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Handing It to Cynthia

Propertius: Book II, Elegy 5.

Hoc verumst, tota te ferri Cynthia Roma
Et non ignota vivere nequitia?

O Cynthia, tell me, is it true
That you’re not acting fit to print?
That Roman clubdom talks of you
And whispers things I may not hint?
What has this gossip of the street meant?
Do I deserve that sort of treatment?

Tush! I shall seek some other skirt
Who loves to lamp her printed name
In poems written by Propert.
Me for a grateful kind of dame.
Before you get a chance to con me,
I’ll do it—while the peeve is on me.

For lovers’ quarrels disappear
As clouds before the southern wind,
Wherefore I say, let’s cut it here,
Before we knot the ties that bind.
You’ll weep and wail and sob and sorrow,
But you’ll forget it all to-morrow.

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