---
title: "The Cure for Love · Remedia Amoris"
author: "Ovid"
translator: "Nahum Tate"
languages: [la, en]
shelf: "Classical Latin"
section: 1 of 2
url: https://scriptura.si/works/ovid-remedia-amoris/1/
cite: "Ovid, tr. Nahum Tate, The Cure for Love · Remedia Amoris, section 1. Scriptura (scriptura.si), https://scriptura.si/works/ovid-remedia-amoris/1/"
---

# The Cure for Love · Remedia Amoris

*Ovid, tr. Nahum Tate*

Advice on how to fall out of love, from the poet who taught the art of it.

> Latin: ed. Rudolf Ehwald, from the Perseus Digital Library (canonical-latinLit, phi0959.phi005, CC BY-SA 4.0).

> English: Nahum Tate, from the Perseus Digital Library (phi0959.phi005.perseus-eng2). Notes are not included.

> Rows follow the references the two texts share (line numbers), cut where both reach the end of a sentence.

## 1. Lines 1–406

Source: https://scriptura.si/works/ovid-remedia-amoris/1/ · cite a paragraph as https://scriptura.si/works/ovid-remedia-amoris/1/#p-N

[¶0] The title of this book when Cupid spied,
"Treason! a plot against our state," he cried.
Why should you thus your loyal poet wrong,
Who in your war has serv'd so well and long?
So savage and ill-bred I ne'er can prove,
Like Diomede, to wound the queen of love.
Others by fits have felt your am'rous flame,
I still have been, and still your martyr am;
Rules for your vot'ries I did late impart.
Refining passion, and made love an art.
Nor do I now of that or thee take leave,
Nor does the muse her former web unweave.
Let him who loves, where love success may find,
Spread all his sails before the prosp'rous wind;
But let poor youths who female scorn endure,
And hopeless burn, repair to me for cure:
For why should any worthy youth destroy
Himself, because some worthless nymph is coy?
Love should be nature's friend; let hemp and steel
Hangmen and heroes use, whose trade's to kill.
Where fatal it would prove, let passion cease;
Nor love destroy, who should our race increase.
A child you are, and like a child should play;
And gentle as your years should be your sway.
Keen arrows, and to wound the hardest hearts,
You are permitted-but no mortal darts.
Let your step-father, Mars, on sword and spear,
The crimson stains of cruel conquest wear;
You should your mother's milder laws observe,
Who ne'er did childless parent's curse deserve;
Or if you must employ your wanton pow'r,
Teach youths by night to force their mistress' door:
How lovers safe and secretly may meet,
And subtle wives the cautious husband cheat.
Let now th' excluded youth the gate caress,
A thousand wheedling soothing plaints express;
Then on th' ill-natur'd timber vent his spite,
And to some doleful tune weep out the night.
For tears, not blood, love's altar should require:
Love's torch, design'd to kindle kind desire,
Must seem profan'd to light a fun'ral fire."
Thus I. —— The god his purple wings display'd.
And, "Forward, finish your design," he said.

> Latin: Legerat huius Amor titulum nomenque libelli:
'Bella mihi, video, bella parantur' ait.
'Parce tuum vatem sceleris damnare, Cupido,
Tradita qui toties te duce signa tuli.
Non ego Tydides, a quo tua saucia mater
In liquidum rediit aethera Martis equis.
Saepe tepent alii iuvenes: ego semper amavi,
Et si, quid faciam, nunc quoque, quaeris, amo.
Quin etiam docui, qua posses arte parari,
Et quod nunc ratio est, impetus ante fuit.
Nec te, blande puer, nec nostras prodimus artes,
Nec nova praeteritum Musa retexit opus.
Siquis amat quod amare iuvat, feliciter ardens
Gaudeat, et vento naviget ille suo.
At siquis male fert indignae regna puellae,
Ne pereat, nostrae sentiat artis opem.
Cur aliquis laqueo collum nodatus amator
A trabe sublimi triste pependit onus?
Cur aliquis rigido fodit sua pectora ferro?
Invidiam caedis, pacis amator, habes.
Qui, nisi desierit, misero periturus amore est,
Desinat; et nulli funeris auctor eris.
Et puer es, nec te quicquam nisi ludere oportet:
Lude; decent annos mollia regna tuos.
[Nam poteras uti nudis ad bella sagittis:]
[Sed tua mortifero sanguine tela carent.]
Vitricus et gladiis et acuta dimicet hasta,
Et victor multa caede cruentus eat:
Tu cole maternas, tuto quibus utimur, artes,
Et quarum vitio nulla fit orba parens.
Effice nocturna frangatur ianua rixa,
Et tegat ornatas multa corona fores:
Fac coeant furtim iuvenes timidaeque puellae,
Verbaque dent cauto qualibet arte viro:
Et modo blanditias rigido, modo iurgia posti
Dicat et exclusus flebile cantet amans.
His lacrimis contentus eris sine crimine mortis;
Non tua fax avidos digna subire rogos.'
Haec ego: movit Amor gemmatas aureus alas,
Et mihi 'propositum perfice' dixit 'opus.'

