Amores
Ovid
Ovid. Ovid's Art of Love (in three Books), the Remedy of Love, the Art of Beauty, the Court of Love, the History of Love, and Amours. Dryden, John, et al., translator. New York: Calvin Blanchard, 1855.
- Than vulgar souls, a more complacent mind;
- Thou feel'st, if I can guess, an equal flame,
- And thine and my distemper is the same.
- If how I do, she asks, do thou reply,
- For the dear night, and night's dear joys, I die.
- Tell her the letter will the rest explain,
- And does my soul, and all its hopes contain.
- But time, while I am speaking, flies: be sure
- To give the billet in a leisure hour:
- Don't be content with her imperfect view,
- But make her, when she has it, read it through.
- I charge thee, as she reads, observe her eyes,
- Catch, if thou canst, her gentle looks and sighs;
- As these are sure presages of my joy,
- So frowns and low'rs my flattering hopes destroy.