Elegiae: Prayers of Sextus Propertius

 

2.16.13-14

            O Venus, come quickly now to give succor to our sorrows; may love erupt in the hearts of those passionate limbs we continually desire.

 

at tu nunc nostro, Venus, o succurre dolori, / rumpat ut assiduis membra libidinibus!

 

2.28a.1-2

            O Jupiter, may You finally show compassion for this ill-stricken girl, the death of one so beautiful would cause Your reproach.

 

Iuppiter, affectae tandem miserere puellae: / tam formosa tuum mortua crimen erit.

 

2.28b.9-12

            May I live if she lives; die if she is fated to fall. 

If You assent to fulfill the longed for desires of my prayers I vow that I shall raise an altar in Your honor, inscribed with, “By great Jove is a girl saved.” And at Your feet will she resolve to seat herself and tell the tale of her long suffered woes.

 

vivam, si vivet; si cadet illa, cadam. /

 pro quibus optatis sacro me carmine damno: / scribam ego 'Per magnum est salva puella Iovem'; / ante tuosque pedes illa ipsa operata sedebit, / narrabitque sedens longa pericla sua.

 

2.28c.1-2

            O Proserpina, may Your clemency remain merciful on the souls You keep, and may You Dis Pater, Proserpina’s consort, not desire to be stern. 

 

Haec tua, Persephone, maneat clementia, nec tu, / Persephonae coniunx, saevior esse velis.

 

3.4.19-22

            Preserve one of Your own sons, Venus, let it be in this lifetime, may You perceive those remaining descendents of Aeneas. May there be plunder enough in this for them, that honest rewards are piled up from hard work.  For me it shall be enough if able to dance along the Sacred Way in praise of the Gods.

 

ipsa tuam serva prolem, Venus: hoc sit in aevum, / cernis ab Aenea quod superesse caput. / praeda sit haec illis, quorum meruere labores: /
me sat erit Sacra plaudere posse Via.

 

 

3.17. 1-20

O Bacchus, humbly now I approach Your altar.

Grant tranquil seas for me, Father, and a fair wind in my sails.

You are able to tame even the rages of Venus; Your wine a cure for our sorrows.

By You are lovers bound to one another; by You are their bonds dissolved.

O Bacchus, cleanse my soul of fault.

 

Truly also You cannot attest to be ignorant of my sorrow

when it was your lynxes that carried Ariadne off to the stars,

like You there is an old flame still burning in my bones.

Only wine or death may rid us of our ills. 

 

Truly an empty night alone and sober spent always torments lovers;

where hopes and fears churn in the mind of one or the other.

But if, Bacchus, Your gift could soothe my fevered mind and bring sleep to my wearied bones, then I’ll plant vines and fasten them in orderly rows upon my hills, and myself stand guard less wild beasts should pluck them. 

 

When my vats fill foaming purple with must, and new wine presses have stained my feet with grapes, then it will be enough for me to live with Your vines and in Your horned presence, O Bacchus, I, Your poet, shall sing.

 

Nunc, o Bacche, tuis humiles advolvimur aris: / da mihi pacato vela secunda, pater.

tu potes insanae Veneris compescere fastus, / curarumque tuo fit medicina mero.

per te iunguntur, per te solvuntur amantes: /  tu vitium ex animo dilue, Bacche, meo.

te quoque enim non esse rudem testatur in astris / lyncibus ad caelum vecta Ariadna tuis.
hoc mihi, quod veteres custodit in ossibus ignes, / funera sanabunt aut tua vina malum.

semper enim vacuos nox sobria torquet amantes; / spesque timorque animos versat utroque modo. 
quod si, Bacche, tuis per fervida tempora donis / accersitus erit somnus in ossa mea,
ipse seram vites pangamque ex ordine colles, / quos carpant nullae me vigilante ferae.

dum modo purpureo spument mihi dolia musto, / et nova pressantis inquinet uva pedes,
quod superest vitae per te et tua cornua vivam, / virtutisque tuae, Bacche, poeta ferar.
 

