In amicam, quod abortivum ipsa fecerit.
What helps it woman to be free from war,
Nor, being armed, fierce troops to follow far,
If without battle self-wrought wounds annoy them.
And their own privy-weaponed hands destroy them
Who unborn infants first to slay invented,
Deserved thereby with death to be tormented.
Because thy belly should rough wrinkles lack,
Wilt thou thy womb-inclosËd offspring wrack?
Had ancient mothers this vile custom cherished,
All human kind by their default had perished;
Or stones, our stock's original should be hurled,
Again, by some, in this unpeopled world.
Who should have Priam's wealthy substance won,
If watery Thetis had her child fordone?
In swelling womb her twins had Ilia killed,
He had not been that conquering Rome bid build.
Had Venus spoiled her belly's Trojan fruit,
The earth of CÊsars had been destitute.
Thou also that wert born fair, had'st decayed,
If such a work thy mother had assayed.
Myself, that better die with loving may,
Had seen, my mother killing me, no day.
Why tak'st increasing grapes from vinetrees full?
With cruel hand why dost green apples pull?
Fruits ripe will fall; let springing things increase;
Life is no light price of a small surcease.
Why with hid irons are your bowels torn?
And why dire poison give you babes unborn?
At Colchis, stained with children's blood, men rail,
And mother-murdered Itys they bewail.
Both unkind parents; but, for causes sad,
Their wedlocks' pledges venged their husbands bad.
What Tereus, what I‰son you provokes,
To plague your bodies with such harmful strokes?
Armenian tigers never did so ill,
Nor dares the lioness her young whelps kill.
But tender damsels do it, though with pain;
Oft dies she that her paunch-wrapt child hath slain:
She dies, and with loose hairs to grave is sent,
And whoe'er see her, worthily lament.
But in the air let these words come to naught,
And my presages of no weight be thought.
Forgive her, gracious gods, this one delict,
And on the next fault punishment inflict.