[¶1] To me, ye injured youths, for help repair,
Who hopeless languish for some cruel fair;
I'll now unteach the art I taught before,
The hand that wounded shall your health restore.
One soil can herbs and pois'nous weeds disclose:
The nettle oft is neighbour to the rose.
Such was the cure the Arcadian hero found;
The Pelian spear that wounded, made him sound.
But know, the rules that I to men prescribe,
In like distress may serve the female tribe:
And when beyond your sphere my methods go,
You may, at least, infer what you should do.
When flames beyond their useful bounds aspire,
'Tis charity to quench the threat'ning fire.
Nine visits to the shore poor Phillis made;
Had I advis'd, the tenth she should have paid.
Nor had Demophoon, when return'd from sea,
For his expected bride embraced a tree,
Nor Dido, from her flaming pile, by night,
Discover'd her ungrateful Trojan's flight.
Nor had that mother dire revenge pursu'd,
Who in her offspring's blood her hands imbu'd.
Fair Philomel, preserv'd from Tereus' rape
Her honour she had kept, and he his shape.
Pasiphae ne'er had felt such wild desire,
Nor Phoedra suffered by incestuous fire.
Let me the wanton Paris take in hand,
Helen shall be restor'd, and Troy shall stand.
My wholesome precepts had lewd Scylla read,
The purple lock had grown on Nisus' head.
Learn, youths, from me, to curb the desp'rate force
Of love, and steer, by my advice, your course.
By reading me, you first receiv'd your bane;
Now, for an antidote, read me again:
From scornful beauty's chains I'll set you free,
Consent but you to your own liberty.
Phoebus, thou god of physic and of verse,
Assist the healing numbers I rehearse;
Direct at once my med'cines and my song,
For to thy care both provinces belong.

> Latin: Ad mea, decepti iuvenes, praecepta venite,
Quos suus ex omni parte fefellit amor.
Discite sanari, per quem didicistis amare:
Una manus vobis vulnus opemque feret.
Terra salutares herbas, eademque nocentes
Nutrit, et urticae proxima saepe rosa est;
Vulnus in Herculeo quae quondam fecerat hoste,
Vulneris auxilium Pelias hasta tulit.
Sed quaecumque viris, vobis quoque dicta, puellae,
Credite: diversis partibus arma damus,
E quibus ad vestros siquid non pertinet usus,
Attamen exemplo multa docere potest.
Utile propositum est saevas extinguere flammas,
Nec servum vitii pectus habere sui.
Vixisset Phyllis, si me foret usa magistro,
Et per quod novies, saepius isset iter;
Nec moriens Dido summa vidisset ab arce
Dardanias vento vela dedisse rates;
Nec dolor armasset contra sua viscera matrem,
Quae socii damno sanguinis ulta virum est.
Arte mea Tereus, quamvis Philomela placeret,
Per facinus fieri non meruisset avis.
Da mihi Pasiphaën, iam tauri ponet amorem:
Da Phaedram, Phaedrae turpis abibit amor.
Crede Parim nobis, Helenen Menelaus habebit,
Nec manibus Danais Pergama victa cadent.
Impia si nostros legisset Scylla libellos,
Haesisset capiti purpura, Nise, tuo.
Me duce damnosas, homines, conpescite curas,
Rectaque cum sociis me duce navis eat.
Naso legendus erat tum, cum didicistis amare:
Idem nunc vobis Naso legendus erit.
Publicus assertor dominis suppressa levabo
Pectora: vindictae quisque favete suae.
Te precor incipiens, adsit tua laurea nobis,
Carminis et medicae, Phoebe, repertor opis.
Tu pariter vati, pariter succurre medenti:
Utraque tutelae subdita cura tua est.

[¶2] While the soft passion plays about your heart,
Before the tickling venom turns to smart,
Break then, (for then you may,) the treach'rous dart;
Tear up the seeds of the unrooted ill
While they are weak, and you have pow'r to kill.
Beware delay: the tender-bladed grain,
Shot up to stalk, can stand the wind and rain.
The tree, whose branches now are grown too big
For hands to bend, was set a slender twig;
When planted, to your slightest touch 'twould yield,
But now has fix'd possession of the field.
Consider, ere to love you give the reins,
If she's a mistress worth your future pains.
While yet in breath, ere yet your nerves are broke,
Cast from your gen'rous neck the shameful yoke!
Check love's first symptoms, the weak foe surprise,
Who, once entrench'd, will all your arts despise.
Think, wretch, what you hereafter must endure,
What certain toil, for an uncertain cure.
Slip not one minute; who defers to day,
To-morrow will be harden'd in delay.
'Tis love's old practice still to sooth you on
Till your disease gets strength, and till your
strength is gone.
Rivers small fountains have, and yet we find
Vast seas, of those small fountain'd rivers join'd.
Lock'd up in bark poor Myrrha ne'er had been,
Had she the progress of her crime foreseen;
But pleas'd with the soft kindling of love's fire,
We day by day indulge the fond desire,
Till like a serpent it has eat its way,
And uncontroll'd does on our entrails prey.
Yet if the proper season you have pass'd,
Tho' hard the task, I'll use my skill at last;
Nor see my patient perish by his grief,
Because no sooner call'd to his relief.
When Philoctetes first receiv'd his wound,
The venom'd part cut off, had sav'd the sound;
Yet he, e'en after tedious years of grief,
Was cur'd, and brought the fainting Greeks relief.
Thus I, who charg'd you speedy means to use,
Will none in last extremities refuse.

