{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_47678/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_47678","id":"gutenberg_47678","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/47678","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Classics of Literature","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Category: Poetry","Latin poetry -- Adaptations","Latin poetry -- Translations into English"],"text":"REMEDIA A MORIS;\n\nor,\n\nTHE REMEDY OF LOVE.\n\nBy Ovid\n\nLiterally Translated into English Prose, with Copious Notes, by Henry T. Riley\n\n\n1885\n\n\nREMEDIA A MORIS; or, THE REMEDY OF LOVE.\n\n\n|The God of Love had read the title and the name of this treatise,\nwhen he said, \"War, I see, war is being meditated against me.\" Forbear,\nCupid, to accuse thy Poet of such a crime; me, who so oft have borne\nthy standards with thee for my leader. I am no son of Tydeus, wounded by\nwhom, [1201] thy mother returned into the yielding air with the steeds of\nMars. Other youths full oft grow cool; I have ever loved; and shouldst\nthou inquire what I am doing even now, I am still in love. Besides,\nI have taught by what arts thou mayst be won; and that which is now a\nsystem, was an impulse before. Neither thee do I betray, sweet Boy, nor\nyet my own arts; nor has my more recent Muse unravelled her former work.\n\nIf any one loves an object which he delights to love, enraptured, in his\nhappiness, let him rejoice, and let him sail with prospering gales. But\nif any one impatiently endures the sway of some cruel fair, that he\nmay not be undone, let him experience relief from my skill. Why has\none person, tying up his neck [1202] by the tightened halter, hung, a\nsad burden, from the lofty beam? Why, with the hard iron, has another\npierced his own entrails? Lover of peace, thou dost bear the blame\nof their deaths. He, who, unless he desists, is about to perish by a\nwretched passion, let him desist; and then thou wilt prove the cause of\ndeath to none. Besides, thou art a boy; and it becomes thee not to do\naught but play. Play on; a sportive sway befits thy years. Far thou\nmayst use thy arrows, when drawn from the quiver for warfare; but thy\nweapons are free from deadly blood.\n\nLet thy stepfather Mars wage war both with the sword and the sharp\nlance; and let him go, as victor, blood-stained with plenteous\nslaughter. Do thou cherish thy mother's arts, which, in safety, we\npursue; and by the fault of which no parent he comes bereft. Do thou\ncause the portals to be burst open in the broils of the night; and\nlet many a chaplet cover the decorated doors. Cause the youths and the\nbashful damsels to meet in secret; and by any contrivance they can, let\nthem deceive their watchful husbands. And at one moment, let the\nlover utter blandishments, at another, rebukes, against the obdurate\ndoor-posts; and, shut out, let him sing some doleful ditty. Contented\nwith these tears, thou wilt be without the imputation of any death. Thy\ntorch is not deserving to be applied to the consuming pile.\n\nThese words said I. Beauteous Love waved his resplendent wings, and\nsaid to me, \"Complete the work that thou dost design.\" Come, then, ye\ndeceived youths, for my precepts; ye whom your passion has deceived in\nevery way. By him, through whom you have learned how to love, learn\nhow to be cured; for you, the same hand shall cause the wound and the\nremedy. The earth nourishes wholesome plants, and the same produces\ninjurious ones; and full oft is the nettle the neighbour of the rose.\nThat lance which once made a wound in the enemy, the son of Hercules,\nafforded a remedy [1203] for that wound. But whatever is addressed to the\nmen, believe, ye fair, to be said to you as well; to both sides am I\ngiving arms. If of these any are not suited to your use, still by\ntheir example they may afford much instruction. My useful purpose is to\nextinguish the raging flames, and not to have the mind the slave of its\nown imperfections. Phyllis would have survived, if she had employed me\nas her teacher; and along that road, by which nine times she went,[1204] she would have gone oftener still. And Dido, dying, would not have\nbeheld from the summit of her tower the Dardanian ships giving their\nsails to the wind.\n\nGrief, too, would not have armed Medea, the mother against her own\noffspring; she who took vengeance on her husband, by the shedding of\ntheir united blood. Through my skill, Tereus, although Philomela did\ncaptivate him, would not, through his crimes, have been deserving to\nbecome a bird. [1204]\n\nGive me Pasipha\u00eb for a pupil, at once she shall lay aside her passion\nfor the bull; give me Ph\u00e6dra, the shocking passion of Ph\u00e6dra shall\ndepart. Bring Paris back to us; Menelaus shall possess his Helen, and\nPergamus shall not fall, conquered by Grecian hands. If impious Scylla\nhad read my treatise, the purple lock, Nisus, would have remained\nupon thy head. With me for your guide, ye men, repress your pernicious\nanxieties; and onward let the bark proceed with the companions, me the\npilot. At the time when you were learning how to love, Naso was to be\nstudied; now, too, will the same Naso have to be studied by you. An\nuniversal assertor [1206] of liberty, I will relieve the breasts that\nare oppressed by their tyrants; do you show favour, each of you, to my\nliberating wand. [1207]\n\nProphetic Phoebus, inventor of song, and of the healing art, I pray that\nthe laurel may afford me its aid. Do thou shew favour both to the poet\nand to the physician; to thy guardianship is either care consigned.\n\nWhile still you may, and while moderate emotions influence your breast;\nif you repent, withhold your footsteps upon the very threshold. Tread\nunder foot the hurtful seeds of the sudden malady, while they are still\nfresh; and let your steed, as he begins to go, refuse to proceed. For\ntime supplies strength, time thoroughly ripens the young grapes; and it\nmakes that into vigorous standing corn, which before was only blades\nof grass. The tree which affords its extending shade to those who walk\nbeneath, was but a twig at the time when it was first planted. At that\ntime, with the hand it could have been rooted from the surface of the\nearth; now, increased by its own powers, it is standing upon a large\nspace. Examine with active perception, what sort of object it is, with\nwhich you are in love; and withdraw your neck from a yoke that is sure\nto gall. Resist the first advances; too late is a cure attempted, when\nthrough long hesitation the malady has waxed strong. But hasten, and do\nnot postpone to a future moment; that which is not agreeable to-day,\nwill to-morrow be still less so. Every passion is deceiving, and finds\nnutriment in delay. Each day's morrow is the best suited for liberty.\n\nYou see but few rivers arise from great sources; most of them are\nmultiplied by a collection of waters. If thou hadst at once perceived\nhow great a sin thou wast meditating, thou wouldst not, Myrrha, have had\nthy features covered with bark. I have seen a wound, which at first\nwas curable, when neglected receive injury from protracted delay.\nBut because we are delighted to pluck the flowers of Venus, we are\ncontinually saying, \"This will be done to-morrow just as well.\" In\nthe meantime, the silent flames are gliding into the entrails; and the\nhurtful tree is sending its roots more deep.\n\nBut if the time for early aid has now passed by, and an old passion is\nseated deeply in your captured breast, a greater labour is provided;\nbut, because I am called in but late to the sick, he shall not be\ndeserted by me. With unerring hand the hero, son of Peeas, [1208] ought at\nonce to have cutout the part in which he was wounded. Still, after many\na year, he is supposed, when cured, to have given a finishing hand to\nthe warfare. I, who just now was hastening to dispel maladies at their\nbirth, am now tardy in administering aid to you at a later moment.\nEither try, if you can, to extinguish the flames when recent; or when\nthey have become exhausted by their own efforts. When frenzy is in full\ncareer, yield to frenzy in its career; each impulse presents a difficult\naccess. The swimmer is a fool, who, when he can cross the stream by\ngoing down with it sideways, struggles to go straight against the tide.\nA mind impatient, and not yet manageable by any contrivance, rejects\nthe words of an adviser, and holds them in contempt. More successfully,\nthen, shall I attempt it when he shall now allow his wounds to be\ntouched, and shall be accessible to the words of truthfulness.