He entreats the morning not to hasten on with its usual speed.

Now over the Ocean does she come from her aged husband Tithonus, who, with her yellow locks, brings on the day with her frosty chariot. Whither, Aurora, art thou hastening? Stay; and then may the yearly bird, with its wonted death, honour the shades 189 of thy Memnon, its parent. Now do I delight to recline in the soft arms of my mistress; now, if ever, is she deliciously united to my side. Now, too, slumbers are sound, and now the moisture is cooling the birds, too, are sweetly waronng with their little throats. Whither art thou hastening, hated by the men, detested by the fair? Check thy dewy reins with thy rosy hand. 190

Before thy rising, the sailor better observes his Constellations; and he wanders not in ignorance, in the midst of the waves. On thy approach, the wayfarer arises, weary though he be; the soldier lays upon his arms the hands used to bear them. Thou art the first to look upon the tillers of the fields laden with the two-pronged fork; thou art the first to summon the lagging oxen to the crooked yoke. 'Tis thou who dost deprive boys of their sleep, and dost hand them over to their masters; 192, that their tender hands may suffer the cruel stripes. 193 'Tis thou, too, who dost send the man before the vestibule of the attorney, 194 when about to become bail; 195 that he may submit to the great risks of a single word.

Thou art no source of pleasure to the pleader, 198 nor yet to the counsel; for fresh combats each is forced to rise. Thou, when the labours of the females might have had a pause, dost recal the hand of the worker in wool to its task.

All this I could endure; but who could allow the fair to arise thus early, except the man who has no mistress of his own? How often have I wished that night would not make way for thee; and that the stars when put to flight would not fly from thy countenance. Many a time have I wished that either the wind would break thy chariot to pieces, or that thy steed would fall, overtaken by some dense cloud. Remorseless one, whither dost thou hasten? Inasmuch as thy son was black, such was the colour of his mother's heart. What if 199 she had not once burned with passion for Cephalus? Or does she fancy that her escapade was not known? I only wish it was allowed Tithonus to tell of thee; there would not be a more coarse tale in all the heavens. While thou art avoiding him, because he is chilled by length of years, thou dost rise early in the morning from the bed of the old man to thy odious chariot. But if thou wast only holding some Cephalus embraced in thy arms; then wouldst thou be crying out, "Run slowly on, ye horses of the night."

Why should I be punished in my affections, if thy husband does decay through length of years? Wast thou married to the old fellow by my contrivance? See how many hours of sleep the Moon gave 201 to the youth beloved by her; and yet her beauty is not inferior to thine. The parent of the Gods himself, that he might not see thee so often, joined two nights together 202 for the attainment of his desires.

I had finished my reproaches; you might be sure she heard them; for she blushed'. However, no later than usual did the day arise.