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.

Stretch'd out for something far more sweet than sleep.
Others from ruin fly, to mine I run,
To be by women pleasingly undone,
Longing for two, since undestroy'd by one.
Still let my slender limbs for love suffice;
I want no nerves, but want the bulky size.
My limbs, tho' lean are not in vain display'd;
From me no female ever rose a maid.
Oft have I, when a luscious night was spent,
Saluted morn, nor cloy'd nor impotent.
Happy, who gasps in love his latest breath;
Give me, ye gods, so softly sweet a death !
Let the rough warriors grapple on the plain,
And with their blood immortal honour gain;
Let the vile miser plough for wealth the deep,
And, shipwrek'd in the unfatbom'd waters, sleep
May Venus grant me but my last desire,
In the full height of rapture to expire.
Perhaps some friend, with kindly dew supplied,
Weeping will say, "As Ovid liv'd, he died."

Poem 11, in which the poet prays that his Mistress will be safe as she travels by sea, is not here translated.

Io Triumphe! I have won the prize,
For in my arms the fair Corinna lies.
Nor jealous husband, nor a guardian's care,
Nor door defended with a double bar,
Could fence against a lover's artifice,
For in my arms the fair Corinna lies.
With reason of my victory I boast,
The conquest gain'd, and yet no blood is lost;
I scal'd no walls, I pass'd no ditch profound,
Safe were my wars, and all without a wound.
My only work a charming girl to gain;
The pleasure well rewards the little pain.
Ten years the Greeks did in one siege employ,
But levell'd were, at length, the walls of Troy;
What glory was there by th' Atrides won,
So many chiefs before a single town!
Not thus did I my pleasant toils pursue,
And the whole glory to myself is due;
Myself was horse and foot, myself alone
The captain and the soldier was in one,
And fought beneath no banner but my own.
Whether by strength I combated, or wile,
Fortune did ever on my actions smile;
I only owe my triumph to my care,
And by my patience only won the fair.
Nor was my cause of quarrel new; the same
Set Europe and proud Asia in a flame.
For Helen, ravish'd by the Dardan boy,
Was the war wag'd that sunk the pride of Troy;
The Centaurs double form'd, half man, half beast,
Defil'd with horrid war the nuptial feast;
Inflam'd by wine and woman's magic charms,
They turn'd the jolly face of joy to arms.
'Twas woman urg'd the strife; a second fair
Involv'd the Trojans in a second war.
What wreck, what ruin, did a Woman bring
On peaceful Latium, and its pious king!
When Rome was young and in her infant state
What woes did woman to our sires create!
Into what peril was that city brought,
When Sabine fathers for their daughters fought !
Two lusty bulls I in the meads have view'd
In combat join'd, and by their side there stood
A milk-white heifer, who provok'd the fight,
By each contended, but the conqueror's right;
She gives them courage, her they both regard,
As one that caus'd the war, and must reward.
Compell'd by Cupid in his host to list
(And who that has a heart can love resist ?)
His soldier I have been, without the guilt
Of blood, in any of our battles spilt;
For him I've fought, as many more have done,
And many rivals met, but murder'd none.

With cruel art Corinna would destroy
The ripening fruit of our repeated joy.
While on herself she practises her skill,
She's like the mother, not the child, to kill.
Me she would not acquaint with what she did,
From me a thing, which I abhorr'd, she hid;
Well might I now be angry, but I fear,
Ill as she is, I might endanger her.
By me, I must confess, she did conceive,
The fact is so, or else I so believe;
We've cause to think, what may so likely be,
So is, and then the babe belongs to me
Oh Isis, who delight'st to haunt the fields,
Where fruitful Nile his golden harvest yields,
Where with seven mouths into the sea it falls,
And hast thy walks around Canope's walls,
Who Memphis visit'st, and the Pharian tower,
Assist Corinna with thy friendly powers.
Thee by thy silver Sistra I conjure,
A life so precious by thy aid secure;
So mayst thou with Osiris still find grace:
By Anubis's venerable face,
I pray thee, so may still thy rights divine
Flourish, and serpents round thy offerings twine
May Apis with his horns the pomp attend,
And be to thee, as thou'rt to her, a friend.
Look down, oh Isis! on the teeming fair,