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. Jason should to Hypsipyle return
  2. A sad reply, and Sappho cease to mourn:
  3. Nor him whom she can ne'er possess, desire,
  4. But give to Phoebus fane her votive lyre.
  5. As much as you in lofty epics deal,
  6. You, Macer, show that you love's passion feel,
  7. And sensible of beauty's powerful charm,
  8. You hear their call amid the noise of arms.
  9. A place for Paris in your verse we find,
  10. And Helen's to the young adult'rer kind;
  11. There lovely Laodamia mourns her lord,
  12. The first that fell by Hector's fatal sword.
  13. If well I know you, and your mind can tell,
  14. The theme's as grateful, and you like as well
  15. To tune your lyre for Cupid as for Mars,
  16. And Thracian combats change for Paphian wars;
  17. If well I know you, and your works design
  18. Your will, you often quit your camp for mine.
  1. If for thyself thou wilt not watch thy whore,
  2. Watch her for me that I may love her more.
  3. What comes with ease we nauseously receive,
  4. Who but a sot would scorn to love with leave?
  5. With hopes and fears my flames are blown up higher;
  6. Make me despair, and then I can desire.
  7. Give me a jilt to tease my jealous mind;
  8. Deceits are virtues in the female kind.
  9. Corinna my fantastic humour knew,
  10. Play'd trick for trick, and kept herself still new;
  11. She, that next night I might the sharper come,
  12. Fell out with me, and sent me fasting home.
  13. Or some pretence to lie alone would take ;
  14. Whene'er she pleas'd her head and teeth would ache:
  15. Till having won me to the highest strain,
  16. She took occasion to be sweet again.
  17. With what a gust, ye gods, we then embrac'd!
  18. How ev'ry kiss was dearer than the last!
  19. Thou whom I now adore, be edified,
  20. Take care that I may often be denied;
  21. Forget the promis'd hour, or feign some fright,
  22. Make me lie rough on bulks each other night.
  23. These are the arts that best secure thy reign,
  24. And this the food that must my fires maintain.
  25. Gross easy love does, like gross diet, pall;
  26. In squeasy stomachs honey turns to gall.
  27. Had Danae not been kept in brazen tow'rs,
  28. Jove had not thought her worth his golden show'rs:
  29. When Juno to a cow turn'd Io's shape,
  30. The watchman help'd her to a second leap.
  31. Let him who loves an easy whetstone whore,
  32. Pluck leaves from trees, and drink the common shore.
  33. The jilting harlot strikes the surest blow,
  34. A truth which I by sad experience know;
  35. The kind, poor, constant creature we despise,
  36. Man but pursues the quarry while it flies.
  37. But thou dull husband of a wife too fair,
  38. Stand on thy guard, and watch the precious ware;
  39. If creaking doors, or barking dogs, thou hear,
  40. Or windows scratch'd, suspect a rival there.
  41. An orange wench would tempt thy wife abroad;
  42. Kick her, for she's a letter-bearing bawd.
  43. In short, be jealous as the devil in hell,
  44. And set my wit on work to cheat thee well.
  45. The sneaking city-cuckold is my foe;
  46. I scorn to strike but when he wards the blow.
  47. Look to thy hits and leave off thy conniving,
  48. I'll be no drudge to any wittol living;
  49. I have been patient, and forborne thee long,
  50. In hope thou wouldst not pocket up thy wrong:
  51. If no affront can rouse thee, understand
  52. I'll take no more indulgence at thy hand.
  53. What, ne'er to be forbid thy house and wife
  54. Damn him who loves to lead so ill a life.
  55. Now I can neither sigh, nor whine, nor pray;
  56. All those occasions thou hast ta'en away.
  57. Why art thou so incorrigibly civil ?
  58. Do somewhat I may wish thee at the devil
  59. For shame, be no accomplice in my treason;
  60. A pimping husband is too much in reason.
  61. Once more wear horns, before I quite forsake her
  62. In hopes whereof, I rest thy cuckold-maker.
  1. Unhurt by steel, arose an ancient wood,
  2. A mansion fit for some retiring god;
  3. With craggy stones a secret grot was hung,
  4. And in the midst a sacred fountain sprung;
  5. The courting birds repeating songs of love,
  6. With soft complainings sweetly fill'd the grove:
  7. Here wand'ring thoughtful, and intent to choose
  8. Some theme unsung, to please the busy muse;
  9. Fair elegy came on with gentle pace,
  10. Unforc'd her air and easy was her grace.
  11. Her flaxen hair, in curious tresses wreath'd,
  12. Ambrosial sweets and heav'nly odours breath'd;
  13. A simple dress the careless charmer bore,
  14. And loving looks, and smiles unartful wore.
  15. Next came the goddess of the tragic scene,
  16. With stately tread, and proud majestic mien
  17. Her front severe, with hanging curls was drown'd,
  18. Her length of robe was full, and swept the ground:
  19. Her hand held out, a regal sceptre grac'd,
  20. And Lydian buskins half her legs embrac'd.