Ars Amatoria; or, The Art Of Love Literally Translated into English Prose, with Copious Notes

ARS AMATORIA;

or, THE ART OF LOVE.


By Ovid


Literally Translated into English Prose, with Copious Notes, by Henry T. Riley

1885



BOOK THE FIRST.


|Should any one of the people not know the art of loving, let him read
me; and taught by me, on reading my lines, let him love. By art the
ships are onward sped by sails and oars; by art are the light chariots,
by art is Love, to be guided. In the chariot and in the flowing reins
was Automedon skilled: in the Hæmonian ship _of Jason_ Tiphys was the
pilot. Me, too, skilled in my craft, has Venus made the guardian of
Love. Of Cupid the Tiphys and the Automedon shall I be styled. Unruly
indeed he is, and one who oft rebels against me; but he is a child; his
age is tender and easy to be governed. The son of Phillyra made the boy
Achilles skilled at the lyre; and with his soothing art he subdued his
ferocious disposition. He who so oft alarmed his own companions, so
oft the foe, is believed to have stood in dread of an aged man full of
years. Those hands which Hector was doomed to feel, at the request of
his master he held out for stripes [701] as commanded. Chiron was the
preceptor of the grandson of Æacus, I of Love. Both of the boys were
wild; both of a Goddess born. But yet the neck of even the bull is laden
with the plough; and the reins are champed by the teeth of the spirited
steed. To me, too, will Love yield; though, with his bow, he should
wound my breast, and should brandish his torches hurled against me. The
more that Love has pierced me, the more has he relentlessly inflamed me;
so much the fitter avenger shall I be of the wounds so made.

Phoebus, I pretend not that these arts were bestowed on me by thee; nor
by the notes of the birds of the air am I inspired. Neither Clio nor the
sisters of Clio have been beheld by me, while watching, Ascra, in thy
vales, my flocks. To this work experience gives rise; listen to a Poet
well-versed. The truth will I sing; Mother of Love, favour my design.
Be ye afar, [702] ye with the thin fillets on your hair, the mark of
chastity; and thou, long flounce, which dost conceal the middle of the
foot. We will sing of guiltless delights, and of thefts allowed; and in
my song there shall be nought that is criminal.

In the first place, endeavour to find out an object which you may
desire to love, you who are now coming for the first time to engage as a
soldier in a new service. The next task after that, is to prevail on
the fair by pleasing her. The third is, for her love to prove of long
duration. This is my plan; this space shall be marked out by my chariot;
this the turning-place to be grazed by my wheels in their full career.

While you may, and while you are able to proceed with flowing reins;
choose one to whom you may say, "You alone are pleasing to me." She
will not come to you gliding through the yielding air; the fair one that
suits must be sought with your eyes. The hunter knows full well where
to extend the toils for the deer; full well he knows in what vale dwells
the boar gnashing with his teeth. The shrubberies are known to the
fowlers. He who holds out the hooks, knows what waters are swam in by
many a fish. You, too, who seek a subject for enduring love, first learn
in what spot the fair are to be met with. In your search, I will not
bid you give your sails to the wind, nor is a long path to be trodden by
you, that you may find her.

Let Perseus bear away his Andromeda from the tawny Indians, [703] and
let the Grecian fair be ravished by Paris, the Phrygian hero. Rome will
present you damsels as many, and full as fair; so that you will declare,
that whatever has been on the earth, she possesses. As many ears of
corn as Gargara has, as many clusters as Methymna; as many fishes as
are concealed in the seas, birds in the boughs; as many stars as [704]
heaven has, so many fair ones does your own Rome contain; and in her own
City does the mother of Æneas hold her reign. Are you charmed by early
and still dawning years, the maiden in all her genuineness will come
before your eyes; or do you wish a riper fair, [705] a thousand riper
will please you; you will be forced not to know which is your own
choice. Or does an age mature and more staid delight you; this throng
too, believe me, will be even greater.

Do you only saunter at your leisure in the shade of Pompey's Portico,
[706] when the sun approaches the back of the Lion of Hercules; [707] or
where the mother [708] has added her own gifts to those of her son, a
work rich in its foreign marble. And let not the Portico of Livia [709]
be shunned by you, which, here and there adorned with ancient paintings,
bears the name of its founder. Where, too, are the grand-daughters of
Be-lus, [710] who dared to plot death for their wretched cousins, and
where their enraged father stands with his drawn sword. Nor let Adonis,
bewailed by Venus, [711] escape you; and the seventh holy-day observed
by the Jew of Syria.