> Latin: Dum licet, et modici tangunt praecordia motus,
Si piget, in primo limine siste pedem.
Opprime, dum nova sunt, subiti mala semina morbi,
Et tuus incipiens ire resistat equus.
Nam mora dat vires, teneras mora percoquit uvas,
Et validas segetes quae fuit herba, facit.
Quae praebet latas arbor spatiantibus umbras,
Quo posita est primum tempore virga fuit;
Tum poterat manibus summa tellure revelli:
Nunc stat in inmensum viribus aucta suis.
Quale sit id, quod amas, celeri circumspice mente,
Et tua laesuro subtrahe colla iugo.
Principiis obsta; sero medicina paratur,
Cum mala per longas convaluere moras.
Sed propera, nec te venturas differ in horas;
Qui non est hodie, cras minus aptus erit:
Verba dat omnis amor, reperitque alimenta morando;
Optima vindictae proxima quaeque dies.
Flumina pauca vides de magnis fontibus orta:
Plurima collectis multiplicantur aquis.
Si cito sensisses, quantum peccare parares,
Non tegeres vultus cortice, Myrrha, tuos.
Vidi ego, quod fuerat primo sanabile, vulnus
Dilatum longae damna tulisse morae.
Sed quia delectat Veneris decerpere fructum,
Dicimus adsidue 'cras quoque fiet idem.'
Interea tacitae serpunt in viscera flammae,
Et mala radices altius arbor agit.
Si tamen auxilii perierunt tempora primi,
Et vetus in capto pectore sedit amor,
Maius opus superest: sed non, quia serior aegro
Advocor, ille mihi destituendus erit.
Quam laesus fuerat, partem Poeantius heros
Certa debuerat praesecuisse manu;
Post tamen hic multos sanatus creditur annos
Supremam bellis imposuisse manum.
Qui modo nascentes properabam pellere morbos,
Admoveo tardam nunc tibi lentus opem.

[¶3] Or try to quench the kindling flames, or stay
Till the spent fury on itself doth prey.
While in its full career, give scope to rage,
And circumvent the force you can't engage.
What pilot would against the current strive,
When with a side course he may safely drive?
Distemper'd minds, distracted with their grief,
Take all for foes who offer them relief;
But when the first fermenting smart is o'er,
They suffer you to probe the ripen'd sore.
'Tis madness a fond mother to dissuade
From tears, while on his hearse her son is laid;
But when grief's deluge can no higher swell,
Declining sorrow you'll with ease repel.
Cures have their times; the best that can be tried
Inflame the wound, unseasonably applied.
If therefore you expect to find redress,
In the first place take leave of idleness;
'Tis this that kindl'd first your fond desire,
'Tis this brings fuel to the am'rous fire.
Bar idleness, you ruin Cupid's game,
You blunt his arrows, and you quench his flame.
What wine to plain-trees, streams to poplars prove,
Marshes to reeds, is idleness to love.
Mind business, if your passion you'd destroy;
Secure is he, who can himself employ.
Sleep, drinking, gaming, for the foe make way,
And to love's ambuscade the roving heart betray.
The slothful he seeks out and makes his prize.
Surely as he the mall of business flies.
Make business then (no matter what) your care;
Some dear friend's cause may want you at the bar;
Or if your courage tempts you to the field,
Love's wanton arms to rough campaigns will yield.
Parthia fresh work for triumph does afford,
Half conquer'd to your hand by Caesar's sword.
Cupid's and Parthian darts at once o'ercome,
And to your country's gods bring double trophies home.
Your sword as dreadful will to love appear,
As to his mother the Aetolian spear.
Th' adult'rous lust that did Aegisthus seize,
And brought on murder, sprang from wanton ease;
For he the only loiterer remain'd
At home, when Troy's long war the rest had drain'd;
He revell'd then at his luxurious board,
And ne'er embark'd, and ne'er unsheath'd his sword;
But while the Grecians did for glory rove,
He wasted all his idle hours on love.

