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.

  1. And all her soul is mine, and all her charms;
  2. I now am to her panting bosom press'd,
  3. And now, if ever lover was, am bless'd.
  4. As yet sweet sleep sits heavy on our eyes,
  5. And warbling birds forbid, as yet to rise.
  6. Stay, beauteous morning, for to love-sick maids
  7. And youths, how grateful are these dusky shades!
  8. All stay, and do not, from the blushing east,
  9. With dawning glories break our balmy rest.
  10. When night's black mantle does those glories hide,
  11. The pilot by the stars his ship can guide,
  12. And in mid-sea a certain course pursue,
  13. As safe as when he has the sun in view.
  14. What pleasure in thy light should mortals take?
  15. Thou dost the weary traveller awake;
  16. Though to the down his heavy head reclines,
  17. Up he must lift it for the morning shines.
  18. The soldier braces on his brazen shield,
  19. Quits his warm tent, and fits him for the field:
  20. The lab'ring hind his harrow takes, and now
  21. The peasant yokes his oxen to the plough:
  22. The boy half wak'd, and rubbing still his eyes,
  23. Is loth alike to go to school, or rise;
  24. While o'er his task he does imperfect nod,
  25. He fears the ferula, he dreads the rod.
  26. The bridegroom, starting from his bride's embrace,
  27. Runs to his lawyer to consult his case;
  28. A word is wanting in the dower deed,
  29. And what to save the portion must he plead?
  30. Now hungry serjeants quit their tempting ease,
  31. To haunt the crowded courts and pick up fees.
  32. Thy rise brings labour to the female band,
  33. And puts the spindle in the spinster's hand:
  34. Light are these toils, and little is the pain
  35. To rise to work, and rest at night again;
  36. But who that e'er knew love's transporting joys,
  37. Could from the arms of youth and beauty rise?
  38. Oft have I wish'd that night would keep her ground,
  39. And all her stars be at thy rising found;
  40. Oft have I wish'd the winds would stop thy way,