诗歌朗读 (17)挽歌9
Elegy 9 by Ovid, translated by Christopher Marlowe Yet should I curse a god, if he but said, Live without love, so sweet ill is a maid. For when my loathing it of heat deprives me, I know not whether my mind’s whirlwind drives me. Even as a headstrong courser bears away, His rider vainly striving him to stay, Or as a sudden gale thrusts into sea, ...