> Latin: Aut nova, si possis, sedare incendia temptes,
Aut ubi per vires procubuere suas:
Dum furor in cursu est, currenti cede furori;
Difficiles aditus impetus omnis habet.
Stultus, ab obliquo qui cum descendere possit,
Pugnat in adversas ire natator aquas.
Impatiens animus nec adhuc tractabilis artem
Respuit, atque odio verba monentis habet.
Adgrediar melius tum, cum sua vulnera tangi
Iam sinet, et veris vocibus aptus erit.
Quis matrem, nisi mentis inops, in funere nati
Flere vetet? non hoc illa monenda loco est.
Cum dederit lacrimas animumque impleverit aegrum,
Ille dolor verbis emoderandus erit.
Temporis ars medicina fere est: data tempore prosunt,
Et data non apto tempore vina nocent.
Quin etiam accendas vitia inritesque vetando,
Temporibus si non adgrediare suis.
Ergo ubi visus eris nostra medicabilis arte,
Fac monitis fugias otia prima meis.
Haec, ut ames, faciunt; haec, quod fecere, tuentur;
Haec sunt iucundi causa cibusque mali.
Otia si tollas, periere Cupidinis arcus,
Contemptaeque iacent et sine luce faces.
Quam platanus vino gaudet, quam populus unda,
Et quam limosa canna palustris humo,
Tam Venus otia amat; qui finem quaeris amoris,
Cedit amor rebus: res age, tutus eris.
Languor, et inmodici sub nullo vindice somni,
Aleaque, et multo tempora quassa mero
Eripiunt omnes animo sine vulnere nervos:
Adfluit incautis insidiosus Amor.
Desidiam puer ille sequi solet, odit agentes:
Da vacuae menti, quo teneatur, opus.
Sunt fora, sunt leges, sunt, quos tuearis, amici:
Vade per urbanae splendida castra togae.
Vel tu sanguinei iuvenalia munera Martis
Suspice: deliciae iam tibi terga dabunt.
Ecce, fugax Parthus, magni nova causa triumphi,
Iam videt in campis Caesaris arma suis:
Vince Cupidineas pariter Parthasque sagittas,
Et refer ad patrios bina tropaea deos.
Ut semel Aetola Venus est a cuspide laesa,
Mandat amatori bella gerenda suo.
Quaeritur, Aegisthus quare sit factus adulter?
In promptu causa est: desidiosus erat.
Pugnabant alii tardis apud Ilion armis:
Transtulerat vires Graecia tota suas.
Sive operam bellis vellet dare, nulla gerebat:
Sive foro, vacuum litibus Argos erat.
Quod potuit, ne nil illic ageretur, amavit.
Sic venit ille puer, sic puer ille manet.

[¶4] Our country work and tillage can disarm
Your am'rous cares, for ev'ry grief a charm.
Yoke oxen, plough the painful field, you'll find
The wounded earth will cure your love-sick mind.
Then trust your grain to the new-furrow'd soil,
That with large int'rest will requite your toll.
Behold what kind returns your fruit-trees send;
Down to your hand the burden'd branches bend.
Belold a murmuring brook thro' pastures glide,
Behold the grazing sheep on either side;
While in the shade his pipe the shepherd tries,
The watchfull dog his master's cares supplies;
With loud complaints another grove is till'd
Of heifers lowing for their firstlings killd.
What pleasure 'tis with smoke of yew to drive
The mur'ring swarm, and seize the loaden hive.
All seasons friendly to the swain are found;
Autumn withfruit, with harvest summer's crown'd
The spring's adorn'd with flowers to charm the eye
And winter fires the absent sun supply.
At certain times you'll see the vintage full,
And for your wine-press may choice clusters cull;
At certain times your ponderous sheafs may bind,
Yet for the rake leave work enough behind.
In mellow ground, your plants no wat'ring need;
The thirsty you from neighb'ring springs may feed.
Then, grafting, make old stocks sprout fresh and green,
And various fruits in one proud branch be seen.
When once these pleasures have your mind possess'd,
Love soon departs like a neglected guest.
Hunt, if the dull distemper you'd remove;
Diana will too hard for Venus prove.
Thro' all her doubling shifts the hare pursue,
Or spread your toil upon the mountain's brew:
E'en when the stag's at bay provoke his rage,
Or with your spear the foaming boar engage.
Thus tir'd, your rest at night will prove so deep,
Dreams of your mistress ne'er will haunt your sleep.
'Tis easier work, yet 'twill require your care,
The feather'd game with birdlime to ensnare;
Or else for fish your bearded hook to bait,
And for your art's success with patience wait.
Thro' sports like these you'll steal into relief,
And while your time you cozen, cheat your grief.

