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TRANSLATIONS

FROM

OVID's ART of LOVE.

THE

FIRST BOOK

O F

OVID'S ART of LOVE.

I

N Cupid's fchool whoe'er would take degree,

Muft learn his rudiments, by reading me.
Seamen with failing arts their veffels move;
Art guides the chariot; art inftructs to love.
Of fhips and chariots others know the rule;
But I am master in Love's mighty school.
Cupid indeed is obftinate and wild,

A ftubborn God; but yet the God's a child:
Easy, to govern in his tender age,

Like fierce Achilles in his pupillage:

That hero, born for conqueft, trembling ftood
Before the Centaur, and receiv'd the rod.
As Chiron mollify'd his cruel mind

With art, and taught his warlike hands to wind
The filver ftrings of his melodious lyre:
So Love's fáir Goddefs does my foul infpire,
To teach her fofter arts; to footh the mind,
And smooth the rugged breafts of human kind.,
Yet Cupid and Achilles, each with fcorn
And rage were fill'd; and both were goddess-born,
The bull, reclaim'd and yok'd, the burden draws;
The horse receives the bit within his jaws;
And ftubborn Love fhall bend beneath my fway,
Tho' ftruggling oft he ftrives to difobey.

Hệ

He shakes his torch, he wounds me with his darts;
But vain his force, and vainer are his arts.
The more he burns my foul, or wounds my fight,
The more he teaches to revenge the fpite.

I boaft no aid the Delphian God affords,
Nor aufpice from the flight of chattering birds;
Nor Clio, nor her fifters have I seen;
As Hefiod faw them on the fhady green:
Experience makes my work; a truth fo try'd
You may believe; and Venus be my guide,

Far hence, ye veftals, be, who bind your hair;
And wives, who gowns below your ancles wear.
I fing the brothels loofe and unconfin'd,
Th' unpunishable pleasures of the kind;
Which all alike, for love, or money, find.
You, who in Cupid's rolls infcribe your name,
Firft feek an object worthy of your flame;
Then ftrive, with art, your lady's mind to gain :
And, laft, provide your love may long remain.
On thefe three precepts all my work fhall move:
These are the rules and principles of love.

Before your youth with marriage is oppreft,
Make choice of one who fuits your humour beft:
And fuch a damfel drops not from the sky;
She must be fought for with a curious eye.

The wary angler, in the winding brook,
Knows what the fish, and where to bait his hook.
The fowler and the huntsman know by name
The certain haunts and harbour of their
game.
So muft the lover beat the likelieft grounds;
Th' affembly where his quarry most abounds.
Nor fhall my novice wander far aftray;
Thefe rules fhall put him in the ready way.
Thou shalt not fail around the continent,
As far as Perfeus, or as Paris went:
For Rome alone affords thee fuch a store,
As all the world can hardly fhew thee more.

}

The face of heav'n with fewer ftars is crown'd,
Than beauties in the Roman fphere are found.

Whether thy love is bent on blooming youth, On dawning sweetness in unartful truth; Or courts the juicy joys of riper growth; Here may'ft thou find thy full defires in both. Or if autumnal beauties pleafe thy fight (An age that knows to give, and take delight;) Millions of matrons of the graver fort, In common prudence, will not balk the sport. In fummer heats thou need'ft but only go To Pompey's cool and fhady portico; Or Concord's fane; or that proud edifice, Whofe turrets near the baudy fuburb rise: Or to that other portico, where stands The cruel father urging his commands, And fifty daughters wait the time of reft, To plunge their poniards in the bridegrooms breaft: Or Venus' temple; where, on annual nights, They mourn Adonis with Affyrian rites. Nor fhun the Jewish walk, where the foul drove, On fabbaths, reft from ev'ry thing but love: Nor Ifis' temple; for that facred whore Makes others, what to Jove fhe was before. And if the hall itself be not bely'd, E'en there the cause of love is often try'd; Near it at least, or in the palace-yard, From whence the noify combatants are heard. The crafty counsellors, in formal gown, There gain another's caufe, but lose their own. There eloquence is nonpluft in the fuit: And lawyers, who had words at will, are mute. Venus, from her adjoining temple, fmiles, To fee them caught in their litigious wiles. Grave fenators lead home the youthful dame, Returning clients, when they patrons came.