There are ghosts after all, then; death is not the ending:
the soul, like smoke, escapes from the funeral flame.[Sunt aliquid Manes: letum non omnia finit,
Luridaque evictos effugit umbra rogos.]Propertius (50-16 BC) Roman elegiac poet [Sextus Propertius]
Elegies, Book 4, Elegy 7, l. 1ff (4.7.1-2) [tr. Carrier (1963)]
(Source)
(Source (Latin)). Other translations:The Manes are no dream; death closes not
Our all of being, and the wan-visaged shade
Escapes unscathed from the funeral fires.
[tr. Martin (1870)]Yes; there are ghosts: death ends not all, I ween.
The lurid shade escapes the pile's rent thrall.
[tr. Cranstoun (1875)]So there are spirits, then, death ends not all
But each wan ghost escapes the fiery pall.
[tr. Moore (1870)]There are, then, such things as spirits: death does not finish everything, and the lurid shade overcomes and escapes the funeral pile
[tr. Gantillon (1884)]The dead have being: death is not the term of everything, and the lurid shadow escapes from the defeated faggot.
[tr. Phillimore (1906)]The Shades are no fable: death is not the end of all, and the pale ghost escapes the vanquished pyre.
[tr. Butler (Loeb) (1912)]There is something beyond the grave; death does not end all,
and the pale ghost escapes from the vanquished pyre.
[E.g. (1934)]Ghosts are realities; death not the end of all:
The wan shadow defeats the funeral pyre
And evades its fires.
[tr. Musker (1972)]A ghost is someone: death has left a hole
For the lead-coloured soul to beat the fire
[tr. Lowell (1974)]The souls of the dead are something: in death everything does not cease:
the pale shade escapes the pyre.
[tr. Batiushkov (1977)]So ghosts do exist: death is not the end of all, and a pale shade vanquishes and escapes the pyre.
[tr. Goold (Loeb) (1990)]A ghost is something. Death does not close all.
A pale shade escapes, defeating the pyre.
[tr. Lee (1992)]There are Spirits, of a kind: death does not end it all, and the pale ghost escapes the ruined pyre.
[tr. Kline (2008)]The Shades exist, and death not wholly bounds our life:
a sallow ghost escapes the pyre.
[tr. Holcombe (2009)]There are such things as ghosts -- death does not put an end to everything, and a pallid shade escapes the defeated pyres.
(Source)There are ghosts: death does not end everything,
and the pale shade escapes the conquered pyre.
Quotations by:
Propertius
Dear love, dear life, you do not need adorning —
hair curled, silk rustling down your slender side.
Not by that heavy scent, those foreign bangles,
is this your natural beauty magnified.
No. Let that beauty shine in its own brilliance,
your charm, your grace, transcend what gold can buy.
Believe me, art is needless. You are lovely,
and love goes naked nor would trick the eye.[Quid iuvat ornato procedere, vita, capillo
et tenuis Coa veste movere sinus,
aut quid Orontea crines perfundere murra,
teque peregrinis vendere muneribus,
naturaeque decus mercato perdere cultu,
nec sinere in propriis membra nitere bonis?
Crede mihi, non ulla tuaest medicina figurae:
nudus Amor formam non amat artificem.]Propertius (50-16 BC) Roman elegiac poet [Sextus Propertius]
Elegies, Book 1, Elegy 2, l. 1ff (1.2.1-8) [tr. Carrier (1963)]
(Source)
(Source (Latin)). Other translations:Why walk, my love, with locks bedeck'd with gold?
And rustle Coan robes with silken fold?
Ah, why with Syrian unguents drench thy hair,
Trick'd out for sale with artificial ware?
Why scorn to please by nature's simple grace,
And seek th' allurements of a borrw'd face?
From tricks like these thy charms no fairer prove,
For artificial beauty wins not love.
[tr. Moore (1870)]Why wear, my Life, when thou abroad dost stir,
A head trimmed up to fashion's latest laws?
A Coan vestment of transparent gauze,
And hair perfumed with Orontean myrrh?
Why deck thyself with gems and costly dress?
Why mar with trinkets Nature's form divine,
And not allow thy beauties forth to shine
In all their own, their matchless loveliness?
To thee such aids can add no charms -- ah, no!
True love will aye disdain the artist's care.
[tr. Cranstoun (1875)]Why delight, my life, in walking delicately with hair elaborately decked, and in fluttering the transparent folds of a Coan vesture? Why drench your hair with Syrian myrrh? Why set yourself off by artificial means, to spoil the grace of nature by purchased adornment, and not suffer your limbs to shine in their own loveliness. Believe me, there is no improving beauty like yours by adventitious aid: geniuine Love likes not a disguised form.
[tr. Gantillon (1884)]Why to walk forth, sweet life, thy tresses braid?