\n\nWho, but one bereft of understanding, would forbid a mother to weep at\nthe death of her son? On such an occasion she is not to be counselled.\nWhen she shall have exhausted her tears, and have satisfied her\nafflicted feelings; that grief of hers will be capable of being soothed\nwith words. The healing art is generally a work of opportunity; wine,\nadministered at the proper time, is beneficial, and administered at an\nunsuitable time, is injurious. And, besides, you may inflame maladies\nand irritate them by checking them; if you do not combat them at the\nfitting moment.' Therefore, when you shall seem to be curable by my\nskill, take care, and by my precepts shun the first approaches of\nidleness. 'Tis that which makes you love, 'tis that which supports it,\nwhen once it has caused it: that is the cause and the nutriment of the\ndelightful malady.\n\nIf you remove all idleness, the bow of Cupid is broken, and his torch\nlies despised and without its light. As much as the plane-tree [1209]\ndelights in wine, the multitude in the stream, and as much as the reed\nof the marsh in a slimy soil, so much does Venus love idleness. You who\nseek a termination of your passion, attend to your business; love gives\nway before business; then you will be safe. Inactivity, and immoderate\nslumbers under no control, gaming too, and the temples aching through\nmuch wine, take away all strength 'from the mind that is free from a\nwound. Love glides insidiously upon the unwary. That Boy is wont to\nattend upon slothfulness; he hates the busy. Give to the mind that\nis unemployed some task with which it may be occupied. There are the\nCourts, there are the laws, there are your friends for you to defend.[1210] Go into the ranks [1211] white with the civic gown; or else do\nyou take up with the youthful duties of bloodstained Mars; soon will\nvoluptuousness turn its back on you.\n\nLo! the flying Parthian, [1212] a recent cause for a great triumph, is\nnow beholding the arms of Caesar on his own plains. Conquer equally the\narrows of Cupid and of the Parthians, and bring back a two-fold trophy\nto the Gods of your country. After Venus had once been wounded by the\n\u00c6tolian [1213] spear, she entrusted wars to be waged by her lover.\n\nDo you enquire why \u00c6gisthus became an adulterer? The cause is\nself-evident; he was an idler. Others were fighting at Ilium, with\nslowly prospering arms: the whole of Greece had transported thither her\nstrength. If he would have given his attention to war, she was nowhere\nwaging it; [1214] or if to the Courts of law, Argos was free from\nlitigation. What he could, he did; that he might not be doing nothing,\nhe fell in love. Thus does that Boy make his approaches, so does that\nBoy take up his abode.\n\nThe country, too, soothes the feelings, and the pursuits of agriculture:\nany anxiety whatever may give way before this employment. Bid the\ntamed oxen place their necks beneath their burden, that the crooked\nploughshare may wound the hard ground. Cover the grain of Ceres with\nthe earth turned up, which the field may restore to you with bounteous\ninterest. Behold the branches bending beneath the weight of the apples;\nhow its own tree can hardly support the weight which it has produced.\nSee the rivulets trickling along with their pleasing murmur; see the\nsheep, as they crop the fertile mead. Behold how the she-goats climb\nthe rocks, and the steep crags; soon will they be bringing back their\ndistended udders for their kids. The shepherd is tuning his song on the\nunequal reeds; the dogs, too, a watchful throng, are not far off. In\nanother direction the lofty woods are resounding with lowings; and the\ndam is complaining that her calf is missing. Why name the time when\nthe swarms fly from the yew trees, [1215] placed beneath them, that the\nhoney-combs removed may relieve the bending osiers [1216] of their weight?\nAutumn affords its fruit; summer is beauteous with its harvests; spring\nproduces flowers; winter is made cheerful by the fire. At stated periods\nthe rustic pulls the ripened grape, and beneath his naked foot the juice\nflows out; at stated periods he binds up the dried hay, and clears the\nmowed ground with the wide toothed rake.\n\nYou yourself may set the plant in the watered garden; you yourself may\nform the channels for the trickling stream. The grafting [1217] is now\ncome; make branch adopt branch, and let one tree stand covered with the\nfoliage of another. When once these delights have begun to soothe your\nmind, Love, robbed of his power, departs with flagging wings.\n\nOr do you follow the pursuit of hunting. Full oft has Venus, overcome by\nthe sister of Phoebus, retreated in disgrace. Now follow the fleet\nhare with the quick-scented hound; now stretch your toils on the shady\nmountain ridge. Or else, alarm the timid deer with the variegated\nfeather-foils; or let the boar fall, transfixed by the hostile spear.\nFatigued, at night sleep takes possession of you, not thoughts of\nthe fair; and with profound rest it refreshes the limbs. 'Tis a more\ntranquil pursuit, still it is a pursuit, on catching the bird, to win\nthe humble prize, either with the net or with the bird-limed twigs; or\nelse, to hide the crooked hooks of brass in morsels at the end, which\nthe greedy fish may, to its destruction, swallow with its ravenous jaws.\nEither by these, or by other pursuits, must you by stealth be beguiled\nby yourself, until you shall have learnt how to cease to love.\n\nOnly do you go, although you shall be detained by strong ties, go far\naway, and commence your progress upon a distant journey. You will weep\nwhen the name of your forsaken mistress shall recur to you: and many\na time will your foot linger in the middle of your path. But the less\nwilling you shall be to go, remember the more surely to go; persist;\nand compel your feet to hasten, however unwillingly. And don't you fear\nshowers; nor let the Sabbaths [1218] of the stranger detain you; nor yet\nthe Allia, [1219] so well known for its disasters. And don't enquire how\nmany miles you have travelled, but how many are yet remaining for you;\nand invent no excuses, that you may remain near at hand. Neither do you\ncount the hours, nor oft look back on Rome: but fly; still is [1220] the\nParthian secure in flight from his foe.\n\nSome one may style my precepts harsh: I confess that they are harsh;\nbut that you may recover, you will have to endure much that is to be\nlamented. Full oft, when ill, I have drunk of bitter potions, though\nreluctantly; and when I entreated for it, food has been refused me.\nTo cure your body, you will have to endure iron and fire; and though\nthirsty, you will not refresh your parched lips with water. That you may\nbe healed in spirit, will you refuse to submit to anything? Inasmuch\nas that part is ever of greater value than the body. But still, most\ndifficult is the access to my art; and the one labour is how to endure\nthe first moments of separation. Do you perceive how the yoke, at first,\ngalls the oxen when caught? how the new girth hurts the flying steed?\n\nPerhaps you will be loth to depart from your paternal home. But still\nyou will depart; then you will be longing to return. No paternal home,\nbut [1221] the love of your mistress, cloaking its own faultiness by\nspecious words, will be calling you back. When once you have gone,\nthe country, and your companions, and the long journey will afford\na thousand solaces for your sorrow. And do not think it is enough to\ndepart; be absent for a long time, until the flame has lost its power\nand the ashes are without their fire. If you shall hasten to return,\nexcept with your judgment strengthened, rebellious Love will be wielding\nhis cruel arms against you. Suppose that, although you shall have\nabsented yourself, you return both hungry and thirsty; will not all this\ndelay even act to your detriment?\n\nIf any one supposes that the noxious herbs of the H\u00e6monian lands and\nmagic arts can be of avail, let him see to it. That is the old-fashioned\nmethod of sorcery; my Apollo, in his hallowed lines, is pointing out\nan innoxious art. Under my guidance, no ghost shall be summoned to come\nforth [1222] from the tomb; no hag with her disgusting spells shall cleave\nthe ground. No crops of corn shall remove from one field into another;\nnor shall the disk of Phoebus suddenly be pale. Tiberinus [1223] shall\nflow into the waves of the ocean just as he is wont; just as she is\nwont, shall the Moon be borne by her snow-White steeds. No breasts shall\nlay aside their cares dispelled by enchantments; vanquished by virgin\nsulphur, [1224] love shall not take to flight.