metre decides. Read against iambic pentameter. How this is done.
| Line | Syl. | Stress |
|---|---|---|
| A woman's slave am I, and know it well. | 10 | ·/˘······· |
| Farewell, my birthright! farewell, liberty! | 10 | ·/·/··//˘˘ |
| In wretched slavery and chains I dwell, | 10 | ·/˘/˘˘···· |
| For love's sad captives never are set free. | 10 | ···/˘/˘··· |
| Whether I smile or curse, love just the same | 10 | ·········· |
| Brands me and burns. O, cruel woman, spare! | 10 | ·····/˘/˘· |
| O would I were a rock, to 'scape this flame | 10 | ·········· |
| Far off upon the frosty mountains there! | 10 | ·····/˘/˘· |
| Would I were flint, to front the tempest's power, | 11 | ·······/˘/˘ |
| Wave-buffeted on some wild, wreckful shore! | 9 | ·˘/···/˘· |
| My sad days bring worse nights, and every hour | 11 | ·······/˘/˘ |
| Fills me some cup of gall and brims it o'er. | 10 | ·········· |
| What use are songs? Her greedy hands disdain | 10 | ·····/˘·˘/ |
| Apollo's gift. She says some gold is due. | 10 | ˘/˘······· |
| Farewell, ye Muses, I have sung in vain! | 10 | ·/·/˘····· |
| Only in quest of her I followed you. | 10 | /˘·····/˘· |
| I sing no wars; nor how the moon and sun | 10 | ·········· |
| In heavenly paths their circling chariots steer. | 10 | ·/˘··/˘/˘· |
| To win my lady's smiles my numbers run; | 10 | ···/˘··/˘· |
| Farewell, ye Muses, if ye fail me here! | 10 | ·/·/˘····· |
| Let deeds of bloody crime now make me bold! | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| No longer at her bolted door I whine; | 10 | ·/˘··/˘··· |
| But I will find that necessary gold, | 10 | ·····/˘·˘· |
| Though I steal treasure from some holy shrine. | 10 | ···/˘··/˘· |
| Venus I first will violate; for she | 10 | /˘···/˘˘·· |
| Compelled my crime, and did my heart enthrall | 10 | ˘/······˘/ |
| To beauty that requires a golden fee. | 10 | ·/˘·˘/·/˘· |
| Yes, Venus' shrine shall suffer worst of all. | 10 | ·/˘··/˘··· |
| Curse on that man who finds the emerald green, | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| And Tyrian purples for our flattered girls! | 11 | ·/˘˘/˘·//˘· |
| He makes them greedy. Now they must be seen | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| In Coan robe and gleaming Red Sea pearls. | 9 | ····/˘··· |
| It spoils them all. Now bolts and barriers hold | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| Their doors, and watch-dogs threaten through the dark; | 10 | ·····/˘··· |
| But let the lover overflow with gold,-- | 10 | ···/˘/˘··· |
| All bolts fly back and not a dog will bark. | 10 | ·········· |
| What God did beauty unto gold degrade, | 10 | ···/˘···˘/ |
| And mix one bliss with many a woe and shame? | 10 | ·····/···· |
| Tears, quarrels, curses were the gifts he made; | 10 | ·/˘/˘····· |
| And Love bears now a very evil name. | 10 | ·····/˘/˘· |
| False girl, who dost for riches thrust aside | 10 | ·····/˘·˘/ |
| Love's honest vow, may winds and flames conspire | 11 | ·/˘·····˘/˘ |
| To wreck thy wealth, while all thy beaux deride | 10 | ········˘/ |
| The loss, nor throw one bowl-full on the fire! | 11 | ·········/˘ |
| O when dark Death shall be thy final guest, | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| No lover true will shed the faithful tear, | 10 | ·/˘····/˘· |
| Nor bring an offering where thy ashes rest, | 10 | ···/˘··/˘· |
| Nor lay one garland on thy lonely bier I | 11 | ···/˘··/˘·· |
| But some warm-hearted lass who loved not gain | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| Shall live a hundred years, yet be much mourned; | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| Her tomb shall be some lover's holiest fane, | 10 | ·····/˘/˘· |
| With annual gift of all sad flowers adorned. | 10 | ·/˘····/˘/ |
| "Farewell, true heart!" his trembling lips will say, | 10 | ·/···/˘··· |
| "Let peace untroubled bless thy relics dear!" | 10 | ··˘/˘··/˘· |
| Oft will he visit, and departing pray, | 10 | ···/˘·˘/˘· |
| "Light lie this earth on her whose rest is here!" | 10 | ·········· |
| Nay, it is vain such serious songs to breathe: | 10 | ·····/˘··· |
| I must be modern, if I would prevail. | 10 | ···/˘···˘/ |
| How much? Just all my ancestors bequeath? | 10 | ·····/·˘˘/ |
| Come, Lares! You are advertised for sale. | 10 | ····/˘·˘·· |
| Let Circe and Medea bring the lees | 9 | ···˘/˘··· |
| Of some foul cup! Let Thessaly prepare | 10 | ········˘/ |
| Its direst poison! Bring hippomanes, | 9 | ·/˘/˘···· |
| Fierce philtre from the frantic, brooding mare! | 9 | ····/˘/˘· |
| For if my mistress mix it with a smile, | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| I drain a draught a thousand times as vile. | 10 | ·····/˘··· |
The reader shows the same poem with its rhymes coloured and a stress row above each line, the notes beside their stanzas, and any word's definition on a tap; the analysis page takes the whole book apart. How every part of this site was made.