> Latin: Rura quoque oblectant animos studiumque colendi:
Quaelibet huic curae cedere cura potest.
Colla iube domitos oneri supponere tauros,
Sauciet ut duram vomer aduncus humum:
Obrue versata Cerialia semina terra,
Quae tibi cum multo faenore reddat ager.
Aspice curvatos pomorum pondere ramos,
Ut sua, quod peperit, vix ferat arbor onus;
Aspice labentes iucundo murmure rivos;
Aspice tondentes fertile gramen oves.
Ecce, petunt rupes praeruptaque saxa capellae:
Iam referent haedis ubera plena suis;
Pastor inaequali modulatur harundine carmen,
Nec desunt comites, sedula turba, canes;
Parte sonant alia silvae mugitibus altae,
Et queritur vitulum mater abesse suum.
Quid, cum suppositos fugiunt examina fumos,
Ut relevent dempti vimina curva favi?
Poma dat autumnus: formosa est messibus aestas:
Ver praebet flores: igne levatur hiems.
Temporibus certis maturam rusticus uvam
Deligit, et nudo sub pede musta fluunt;
Temporibus certis desectas alligat herbas,
Et tonsam raro pectine verrit humum.
Ipse potes riguis plantam deponere in hortis,
Ipse potes rivos ducere lenis aquae.
Venerit insitio; fac ramum ramus adoptet,
Stetque peregrinis arbor operta comis.
Cum semel haec animum coepit mulcere voluptas,
Debilibus pinnis inritus exit Amor.
Vel tu venandi studium cole: saepe recessit
Turpiter a Phoebi victa sorore Venus.
Nunc leporem pronum catulo sectare sagaci,
Nunc tua frondosis retia tende iugis,
Aut pavidos terre varia formidine cervos,
Aut cadat adversa cuspide fossus aper.
Nocte fatigatum somnus, non cura puellae,
Excipit et pingui membra quiete levat.
Lenius est studium, studium tamen, alite capta
Aut lino aut calamis praemia parva sequi,
Vel, quae piscis edax avido male devoret ore,
Abdere sub parvis aera recurva cibis.
Aut his aut aliis, donec dediscis amare,
Ipse tibi furtim decipiendus eris.

[¶5] Or travel (tho' you find your fetter strong);
Set out betimes; your journey must be long.
You'll weep at thoughts of her you left behind,
And halting, to return be oft inclin'd.
But how much more unwilling to proceed,
Compel your feet to so much greater speed.
Advance, let nothing interrupt your way,
Nor wind nor weather, nor unlucky day.
Nor count the miles you've past, but what remain;
For loitering nigh no fond pretences feign.
Nor reckon time, nor once look back on Rome,
But fly; and, Parthian like, by flight o'ercome.
You'll call my precepts hard; I grant they are;
But for dear health who would not hardships bear;
When sick, the bitter potion I have ta'en;
And, for the food I've fancied, begg'd in vain.
Both steel and fire you'll patiently endure,
And thirst, more scorching, for your body's cure.
Can you, who thus your earthly part redeem,
For your immortal mind have less esteem?
Yet, for my patient's comfort, I must own,
When this first stage he manfully has run,
The half, the worst half of his task is done.
Gall'd with the yoke, at first the heifer draws;
The curb's first trial frets the courser's jaws.
Perhaps to leave your father's house you'll mourn;
Yet go; and think, when tempted to return,
Your kindred but the false pretence is made;
'Tis absence from your mistress does persuade.
When once set out, diversions you will meet,
Fair country prospects, and companions sweet.
Nor only travel far, but tarry long;
Nor once look homewards while your passion's strong.
Rebellious love, if he perceives you halt,
With greater fury will renew th' assault
Half-famish'd passion will more fiercely prey
And all your labor past be thrown away.

> Latin: Tu tantum quamvis firmis retinebere vinclis,
I procul, et longas carpere perge vias;
Flebis, et occurret desertae nomen amicae,
Stabit et in media pes tibi saepe via:
Sed quanto minus ire voles, magis ire memento;
Perfer, et invitos currere coge pedes.
Nec pluvias opta, nec te peregrina morentur
Sabbata, nec damnis Allia nota suis.
Nec quot transieris et quot tibi, quaere, supersint
Milia; nec, maneas ut prope, finge moras:
Tempora nec numera, nec crebro respice Romam,
Sed fuge: tutus adhuc Parthus ab hoste fuga est.
Dura aliquis praecepta vocet mea; dura fatemur
Esse; sed ut valeas, multa dolenda feres.
Saepe bibi sucos, quamvis invitus, amaros
Aeger, et oranti mensa negata mihi.
Ut corpus redimas, ferrum patieris et ignes,
Arida nec sitiens ora levabis aqua:
Ut valeas animo, quicquam tolerare negabis?
At pretium pars haec corpore maius habet.
Sed tamen est artis tristissima ianua nostrae,
Et labor est unus tempora prima pati.
Aspicis, ut prensos urant iuga prima iuvencos,
Et nova velocem cingula laedat equum?
Forsitan a laribus patriis exire pigebit:
Sed tamen exibis: deinde redire voles;
Nec te Lar patrius, sed amor revocabit amicae,
Praetendens culpae splendida verba tuae.
Cum semel exieris, centum solatia curae
Et rus et comites et via longa dabit.
Nec satis esse putes discedere; lentus abesto,
Dum perdat vires sitque sine igne cinis.
Quod nisi firmata properaris mente reverti,
Inferet arma tibi saeva rebellis Amor.
Quidquid et afueris, avidus sitiensque redibis,
Et spatium damno cesserit omne tuo.

