This was the story you told me – yes, and it was warning enough for me!  I am all ablaze with love, like torches of wax tipped with sulphur, like pious incense placed on smoking altar-fires. The Greek translation of Maximus Planudes, of the latter part of the thirteenth century, from a Latin manuscript resembling the Parisinus, and of considerable value in the parts omitted by it. Over hard paths I fly, and my enemy pursues. What could you worse, if you did not know of the power of raging seas? “Come back, O wicked Theseus! Only now from Haemonian borders came a Thessalian stranger to my gates. All that lay in my power I have done – I have refused consent to be held; farther than that my woman’s hands could not avail. Deianira to Hercules Sic ubi fata vocant, udis abiectus in herbis 8. 4.  Can it be some fate has come upon our house and pursued it through the years even to my time, that we Tantalid women are ever victims ready to the ravisher’s hand? What lieth heavy in thy bosom from me – may it come to live, and may we both share in its parentage!”. I was not reared and cared for by your hand; and when I was promised in wedlock I had no mother to make ready the new chamber for my coming. 1. Less misused by the victorious Achaeans was Andromache herself, what time the Danaän fire consumed the wealth of Phrygia.2.  The vengeful deed of the Lemnian women I condemn, Jason, I do not marvel at it; passion itself drives the weak, however powerless, to take up arms. 1r-69v [Title:] publii ouidii nasonis epistolarum erodium liber primus penelope ulissi Inc: Hanc tua penelope lento tibi mitit ulixe./ Nil me rescribas at tamen ipse ueni.  We both live, Theseus, and I am not yours! Nor may she long keep her ill-gotten gains, but leave them in worse hap – let her be an exile, and seek a refuge through the entire world!  Ah, I could pray the gods that you had seen me from the high stern; my sad figure had moved your heart! I almost gave them to be carried to you, their mother’s ambassadors; but thought of the cruel stepdame turned me back from the path I would have trod. The story of Leda and the swan.  I delay no longer, I come; I come thy bride, thine own by right; I am late, but ‘tis for shame of my fault confessed. He tells of the dragon overcome. Dido to Aeneas  Would she who could tear her brother limb from limb and strew him o’er the fields be one to spare my pledges?6 Such is she, such the woman, O madman swept from your senses by the poisons of Colchis, for whom your are said to have slighted the marriage-bed with Hypsipyle! Wretchedly I catch at the uncertain murmurs of the common talk; my fear is lost in wavering hope, my hope again in fear. Go now, puff up your spirit and recount your brave deeds done; she has proved herself a man by a right you could not urge. Hypsipyle deserved the sending of a greeting. . – your father placed them in your hand. That you were Helen I none the less knew, because you were most beautiful; but you – you had to ask who your daughter was! She is one to strive to draw down from its course the unwilling moon, and to hide in darkness the horses of the sun; she curbs the waters and stays the down-winding streams; she moves from their places the woods and the living rocks. Add that she has her name writ in the record of your own and your heroes’ exploits, and the wife obscures the glory of the husband.  But why complain that my lord has been slow in his duty?  O changeable son of Aeson, more uncertain than the breezes of springtime, why lack your words the weight a promise claims? – to have you perish flying from me over the long seas. I lack not one to take my part!”1 I cried. Live on, a wife and husband, accursed in your bed! Hypermnestra to Lynceus – if victory was thine, and the monster smote with his length the Cretan earth. 8. Heroides 7: Giving and taking (II) The previous post offered the notion that Dido's passion for Aeneas issues in a mode of giving that is complex, implicative, and carries the power of a taking. The Argo, with whose building Dodona in Thessaly had to do.  Are you resolved none the less to go, and to abandon wretched Dido,2 and shall the same winds bear away from me at once your sails and your promises? 7. And suppose I did find those to go with me, and winds, and ship – yet where am I to go? I am not of Phthia,5 nor sprung of great Mycenae, nor have I had a husband and a father who have stood against you. Over sea and over land you are now for the seventh winter being tossed. Penelope to Ulysses 2. FROM AENEAS CAME THE CAUSE OF HER DEATH, AND FROM HIM THE BLADE; HEROIDES CONTENTS. Add thereto pure-hearted prayers, and vows mingled with fears – vows which I must now fulfil, since you are safe.  Cease, then, your wanderings! Alas me! 6. 15. ... (7.195–6)). You will go to the haven of Cecrops; but when you have been received back home, and have stood in pride before your thronging followers, gloriously telling the death of the man-and-bull, and of the halls of rock cut out in winding ways, tell, too, of me, abandoned on a solitary shore – for I must not be stolen from the record of your honours! ‘Tis a costly and a dear-bought hate that you indulge if, to be quit of me, you account it cheap to die.  And now, fare ye well, O aged father, and O my sister Gorge, and O my native soil, and brother taken from thy native soil, and thou, O light that shinest to-day, the last to strike upon mine eyes; and thou my lord, O fare thou well – would that thou couldst! 6. One land has been sought and gained, and ever must another be sought, through the wide world. – if indeed a woman lives who is buried by the treason of a perjured mate. Tydeus my brother is exiled on an unknown shore11; my second brother’s life hung on the fateful fire12; our mother drove the steel through her own heart. I myself, at home and widowed, am busied with chaste prayers, in torment lest my husband fall by the savage foe; with serpents and with boars and ravening lions my imaginings are full, and with hounds three-throated hard upon the prey. Dickinson Latin Workshop: Ovid’s Heroides July 16–20, 2020. Do you only, by your mother I pray, and by the weapons of your brother, his arrows, and by the divine companions of your flight, the gods of Dardanus – so may those rise above fate whom savage Mars has saved from out your race, so may that cruel war be the last of misfortunes to you, and so may Ascanius fill happily out his years, and the bones of old Anchises rest in peace! Straight will come rushing to your mind the perjury of your false tongue, and Dido driven to death by Phrygian faithlessness; before your eyes will appear the features of your deceived wife, heavy with sorrow, with hair streaming, and stained with blood.