 

4.4.64-66

The stars themselves stumble and into Ocean fall. I try to sleep, searching for you in my dreams. May You come, o happy vision, standing before mine eyes as they lapse into kind slumber.

 

ipsaque in Oceanum sidera lapsa cadunt. / experiar somnum, de te mihi somnia quaeram: / fac uenias oculis umbra benigna meis.

4.5.1-4

            May the earth bring forth thorns to engulf your sepulcer, procuress, and may your shade, no longer animated by the power of life, experience only thirst.  May the Manes besiege your ashes in the funerary urn, and may avenging Cerberus, hungering for your ghost, terrify you with a ravenous howling.

 

terra tuum spinis obducat, lena, sepulcrum, / et tua, quod non vis, sentiat umbra sitim; / nec sedeant cineri Manes, et Cerberus ultor / turpia ieiuno terreat ossa sono!

4.6.1-9

The prophetess performs sacred rites.  Let solemn attention be respectfully given to the favorable prayers offered during the rites.  May Roman garlands hang beside Philetan clusters, and urns pour forth Cyrenean wines.  Grant me wafts of sweet smelling costus and fawning esteem with frankincense.  May the wool fillets be wound three times around the altar.  Asperse me with holy water and at newly erected altars may fresh psalms be sung accompanied by the ivory flute, as flasks of Phrygian wine are sipped.  Go far away, you deceitful frauds; scatter your noxious rumors to the four winds.

 

sacra facit uates: sint ora fauentia sacris, / et cadat ante meos icta iuuenca focos. / serta Philiteis certet Romana corymbis, / et Cyrenaeas urna ministret aquas. / costum molle date et blandi mihi turis honores, / terque focum circa laneus orbis eat. / spargite me lymphis, carmenque recentibus aris / tibia Mygdoniis libet eburna cadis. / ite procul fraudes, alio sint aere noxae:

 

4.9.34-7

I pray to You who amuse yourselves in this sacred grove, extend to a man the hospitality of Your sanctuary.  I am thirsty; I wander in a land destitute of springs and hear the sound of water.  Only so much as to fill my cupped hand is enough.  

uos precor, o luci sacro quae luditis antro, / pandite defessis hospita fana uiris. / fontis egens erro circaque sonantia lymphis; / et caua succepto flumine palma sat est.

 

4.9.53-60

The Mater Alma, who fastened her hair with the red fillet of a priestess, spoke:

“Spare your eyes, stranger, do not look!  Depart from this sacred and venerable place; do as I say and flee from its boundaries.  It is forbidden to men, punishable by a fearful law, that by its altar shall be claimed those men driven off from this place; (as when) Tiresias once looked upon the priestesses as they bathed Minerva after She had laid aside the Gorgon-faced Aegis.  May the Gods give you other fountains from which to drink; this water is for women alone, its wandering waves flowing from a secret spring.

 

"parce oculis, hospes, lucoque abscede uerendo; / cede agedum et tuta limina linque fuga. / interdicta uiris metuenda lege piatur / quae se summota uindicat ara casa. / magno Tiresias aspexit Pallada uates, /
fortia dum posita Gorgone membra lauat. / di tibi dent alios fontis: haec lympha puellis / auia secreti limitis unda fluit."

 

4.9.71-4

            Because his hands had purified the Earth, the Sabines of Cures called him Sancus, “The Holy One.”  Hail Father Sancus, whom austere Juno now favors.  O Sancus, may You wish to be with me and Your spirit be in my books.

 

hunc, quoniam manibus purgatum sanxerat orbem, / sic Sanctum Tatiae composuere Cures. / Sancte pater salue, cui iam fauet aspera Iuno: / Sancte, uelis libro dexter inesse meo.

 

4.10.15

            Jupiter, today let these  offerings fall in sacrifice to You.

 

Iuppiter, haec hodie tibi uictima corruet.

4.11.18

            Grant, Father, what I have asked for my gentle shade.

 

det Pater hic umbrae mollia iura meae.