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Book III.24:1-20

COMING TO HIS SENSES

Propertius

Woman the faith you place in your beauty’s mistaken: for a while now my eyes have made you far too proud. My love has paid such tributes to you, Cynthia, it shames me that you’re honoured by my verse.

I often praised the many beauties combined in you, because love thought you were what you are not. Your aspect was often compared with rosy Dawn, though the beauty of your face was all applied by hand: my father’s friends couldn’t divert me from this, nor any Thessalian witch, with the wide sea, wash it away. This I confessed, in truth, not compelled by knife or flame, wrecked on Aegean waters. I was seized and seethed in Venus’s cruel cauldron: I was bound, my hands twisted behind my back.

Behold, my wreathed boats reach harbour, the Syrtes are past, and I cast anchor. I come to my senses now at last, weary of the wild surge, and my wounds are closed and healed.

Good Sense, if there is such a goddess, I dedicate myself to your shrine! Jupiter was deaf to all my prayers.