[¶6] You'll think, when thro' Hemonian fields you rove,
That magic arts may yield a cure for love.
Old tales, of witchcraft strange effects rehearse;
The only charm I bring is sacred verse.
By my advice no jargon shall be read,
Nor midnight hag, blaspheming, raise the dead;
No standing crop to other fields shall range,
No sick eclipse the sun's complexion change;
Old Tyber shall his sacred course retain,
And Cynthia, unmolested, gain her wain.
No suffering heart to spells shall be oblig'd.
Nor love resign, by sulphur streams besieg'd.
Think on Medea, of all hopes bereft,
When fled from home, and by her lover left.
And what did Circe's powerful drugs avail,
When she beheld Ulysses under sail?
She tried her magic, charm on charm renew'd;
He with a merry gale his course pursu'd;
No force or skill the fatal dart removes,
She raves to find she loves-but still she loves.
To thousand shapes she could transform mankind,
No means to change her hated self could find.
In these soft terms, to her departing guest,
Her passion (to detain him) was exprest.
"I now no more (as when I first receiv'd
Those hopes and you, by both alike deceiv'd)
Expect that you with me should pass your life,
Nor more ambitious to be made your wife;
(Though sure my pedigree you cannot scorn;
The daughter of the son, a goddess born)
I but intreat you for a time to stay,
And urge, for your own sake, the short delay.
The seas are rough, which you have cause to fear;
Wait but a friendlier season of the year.
What haste? This isle does no new Troy afford,
No second Rhesus to employ your sword.
Love revels here, with peaceful myrtle crown'd,
And mine the only heart that feels a painful wound."
She said-his crew the swelling sails display,
That bear him and her fruitless pray'rs away.
In vain to her enchantments she returns,
Tries all, yet still in hopeless flames she burns.
For Circe's sake, all lovers I advise,
That spells, as senseless things, they would despise.

> Latin: Viderit, Haemoniae siquis mala pabula terrae
Et magicas artes posse iuvare putat.
Ista veneficii vetus est via; noster Apollo
Innocuam sacro carmine monstrat opem.
Me duce non tumulo prodire iubebitur umbra,
Non anus infami carmine rumpet humum;
Non seges ex aliis alios transibit in agros,
Nec subito Phoebi pallidus orbis erit.
Ut solet, aequoreas ibit Tiberinus in undas:
Ut solet, in niveis Luna vehetur equis.
Nulla recantatas deponent pectora curas,
Nec fugiet vivo sulpure victus amor.
Quid te Phasiacae iuverunt gramina terrae,
Cum cuperes patria, Colchi, manere domo?
Quid tibi profuerunt, Circe, Perseïdes herbae,
Cum sua Neritias abstulit aura rates?
Omnia fecisti, ne callidus hospes abiret:
Ille dedit certae lintea plena fugae.
Omnia fecisti, ne te ferus ureret ignis:
Longus in invito pectore sedit amor.
Vertere tu poteras homines in mille figuras,
Non poteras animi vertere iura tui.
Diceris his etiam, cum iam discedere vellet,
Dulichium verbis detinuisse ducem:
'Non ego, quod primo, memini, sperare solebam,
Iam precor, ut coniunx tu meus esse velis;
Et tamen, ut coniunx essem tua, digna videbar,
Quod dea, quod magni filia Solis eram.
Ne properes, oro; spatium pro munere posco:
Quid minus optari per mea vota potest?
Et freta mota vides, et debes illa timere:
Utilior velis postmodo ventus erit.
Quae tibi causa fugae? non hic nova Troia resurgit,
Non aliquis socios rursus ad arma vocat.
Hic amor et pax est, in qua male vulneror una,
Tutaque sub regno terra futura tuo est.'
Illa loquebatur, navem solvebat Ulixes:
Inrita cum velis verba tulere noti.
Ardet et adsuetas Circe decurrit ad artes,
Nec tamen est illis adtenuatus amor.
Ergo quisquis opem nostra tibi poscis ab arte,
Deme veneficiis carminibusque fidem.

[¶7] The benefits of travel I have told,
Which, for sick minds, the best relief I hold.
But if through business you must still remain
In town, and near the author of your pain;
Though 'tis a dangrous neighbourhood, I'll show
What methods there the lover must pursue.
He takes the wisest course, who from his heart
Does by mere force, wrest out the offensive dart:
Resolv'd severely once for all to smart.
A master of such courage I'll admire;
Such patients will no more advice require.
Who wants this resolution to be freed
At once, by slower methods must proceed.
To milder remedies I'll him direct,
Which yet in time, will have the wish'd effect.
Think, till the thought your indignation move,
What damage you've receiv'd by her you love:
How she has drain'd your purse; nor yet content,
'Till your estate's in costly presents spent,
And you have mortgaged your last tenement.
How she did swear, and how she was forsworn;
Not only false, but treated you with scorn:
And, since her avarice has made you poor,
Forc'd you to take your lodgings at her door:
Reserv'd to you, but others she'll caress:
The foreman of a shop shall have access.
Let these reflections on your reason win;
From seeds of anger hatred will begin;
Your rhet'ric on these topics should be spent.
Oh, that your wrongs could make you eloquent!
But grieve, and grief will teach you to enlarge,
And, like an orator, draw up the charge.

