LUCRET I US; Concerning the Nature of LovE.
Sic igitur veneris qui telis accipit ictum, &c.
HUS, therefore, he, who feels the fiery dart Offtrong defire transfix his amorous heart, Whether fome beauteous boy's alluring face, Or lovelier maid, with unrefifting grace, From her each part the winged arrow fends, From whence he firft was ftruck he thither tends; Restless he roams, impatient to be freed, And eager to inject the fprightly feed. For fierce defire does all his mind employ, And ardent love affures approaching joy. Such is the nature of that pleasing smart, Whose burning drops diftil upon the heart, The fever of the soul shot from the fair, And the cold ague of fucceeding care.
If abfent her idea ftill appears,
And her fweet name is chiming in your ears.
But strive those pleafing fantoms to remove,
And fhun th' aerial images of love,
That feed the flame: when one molests thy mind,
Discharge thy loins on all the leaky kind;
For that's a wifer way, than to restrain
Within thy fwelling nerves that hoard of pain.
For ev'ry hour fome deadlier symptom shews,
And by delay the gathering venom grows,
When kindly applications are not us'd;
The fcorpion, love, must on the wound be bruis'd:
On that one object 'tis not safe to stay,
But force the tide of thought some other way:
The fquander'd fpirits prodigally throw,
And in the common glebe of nature sow.
Nor wants he all the blifs, that lovers feign,
Who takes the pleasure, and avoids the pain;
For purer joys in purer health abound,
And lefs affect the fickly than the found.
When love its utmoft vigor does employ,
Ev'n then 'tis but a reftlefs wand'ring joy
Nor knows the lover in that wild excefs,
With hands or eyes, what firft he would poffefs;
But ftrains at all, and, faft'ning where he strains,
Too clofely preffes with his frantic pains;
With biting kiffes hurts the twining fair,
Which fhews his joys imperfect, unfincere:
For, ftung with inward rage, he flings around,
And strives t' avenge the smart on that which
gave
the wound.
But love those eager bitings does restrain,
And mingling pleasure mollifies the pain.
For ardent hope still flatters anxious grief,
And fends him to his foe to feek relief:
Which yet the nature of the thing denies ;
For love, and love alone of all our joys,
By full poffeffion does but fan the fire;
The more we ftill enjoy, the more we still defire.
Nature for meat and drink provides a space,
And, when receiv'd, they fill their certain place :
Hence thirst and hunger may be fatisfy'd;
But this repletion is to love deny'd :
Form, feature, colour, whatfoe'er delight
Provokes the lover's endless appetite,
These fill no space, nor can we thence remove
With lips, or hands, or all our inftruments of love:
In our deluded grafp we nothing find,
But thin aerial fhapes, that fleet before the mind. As he, who in a dream with drought is curft,
And finds no real drink to quench his thirst;
Runs to imagin'd lakes his heat to steep,
And vainly fwills and labors in his sleep:
So love with fantoms cheats our longing eyes, Which hourly feeing never satisfies :
Our hands pull nothing from the parts they ftrain, But wander o'er the lovely limbs in vain :
Nor when the youthful pair more closely join, When hands in hands they lock, and thighs in thighs they twine,"
Juft in the raging foam of full defire,
When both prefs on, both murmur, both expire, They gripe, they fqueeze, their humid tongues they dart,
As each would force their way to t'other's heart:
In vain; they only cruize about the coaft;
For bodies cannot pierce, nor be in bodies loft;
As fure they strive to be, when both engage
In that tumultuous momentary rage;
So tangled in the nets of love they lie,
Till man diffolves in that excefs of joy.
Then, when the gather'd bag has burst its way,
And ebbing tides the flacken'd nerves betray,
A paufe enfues; and nature nods a-while,
Till with recruited rage new spirits boil;
And then the fame vain violence returns ;
With flames renew'd th' erected furnace burns.
Again they in each other would be loft,
But still by adamantine bars are croft.
All ways they try, fuccefslefs all they prove,
To cure the fecret fore of ling'ring love.
Befides
They waste their strength in the venereal ftrife,
And to a woman's will enslave their life;
Th' eftate runs out, and mortgages are made;
All offices of friendship are decay'd;
Their fortune ruin'd, and their fame betray'd.
Affyrian ointment from their temples flows,
And diamond buckles fparkle in their fhoes.
The chearful emerald twinkles on their hands,
With all the luxury of foreign lands:
And the blue coat, that with imbroid'ry fhines,
Is drunk with sweat of their o'er-labor'd loins.
Their frugal father's gains they mifemploy,
And turn to point, and pearl, and ev'ry female toy.
French fashions, coftly treats are their delight;
The park by day, and plays and balls by night.
In vain:
For in the fountain, where their sweets are fought, Some bitter bubbles up, and poisons all the draught.
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