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. This lass, because she's little, I approve;
  2. The least are lightest in the sports of love.
  3. With every size my passion does agree,
  4. And tall and short are both alike to me.
  5. I fancy, when undress'd I find the fair,
  6. 'Tis less her want of charms, than want of care.
  7. If with her dishabille, I cry, " I'm pleas'd,"
  8. How beauteous would she be if she were dress'd
  9. And when she does her best apparel wear,
  10. I think her riches in her pride appear.
  11. The fair, the olive, are to me the same,
  12. Alike the swarthy, and the sandy dame.
  13. When her black curls adown her shoulders flow,
  14. Such Leda's were, her skin as white as snow;
  15. And when her golden locks her head adorn,
  16. I straight compare her to the saffron morn.
  17. My love with no complexion disagrees,
  18. But all alike my ready passion please.
  19. The younger by their bloom my heart secure,
  20. The elder win it as they're more mature;
  21. And though the younger may excel in charms,
  22. The elder clasp you with experienc'd arms
  23. What all the city like, is liked by me,
  24. And I with them and all my loves agree.
  25. I'm proud to be the rival of the town,
  26. 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;
  45. Such blushes on the bridal night adorn
  46. The trembling virgin; such the rising morn.
  47. So sweet a hue the lab'ring Cynthia shows,
  48. Or the fair lily damask'd by the rose;
  49. Or iv'ry, which time's yellow taint defies,
  50. When twice enrich'd with proud Assyrian dies:
  51. Such were her looks, and a diviner grace
  52. Had never brighten'd that enchanting face.
  53. She cast her eyes down on the humble ground;
  54. Her eyes, so cast, an unknown sweetness found.
  55. Mournful her looks; her mournful looks became
  56. Shining thro' grief, and beautiful in shame.
  57. I rush'd, resolv'd her golden locks to tear,
  58. And with mad violence disrobe the fair;
  59. But as I viewed her face, th' extended hand
  60. Shrunk back, nor hearken'd to the harsh command.
  61. Others protection seek by dint of arms,
  62. Her only safeguard was—her wondrous charms.
  63. I, who but late look'd insolently brave,
  64. Fell from my height, and couch'd a suppliant slave:
  65. I rav'd no longer at another's bliss,
  66. But begg'd the transport of as sweet a kiss.
  67. Smiling she said, " How grateful thy request!
  68. If e'er my kisses please thee, take the best."
  69. Oh, with what gust as from her soul they came!
  70. Such might melt Jove, and stop the vengeful flame;
  71. I fear'd my rival too enjoy'd the same.
  72. These, better than from me she learn'd I thought,
  73. Something taught new, alas! I wish'd untaught;
  74. What most gave pleasure, that now stings the most;
  75. Why were our darting tongues entirely lost?
  76. Nor fret I thou in kissing shouldst excel,
  77. And yet 'tis strange to know to kiss so well;
  78. But ah! such lectures only could be read
  79. By youthful tutors, and imbib'd abed.
  80. That sage who'er these large improvements made,
  81. Was by his pupil preciously repay'd.
  1. Alas! poor Poll, my Indian talker, dies!
  2. Go, birds, and celebrate his obsequies;
  3. Go, birds, and beat your breasts, your faces tear,
  4. And pluck your gaudy plumes instead of hair;
  5. Let doleful tunes the frighted forest wound,
  6. And your sad notes supply the trumpet's sound.
  7. Why, Philomel, dost mourn the Thracian rage?
  8. It is enough, thy grief at last assuage;
  9. His crimson faults are now grown white with age.
  10. Now mourn this bird; the cause of all thy woe
  11. Was great, 'tis true, but it was long ago.
  12. Mourn, all ye wing'd inhabitants of air,
  13. But you, my turtle, take the greatest share;
  14. You too liv'd constant friends and free from strife
  15. Your kindness was entire, and long as life:
  16. What Pylades to his Orestes vow'd.
  17. To thee, poor Poll, thy friendly turtle show'd,
  18. And kept his love as long as fate allow'd.
  19. But, ah! what did thy faith, thy plumes, and tail,
  20. And what thy pretty speaking art, avail?
  21. And what that thou wert giv'n, and pleas'd my miss,
  22. Since now the bird's unhappy glory dies ?
  23. A lovely verdant green grac'd ev'ry quill,
  24. The deepest vivid red did paint thy bill;
  25. In speaking thou didst ev'ry bird excel,
  26. None prattled, and none lisp'd the words so well.
  27. 'Twas envy only sent this fierce disease;
  28. Thou wert averse to war, and liv'dst in peace,
  29. A talking harmless thing, and lov'dst thine ease.
  30. The fighting quails still live 'midst all their strife,
  31. And even that, perhaps, prolongs their life.
  32. Thy meat was little, and thy prattling tongue
  33. Would ne'er permit to make thy dinner long: