33
Who turns you cruelly away Because you were born of my labours,And sternly says you lead astray Innocence with voluptuous dangers
34
To him say,"Only read my name.
No longer do I teach sweet love.
Alas,the Gods to council came And passed stern judgment from above."
35
Seek not to climb to that great hall Which proudly dares to Heaven aspire.
Approach not Caesar's pack at all There,where his column soars still higher.
36
Those sanctified and sacred spots Your Lord and Master now disown.
The lightning from the castle shoots,The Higher Judgment strikes me down!
37
Though Gods great,merciful and mild Abide within those halls up there,When the Spring's image comes with wild And furious storms,we shrink with fear.
38
Alas,the dove with frightened sound Will tremble,though but Zephyr stir,While she is kissing dry the wound Inflicted by the hawk on her.
39
The frightened lamb that gets away From the wolf's fangs,will not again Ever feel safe,unless it lie Huddled inside the lowwalled pen.
40
If Phaethon were alive today,To Aether's vaults he would not soar,Nor would he drive so recklessly The coveted chariot team of four.
41
Jove's weapons I indeed do dread,And from his sea of flame I flee.
When Heaven thunders overhead,I think he hurls his spear at me.
42
No sailor of the Argive fleet Who fled the Capharean shore,Will ever turn his sails to meet Euboea's surging flood once more.
43
My bark,tossed by the tempest's force,Dares not draw nearer to that ground;
It veers off on a different course,For much more distant places bound.
44
And so,my book,be wise and sane,Mind how you go and take good care.
No need to seek the Higher Fame When common people lend an ear.
45
Icarus dared to soar on high,Audaciously he spread his wings.
His name was destined not to die,In the swift ocean wave it sings.
46
Whether to pull hard on the oars,Or leave the sails gently to swell
Postpone it for another hour
Time and the place will quickly tell.
47
And when his brow is clear at last,When kindness beams upon his face,When all his rage is of the past,Quiescent,gone without a trace;
48
When you,that still in terror stand And dare not yet approach from fright,Are proffered friendly word and hand,Then goto day now yields the night.
49
More softly tolls the hour of Fate,Unlike your Master you rejoice The torments of your wound abate,And Mercy speaks with gentle voice.
50
The hurt can only be made less By him who caused it in his rage.
Achilles wounded Telephus;
The pain he caused he then assuaged.
51
Be sure not to spread any poison When trying to set matters right.
Hope,ever bright and airy vision,Terror can turn you into night!
52
Take care lest from its quiet repose Wrath in a violent storm should rise,Piling upon me yet more woes That you have caused by deeds unwise.
53
But if within the Muses'shrine A happy welcome should await,Bright in that house then you may shine Where Literature and Glory mate.
54
And there you may be sure to see Drawn up in line the brothers,those Whom I beget in ecstasy After the day had reached its close.
55
All bear with open pride their names,In consciousness of victory:
Like hope upon their brews it flames,And like the joy of poetry.
56
Three only form a group apart,On every side by darkness pressed.
They swell,luxurious with "Love's Art",(ars amandi )
And gaiety bubbles in each breast.
57
Flee them,or bravely dare to call For counsel fraught with curse and doom;
Remember Oedipus'dread fall,Telegonus'appalling crime!
58
Songs lately granted their salvation From violent death by fire and flame,Tell you their tales of Transformation (Metamorphosis )
And of worlds under Spiritreign.
59
Now tell the story of the change That's overcome my Fate at last,How it's turned into something strange,And how the form has been recast.
60
Once it was different,when I sucked Warmth from the red lips of Success.
Where the Immortals sealed their pact,The tears now flow of deep distress.
61
That you would ask what more I need Is plainly written on your face.
Meanwhile,the graceful Horae speed Onward their rushing waves apace.
62
And if with you I were to send All that seethes in my bosom now,Oh,I would never reach the end;
The weight would make the bearer bow.
63
The road is long.No time to spare,O book.Remotest of all lands Here with the Scythians I must share;
Estranged from all the rest it stands.
