I would wish it were permitted to Tithonus to talk about you,
no woman would be more foul in the sky.
While you flee from that man because he is older by a long age,
you rise to wheels hated by the old man in the morning.
If you were holding some Cephalus, in your hands having embraced him,
you would shout run gently horses in the night.
Why should I a lover be punished, if the man to you [your husband] withers away from years?
Did you marry the old man on my advice?
Look at how many nights of sleep the moon gave to your beloved youth,
nor is the beauty of that one second to your beauty.
The father of gods himself, lest he see you too often,
he joined together tonight for his own desires.
I have finished my rant. You would know that she had heard: she was blushing,
nevertheless, the day did not rise any slower than the accustomed time.
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Iam super oceanum venit a seniore marito
flava pruinoso quae vehit axe diem.
'Quo properas, Aurora? mane!—sic Memnonis umbris
annua sollemni caede parentet avis!
nunc iuvat in teneris dominae iacuisse lacertis;
si quando, lateri nunc bene iuncta meo est.
nunc etiam somni pingues et frigidus aer,
et liquidum tenui gutture cantat avis.
quo properas, ingrata viris, ingrata puellis?
roscida purpurea supprime lora manu!
Ante tuos ortus melius sua sidera servat
navita nec media nescius errat aqua;
te surgit quamvis lassus veniente viator,
et miles saevas aptat ad arma manus.
prima bidente vides oneratos arva colentes;
prima vocas tardos sub iuga panda boves.
tu pueros somno fraudas tradisque magistris,
ut subeant tenerae verbera saeva manus;
atque eadem sponsum incautos ante atria mittis,
unius ut verbi grandia damna ferant.
nec tu consulto, nec tu iucunda diserto;
cogitur ad lites surgere uterque novas.
tu, cum feminei possint cessare labores,
lanificam revocas ad sua pensa manum.
Omnia perpeterer—sed surgere mane puellas,
quis nisi cui non est ulla puella ferat?
optavi quotiens, ne nox tibi cedere vellet,
ne fugerent vultus sidera mota tuos!
optavi quotiens, aut ventus frangeret axem,
aut caderet spissa nube retentus equus!
[quid, si Cephalio numquam flagraret amore?
an putat ignotam nequitiam esse suam?
invida, quo properas? quod erat tibi filius ater,
materni fuerat pectoris ille color.
Tithono vellem de te narrare liceret;
fabula non caelo turpior ulla foret.
illum dum refugis, longo quia grandior aevo,
surgis ad invisas a sene mane rotas.
at si, quem mavis, Cephalum conplexa teneres,
clamares: "lente currite, noctis equi!"
Cur ego plectar amans, si vir tibi marcet ab annis?
num me nupsisti conciliante seni?
adspice, quot somnos iuveni donarit amato
Luna!—neque illius forma secunda tuae.
ipse deum genitor, ne te tam saepe videret,
commisit noctes in sua vota duas.'
Iurgia finieram. scires audisse: rubebat—
nec tamen adsueto tardius orta dies!
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