Art of Love

Or faithless clime the youthful wand'rer flies;"

Then view'd his pinions scatter'd o'er the stream.

The shore his bones received, the waves his name.

Minos with walls attempted to detain

His flying guests, but did attempt in vain;

Yet the wing'd god shall to our rules submit,

And Cupid yield to more prevailing wit.

Thessalian arts in vain rash lovers use,

In vain with drugs the scornful maid abuse;

The skilfull'st potions ineffectual prove.

Useless are magic remedies in love;

Could charms prevail, Circe had prov'd her art,

And fond Medea fix'd her Jason's heart;

Nor tempt with philters the disdainful dame;

They rage inspire, create a frantic flame:

Abstain from guilt, all vicious arts remove,

And make your passion worthy of her love.

Distrust your empty form and boasted face,

The nymph engage a thousand nobler ways;

To fix her vanquish'd heart entirely thine,

Accomplish'd graces to your native join.

Beauty's but frail, a charm that soon decays,

Its lustre fades as rolling years increase,

And age still triumphs o'er the ruin'd face.

This truth the fair but short liv'd-lily shows,

And prickles that survive the faded rose.

Learn, lovely boy, be with instruction wise!

Beauty and youth misspent are past advice.

Then cultivate thy mind with wit and fame,

Those lasting charms survive the funeral flame.

With arts and sciences your breast improve,

Of high import are languages in love:

The fam'd Ulysses was not fair nor young,

But eloquent and charming with his tongue:

And yet with him contented beauties strove,

And ev'ry sea-nymph sought the hero's love.

Calypso mourn'd when he forsook her shores,

And with fond waves detain'd his hasty oars,

Oft she enquir'd of ruin'd Ilium's fate,

Making him oft the wondrous tale relate;

Which with such grace his florid tongue could frame,

The story still was new, tho' still the same.

Now standing on the shores, " Again declare,"

Calypso cried, "your fam'd exploits in war."

lie with a wand, a slender wand he bore,

Delineates ev'ry action on the shore.

"Here's Troy," says he, then draws the walls in sand.

"There Simois flows, here my battalions stand.

A field there was," and then describes the field,

"Where Dolon, with rewards deceiv'd, we kill'd.

Just thus entrench'd imagine Rhesus lies,

And here we make his warlike steeds our prize."

Much he describ'd, when a destructive wave

Wash'd off the slender Troy, and rolling gave

To Rhesus and his tents one common grave.

Long with delight his charming tongue she heard,

The well-rais'd passion in her looks appear'd:

The goddess weeps to view his spreading sails,

So much a soldier with the sex prevails.

Distrust thy form, fond youth, and learn to know,

There's more requir'd in love than empty show.

With just disdain she treats the haughty mind,

'Tis complaisance that makes a beauty kind.

The hawk we hate that always lives in arms,

The raging wolf that ev'ry flock alarms:

But the mild swallow none with toils infest,

And none the soft Chaonian birds molest.

Debates avoid, and rude contention shun;

A woman's with submissive language won.

Let the wife rail, and injur'd husband swear,

Such freedoms are allow'd the married pair;

Discord and strife to nuptial beds belong,

The portion justifies a clam'rous tongue.

With tender vows the yielding maid endear,

And let her only sighs and wishes hear;

Contrive with words and actions to delight,

Still charm her ear, and still oblige her sight.

I no instructions to the rich impart,

He needs not, that presents, my useless art:

The giving lover's handsome, valiant, wise,

His happy fortune is above advice.

And, wanting wealth, with melting language move,

His honour storms a stubborn damsel's door;

I'm cautious to affront, because I'm poor.

With pleasing arts I court, with arts possess;

Or if I'm bounteous, 'tis in promises.

Enrag'd, I ruffl'd once Corinna's hair,

Long was I banish'd by the injur'd fair;

Long mournful nights for this consum'd alone,

Nor could my tears the furious maid atone.

Weeping, she vow'd, a suit of point I tore;

Falsely she vow'd, but I must purchase more.

Make not your guilty master's crime your own,

But by my punishment my error shun.

Indecent fury from her sight remove,

No passion let your mistress know, but love.

Yet if the haughty nymph's unkind, and coy,

Or shuns your sight; have patience, and enjoy.

By slow degrees we bend the stubborn bough;

What force resists, with art will pliant grow.