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Ovid

Haec mihi ferre parum? peregrinos addis amores, et mater de te quaelibet esse potest. non ego Partheniis temeratam vallibus Augen, 50nec referam partus, Ormeni nympha, tuos; non tibi crimen erunt, Teuthrantia turba, sorores, quarum de populo nulla relicta tibi est. una, recens crimen, referetur adultera nobis, unde ego sum Lydo facta noverca Lamo. 55Maeandros, terris totiens errator in isdem, qui lassas in se saepe retorquet aquas, vidit in Herculeo suspensa monilia collo illo, cui caelum sarcina parva fuit. non puduit fortis auro cohibere lacertos, 60et solidis gemmas opposuisse toris? nempe sub his animam pestis Nemeaea lacertis edidit, unde umerus tegmina laevus habet! ausus es hirsutos mitra redimire capillos! aptior Herculeae populus alba comae. 65nec te Maeonia lascivae more puellae incingi zona dedecuisse putas?1 non tibi succurrit crudi Diomedis imago, efferus humana qui dape pavit equas? si te vidisset cultu Busiris in isto, 70huic victor victo2 nempe pudendus eras. detrahat Antaeus duro redimicula collo, ne pigeat molli succubuisse viro. Inter Ioniacas calathum tenuisse puellas diceris et dominae pertimuisse minas.

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Ovid

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Is this too little for me to endure? You add to it your stranger loves, and whoever will may be by you a mother. I will say nothing of Auge betrayed in the vales of Parthenius, or of thy travail, nymph sprung of Ormenus; nor will I charge against you the daughters of Teuthras’ son, the throng of sisters from whose number none was spared by you.a But there is one love—a fresh offence of which I have heard—a love by which I am made stepdame to Lydian Lamus.b The Meander, so many times wandering in the same lands, who oft turns back upon themselves his wearied waters, has seen hanging from the neck of Hercules—the neck which found the heavens but slight burden—bejewelled chains! Felt you no shame to bind with gold those strong arms, and to set the gem upon that solid brawn? Ah, to think ’twas these arms that crushed the life from the Nemean pest, whose skin now covers your left side! You have not shrunk from binding your shaggy hair with a woman’s turban! More meet for the locks of Hercules were the white poplar. And do you not think that you brought disgrace upon yourself by wearing the Maeonian girdle like a wanton girl? Did there come to your mind no image of savage Diomede, fiercely feeding his mares on human meat? Had Busiris seen you in that garb, he whom you vanquished would surely have reddened for such a victor as you. Antaeus would tear from the hard neck the turban-bands, lest he feel shame at having succumbed to an unmanly foe.

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They say that you have held the wool-basket among the girls of Ionia, and been frightened at your mistress’ threats. Do you not shrink, Alcides,

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DOI: 10.4159/DLCL.ovid-heroides.1914