\n\nColchian damsel, what did the herbs of the Phasian land avail thee, when\nthou didst desire to remain in thy native home? Of what use, Circe, were\nthe herbs of thy mother Persia to thee, when the favouring breeze bore\naway the barks of Neritos? [1225] Every thing didst thou do that thy\ncrafty guest might not depart; still did he give his filled sails to an\nassured flight.. Every thing didst thou do that the fierce flames might\nnot consume thee; still a lasting passion settled deep in thy reluctant\nbreast. Thou, who wast able to change men into a thousand shapes, wast\nnot able to change the bent of thy own inclination. Thou art said to\nhave detained the Lulicillan chief, [1226] when now he wished to depart,\neven in these words:\n\n\"I do not now entreat that which, as I remember, I was at first wont to\nhope for, that thou shouldst consent to be my husband. And still, I\ndid seem worthy to be thy wife, since I was a Goddess, since I was the\ndaughter of the Sun. Hasten not away, I entreat thee; a little delay, as\na favour, do I ask. What less can he prayed for by my entreaties? Thou\nseest, too, that the seas are troubled; and of them thou oughtst to\nstand in dread. Before long, the winds will be more favourable to thy\nsails. What is the cause of thy flight? No Troy is rising here anew; no\nfresh Rhesus is calling his companions to arms. Here love abides, here\npeace exists; during which I alone am fatally wounded; the whole, too,\nof my realms shall be under thy sway.\"\n\nShe thus spoke; Ulysses unmoored his bark; the South winds bore away her\nunavailing words together with his sails. Circe was inflamed, and had\nrecourse to her wonted arts; and still by them her passion was not\ndiminished.\n\nCome, then, whoever you are, that require aid from my skill, away with\nall belief in spells and charms. If some weighty reason shall detain you\nin the City mistress of the world, hear what is my advice in the City.\nHe is the best assertor of his liberties who bursts the chains that gall\nhis breast, and once for all ceases to grieve. If any one has so much\ncourage, even I myself will admire him, and I shall say, \"This man\nstands in no need of my admonitions.\" You who with difficulty are\nlearning how not to love the object which you love; who are not able,\nand still would wish to be able, will require to be instructed by me.\nFull oft recall to your remembrance the deeds of the perfidious fair\none, and place all your losses before your eyes.' Say, \"This thing and\nthat of mine does she keep; and not content with that spoliation, she\nhas put up for sale [1227] my paternal home. Thus did she swear to me;\nthus having sworn, did she deceive me. How oft has she suffered me to\nbe before her doors! She herself loves other men; by me she loathes to\nbe loved. Some hawker, [1228] alas! enjoys those nights which she grants\nnot to myself.\"\n\nLet all these points ferment throughout your entire feelings; repeat\nthem over and over hence seek the first germs of your hate. And would\nthat you could be even eloquent upon them! Do' you only grieve; of\nyour own accord you will be fluent. My attentions were lately paid to a\ncertain fair one; to my passion she was not favourably disposed. Sick,\nlike Podalirius, [1229] I cured myself with the proper herbs, and (I\nconfess it) though a physician, to my shame, I was sick. It did me good\nto be ever dwelling upon the failings of my mistress; and that, when\ndone, often proved wholesome for me. \"How ill formed,\" I used to say,\n\"are the legs of my mistress!\" and yet, to confess the truth, they were\nnot. \"How far from beautiful are the arms of my mistress!\" and yet, to\nconfess the truth, they were. \"How short she is!\" and yet she was not;\n\"How much does she beg of her lover?\" From that arose the greatest cause\nof my hatred.\n\nThere are good qualities, too, near akin to bad ones; by reason of\nconfounding one for the other, [1230] a virtue has often borne the blame\nfor a vice. So far as you can, depreciate the endowments of the fair\none, and impose upon your own judgment by the narrow line that separates\ngood from bad. If she is embonpoint, let her be called flabby, if she is\nswarthy, black. Leanness may be charged against her slender form. She,\ntoo, who is not coy may be pronounced bold; and if she is discreet,\nshe may be pronounced a prude. Besides, in whatever accomplishment your\nmistress is deficient, ever be entreating her, in complimentary accents,\nto turn her attention to the same. If any damsel is without a voice,\nrequest her to sing; if any fair one does not know how to move her hands [1231] with gracefulness, make her dance. Is she imeouth in her language,\nmake her talk frequently to you; has she not learnt how to touch the\nstrings, call for the lyre.\n\nDoes she walk heavily, make her walk; does a swelling bosom cover all\nher breast, let no stomacher [1232] conceal it. If her teeth are bad, tell\nher something for her to laugh at: is she tender-eyed, relate something\nfor her to weep at.\n\nIt will be of use, too, for you, early in the morning suddenly, to turn\nyour hasty steps towards your mistress, when she has dressed for no one.\nBy dress are we enchanted; by gems and gold all things are concealed;\nthe fair one herself is but a very trifling part of herself. Often, amid\nobjects so many, you may inquire what it is that you love. By this \u00c6gis [1233] does Love, amid his riches, deceive the eye. Come unexpectedly; in\nsafety to yourself you will find her unarmed; to her misfortune, through\nher own failings will she fall. Still, it is not safe to trust too\nmuch to this precept, for without the resources of art a graceful form\ncaptivates many. At the moment, too, when she shall be smearing her\nface with the cosmetics laid on it, you may come in the presence of your\nmistress, and don't let shame prevent you. You will find there boxes,\nand a thousand colours of objects; and you will see cesypum, the\nointment of the fleece, [1234] trickling down and flowing upon her heated\nbosom. These drugs, Phineus, smell like thy tables; [1235] not once only\nhas sickness been caused by this to my stomach.\n\nNow will I disclose to you, what should be done in the moments of your\ntransport; from every quarter must love be put to flight. Many of them,\nindeed, I am ashamed to mention; but do you conceive in your imagination\neven more than lies in my words. For, of late, certain persons have been\nblaming my treatises, in the opinion of whom my Muse is wanton. If I\nonly please, and so long as I am celebrated all the world over, let this\nperson or that attack my work just as he likes. Envy detracts from the\ngenius of mighty Homer; whoever thou art, from him, Zoilus, [1236] dost\nthou derive thy fame.\n\nSacrilegious hands have also mangled thy poems, [1237] thou, under whose\nguidance Troy brought hither her conquered Divinities. Envy takes a\nlofty flight; on high the breezes sweep along; the lightnings hurled by\nthe right hand of Jove take a lofty range.\n\nBut you, whoever you are, whom my freedom offends, require, if you are\nwise, each subject for its proper numbers. [1238] Bold warfare delights\nto be related in the M\u00e6onian measure. What place can there be there for\n_gentle_ dalliance? The Tragedians speak in lofty tones; anger befits\nthe buskin of Tragedy; the sock _of Comedy_ [1239] must be furnished from\nthe manners of every-day life. The free Iambic measure may be launched\nagainst the hostile foe; whether it be rapid, or whether it drag on its\nfoot [1240] at its close. Soft Elegy should sing of the Loves with their\nquivers, and the sprightly mistress ought to sport according to her\nown inclination. Achilles is not to be celebrated in the numbers of\nCallimachus; Cydippe [1241] belongs not, Homer, to thy song. Who could\nendure Thais performing the part of Andromache? [1242] If any one were\nto act Thais in the tones of Andromache, he would be making a mistake.\nThais belongs to my purse; licence unrestrained belongs to me. Nought\nhave I to do with the fillet _of chastity_; Thais belongs to my pursuit.\nIf my Muse is befitting a sportive subject, I have conquered, and on a\nfalse charge she has been accused.