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.
- And all her stars be at thy rising found;
- Oft have I wish'd the winds would stop thy way,
- Repel thy car, or clouds involve the day.
- Dost thou in envy lash each lazy steed,
- And whirl thy chariot with unwonted speed?
- Black was thy son, and in his hue's express'd
- The gloomy passions of his parent's breats;
- He, born of Cephalus, his ravish'd sire,
- Is a known proof of thy adult'rous fire.
- Thou, by his colour, wouldst thy crime conceal;
- Ah, that to Tithon I the tale could tell!
- Search all the records of Heaven's lechers round,
- A fouler story cannot there be found.
- In Cephalus' embraces when you lay,
- And oft by theft renew'd your wanton play;
- When Tithon's impotence you made your sport,
- Did you not think the joyous moments short?
- Lock'd in his arms did you in transports lie,
- Ah! would you not, like me, to Phoebus cry,
- "Stop, stop thy rapid course? Am I to blame