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. I'll yield; 'tis patience makes a burden light:
  2. A shaken torch grows fierce, and sparks arise;
  3. But, if unmov'd, the fire looks pale and dies.
  4. The hard-mouth'd horse smarts for his fierce disdain
  5. The gentle's ridden with a looser rein.
  6. Love smooths the gentle, but the fierce reclaims;
  7. He fires their breasts, and fills their souls with flames.
  8. I yield; great Love, my former crimes forgive,
  9. Forget my rebel thoughts, and let me live;
  10. No need of force: I willingly obey,
  11. And now unarm'd, shall prove no glorious prey.
  12. Go take thy mother's doves, thy myrtle crown,
  13. And for thy chariot, Mars shall lend his own;
  14. There thou shalt sit in thy triumphant pride,
  15. And, whilst glad shouts resound on ev'ry side,
  16. Thy gentle hands thy mother's doves shall guide.
  17. And there to make thy glorious pomp and state,
  18. A train of sighing youths, and maids shall wait,
  19. Yet none complain of an unhappy fate.
  20. There newly conquer'd I, still fresh my wound,
  21. Will march along, my hands with myrtle bound;
  22. There modesty, with veils thrown o'er her face,
  23. Now doubly blushing at her own disgrace;
  24. There sober thoughts, and whatso'er disdains
  25. Love's rules, shall feel his power, and bear his chains:
  26. Then all shall fear, all bow, yet all rejoice;
  27. "Io triumphe" be the public voice.
  28. Thy constant guards, soft fancy, hope and fear,
  29. Anger, and soft caresses shall be there:
  30. By these strong guards are men and gods o'erthrown;
  31. These conquer for thee, Love, and these alone,
  32. Thy mother, from the sky thy pomp shall grace,
  33. And scatter sweetest roses in thy face:
  34. There glorious Love shall ride, profusely dress'd
  35. With all the richest jewels of the east:
  36. Rich gems thy quiver, and thy wheels infold,
  37. And hide the poorness of the baser gold.
  38. Then thou shalt conquer many, then.thy darts
  39. Shall scatter thousand wounds on tender hearts:
  40. Thy shafts themselves will fly, thy neighb'ring fire
  41. Will catch mens' breasts, and kindle warm desire.
  42. Thus conqu'ring Bacchus looks in Indian groves,
  43. He drawn by tigers, thou by murm'ring doves.
  44. Well then, since I too can increase thy train,
  45. Spend not thy force on me, and rage in vain;
  46. Look on thy kinsman Caesar's happy slaves,
  47. The same victorious arm that conquers, saves.
  1. Be just, dear maid, an equal passion prove,
  2. Or show me cause why I should ever love.
  3. I do not at your cold disdain repine,
  4. Nor ask your love, do you but suffer mine.
  5. I dare not aim at more exalted bliss,
  6. And Venus will bestow her vot'ry this.
  7. Take hin, who will for endless ages serve:
  8. Take him whose faithful flame will never swerve
  9. Though no illustrious names my race adorn;
  10. Who am but of equestrian order born;
  11. Though a few ploughs serve my paternal fields,
  12. Nor my small table many dishes yields;
  13. Yet Bacchus, Phoebus, and the tuneful nine,
  14. Are all my friends, and to my side incline,
  15. And love's great god, at last, will make me thine.
  16. Heav'n knows, dear maid, I love no other fair;
  17. In thee lives all my love, my heav'n lies there.
  18. Oh! may I by indulgent Fate's decree,
  19. With thee lead all my life, and die with thee.
  20. Thy beauties yield me my transporting theme;
  21. And while I celebrate thy charming name,
  22. My verse shall be as sacred as my flame.
  23. Jove's sev'ral rapes, his injur'd Io's wrongs,