Why in the Coan garb’s thin folds array’d?
Why with Orontes’ myrrh thy locks imbue?
Thy beauty’s price enhance by foreign show?
Why Nature’s charms with purchas’d lustre hide,
Nor let thy limbs disclose their genuine pride?
Trust me thy face wants no cosmetic’s aid;
Love’s naked god abhors the dressing trade.
[tr. Nott, ed. Gantillon (1884)]What does it profit, sweet life, to walk abroad with bedizened hair and play off the delicate folds in a muslin of Cos? Or to steep your locks in a perfume from the Orontes, and make a market of yourself by these outlandish dowries, using purchased braveries to spoil the grace of nature instead of letting the bodily form dazzle by its proper excellences? Take my word for it, all this leechcraft of yours to mend the looks is naught: Master Love is naked and loves not one that makes a craft of beauty.
[tr. Phillimore (1906)]What boots it, light of my life, to go forth with locks adorned, and to rustle in slender folds of Coan silk? Or avails it aught to steep thy tresses in the myrrh of Orontes, to parade thyself in the gifts that aliens bring, to spoil the grace of nature by the charms that gold can buy nor allow thy limbs to shine in the glory that is their own? Believe me, thou hast no art can make thy form more fair; Love himself goes naked and hates those that make a craft of beauty.
[tr. Butler (Loeb) (1912)]Why, dear, do you love to go out with your hair arranged
In the latest style and besprinkled with Eastern perfumes?
To parade in filmy ripples of Coān silk
And set yourself off with exotic adornments?
Such purchased graces ruin the charms of nature
And let no part of you glow with its own true light.
Believe me, they're futile -- these arts for improving your looks;
Love goes naked and has no time
For contrivers of beauty.
[tr. Musker (1972)]What avails it, my love, to step out with coiffured hair and flutter the sheer folds of a Coan dress? What avails it to drench your locks with Syrian perfume and to vaunt yourself in foreign finery, to destroy your natural charm with purchased ornament, preventing your figure from displaying its own true merits? Believe me, there is no improving your appearance. Love is naked, and loves not beauty gained by artifice.
[tr. Goold (Loeb) (1990)]Why choose, my life, to step out with styled hair
And move sheer curves in Coan costume?
Or why to drench your tresses in Orontes' myrrh
And sell yourself with foreign gifts
And lose the charm of Nature for bought elegance,
Not letting limibs shine with their own attraction?
This doctoring of your looks is pointless, believe me;
Love, being naked, does not love beauticians.
[tr. Lee (1992)]What need is there, mea vita, to come with your hair adorned, and slither about in a thin silk dress from Cos? Why drench your tresses in myrrh of Orontes, betray yourself with gifts from strangers, ruin nature’s beauty with traded refinements, nor allow your limbs to gleam to true advantage? Believe me nothing could enhance your shape: naked Amor ever hates lying forms.
[tr. Kline (2001)]Who can be pleased, my love, by such a hairdo, float
of contours through a Cōan dress?
Or curls so wetted with Orontean myrrh they frame
a face sold out to foreign ways?
You have a natural beauty with unblemished limbs
that need not trade in cultivation.
Your figure, trust me, is its own revival: how
can naked looks need artifice?
[tr. Holcombe (2009)]Cupid is naked and does not like artifices contrived by beauty.
[E.g.]
And should I fail, my courage brings its commendation:
greatness aimed at is enough.[Quod si deficiant vires, audacia certe
Laus erit: in magnis et voluisse sat est.]Propertius (50-16 BC) Roman elegiac poet [Sextus Propertius]
Elegies, Book 2, Elegy 10, l. 5ff (2.10.5-6) [tr. Holcombe (2009)]
(Source)
Talking specifically about writing epics about mighty themes and accomplishments.
Because of the corruption of manuscripts of Propertius and speculating from internal references, some 19th Century scholars (e.g., Lachmann) argued for a different division of the elegies into books, thus the translations here wich instead label this as Book 3, Elegy 1.
(Source (Latin)). Other translations:And if my powers of song should fail -- to dare were surely fame:
Enough that I have had the will; no higher praise I claim.
[tr. Cranstoun (1875), 3.1]Courage in weighty works must power supply,
And praise be mine that I've the will to try.
[tr. Moore (1870), 3.1]But if my powers fail me, at all events my courage will be meritorious: in great attempts even to have had the will is enough.
[tr. Gantillon (1884), 3.1]And if my strength fail, at least my boldness will be a title of honour; in great enterprises, the very "I would" is enough.
[tr. Phillimore (1906)]But should strength fail me, yet my daring shall win me fame: in mighty enterprises enough even to have willed success.
[tr. Butler (Loeb) (1912)]If I have not the faculty, "The bare attempt would be praiseworthy."
"In things of similar magnitude
the mere will to act is sufficient."