\n\nBurst thyself, gnawing Envy; now have I gained great fame;'twill be\nstill greater, let it only proceed with the steps with which it has\ncommenced. But you are making too great haste; let me only live, you\nshall have more to complain of; my intentions, too, embrace full many a\npoem. For it gives me delight, and my zeal increases with my eagerness\nfor fame; at the beginning of the ascent only is my steed now panting.\nElegy acknowledges that to me she is as much indebted as is the noble\nEpic [1243] to Virgil.\n\nThus far do I give an answer to Envy; tighten the reins with more\nvigour, and speed onward, Poet, in thy circle.=\n\n```Ergo ubi concubitus, et opus juvenile petetur;\n\n````Et prope promiss\u00e6 tempora noctis erunt;\n\n```Gaudia ne domin\u00e6, pleno si pectore s\u00fbmes,\n\n````Te capiant: ineas quamlibet ante velim.\n\n```Quamlibet invenias, in qua tibi prima voluptas\n\n````Desinat: a prim\u00e2 proxima segnis erit.\n\n```Sustentata Venus gratissima: frigore soles,\n\n````Sole juvant umbr\u00e6: grata fit unda siti.\n\n```Et pu`det, et dicam, Venerem quoque junge figur\u00e2,\n\n````Qu\u00e2 minime jungi quamque decere putes.=\n\nAnd 'tis no hard matter to do this; few women confess the truth to\nthemselves; and there is no point in which they think that they are\nunbecoming. Then, too, I recommend you to open all the windows, and to\nremark in full daylight the limbs that are unsightly. But as soon as\nyour transports have come to a termination, and the body with the mind\nlies entirely exhausted; while you are feeling regret, and wishing that\nyou had formed a connexion with no female, and are seeming to yourself\nthat for a long time you will have nothing to do with another; then note\nin your memory whatever blemishes there are in her person; and keep your\neyes always fixed upon her faulty points.\n\nPerhaps some one will pronounce these matters trivial (for indeed they\nare so); but things which, singly, are of no avail, when united are of\nbenefit. The little viper kills with its sting the bulky bull; by the\ndog that is not large, full oft is the boar held fast. Do you only fight\nwith a number of them, and unite my precepts together; from so many\nthere will be a large amount. But since there are so many ways and\nattitudes, every point is not to be yielded to my recommendations.\nPerhaps, in the opinion of another, that will be a fault, by the doing\nof which your feelings may not be hurt. Because this person, perchance,\nhas seen the charms of the naked person exposed, his passion, which was\nin mid career, stops short: another, when his mistress has received him,\nhas been shocked at some sight which creates disgust.\n\nAlas! if these things could influence you, you are trifling; torches\nbut luke-warm have been influencing your breast. That Boy would more\nstrongly draw his bended bow: you, ye wounded throng, will need more\na substantial aid. What think you of the man who lies concealed, and\nbeholds sights that usage itself forbids him to see? May the Gods forbid\nthat I should advise any one to adopt such a course! Though it should\nprove of use, still it should not be tried.\n\nI advise you, also, to have two mistresses at the same time. If a person\ncan have still more, he is more secure. When the feelings, sundered into\ntwo parts, are wavering in each direction, the one passion diminishes\nthe strength of the other. By many streamlets are great rivers lessened,\nand the exhausted flame, the fuel withdrawn, goes out. But one anchor\ndoes not sufficiently hold the waxed ships; a single hook is not enough\nfor the flowing stream. He who beforehand has provided for himself a\ntwofold solace, has already proved the victor in the lofty citadel.\nBut, by you, who, to your misfortune, have devoted yourself to but one\nmistress, now, at all events, a new passion must be sought. For Procris [1244] did Minos abandon his flame for Pasipha\u00eb; overcome by the wife from\nIda, [1245] the first wife gave way. Calirrho\u00eb, received to a share of his\ncouch, caused the brother of [1246] Amphilochus not always to be in love with\nthe daughter of Phegeus. Oeuone, too, would have retained Paris to her\nlatest years, if she had not been supplanted by her Aebalian rival.\nThe beauty of his wife would have pleased the Odrysian [1247] tyrant, but\nsuperior were the charms of her imprisoned sister.\n\nWhy occupy myself with illustrations, the number of which exhausts me?\nEvery passion is conquered by a fresh successor. With greater fortitude\ndoes a mother regret one out of many, than she who, [1248] weeping,\nexclaims: \"Thou wast my only one.\" But lest, perchance, you should\nsuppose that I am framing new laws for you, (and would that the glory of\nthe discovery were my own!) the son of Atreus perceived this; for what\ncould he not see, under whose command was the whole of Greece? He,\nvictorious, loved Chryseis, captured by his own arms; but her aged\nparent foolishly went crying in every direction. Why dost thou weep,\ntroublesome old man? They are well suited for each other. By thy\naffection, foolish man, thou art doing an injury to thy child. After\nCalchas, secure under the protection of Achilles, had ordered [1249] her\nto be restored, and she was received back to the house of her father:\n\"There is,\" said the son of Atreus, \"another fair one very closely\nresembling her beauty; and if the first syllable [1250] would allow of it,\nthe name would, be the same; Achilles, if he were wise, would give her\nup to me of his own accord; if not, he will experience my might. But if\nany one of you, ye Greeks, disapproves of this deed;'tis something to\nwield the sceptre with a powerful hand. For if I am your king, and if\nshe does not pass her nights with me, then let Thersites succeed to my\nsway.\" Thus he said; and he had her as his great consolation for her\npredecessor; and the first passion was entombed in a new passion. By the\nexample, then, of Agamemnon, admit a fresh flame, that your love may be\nsevered in two directions. If you inquire where you are to find them?\nGo and read through my treatises on the art of Love; then may your bark\nspeed on, well freighted with the fair.\n\nBut if my precepts are of any avail, if by my lips Apollo teaches aught\nthat is advantageous to mortals; although, to your misfortune, you\nshould be burning in the midst of \u00c6tna, take care to appear to your\nmistress more cold than ice. Pretend, too, that you are unhurt; if,\nperchance, you should grieve at all, let her not perceive it; and laugh\nwhen, within yourself, you could have wept. I do not bid you to sever\nyour passion in the very midst; the laws of my sway are not so harsh as\nthat. Pretend to be that which you are not, and feign that your ardour\nis renounced; so, in reality, you will become what you are practising to\nbe. Often, that I might not drink, I have wished to appear asleep; [1251]\nwhile I have so seemed, I have surrendered my conquered eyes to slumber.\nI have laughed at his being deceived, who was pretending that he was in\nlove; and the fowler has fallen into his own nets.\n\nThrough habit does love enter the mind; through habit is it forgotten.\nHe who will, be able to pretend that he is unhurt, will be unhurt. Does\nshe tell you to come on a night appointed, do you come. Should you come,\nand the gate be closed; put up with it. Neither utter blandishments,\nnor yet utter reproaches against the door-post, and do not lay down your\nsides upon the hard threshold. The next morning comes; let your words be\nwithout complaints, and bear no signs of grief upon your features. She\nwill soon lay aside her haughtiness, when she shall see you growing\ncool: this advantage, too, will you be gaining from my skill. And yet\ndo you deceive yourself as well, and let not this [1252] be the end of your\nlove. Full oft does the horse struggle against the reins when presented.\nLet your object lie concealed; that will come to pass which you shall\nnot avow. The nets that are too easily seen, the bird avoids.\n\nLet her not congratulate herself so much that she can hold you in\ncontempt; take courage, that to your courage she may yield. Her door is\nopen, perchance; though she should call you back, do you go out. A night\nis named; doubt whether you can come on the night appointed.'Tis an easy\nthing to be able to endure this; unless you are deficient in wisdom, you\nmay more readily derive amusement from one more condescending. And\ncan any person call my precepts harsh? Why, I am acting the part of a\nreconciler even. For as some dispositions vary, I am varying my precepts\nas well. There are a thousand forms of the malady; a thousand forms of\ncure will there be. Some bodies are with difficulty healed by the sharp\niron: potions and herbs have proved an aid to many. You are too weak,\nand cannot go away, and are held in bonds, and cruel Love is treading\nyour neck beneath his foot. Cease your struggling; let the winds bring\nback your sails; and whither the tide calls you, thither let your oars\nproceed.