Sextus Propertius,  Elegies 2.32.1-18 (ca. 20 B.C.):




Qui videt, is peccat; qui te non viderit ergo,
non cupiet: facti lumina crimen habent.
nam quid Praenesti dubias, o Cynthia, sortes,
quid petis Aeaei moenia Telegoni?
cur tua te Herculeum deportant esseda Tibur?
Appia cur totiens te via Lanuvium?
hoc utinam spatiere loco, quodcumque vacabis,
Cynthia! sed tibi me credere turba vetat,
cum videt accensis devotam currere taedis
in nemus et Triviae lumina ferre deae.
scilicet umbrosia sordet Pompeia columnis
porticus, aulaeis nobilis Attalicis,
et platanis creber pariter surgentibus ordo,
flumina sopito quaeque Marone cadunt,
et sonitus lymphis toto crepitantibus orbe,
cum subito Triton ore refundit aquam.
falleris, ista tui furtum via monstrat amoris:
non urbem, demens, lumina nostra fugis!


Who sees you, sins: he who does not see you,
Won't desire: the eyes must bear the blame.
Why do you seek at Praeneste dubious oracles,
Cynthia, why the walls of Aeaean Telegonus?
Why do chariots carry you thus to Hercules' Tiber?
Why so often the Appian Way to Lanuvium?
Here I'd have you amble, whenever you've leisure,
Cynthia! But the world forbids me trust you,
When it sees you hurry, bewitched, with kindled pine
To the grove, bearing lights for the goddess Trivia.
No doubt Pompeius' shady colonnade,
Famed for Attalian cloth of gold, seems drab,
And the avenue lush with evenly springing planes,
The jets that pour from Maro lulled to sleep
As waters chatter lightly through all the city
Till the Tritons suddenly stores the streams in his mouth.
You delude yourself, your route reveals love's tricks:
It's not the city but my eyes you madly flee! (G. P. Goold, trans.)