|1.||To His Mistress||4/7/2010|
|2.||Salmacis And Hermaphroditus||4/7/2010|
|3.||Seeing Thou Art Fair||4/7/2010|
|5.||Metamorphosis Viii, 611-724||1/20/2003|
|6.||Pygmalion And The Statue||4/7/2010|
|7.||Metamorphoses: Book The Twelfth||1/13/2003|
|8.||Metamorphoses: Book The Ninth||1/13/2003|
|9.||Metamorphoses: Book The Tenth||1/13/2003|
|10.||Metamorphoses: Book The Thirteenth||1/13/2003|
|11.||Metamorphoses: Book The Sixth||1/13/2003|
|12.||Metamorphoses: Book The Fifth||1/13/2003|
|13.||Metamorphoses: Book The Seventh||1/13/2003|
|14.||Metamorphoses: Book The Fourteenth||1/13/2003|
|15.||Metamorphoses: Book The Third||1/13/2003|
|16.||Metamorphoses: Book The Eleventh||1/13/2003|
|17.||Metamorphoses: Book The Eighth||1/13/2003|
|18.||Elegy For Tibullus||12/6/2003|
|19.||In Summer's Heat||4/7/2010|
|21.||The Art Of Love: Book Two||1/3/2003|
|22.||Metamorphoses: Book The First||1/13/2003|
|24.||Love And War||12/7/2003|
But oh, I suppose she was ugly; she wasn't elegant;
I hadn't yearned for her often in my prayers.
Yet holding her I was limp, and nothing happened at all:
I just lay there, a disgraceful load for her bed.
I wanted it, she did too; and yet no pleasure came
from the part of my sluggish loins that should bring joy.
The girl entwined her ivory arms around my neck
(her arms were whiter than the Sithonian snows) ,
and gave me greedy kisses, thrusting her fluttering tongue,
and laid her eager thigh against my thigh,
and whispering fond words, called ...
Elegy For Tibullus
If Memnon's mother mourned, Achilles's mother mourned,
and our sad fates can touch great goddesses,
then weep, and loose your hair in grief you never earned,
Elegy, now ah! too much like your name.
That bard whose work was yours, who gave you fame, Tibullus,
burns on the mounded pyre, a lifeless corpse.
See Venus's boy, bearing his quiver upside down;
his bow is broken and his torch is quenched;
look how he goes dejected: his wings trail on the ground;