\n\nThat thirst, parched by which you are perishing, must be satisfied by\nyou; I permit it; now may you drink in the midst of the stream. But\ndrink even more than what your appetite requires; make the water you\nhave swallowed flow back from your filled throat. Always enjoy the\ncompany of your mistress, no one preventing it; let her occupy your\nnights, her your days. Make satiety your object; satiety puts an end to\nevils even. And even now, when you think you can do without her, do\nyou remain with her. Until you have fully cloyed yourself, and satiety\nremoves your passion, let it not please you to move from the house you\nloathe. That love, too, which distrust nurtures, is of long endurance;\nshould you wish to lay this aside, lay aside your apprehensions. Who\nfears that she may not be his own, and that some one may rob him of her,\nthat person will be hardly curable with the skill of Machaon. Of two\nsons, a mother generally loves him the most, for whose return she feels\napprehensions, because he is bearing arms.\n\nThere is, near the Collinian [1253] gate, a venerable temple; the lofty\nErvx gave this temple its name. There, is Leth\u00e6an Love, who heals the\nmind; and in cold water does he place his torches. There, too, in their\nprayers, do the youths pray for forgetfulness; and any fair one, if she\nhas been smitten by an obdurate man. He thus said to me; (I am in doubt\nwhether it was the real Cupid, or whether a vision; but I think it was a\nvision.)\n\n\"O Naso, thou who dost sometimes cause, sometimes relieve, the passion\nfull of anxiety, add this to thy precepts as well. Let each person\nrecall to mind his own mishaps; let him dismiss love; to all has the\nDeity assigned more or less of woes. He that stands in awe of the Puteal [1244] and of Janus, [1245] and of the Calends swiftly coming, let the\nborrowed sum of money be his torment. He whose father is harsh, though\nother things should prove to his wish, before his eyes must his harsh\nfather be placed. Another one is living wretchedly with a wife poorly\ndowried, let him think that his wife is an obstacle to his fortune. You\nhave a vineyard, on a generous soil, fruitful in choice grapes; be in\ndread lest the shooting grape should be blighted. Another has \u00e0 ship\non its return home; [1246] let him be always thinking that the sea is\nboisterous, and that the sea-shore is polluted by his losses. Let a son\nin service [1247] be the torment of one, a marriageable daughter of yourself.\nAnd who is there that has not a thousand causes for anxiety? That,\nParis, thou mightst hate thine own _cause of sorrow_, thou oughtst to\nhave placed the deaths of thy brothers before thine eyes.\"\n\nStill more was he saying, when the childish form deserted my placid\nslumber, if slumber only it was. What am I to do? In the midst of the\nwaves Palinurus [1258] deserts my bark; I am forced to enter on an unknown\ntrack. Whoever you are that love, avoid solitary spots; solitary spots\nare injurious. Whither are you flying? In the throng you may be in\ngreater safety. You have no need of lonely places (lonesome spots\nincrease the frenzy); the multitude will bring you aid. You will be\nsad, if you are alone; and before your eyes will stand the form of your\nforsaken mistress, as though her own self. For this reason is the\nnight more melancholy than the hours of sunshine; the throng of your\ncompanions is then wanting to moderate your affliction.\n\nAnd fly not from conversation, nor let your door be closed; and do not,\nin tears, hide your countenance in the shade. Always have a Pylades\nto console his Orestes; this, too, will prove no slight advantage in\nfriendship. What but the solitary woods injured Phyllis? The cause of\nher death is well known; she was without a companion. She was going,\njust as the barbarous multitude celebrating the triennial [1259] sacrifice\nto the Edonian [1260] Bacchus, is wont to go, with dishevelled locks. And\nat one time, as far as she could, she looked out upon the wide ocean;\nat another, in her weariness, she lay her down upon the sandy shore.\n\"Perfidious Demophoon!\" she cried aloud to the deaf waves; and her\nwords, as she grieved, were interrupted by sobs. There was a narrow\npath, a little darkened by the long shadows, along which, full oft, did\nshe turn her steps towards the sea. Her ninth journey was being paced\nby her in her wretchedness. \"See thou to this,\" says she; and, turning\npale, she eyes her girdle. She looks, too, on the boughs; she hesitates,\nand she recoils at that which she dares to do; and she shudders, and\nthen she raises her fingers to her throat.\n\nSithonian damsel, I would that, then, at least, thou hadst not been\nalone; ye woods, your foliage lost, [1261] you would not then have\nlamented Phyllis. Ye men that are offended by your mistresses, ye fair\nthat are affronted by the men, from the example of Phyllis, shun too\nlonesome spots. A youth had done whatever my Muse recommended him,\nand was almost in the haven of his safety. When he came amid the eager\nlovers, he relapsed, and Love resumed the weapons which he had laid\naside. If any one of you is loving, and does not wish to do so; do you\ntake care, and avoid the contagion. This is often wont to injure\nthe herds as well. While the eyes are looking on the wounded, they\nthemselves are also wounded; many things, too, injure the body by\ninfection. Sometimes water flows from a river that runs near into a spot\nparched with its dry clods. Love flows on concealedly, if you do not\nwithdraw from him who loves; and we are all of us a set clever at\nrunning that risk.\n\nA second one had now been healed; his nearness to her affected him.\nHe proved unable to endure meeting with his mistress. The scar, not\nsufficiently closed, changed again into the former wound; and my\nskill met with no success. The fire next door is guarded against with\ndifficulty;'tis prudent to keep away from the neighbouring haunts. Let\nnot that Portico which is wont to receive her as she walks, receive you\nas well; and let not the same attentions now be paid. Of what use is it\nto rekindle the feelings, that have cooled, by my advice? Another region\nmust be resorted to, if you can do so. When hungry, you will not\nbe easily restrained, the table being laid; the gushing water, too,\nprovokes excessive thirst.'Tis no easy matter to hold back the bull when\nhe sees the heifer; on seeing the mare, the high-mettled steed is always\nneighing after her.\n\nWhen this you have done, when at last you reach the shore, 'tis not\nenough for you to have abandoned her. Both her sister and her mother\nmust bid you farewell, her nurse, too, her confidant, and whatever other\nconnexion there shall be of your mistress. And let no servant come; and\nlet no little handmaid, feigning to weep, say to you in the name of her\nmistress, \"Hail!\" [1262] Nor yet, though you should desire to know, should\nyou ask how she is doing. Defer it; the restraint of the tongue will be\nto its own advantage.\n\nYou, too, who are telling the cause of your liason being discontinued,\nand are relating many things to be complained of about your mistress;\nforbear to complain; so, by being silent, you will be taking a better\nrevenge; until she shall vanish from your regrets. And I would rather\nthat you were silent, than that you should talk about having cut her.\nThe man who is too often saying to many a one, \"I love her not,\" is\nstill in love. But with greater certainty is the flame extinguished by\ndegrees, than all of a sudden; cease gradually, and you will be safe.\nThe torrent is wont to run with greater violence than the uninterrupted\nriver; but yet the one is a short-lived, the other a lasting, stream.\nLet love escape you, and let it depart vanishing into thin air, and let\nit die out by degrees imperceptible.\n\nBut 'tis a crime to hate the fair one so lately loved; such a termination\nas that is befitting a brutal disposition.'Tis enough not to care for\nher; he who terminates his love with hate, either still loves on, or\nwith difficulty will cease to be wretched. 