> Latin: Si te causa potens domina retinebit in Urbe,
Accipe, consilium quod sit in Urbe meum.
Optimus ille sui vindex, laedentia pectus
Vincula qui rupit, dedoluitque semel.
Sed cui tantum animi est, illum mirabor et ipse,
Et dicam 'monitis non eget iste meis.'
Tu mihi, qui, quod amas, aegre dediscis amare,
Nec potes, et velles posse, docendus eris.
Saepe refer tecum sceleratae facta puellae,
Et pone ante oculos omnia damna tuos.
'Illud et illud habet, nec ea contenta rapina est:
Sub titulum nostros misit avara lares.
Sic mihi iuravit, sic me iurata fefellit,
Ante suas quotiens passa iacere fores!
Diligit ipsa alios, a me fastidit amari;
Institor, heu, noctes, quas mihi non dat, habet!'
Haec tibi per totos inacescant omnia sensus:
Haec refer, hinc odii semina quaere tui.
Atque utinam possis etiam facundus in illis
Esse! dole tantum, sponte disertus eris.

[¶8] A certain nymph did once my heart incline,
Whose humor wholly disagreed with mine;
(I, your physician, my disease confess)
I from my own prescriptions found redress.
Her still I represented to my mind,
With what defects I could suppose or find,
Oh, how ill-shaped her legs, how thick and short!
(Though neater limbs did never nymph support,)
Her arms, said I, how tawny brown they are!
(Though never ivory statue had so fair.)
How low of statue! (yet the nymph was tall)
Oh, for what costly presents will she call!
What change of lovers! - And of all the rest,
I find this thought strike deepest in my breast.
Such thin partitions good and ill divide,
That one for t'other may be misapplied.
E'en truth and your own judgment you must strain,
Those blemishes you cannot find, to feign:
Call her blackmoor, if she's but lovely brown;
Monster, if plump; if slender, skeleton.
Censure her free discourse as confidence;
Her silence, want of breeding and good sense.
Discover her blind side, and put her still
Upon the task which she performs but ill;
To dance, if she has neither shape nor air;
Court her to sing, if she wants voice and ear;
If talking misbecomes her, make her talk;
If walking, then in malice make her walk.
Commend her skill when on the lute she plays,
Till vanity her want of skill betrays.
Take care, if her large breasts offend your eyes,
No dress does that deformity disguise.
Ply her with merry tales of what you will,
To keep her laughing, if her teeth be ill.
Or if blear-eyed, some tragic story find,
Till she has read and wept herself quite blind.
But one effectual method you may take,-
Enter her chamber ere she's well awake:
Her beauty's art, gems, gold, and rich attire,
Make up the pageant you so much admire:
In all that specious figure which you see,
The least, least part of her own self is she;
In vain for her you love, amidst such cost,
You search; the mistress in the dress is lost.
Take her disrob'd, her real self surprise,
I'll trust you then for cure, to your own eyes.
(Yet have I known this very rule to fail,
And beauty most, when stript of art prevail.)
Steal to her closet, her close tiring place,
While she makes up her artificial face.
All colours of the rainbow you'll discern,
Washes and paints, and what you're sick to learn,
I now should treat of what may pall desire,
And quench in love's own element the fire;
For all advantages you ought to make,
And arms from love's own magazine to take:
But modesty forbids at full extent
To prosecute this luscious argument,
Which, to prevent your blushes, I shall leave
For your own fancy better to conceive,
For some of late censoriously accuse
My am'rous liberty and wanton muse.
But envy did the wit of Homer blame,
Malice gave obscure Zoilus a name.
Thus sacrilegious censure would destroy
The pious muse, who did her heart employ
To settle here the banish'd gods of Troy.
But you who at my freedom take offence,
Distinguish right before you speak your sense.
Maeonian strains alone can war resound,
No place is there for love and dalliance found.
The tragic style requires a tale distress'd,
And comedy consists of mirth and jest;
The tender elegy is love's delight,
Which to themselves pleas'd mistresses recite.
Callimachus would do Achilles wrong;
Cydippe were no theme for Homer's song.
What mortal patience could endure to see
Thais presenting chaste Andromache?
Kind Thais (none of Vesta's nuns) supplies
My song; with Thais all my business lies:
The actress, if my muse performs with art,
You must commend, tho' you dislike the part.
Burst envy; I've already got a name,
And, writing more, shall more advance my fame,
Despair not then, for, as I longer live,
Each day fresh fuel for your spleen shall give.
Thus fame's increasing gale bears me on high,
While tir'd and grovelling on the ground you lie.
Soft elegy in such esteem I've plac'd,
Not Virgil more the Epic strain has grac'd.
Censure did us to this digression force;
Now, muse, pursue thy interrupted course.
When first the nymph admits your visit, stay,
And take some other beauty in your way;
More safely thus your passion you may trust,
When you approach her charms with fainter gust;
You'll otherwise misconstrue for delight
The eagerness of your own appetite.
Desire does all; the grotto's cool retreat,
And shady grove, relieve in summer's heat;
Warm fires in winter; thirst makes water sweet.

