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. The fair that sings, enchants me with her voice;
  2. Oh, what a gust it gives a lover's joys!
  3. When her shrill shakes afresh his bosom wound,
  4. And from her lips he kisses off the sound;
  5. When her soft fingers touch the silver strings,
  6. And sweetly to the sounding lute she sings;
  7. Who can resist such strong redoubled charms?
  8. Her music melts me, as her beauty warms
  9. If in the dance the nimble nymph I find,
  10. And view how she her pliant limbs does wind,
  11. How artfully she to the music moves,
  12. I cry, "How happy is the man she loves!"
  13. My humour, in a word, is plainly this,
  14. All objects please, and nothing comes amiss.
  15. To love, and be belov'd my sole employ:
  16. Dispos'd to be enjoy'd, and to enjoy.
  17. This lady for her length I like, her spread
  18. Will swell my arms, and fill the joyous bed;
  19. She's like the lusty heroines of old,
  20. And with a strong embrace her lover will enfold.
  21. This lass, because she's little, I approve;
  22. The least are lightest in the sports of love.
  23. With every size my passion does agree,
  24. And tall and short are both alike to me.
  25. I fancy, when undress'd I find the fair,
  26. 'Tis less her want of charms, than want of care.
  27. If with her dishabille, I cry, " I'm pleas'd,"
  28. How beauteous would she be if she were dress'd
  29. And when she does her best apparel wear,
  30. I think her riches in her pride appear.
  31. The fair, the olive, are to me the same,
  32. Alike the swarthy, and the sandy dame.
  33. When her black curls adown her shoulders flow,
  34. Such Leda's were, her skin as white as snow;
  35. And when her golden locks her head adorn,
  36. I straight compare her to the saffron morn.
  37. My love with no complexion disagrees,
  38. But all alike my ready passion please.
  39. The younger by their bloom my heart secure,
  40. The elder win it as they're more mature;
  41. And though the younger may excel in charms,
  42. The elder clasp you with experienc'd arms
  43. What all the city like, is liked by me,
  44. And I with them and all my loves agree.
  45. I'm proud to be the rival of the town,
  46. And to their taste will still conform my own.
  1. Cupid, be gone! I can for beauty sigh,
  2. But not be forc'd to wish each hour to die;
  3. For so I wish whene'er my restless thoughts
  4. Dwell on her falsehoods and repeated faults.
  5. All other plagues know sometimes to be civil,
  6. But woman is a sure, perpetual evil.
  7. No pimp I bribe to prove thy perjur'd vows,
  8. Nor intercepted once thy billet-doux.
  9. 0, cou dst thou but my arguments disprove!
  10. A cause so good is here unwish'd in love.
  11. Happy, who dares t' avow his censur'd flame,
  12. And vindicate the secret tripping dame.
  13. Blushless, tho' guilty, with uplifted eyes,
  14. "'Tis false, my life, by yon bright Heaven," she cries.
  15. Himself he fools, and madly feeds his grief,
  16. Who from conviction seeks the sad relief.
  17. Wretched I saw thy wantonness unsought,
  18. By thee in sleep secure and eyeless thought;
  19. With glances on each other how you hung!
  20. How ev'ry nod had more than half a tongue!
  21. How roll'd thy glowing eyes! how lewd they spoke!
  22. E'en from thy artful fingers language broke;
  23. While writing on the board with pens they vied,
  24. And the spilt wine the want of ink supplied.
  25. The silent speech too well I understood,
  26. For to deceive a lover yet who could?
  27. Tho' thou didst write in a laconic hand,
  28. And words for sentences were taught to stand.
  29. Now ended was the treat, and ev'ry guest
  30. Indulg'd his ease, and lay compos'd to rest:
  31. Your close, lascivious kisses then I spied,
  32. And something more than lips to lips applied;
  33. Such from a sister brothers ne'er receive,
  34. But yielding fair ones to warm lovers give.
  35. Not so Diana would to Phoebus press,
  36. But Cytherea so her Mars would bless.
  37. Too far provok'd, at last I cried aloud,
  38. "On whom are pleasures, due to me, bestow'd?
  39. I must not, will not, cannot bear this sight;
  40. 'Tis lawful, sure, to seize upon my right.
  41. These raptures to us both in common are,
  42. But whence, ye furies, claims a third his share?"
  43. Enrag'd I spoke, and o'er her cheeks were spread
  44. Swift newborn glories in a sudden red;