'Tis a shocking thing for a\nman and a woman so lately united to be enemies at once; the Appian [1263]\nGoddess herself would not approve of such quarrels as those. Full oft do\nmen accuse their mistresses, and still they love them: where no discord\narises, Love released, through advice, betakes himself away.\n\nBy chance I was in the company [1264] of a young man; a litter contained\nhis mistress; all his expressions were shocking from his frightful\nthreats; and now, about to cite her at law, he said, \"Let her come out\nof the litter!\" She did come out; on seeing his mistress, he was dumb.\nHis hands both fell, and his two tablets from out of his hands. He\nrushed into her em braces; and \"thus,\" said he, \"do you prove the\nconqueror.'\n\n'Tis more safe, and more becoming, to depart in peace, than from the\nchamber to repair to the litigious Courts. The presents which you have\ngiven her, request her to keep without litigation; trivial losses\nare wont to be of great benefit. But if any accident should bring you\ntogether, keep those arms of defence which I am giving, firmly fixed\nin your mind. Then, there is need of arms; here, most valorous man, use\nyour energies. By your weapon must Penthesilea be overcome. Now let the\nrival, now the obdurate threshold, when you were her lover, recur to\nyou; now your words uttered in vain in presence of the Gods. Neither\narrange your hair, because you are about to approach her; nor let your\nrobe be seen with loose folds [1265] upon the bosom. Have no care to\nbe pleasing to the alienated fair one; now make her to be one of the\nmultitude so far as you are concerned.\n\nBut I will tell what especially stands in the way of my endeavours;\nhis own example instructing each individual. We cease to love by slow\ndegrees, because we hope to be loved ourselves; and while each one is\nsatisfying himself, we are ever a credulous set. But do you believe\nthat, in her oaths, neither words (for what is there more deceptive than\nthem?) nor the immortal Deities have any weight. Take care, too, not to\nbe moved by the tears of the fair; they have instructed their eyes how\nto weep. By arts innumerable are the feelings of lovers laid siege to;\njust as the rock that is beaten on every side by the waves of the sea.\nAnd do not disclose the reasons why you would prefer a separation, nor\ntell her what you take amiss; still, to yourself, ever grieve on.\n\nAnd don't recount her failings, lest she should extenuate them. You\nyourself will prove indulgent; so that her cause will prove better than\nyour own cause. He that is silent, is strong in his resolution; he that\nutters many reproaches to the fair one, asks for himself to be satisfied\nby her justification. I would not venture, [1266] after the example of him\nof Dulichium, to dip the vengeful arrows, nor the glowing torches, in\nthe stream; I shall not clip the empurpled wings of the Boy, the God of\nLove; nor through my skill shall his hallowed bow be unstrung. 'Tis in\naccordance with prudence, whatever I sing. Give heed to me as I sing;\nand Phoebus, giver of health, as thou art wont, be thou propitious to my\nattempts.\n\nPhoebus is propitious; his lyre sounds; his quiver resounds. By his\nsigns do I recognize the God; Phoebus is propitious. Compare the fleece\nthat has been dyed in the cauldrons of Amycl\u00e6 [1267] with the Tyrian\npurple; the former will be but dull. Do you, too, compare your charmers\nwith the beauteous fair; each one will begin to be ashamed of his own\nmistress. Both Juno and Pallas may have seemed beauteous to Paris:\nbut Venus surpassed them both when compared with herself. And not the\nappearance only; compare the manners and the accomplishments as well;\nonly let not your passion prejudice your judgment.\n\nWhat I shall henceforth sing is but trifling; but trifling as it is, it\nhas proved of service to many; among whom I myself was one. Take care\nnot to read over again the letters that you have kept of the\ncaressing fair one: letters, when read over again, shake even a firm\ndetermination. Put the whole of them (though unwillingly you should put\nthem) into the devouring flames; and say, \"May this prove the funeral\npile of my passion.\" The daughter of Thestius [1268] burned her son\nMeleager afar off by means of the billet. Will you, with hesitation,\ncommit the words of perfidy to the flames? If you can, remove her waxen\nportrait [1269] as well. Why be moved by a dumb likeness? By this means\nwas Laodamia undone. Many localities, too, have bad effects: fly from\nthe spots that were conscious of your embraces; a thousand grounds for\nsorrow do they contain. Here she has been; here she has laid; in that\nchamber have we slept; here, in the voluptuous night, has she yielded to\nme her embraces.\n\nBy recollection, love is excited afresh, and the wound renewed is\nopened; a trifling cause is injurious to the sickly. As, if you were to\ntouch ashes almost cold with sulphur, they would rekindle, and, from\na small one, a very great fire would be produced; so, unless you avoid\nwhatever renews love, the flame will be kindled afresh, which just now\nwas not existing. The Argive ships would fain have fled from Caphareus, [1270] and from thee, old man, that didst avenge thy woes with the flames.\nThe daughter of Nisus [1271] past by, the cautious mariner rejoices. Do\nyou avoid the spots which have proved too delightful for you. Let these\nbe your Syrtes; avoid these as your Acroceraunia; [1272] here does the\nruthless Charybdis vomit forth and swallow down the waves. Some things\nthere are which cannot be recommended at the bidding of any one; still,\nthe same, if happening by chance, are often wont to be of service.\n\nHad Ph\u00e6dra lost her wealth, thou wouldst, Neptune, have spared thy\ndescendant; [1273] nor would the bull, sent by his ancestor, have startled\nthe steeds. Had you made the Gnossian [1274] damsel poor, she would have\nloved with prudence. Voluptuous passion is nourished by opulence. Why\nwas there no one to court Hecale, [1275] no one to court Iras? [1276] It was\nbecause the one was in want, the other a pauper. Poverty has nothing by\nwhich to pamper its passion; still, this is not of so much consequence,\nthat you should desire to be poor.\n\nBut let it be of so much consequence to you, as not to be indulging\nyourself with the Theatres, until Love has entirely departed from your\nliberated breast. The harps, and the pipes, and the lyres, soften the\nfeelings; the voices, too, and the arms, moved to their proper time.\nThere, everlastingly, the parts of supposed lovers are being acted [1277]\nin the dance; by his skill, the actor teaches you what to avoid, and\nwhat is serviceable. Unwillingly must I say it: meddle not with the\namorous Poets; unnaturally do I myself withhold my own productions.\nAvoid Callimachus; no enemy is he to Love; and together with\nCallimachus, thou, too, bard of Cos, [1278] art injurious. Beyond a doubt,\nSappho has rendered me more lenient to my mistress; and the Teian Muse\nhas imparted manners far from austere. Who can read in safety the lines\nof Tibullus, or thine, thou, whose sole subject Cynthia was? Who, after\nreading Gallus, could retire with obdurate feelings? Even my own lines\nhave tones indescribably sweet.\n\nUnless Apollo, the inspirer of my work, is deceiving his bard, a rival\nis the especial cause of our torments. But do you refrain from conjuring\nup to yourself any rival; and believe that she lies alone upon her\ncouch. Orestes loved Hermione [1279] more intensely for that very reason;\nbecause she had begun to belong to another man. Why, Menelaiis, dost\nthou grieve? Without thy wife thou didst go to Crete; and thou couldst,\nat thy ease, be absent from thy spouse. Soon as Paris has carried her\noff, then at last thou couldst not do without thy wife; through the\npassion of another was thine own increased. This, too, did Achilles\nlament, in the case of the daughter of Brises, when taken away from him,\nthat she was administering to the pleasures of the couch of the son\nof Plisthenes. [1280] And not without reason, [1281] believe me, did he\nlament. The son of Atreus did that, which if he had not done, he would\nhave been disgracefully torpid. At least, I should have done so, and 1\nam not any wiser than he. That was the especial reward for the ill-will\nhe got. For, inasmuch as he swore by his sceptre, that the daughter of\nBrises had never been touched by him; 'tis clear that he did not think [1282] his sceptre was the Gods.