Art of Love

In vain we stem a torrent's rapid force,

But swim with ease, complying with its course.

By gentler arts we savage beasts reclaim,

And lions, bulls, and furious tigers tame.

Fiercely Atlanta o er the forest rov'd,

Cruel and wild, and yet at last she lov'd.

Melanion long deplor'd his hopeless flame,

And weeping, in the woods pursu'd the scornful dame.

On his submissive neck her toils he wore,

And with his mistress chased the dreadful boar.

Arm'd to the woods I bid you not repair,

Nor follow over hills the savage fair:

My soft injunctions less severe you'll find,

Easy to learn, and fram'd to ev'ry mind.

Her wishes never, nor her will withstand;

Submit, you conquer; serve, and you'll command.

Her words approve, deny what she denies,

Like where she likes, and where she scorns, despise.

Laugh when she smiles; when sad, dissolve in tears;

Let ev'ry gesture sympathize with hers.

If she delights, as women will, in play,

Her stakes return, your ready losings pay.

When she's at cards, or rattling dice she throws,

Connive at cheats, and generously lose.

A smiling winner let the nymph remain,

Let your pleas'd mistress every conquest gain.

In heat, with an umbrella ready stand;

When walking, offer your officious hand.

Her trembling hands, tho' you sustain the cold.

Cherish, and to your warmer bosom hold.

Think no inferior office a disgrace,

No action that a mistress gains is base.

The hero that eluded Juno's spite,

And every monster overcame in fight;

That pass'd so many bloody labours o'er,

And well deserv'd that heav'n whose weight he bore;

Amidst Ionian damsels carding stands,

And grasps the distaff in obedient hands;

In all commands the haughty dame obeys:

And who disdains to act like Hercules?

If she's at law, be sure commend the laws;

Solicit with the judge, or plead her cause.

With patience at the assignation wait;

Early appear, attend her coming late.

Whene'er she wants a messenger, away,

And her commands with flying feet obey.

When late from supper she's returning home,

And calls her servant, as a servant come.

She for the country's air retires from towns;

You want a coach or horse, why foot it down:

Let not the sultry season of the year,

The falling snows, or constant rains deter.

Love is a warfare, and ignoble sloth

Seems equally contemptible in both:

In both are watchings, duels, anxious cares,

The soldier thus, and thus the lover fares;

With rain he's drench'd, with piercing tempests shakes,

And on the colder earth his lodging takes.

Fame says that Phoebus kept Admetus' herd,

And coarsely in an humble cottage far'd;

No servile offices the god denied:

Learn this ye lovers, and renounce your pride.

When all access is to your mistress hard,

When ev'ry door's secur'd, and window barr'd,

The roof untile, some desp'rate passage find;

You cannot be too bold to make her kind:

Oh, how she'll clasp you when the dangers o'er,

And value your deserving passion more.

Thus thro' the boisterous seas Leander mov'd,

Not to possess, but show how much he lov'd.

Nor blushing think how low you condescend

To court her maids, and make each slave your friend;

Each by their names familiarly salute,

And beg them to promote your am'rous suit.

Perhaps a bribe's requir'd; your bounty show,

And from your slender fortunes part below.

A double bribe the chambermaid secures,

And when the fav'rite's gain'd, the fair is yours.

She'll add, to everything you do, a grace,

And watch the wanton hours, and time her praise.

When servants merry make, and feast, and play,

Then give her something to keep holiday.

Retain them ev'ry one, the porter most,

And her who nightly guards the happy coast

I no profuse nor costly gifts commend,

But choose and time it well, whate'er you send.

Provide the product of the early year,

And let your boy the rural present bear;

Tell her 'twas fresh, and from your manor brought,

Tho' stale, and in the suburb market bought:

The first ripe cluster let your mistress eat,

With chesnut, melons, or fair peaches, treat;

Some larger fish, or choicer fowl, present;

They recommend your passion where they're sent.

'Tis with these arts the childless miser's caught,

Thus future legacies are basely bought;

But may his name with infamy be curst,

That practis'd them on love, and women first.

In tender sonnets most your flame rehearse,

But who, alas! of late are mov'd by verse?