[tr. Pound (1919), 5.1]What though I fail? That I have dared aspire
should be enough. I shall have tried. What more?
[tr. Carrier (1963)]But if my strength should fail, why then my temerity
Is sure of praise, for in matters of moment
The intention suffices.
[tr. Musker (1972)]And should strength fail me, my daring at least will win me praise: in mighty projects even to have wished is enough.
[tr. Goold (Loeb) (1990)]If strength be lacking, surely ambition will be praised;
The intention in great matters is enough.
[tr. Lee (1992)]But if I lack the power, then surely my courage will be praised: it’s enough simply to have willed great things.
[tr. Kline (2001)]What though strength fails? Boldness is certain to win praise. In mighty enterprises, it is enough to have had the determination.
[Bartlett]
Yet loneliness shall weary thee, and still
Love torture thee with longings nought can fill.
Absence makes passion’s tide have double sway,
Possession cloys the love of every day.[Nulla tamen lecto recipit se sola libenter:
Est quiddam, quod vos quaerere cogat Amor.
Semper in absentes felicior aestus amantes:
Elevat assiduos copia longa viros.]Propertius (50-16 BC) Roman elegiac poet [Sextus Propertius]
Elegies, Book 2, Elegy 33, l. 41ff (2.33.41-44) [tr. Moore (1870); 3.25]
(Source)
This quote (the third line) appears to be the origin of the English proverb, "Absence makes the heart grow fonder." The first use of those exact words appear to be from a song by T. H. Bayly, "Isle of Beauty, Fare Thee Well" (1826?). For more discussion of the origin (and variants) of that phrase see etymology - Who is the author of "Absence makes the heart grow fonder"? - English Language & Usage Stack Exchange.
Not surprisingly, the idea of absence increasing (or decreasing) ardor is a a frequently discussed theme. See Montaigne (1587); English Proverb; Cervantes (1605); Rabutin (1660); La Rochefoucauld (1678); Johnson (1758); Mirabeau (1770); Ouida (1878); Antrim (1905); Shaw (1931); Bowen (1938); Stark (1953).
Propertius' elegies, as handed down, are something of a mess, and the assignment to them in particular books has been of sharp debate. This passage is currently considered a fragment, connected to 2.33 (and called 2.33A, or 2.33B, or 2.33C by different translators); similarly, the line numbering is sometimes carried across the entire 2.33, other times broken between the fragments. This fragmentary nature is also why the two couplets here appear in different order between different translations.
Nineteenth Century sources, based on the manuscript traditions of the time, assign this as 3.25.
(Source (Latin)). Other translations:Yet loath to bed her way lone maiden wends,
Love keeps her brooding o'er forbidden joys;
More deeply yearns the heart for absent friends:
Even of the leal [loyal] the long possession cloys.
[tr. Cranstoun (1875); 3.25]But no one retires with good will to her solitary couch. There is something that Love forces you to miss. There is always a more favourable disposition towards absent lovers; long possession lowers the value even of the devoted.
[tr. Gantillon (1884); 3.25]No woman takes herself cheerfully to bed alone though: there is something which Love makes you fain to look for.
Desire always burns kindlier toward absent lovers: long plenty of opportunity makes cheap the never-failing suitor.
[tr. Phillimore (1906); 2.33]Yet no woman ever betakes her willingly to a lonely bed; there is a somewhat that Love compels all to seek. Woman's heart is kinder always towards absent lovers; long possession takes from the worth of the persistent wooer.
[tr. Butler (Loeb) (1912); 2.33]No woman's bed is by her own choice lonely;
love marks the goal toward wich all men must strive;
the restless heart swings toward the absent lover.
It is not constancy keeps love live.
[tr. Carrier (1963); 2.33]Yet no girl likes to retire to a lonely bed;
They all, at Love's insistance, look for something more.
For the lover who's missing the tide of passion runs strong;
The length of his tenure serves to diminish
The constant lover.
[tr. Musker (1972); 2.33B]Woman's heart is ever fonder towards an absent lover: long possession lessens the appeal of the persistent wooer. Yet no woman willingly retires to bed alone: there is something which Love compels you all to seek.
[tr. Goold (Loeb) (1990); frag. 2.33C]Passion is always warmer towards absent lovers;
Availability cheapens men-in-waiting.
Still, no girl likes retiring to a lonely bed;
At love's insistence you all miss something else.
[tr. Lee (1992); 2.33B]No girl ever willingly goes to bed alone: something there is desire leads us all to search for. Passion is often greater in absent lovers: endless presence reduces the man who’s always around.
[tr. Kline (2001); 2.33A]Passion helps the absent lover: long persistence
elevates the assiduous man.
No man gladly goes to bed alone, for Amor
gives us something all must seek.
[tr. Holcombe (2009); frag. 2.33C]