\n\nMay the Deities grant that you may be able to pass the threshold of\nthe mistress that you have forsaken; and that your feet may aid your\ndetermination. And you will be able; do you only wish to adhere to your\npurpose. Now it is necessary to go with boldness, now to put spur to the\nswift steed. Believe that in that cave are the Lotophagi, [1283] in that\nthe Syrens; add sail to your oars. The man, too, who being your rival,\nyou formerly took it amiss; I would have you cease to hold him in the\nplace of an enemy. But, at least, though the hatred should still exist,\nsalute him. When now you shall be able to embrace him, you will be\ncured.\n\nThat I may perform all the duties of a physician, behold! I will tell\nyou what food to avoid, or what to adopt. The Bauman [1284] onions, or\nthose sent you from the Libyan shores, or whether those that come from\nMegara, [1285] will all prove injurious. And 'tis no less proper to avoid\nthe lustful rocket, and whatever else provokes our bodies to lust.\nTo more advantage may you use rue that sharpens the sight, [1286] and\nwhatever guards our bodies against lust. Do you enquire what I would\nadvise you about the gifts of Bacchus? You will be satisfied thereon by\nmy precepts sooner than you expect. Wine incites the feelings to lust,\nunless you take it in great quantities, and, drenched with much liquor,\nyour senses become stupefied. By wind is fire kindled, by wind is it\nextinguished. A gentle breeze nourishes flame, a stronger one puts it\nout. Either let there be no drunkenness, or to so great an extent as\nto remove your anxieties; if there is any medium between the two, it is\ninjurious.\n\nThis work have I completed; present the garlands to my wearied bark. I\nhave reached the harbour, whither my course was directed. Both\nfemales and males, healed by my lays, to the Poet ere long will you be\nfulfilling your duteous vows.\n\n\n\n\nFOOTNOTES\n\n\n[Footnote 1201: Wounded by whom.--Ver. 5. He alludes to the wound\nreceived by Venus from Diomedes, the son of Tydeus.]\n\n[Footnote 1202: Tying up his neck.--Ver. 17. He probably alludes to the\nunfortunate end of the passion of Iphis for Anaxarete, which is related\nat the close of the Fourteenth Book of the Metamorphoses.]\n\n[Footnote 1203: A remedy.--Ver. 47. Telephus, the son of Hercules and\nAutre, having been wounded by the spear of Achilles, was cured by the\napplication of the rust of the same weapon.]\n\n[Footnote 1204: Nine times she went.--Ver. 56. See the Epistle of\nPhyllis to Demophoa.]\n\n[Footnote 1205: Become a bird.--Ver. 62. See the Metamorphoses, Book\nvi.]\n\n[Footnote 1206: Assertor.--Ver. 73. This word was properly applied to\none who laid his hands on a slave, and asserted his freedom. By the\nLaws of the 'Twelve Tables,' he was required to give security for his\nappearance in an action by the master of the slave, to the amount of\nfifty 'asses,' and no more.]\n\n[Footnote 1207: Liberating wand.--Ver. 74. See the Last Book, 1. 615 and\nthe Note.]\n\n[Footnote 1208: Son of Poeas.--Ver. 111. See the Metamorphoses, Book x.\nL 45, and the Note.]\n\n[Footnote 1209: Plane-tree.--Ver. 141. The shade of this tree was much\nvalued as a place of resort for convivial parties. Wine was sometimes\npoured upon its roots.]\n\n[Footnote 1210: To defend.--Ver. 151. See the Fasti, Book i. 1. 22, and\nthe Note.]\n\n[Footnote 1211: Into the ranks.--Ver. 152. He recommends the idle man\nto become a candidate for public honours: on which occasion, the party\ncanvassing wore a white 'toga,' whence he was called 'candidatus,'\nliterally, 'one clothed in white.']\n\n[Footnote 1212: Flying Parthian.--Ver. 155. See the Art of Love, Book i.\n1. 177, and the Note.]\n\n[Footnote 1213: \u00c6tolian.--Ver. 159. \u00c6tolia was the native country of\nDiomedes.]\n\n[Footnote 1214: Waging it.--Ver. 165. He might have gone to Troy,\nand taken part in that war; unless, indeed, as Ovid hints in another\npassage, his intrigue did not commence with Clyteinnestra till after\nTroy had fallen, and Cassandra had become the captive of Agememnon.]\n\n[Footnote 1215: Fly from the yew trees.--Ver. 185. 'Fumos,' 'smoke,'\nis a better reading here than 'taxos,' 'yews,' inasmuch as the swarm of\nbees would be driven away by smoke, but not by the yew, which was not\nnoxious to the swarm, though it was thought to make the honey of a\npoisonous nature, or bitter, according to Pliny. See the Amores, B. i.\nEl. xii. 1. 10, and the Note.]\n\n[Footnote 1216: Bending osiers.--Ver. 186. The beehives, if stationary,\nwere made of brick, or baked cow dung; if moveable, they were made from\na hollow block of wood, cork, bark, earthenware, and, as in the present\ninstance, wicker-work, or osier. Those of cork were deemed the best,\nand those of earthenware the worst, as being most susceptible to the\nvariations of the temperature.]\n\n[Footnote 1217: The grafting.--Ver. 195. The process of engrafting was\nperformed in the spring. * Feather-foils.--Ver. 203. See the Fasti, B.\nv. L 173, and the Note.]\n\n[Footnote 1218: Nor let the Sabbaths.'--Ver. 219. It is supposed that\nthe Romans in some measure imitated the Jews in the observance of\ntheir Sabbath, by setting apart every seventh day for the worship of\nparticular Deities. See the Art of Love, Book i. lines 76 and 416, and\nthe Notes.]\n\n[Footnote 1219: Allia.--Ver. 220. See the Art of Love, Book i. 1. 413;\nand the Ibis, 1. 221, and the Notes.]\n\n[Footnote 1220: Still is.--Ver. 224. By the use of the word 'adhuc,'\n'still,' or 'up to this time,' he intends to pay a compliment to\nAugustus, by implying that they will not long remain unconquered.]\n\n[Footnote 1221: Paternal home.--Ver. 239. Literally, 'paternal Lar.' On\nthe Lares, see the Fasti, Book i. 1. 136; and Book v. 1. 140, and the\nNotes.]\n\n[Footnote 1222: To come forth.--Ver. 250. See the Amores, Book i. El.\nviii. 1. 17, 18, and the Note. This achievement is similar to that\nperformed by the witch of Endor, if, indeed, she did not impose on the\nunhappy Saul, and tell him that the spirit of Samuel appeared, when that\nreally was not the case.]\n\n[Footnote 1223: Tiberinus.--Ver. 257. See the Fasti, Book ii. L 389, and\nthe Note. Also Book iv. 1. 47; the Ibis, 1. 516; and the Metamorphoses,\nBook xiv. 1. 614.]\n\n[Footnote 1224: Virgin sulphur.--Ver. 260. See the Art of Love, Book ii.\n1. 329, and the Note.]\n\n[Footnote 1225: Neritos.--Ver; 264. This island formed part of the\nrealms of Ulysses.]\n\n[Footnote 1226: Dulichian chief.--Ver. 272. Dulichian was one of the\nEchinades, a group of islands on the western side of the Peloponnesus,\nand was subject to Ulysses. See the Metamorphoses, Book viii. 1. 590,\nand the Note.]\n\n[Footnote 1227: Put up for sale.--Ver. 302. Through her extravagance.]\n\n[Footnote 1228: Some hawker.--Ver. 306. See the Art of Love, Book i. 1.\n421, and the Note. Being mostly liberated slaves, the 'institores' were\nlooked upon with great contempt by the Romans.]\n\n[Footnote 1229: Podaurius.--Ver. 313. See the Art of Love, Book ii. 1.\n735, and the Note.]\n\n[Footnote 1230: Confounding one for the other.--Ver. 323. 'Errore sub\nillo.' Literally, 'under that mistake.']\n\n[Footnote 1231: Move her hands.--Ver. 334 He alludes to the gestures\nused in dancing.]\n\n[Footnote 1232: Stomacher.--Ver. 338. See the Art of Love, Book iii. 1.\n374, and the Note.]\n\n[Footnote 1233: This \u00c6gis--Ver. 346. See the Fasti, Book iii. 1. 848,\nand the Note; also the Metamorphoses, Book iv. 1. 798.]\n\n[Footnote 1234: Of the fleece.--Ver. 354. See the Art of Love, Book\niii. 1. 213, and the Note. Surely Swift must have borrowed his notion\nof describing Chloe's dressing-room from these passages. See the Art of\nLove, Book i. 1. 339, and the Note.]\n\n[Footnote 1235: Smell like thy tables.--Ver. 355. He alludes to the\ndefilement of the tables of Phineus by the filthy Harpies.]\n\n[Footnote 1236: From him, Zoilus.--Ver. 366. It was unknown of what\nparentage and country Zoilus was. He compiled a work in dispraise of\nHomer, and was called by the ancients, 'Horaeromastix,' 'the scourge of\nHomer.' Zoilus was ultimately accused of parricide, and crucified.]\n\n[Footnote 1237: Mangled thy poems.--Ver. 367. He alludes to Virgil,\nwho, he says, had his censurers as well. Carvilius Picto wrote a satire\nagainst the \u00c6neid, called \u00c6neidomastix.]\n\n[Footnote 1238: Proper numbers.--Ver. 372. He adroitly avows the\nessence of the charge, by defending the Elegiac measure, in which he had\nwritten, and which could not be the object of any censures. He does not\nsay a word in defence of the subject matter, which had incurred these\nremarks.]