> Latin: Haeserat in quadam nuper mea cura puella:
Conveniens animo non erat illa meo:
Curabar propriis aeger Podalirius herbis,
Et, fateor, medicus turpiter aeger eram.
Profuit adsidue vitiis insistere amicae,
Idque mihi factum saepe salubre fuit.
'Quam mala' dicebam 'nostrae sunt crura puellae!'
Nec tamen, ut vere confiteamur, erant.
'Brachia quam non sunt nostrae formosa puellae!'
Et tamen, ut vere confiteamur, erant.
'Quam brevis est!' nec erat; 'quam multum poscit amantem!'
Haec odio venit maxima causa meo.
Et mala sunt vicina bonis; errore sub illo
Pro vitio virtus crimina saepe tulit.
Qua potes, in peius dotes deflecte puellae,
Iudiciumque brevi limite falle tuum.
Turgida, si plena est, si fusca est, nigra vocetur:
In gracili macies crimen habere potest.
Et poterit dici petulans, quae rustica non est:
Et poterit dici rustica, siqua proba est.
Quin etiam, quacumque caret tua femina dote,
Hanc moveat, blandis usque precare sonis.
Exige uti cantet, siqua est sine voce puella:
Fac saltet, nescit siqua movere manum.
Barbara sermone est? fac tecum multa loquatur;
Non didicit chordas tangere? posce lyram.
Durius incedit? fac inambulet; omne papillae
Pectus habent? vitium fascia nulla tegat.
Si male dentata est, narra, quod rideat, illi;
Mollibus est oculis? quod fleat illa, refer.
Proderit et subito, cum se non finxerit ulli,
Ad dominam celeres mane tulisse gradus.
Auferimur cultu; gemmis auroque teguntur
Omnia; pars minima est ipsa puella sui.
Saepe ubi sit, quod ames, inter tam multa requiras;
Decipit hac oculos aegide dives Amor.
Improvisus ades, deprendes tutus inermem:
Infelix vitiis excidet illa suis.
Non tamen huic nimium praecepto credere tutum est:
Fallit enim multos forma sine arte decens.
Tum quoque, compositis cum collinet ora venenis,
Ad dominae vultus (nec pudor obstet) eas.
Pyxidas invenies et rerum mille colores,
Et fluere in tepidos oesypa lapsa sinus.
Illa tuas redolent, Phineu, medicamina mensas:
Non semel hinc stomacho nausea facta meo est.
Nunc tibi, quae medio veneris praestemus in usu,
Eloquar: ex omni est parte fugandus amor.
Multa quidem ex illis pudor est mihi dicere; sed tu
Ingenio verbis concipe plura meis.
Nuper enim nostros quidam carpsere libellos,
Quorum censura Musa proterva mea est.
Dummodo sic placeam, dum toto canter in orbe,
Quamlibet impugnent unus et alter opus.
Ingenium magni livor detractat Homeri:
Quisquis es, ex illo, Zoile, nomen habes.
Et tua sacrilegae laniarunt carmina linguae,
Pertulit huc victos quo duce Troia deos.
Summa petit livor; perflant altissima venti:
Summa petunt dextra fulmina missa Iovis.
At tu, quicumque es, quem nostra licentia laedit,
Si sapis, ad numeros exige quidque suos.
Fortia Maeonio gaudent pede bella referri;
Deliciis illic quis locus esse potest?
Grande sonant tragici; tragicos decet ira cothurnos:
Usibus e mediis soccus habendus erit.
Liber in adversos hostes stringatur iambus,
Seu celer, extremum seu trahat ille pedem.
Blanda pharetratos Elegia cantet Amores,
Et levis arbitrio ludat amica suo.
Callimachi numeris non est dicendus Achilles,
Cydippe non est oris, Homere, tui.
Quis feret Andromaches peragentem Thaida partes?
Peccet, in Andromache Thaida quisquis agat.
Thais in arte mea est; lascivia libera nostra est;
Nil mihi cum vitta; Thais in arte mea est.
Si mea materiae respondet Musa iocosae,
Vicimus, et falsi criminis acta rea est.
Rumpere, Livor edax: magnum iam nomen habemus;
Maius erit, tantum quo pede coepit eat.
Sed nimium properas: vivam modo, plura dolebis;
Et capiunt animi carmina multa mei.
Nam iuvat et studium famae mihi crevit honore;
Principio clivi noster anhelat equus.
Tantum se nobis elegi debere fatentur,
Quantum Vergilio nobile debet epos.
Hactenus invidiae respondimus: attrahe lora
Fortius, et gyro curre, poeta, tuo.
Ergo ubi concubitus et opus iuvenale petetur,
Et prope promissae tempora noctis erunt,
Gaudia ne dominae, pleno si corpore sumes,
Te capiant, ineas quamlibet ante velim;
Quamlibet invenias, in qua tua prima voluptas
Desinat: a prima proxima segnis erit.
Sustentata venus gratissima; frigore soles,
Sole iuvant umbrae, grata fit unda siti.