Tibullus Elegy I.4 Asks Priapus Help in Love of Boys

I’ve seen a young man, as middle age pressed round him,

   mourning the foolish days long passed away. 

Cruel gods!  The snake sheds its years and is reborn:

   but Fate’s not given beauty any stay. 

Only Bacchus and Phoebus possess everlasting youth, 

   for unshorn tresses glorify each god.

You should always, no matter what your boy wants to try,

   obey: love conquers most by deference.

 Don’t refuse to follow him, even if the planned trip is distant

   and the Dog Star bakes earth in parching drought,

if the storm-fraught rainbow, fringing the sky with violet hem,

   admits the waters that will swell the clouds. 

Or even if he wants to take boat over the azure waves,

   row the light craft across the seas yourself.

Don’t repent yourself that you’ve undergone hard labor

   or tasks that blistered unfamiliar hands.

And don’t, should he want to set snares in some high valley,

   refuse to shoulder the nets, if you’d please him.

If he chooses to fence, you’ll try to sport a light hand,

   often exposing your flank, so he may win. 

Then he’ll be ripe for you, then you may snatch a precious

    kiss: he’ll struggle at first, but let you snatch it. 

At first he’ll let you snatch, later bring it for the asking,

   finally even yearn to twine about your neck.

But now, alas, how viciously this age treats the poor arts!

   Now tender boys are used to ask for gifts.

But you, who first taught us how to vend Venus, whoever

   you are, a baneful stone should crush your bones. 

Love the Pierian Muses, my boys, and all erudite poets,

   and let no golden gifts surpass the Muses.