Art of Love

And to their floods the scaly fry repair.

Mankind alone enjoyed no certain place,

On rapine lived, a rude unpolish'd race;

Caves were their houses, herbs their food and bed,

Whilst each a savage from the other fled.

Love first disarm'd the fierceness of their mind,

And in one bed the men and women join'd.

The youth was eager, but unskill'd in joy,

Nor was the unexperienc'd virgin coy;

They knew no courtship, no instructor found,

Yet they enjoy'd, and bless'd the pleasing wound.

The birds with consorts propagate their kind,

And sporting fish their finny beauties find;

In am'rous fold the wanton serpents twine,

And dogs with their salacious females join.

The lusty bull delights his frisking dames,

And more lascivious goat her male inflames.

Mares furious grow with love, their boundaries force,

Plunging thro' waves to meet the neighing horse.

Go on, brave youth, thy gen'rous vigor try,

To the resenting maid this charm apply;

Love's soft'ning pleasures ev'ry grief remove,

There's nothing that can make your peace like love.

From drugs and philters no redress you'll find,

But nature with your mistress will be kind.

The love that's unconstrain'd will long endure,

Machaon's art was false, but mine is sure.

Whilst thus I sung, inflam'd with nobler fire,

I heard the great Apollo's tuneful lyre;

His hand a branch of spreading laurel bore,

And on his head a laurel wreath he wore;

Around he cast diffusive rays of light,

Confessing all the god to human sight,

" Thou master of lascivious arts," he said,

"To my frequented fane thy pupils lead;

And there inscrib'd in characters of gold,

This celebrated sentence you'll behold.

'First know yourself ;' who to himself is known,

Shall love with conduct, and his wishes crown.

Where nature has a handsome face bestow'd,

Or graceful shape, let both be often show'd:

Let men of wit and humor silence shun,

The artist sing, and soldier bluster on;

Of long harangues ye eloquent take heed,

Nor thy damn'd works thou teazing poet read."

Thus Phoebus spake: ajust obedience give,

And these injunctions from a god receive.

I mysteries unfold; to my advice

Attend, ye vulgar lovers, and grow wise.

The thriving grain in harvest often fails,

Oft prosp'rous winds turn adverse to our sails;

Few are the pleasures, tho' the toils are great;

With patience must submissive lovers wait.

What hares on Athos, bees on Hybla feed,

Or berries on the circling ivy breed?

As shells on sandy shores, as stars above,

So num'rous are the sure fatigues of love.

The lady's gone abroad, you're told; tho' seen,

Distrust your eyes, believe her not within.

Her lodgings on the promis'd night are close,

Resent it not, but on the earth repose.

Her maid will cry with an insulting tone,

"'What makes you saunter here? you sot, begone."

With moving words the cruel nymph entreat,

And place your garland on the bolted gate.

Why do I light and vulgar precepts use?

A nobler subject now inspires my muse;

Approaching joys I sing; ye youths, draw near;

Listen ye happy lovers and give ear;

The labor's great, and daring is my song.

Labors and great attempts to love belong.

As from the sacred oracles of Jove

Receive these grand mysterious truths in love.

Look down when she the ogling spark invites,

Nor touch the conscious tablets when she writes.

Appear not jealous tho' she's much from home,

Let her at pleasure go, unquestion'd come.

This crafty husbands to their wives permit,

And learn, when she's engag'd, to wink at it.

I own my frailties modestly confess;

And blushing, give those precepts I transgress;

Shall I, with patience, the known signal hear,

Retire, and leave a happy rival there!

What, tamely suffer the provoking wrong,

And be afraid to use my hands or tongue!

Corinna's husband kiss'd her in my sight;

I beat the saucy fool, and seiz'd my right.

I, like a fury, for my nymph engage,

And like a madman, when I miss her, rage.

My passion still prevails, convinc'd I yield!

He that submits to this is better skill'd.

Expose not, tho' you find her guilty flame,

Lest she abandon modesty and shame;

Conceal her faults, no secret crimes upbraid;

Nothing's so fond as a suspected maid.

Discover'd love increases with despair,

When both alike the guilt and scandal share:

All sense of modesty they lose in time,

Whilst each encourages the other's crime.

In heav'n this story's fam'd above the rest,