_To his mistress, in whose company he is present at the chariot races in
the Circus Maximus. He describes the race._
|I am not sitting here [515] an admirer of the spirited steeds; [516]
still I pray that he who is your favourite may win. I have come here to
chat with you, and to be seated by you, [517] that the passion which
yea cause may not be unknown to you. You are looking at the race, I _am
looking_ at you; let us each look at what pleases us, and so let us each
feast our eyes. O, happy the driver [518] of the steeds, whoever he
is, that is your favourite; it is then his lot to be the object of your
care; might such be my lot; with ardent zeal to be borne along would I
press over the steeds as they start from the sacred barrier. [519] And
now I would give rein; [520] now with my whip would I lash their backs;
now with my inside wheel would I graze the turning-place. [521] If you
should be seen by me in my course, then I should stop; and the reins,
let go, would fall from my hands.
Ah! how nearly was Pelops [522] falling by the lance of him of Pisa,
while, Hippodamia, he was gazing on thy face! Still did he prove the
conqueror through the favour of his mistress; [523] let us each prove
victor through the favour of his charmer. Why do you shrink away in
vain? [524] The partition forces us to sit close; the Circus has this
advantage [525] in the arrangement of its space. But do you [526] on the
right hand, whoever you are, be accommodating to the fair; she is
being hurt by the pressure of your side. And you as well, [527] who are
looking on behind us; draw in your legs, if you have _any_ decency, and
don't press her back with your hard knees. But your mantle, hanging too
low, is dragging on the ground; gather it up; or see, I am taking it
up [528] in my hands. A disobliging garment you are, who are thus
concealing ancles so pretty; and the more you gaze upon them, the more
disobliging garment you are. Such were the ancles of the fleet Atalanta,
[529] which Milanion longed to touch with his hands. Such are painted
the ancles of the swift Diana, when, herself _still_ bolder, she pursues
the bold beasts of prey. On not seeing them, I am on fire; what would be
the consequence if they _were seen?_ You are heaping flames upon
flames, water upon the sea. From them I suspect that the rest may prove
charming, which is so well hidden, concealed beneath the thin dress.
But, meanwhile, should you like to receive the gentle breeze which
the fan may cause, [530] when waved by my hand? Or is the heat I feel,
rather that of my own passion, and not of the weather, and is the love
of the fair burning my inflamed breast? While I am talking, your white
clothes are sprinkled with the black dust; nasty dust, away from a body
like the snow.
But now the procession [531] is approaching; give good omens both
in words and feelings. The time is come to applaud; the procession
approaches, glistening with gold. First in place is Victory borne [532]
with expanded wings; [533] come hither, Goddess, and grant that this
passion of mine may prove victorious.
"Salute Neptune, [534] you who put too much confidence in the waves; I
have nought to do with the sea; my own dry land engages me. Soldier,
salute thy own Mars; arms I detest [535] Peace delights me, and Love
found in the midst of Peace. Let Phoebus be propitious to the augurs,
Phoebe to the huntsmen; turn, Minerva, towards thyself the hands of the
artisan. [536] Ye husbandmen, arise in honour of Ceres and the youthful
Bacchus; let the boxers [537] render Pollux, the horseman Castor
propitious. Thee, genial Venus, and _the Loves_, the boys so potent
with the bow, do I salute; be propitious, Goddess, to my aspirations.
Inspire, too, kindly feelings in my new mistress; let her permit
herself to be loved." She has assented; and with her nod she has given
a favourable sign. What the Goddess has promised, I entreat yourself to
promise. With the leave of Venus I will say it, you shall be the greater
Goddess. By these many witnesses do I swear to you, and by this array
of the Gods, that for all time you have been sighed for by me. But
your legs have no support; you can, if perchance you like, rest the
extremities of your feet in the lattice work. [538]
Now the Prætor, [539] the Circus emptied, has sent from the even
barriers [540] the chariots with their four steeds, the greatest sight
of all. I see who is your favourite; whoever you wish well to, he will
prove the conqueror. The very horses appear to understand what it is you
wish for. Oh shocking! around the turning-place he goes with a circuit
_far too_ wide. [541] What art thou about? The next is overtaking thee
with his wheel in contact. What, wretched man, art thou about? Thou art
wasting the good wishes of the fair; pull in the reins, I entreat, to
the left, [542] with a strong hand. We have been resting ourselves in a
blockhead; but still, Romans, call him back again, [543] and by waving
the garments, [544] give the signal on every side. See! they are calling
him back; but that the waving of the garments may not disarrange your
hair, [545] you may hide yourself quite down in my bosom.
And now, the barrier [546] unbarred once more, the side posts are open
wide; with the horses at full speed the variegated throng [547] bursts
forth. This time, at all events, [548] do prove victorious, and bound
over the wide expanse; let my wishes, let those of my mistress, meet
with success. The wishes of my mistress are fulfilled; my wishes still
exist. He bears away the palm; [549] the palm is yet to be sought by me.
She smiles, and she gives me a promise of something with her expressive
eye. That is enough for this spot; grant the rest in another place.