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FROM

OVID'S ART OF LOVE.

ТНЕ

FIRST BOOK

O F

OVID'S ART OF LOVE.

IN 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 mafter 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 conquest, 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 fair Goddess does my foul inspire,
To teach her fofter arts; to footh the mind,
And finooth the rugged breafts of human-kind.
Yet Cupid and Achilles each with scorn
And rage were fill'd; and both were goddess-born.

The

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,
Though ftruggling oft he strives to disobey.

He fhakes 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 spite.

I boaft no aid the Delphian God affords,
Nor aufpice from the flight of chattering birds
Nor Clio nor her fifters have I feen :
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.

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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,
First 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 these three precepts all my work shall move:
These are the rules and principles of love.

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

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The

The wary angler, in the winding brook,
Knows what the fish, and where to bait his hook.
The fowler and the huntfman know by name
The certain haunts and harbour of their game.
So must 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 heaven 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 mayft 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't but only go
To Pompey's cool and fhady portico;
Or Concord's fane; or that proud edifice,
Whose turrets near the baudy fuburb rife:
Or to that other portico, where stands
The cruel father urging his commands,
And fifty daughters wait the time of rest,

To plunge their poniards in the bridegrooms breaft:

Or

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