\n\n[Footnote 1239: The sock of Comedy.--Ver. 376. The 'soccus' was a low\nshoe, which did not fit closely, and had no tie. These shoes were worn\namong the Greeks by both men and women. The 'soccus' was worn by comic\nactors, and was in this respect opposed to the 'cothurnus,' or 'buskin,'\nof Tragedy.]\n\n[Footnote 1240: Drag on its foot.--Ver. 378. He alludes first to a\ngenuine lambic line, ending with an Iambus, and then to a Scazonic line,\nso called from the Greek word, 'limping,' which was a kind of bastard\nIambic line, having a Trochee (or foot of a long and a short syllable)\nin the last place, instead of an Iambus. Scazonic lines were much used\nin satirical composition.]\n\n[Footnote 1241: Cydippe--Ver. 382. Callimachus wrote a poem on the loves\nof Acontius and Cydippe. See Epistles xx and xxi.]\n\n[Footnote 1242: Andromache.--Ver. 383. She was a heroine of Tragedy,\nwhile Thais, the courtesan, figured in the Eunuchus, a Comedy of\nTerence.]\n\n[Footnote 1243: Noble Epic.--Ver. 396. 'Epos'seems preferable here to\n'opus,' the common reading. * Disgust.--Ver. 432. This passage and that\nin 1. 437, are necessarily somewhat modified.]\n\n[Footnote 1244: Procris. J--Ver. 453. See the Translation of the\nMetamorphoses, p 262.]\n\n[Footnote 1245: Wife from Ida.'--Ver. 454. He refers to Clytemnestra\nbeing supplanted by Cassandra.]\n\n[Footnote 1246: The brother of.--Ver. 455 Alcm\u00e6on was married to\nAlphesibea, the daughter of Phegeus, and deserted her for Calirrho\u00eb, the\ndaughter of the river Achelous.]\n\n[Footnote 1247: Odrysian.--Ver. 459. He here alludes to the story of\nTereus and Progne.]\n\n[Footnote 1248: Than she who.--Ver. 464. 'Qu\u00e6' seems to be a preferable\nreading to 'cui though in either case the sense is the same. Ovid had\nprobably the instance of Niobe in his mind, when he wrote this passage.\nSee the Metamorphoses, B. vi. 1. 297.]\n\n[Footnote 1249: Had ordered.--Ver. 473. See the Introduction to the\nEpistle of Briseis to Achilles.]\n\n[Footnote 1250: If the first syllable.--Ver. 476. Ovid, with his\npropensity for playing upon words, remarks upon the similarity of the\nnames, Chryseis and Seis; the one being the daughter of Chryses, and the\nother of Briser.]\n\n[Footnote 1251: Appear asleep.--Ver. 499. See the Amores, B. ii. El. v.\n1. 13.]\n\n[Footnote 1252: And let not this.--Ver. 513. The reading of this line\nand the next is probably corrupt. Burmann suggests that 'propositus'\nshould lie substituted for 'propositis,' and that the stop should\nbe removed from the end of 'am\u00e0ndi,' and a semicolon placed after\n'propositus.' In that case, the meaning would be, 'You must, however,\nact the deceiver to yourself, and must not make any determination to\ncease altogether from loving her; lest, as the horse struggles against\nthe rein, your affection should rebel against such a determination.']\n\n[Footnote 1253: Collinian.--Ver. 549. See the Fasti, B. iv. 1. 8'2, and\nthe Note.]\n\n[Footnote 1254: The Puteal.--Ver. 561. 'Puteal' properly means the\nenclosure which surrounds the opening of a well, to prevent persons from\nfalling into it. The 'Puteal' here referred to was that called 'Puteal\nScribonianum,' or 'Libonis,' and was situate in the Forum, near the\nFabian arch. Scribonius Libo erected in its neighbourhood a tribunal for\nthe Pr\u00e6tor, in consequence of which the place was frequented by persons\nengaged in litigation, especially by debtors and creditors; to which\ncircumstance reference is here made.]\n\n[Footnote 1255: And Janus.--Ver. 561. He probably refers to the fact\nof the temple of Janus being near the Puteal, and the tribunal of the\nPraetor. The Calends, or first of January, was the time when money\nlent became due, and on the same day was the Festival of Janus. See the\nFasti, B. i. 1. 89.]\n\n[Footnote 1256: On its return home.--Ver. 569. 'In reditu' may certainly\nmean 'upon its return;' but Burmann thinks that 'reditus' here means 'a\nsource of income,' and that the passage alludes to the man whose only\nproperty is his ship.]\n\n[Footnote 1257: In service.--Ver. 571; Those who were old enough to have\nsons In service, or marriageable daughters, were certainly unworthy of\nthe Poet's sympathy or advice.]\n\n[Footnote 1258: Palinurus.--Ver. 577. The pilot of \u00c6neas, who was\ndrowned off die coast of Italy. See the \u00c6neid of Virgil.]\n\n[Footnote 1259: Triennial.--Ver. 593. See the Metamorphoses, Book vi. 1.\n587; and the Fasti, Book i. 1. 394, and the Notes.]\n\n[Footnote 1260: Edoniatu--Ver. 594. See the Tristia, Book iv. El. i. 1.\n42, and the Note.]\n\n[Footnote 1261: Your foliage lost.--Ver. 606. He alludes to the story of\nthe woods losing their leaves in their grief for Phyllis.]\n\n[Footnote 1262: Hail!'--Ver. 640. Martial tells us that 'ave' was the\nmorning illutation of the Romans.]\n\n[Footnote 1263: Appian.'--Ver. 660. See the Art of Love, Book iii. 1.\n451.]\n\n[Footnote 1264: In the company.--Ver. 663. Heinsius thinks, that by\n'aderam,' it is meant that Ovid was acting as the counsel of the\nyouth. The young man had probably summoned his mistress, to restore his\nproperty left in her possession. On the two tablets his case was written\nout.]\n\n[Footnote 1265: Loose folds.--Ver. 680. The Roman fops affected to wear\nthe 'toga, tightened into many creases at the waist, and as open as\npossible at the breast.]\n\n[Footnote 1266: Not venture.--Ver. 699. He alludes to the abrupt\ndeparture of Ulysses from Calypso and Circe.]\n\n[Footnote 1267: Cauldrons of Amycl\u00e6.--Ver. 707. The purple dye of\nAmyel\u00e6, in Laconia, was of a very fair quality, but could not be\ncompared with that af Tyre.]\n\n[Footnote 1268: Thestius.--Ver. 721. See the Metamorphoses, Book viii.\n1. 445.]\n\n[Footnote 1269: Waxen portrait.--Ver. 723. Waxen profiles seem to have\nbeen used by the Romans, as likenesses. They are evidently referred to\nin the Asinaria of Plautus, Aet iv. se. i. 1. 19, a passage which seems\nto have puzzled the Commentators. See the Epistle of Laodania, 1. 152,\nand the Note.]\n\n[Footnote 1270: Caphareus.--Ver. 735. Seethe Tristia, Book i. El. i. 1.\n83, and the Note.]\n\n[Footnote 1271: Of Nmis.--Ver. 737. He falls into his usual error of\nconfounding the daughter of Nisus with the daughter of Phorcys.]\n\n[Footnote 1272: Acroceraunia.--Ver. 739. These were tremendous rocks on\nthe coast of Epirus.]\n\n[Footnote 1273: Thy descendant.--Ver. 743. He means that the lust of\nPh\u00e6dra was engendered by ease and luxury. See the Metamorphoses, Book\nxv. 1. 498. Neptune was the great grandfather of Hippolytus.]\n\n[Footnote 1274: Gnossian.7--Ver. 745. He refers to the love of Pasipha\u00eb\nfor the bull.]\n\n[Footnote 1275: Hecale.--Ver. 747. Hecale was a poor old woman, wo\nentertained Theseus with great hospitality.]\n\n[Footnote 1276: Irus--Ver. 747. See the Tristia, Book iii. El. vii. 1.\n42, and the Note.]\n\n[Footnote 1277: Being acted.--Ver. 755. See the Tristia, Book il. 1.\n519, and the Note.]\n\n[Footnote 1278: Of Cos.--Ver. 760. See the Art of Love, Book iii. 1.\n329, and the Note.]\n\n[Footnote 1279: Hermione.--Ver. 772. See the Epistle to Orestes.]\n\n[Footnote 1280: Of Plisthenes.--Ver. 778. Agamemnon was said, by some,\nto have been the son of Plisthenes, and adopted by his uncle Atreus.]\n\n[Footnote 1281: Without reason.--Ver. 779. Agamemnon declares the\ncontrary of this in the Iliad; Brise\u00efs, in her Epistle to Achilles, does\nthe same.]\n\n[Footnote 1282: He did not think.--Ver. 784. Ovid has no reason or\nground for this wretched quibble, but his own imagination. This sceptre\nof Agamemnon was made by Vulcan, who gave it to Jupiter, he to Mercury,\nand Mercury to Pelous, who left it to Atreus; by him it was left to\nThyestes, who according to Homer, gave it to Agamemnon.]\n\n[Footnote 1283: Lotophagi.--Ver. 789. See the Tristia, Book iv. El. i.\n1. 31, and the Note.]\n\n[Footnote 1284: Daunian.--Ver. 797. Daunia was a name of Apulia, in\nItaly. See the Metamorphoses, Book xiv. 1. 512, and the Note.]\n\n[Footnote 1285: Megara.--Ver. 798. See the Art of Love, Book ii. 1.\n422.]\n\n[Footnote 1286: Sharpens the sight.--Ver. 801. Pliny says that painters\nand sculptors were in the habit of using rue, for the purpose of\nstrengthening the sight.]\n\n\nTHE END","title":"Remedia Amoris; or, The Remedy of Love: Literally Translated into English Prose, with Copious Notes","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":11884}