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One summer afternoon, the sultry day half gone, I sought my bed to spread my limbs upon, With half my window opened wide and half shut tight, Admitting just the softest woodland light— The faintest gloaming as lord Phoebus starts to go, 5 Or night gives way before the dawn’s faint glow. (They were the rays in which shy virgins try to hide, In hopes timidity won’t yield to pride.) Then came Corinna in her tunic cinched and sheer; Her fair neck felt her parted hair fall clear. 10 They say Semiramis went to her bed like this, And Lais, who for countless men meant bliss. I snatched that tunic from her, and it caused no harm, But still she fought me for it in alarm. She fought like one who fought a battle not to win, 15 But struggled weakly, only to give in. And as she stood, a sweet disorder in her dress, Her body showed no fault; my eyes said yes. Such arms I saw and touched—soft, lean and strong, yet fine! Her round breasts fit two hands—and they were mine! 20 How smooth the rest of her, her legs so soft and lean, Her waist and thigh as fair as I have seen. But why describe each charm when every charm I saw Was lovely, nude? We hugged; I filled with awe. Who doesn’t know what’s next? Fatigued, we stopped to rest 25 So I might pray, “Make all mid-days so blessed”

       I.6

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You there! Yes, you—my darling’s doorman-porter-Janus:
Swing back those hinges crying out “Unchain us!”
I don’t ask much—just leave the door ajar a crack
So I can slip in sideways—and get back.
There’s been so much hard love of late that now, I’m thin	5
Enough and light enough to wriggle in.
And that’s what’s taught me how to tip-toe past the guard:
Love’s suffering. Love makes footsteps soft, not hard.
There was a time when every phantom caused me fright;
I was amazed that men went out at night.	10
Then Cupid, with his tender mother, laughed at me.
He whispered, “You’ll get brave; just wait and see.”
And presto! Love walked in. Now, flighty nighttime spirit,
Or knife that threatens doom, I just don’t fear it.
Instead, it’s you I fear, and you’re the one I flatter,	15
Who threatens thunderous ruin and can batter
My heart. Throw back the bolt so you can see me better.
My tears have drenched the door; it can’t be wetter.
You know I carried pleas to her! (You stood there stripped
And trembling, slave, and ready to be whipped.)	20
Now that same grace I won for you, that once prevailed—
Ingratitude!—for me has only failed.
Grant me this favor and you’ll get your wish—and more;
The midnight hours fly; unbar the door.
Cast off the bar and you will lose your chains, I say,	25
Never to be a slave for one more day!
But you won’t hear my bootless prayers, you porter cast
In iron, while the oaken door stands fast.
Remember: towns besieged are towns that bar the door;
So porter, why fear me? We’re not at war.	30
If that’s my lot, think how real foes would suffer more!
The midnight hours fly; unbar the door.
I’ve come with no platoon of pikes and swords to fear.
In fact, I’d be alone if Love weren’t here,
And savage Love’s a god I can’t shake off; I’d stand	35
A better chance of cutting off my hand.
So Love, you see, attends me—and a modest wine
That roils this head crowned with a scent-soaked vine.
Who’d fear such arms? They’re only trifles—nothing more;
The midnight hours fly; unbar the door.