University of Virginia Library

TRANSLATIONS FROM OVID'S AMORES PRINTED IN “DRYDEN'S MISCELLANY,” 1684

XCI
BOOK I

Elegy the Eighth

He Curses a Bawd, for going about to debauch his Mistress.

There is a Bawd renown'd in Venus Wars,
And dreadfull still with honourable scars:
Her youth and beauty, craft and guile supply
Sworn Foe to all degrees of Chastity.
Dypsas who first taught Love sick Maids the way
To cheat the Bridegroom on the Wedding day.
And then a hundred subtile tricks devis'd,
Wherewith the Amorous Theft might be disguis'd.
Of Pigeons-blood, squeez'd from the panting heart,
With Surfeit-water to contract the part,
She knows the Use: whilst the good man betray'd,
With eager Arms huggs the false bleeding Maid.
Of herbs and Spells she tries the Guilty Force,
The poyson of a Mare that goes to Horse.
Cleaving the Midnight Air upon a Switch,
Some for a Bawd, most take her for a Witch.
Each Morning sees her reeling to her Bed,
Her Native Blew o'ercome with drunken red.
Her ready Tongue ne'er wants an usefull lie,
Soft moving words, nor Charming flattery.
Thus I o'erheard her to my Lucia speak,
Young Damon's Heart wilt thou for ever break?
He long has lov'd thee, and by me he sends
To learn thy motions, which he still attends.
If to the Park thou go, the Plays are ill;
If to the Plays, he thinks the Air wou'd kill.
The other day he gaz'd upon thy Face,
As he wou'd grow a Statue in the place;
And who in deed has not? like a new Star,
Beauty like thine strikes Wonders from afar.
Alas, methinks thou art ill drest to night,
This Point's too poor; thy Necklace is not right.
This Gown was by some botching Taylor made,
It spoils thy Shape; this Fucus is ill laid.
Hear me, and be as happy as thou'rt fair,
Damon is rich and what thou want'st can spare.
Like thine his Face, like thine his Eyes are thought,
Wou'd he not buy, he might himself be bought.
Fair Lucia blusht; It is a sign of Grace,
Dypsas reply'd, that Red becomes thy Face.
All Lovers now by what they give are weigh'd,
And she is best belov'd that is best paid.
The Sun-burnt Latines, in old Tatius Reign,
Did to one man perhaps their love restrain.
Venus in her Aeneas City rules,
And all adore her Deity, but Fools.
Go on, ye Fair, Chaste onely let such live,
As none will ask, and know not how to give.
How prettily you frown[!] But I'll speak on,
Hear me, another day 'twill be your own.
Vertuous Penelope is said t'have try'd,
With a strong Bow, each lusty Lover's side.
Nor did Lucretia kill herself for rage,
But love of Tarquin, in that colder Age.
To the young Prince she vow'd, ne'er more to joyn
In dull Embraces with her Collatine.
To keep her word she dy'd—
Life steals away, and our best hours are gone,
E'er the true Use, or worth of them, be known.
Things long neglected of themselves decay,
What we forbear time rudely makes his prey.
Beauty is best preserv'd by Exercise,
Nor for that Task can one or few suffice.
Wou'dst thou grow rich, thou must from many take;
From one 'twere hard continually to rake.
With out new Gowns, and Coaches, who can live?
What does thy Poet, but new Verses give?
A Poet, the last thing that Earth does breed,
Whose Wit, for sixpence, any one may reade.
Him that will give, to Homer I prefer,
To give is an ingenious thing I swear.
Despise not any can a present make,
It matters not from whom, but what we take.
Nor with the sound of titles be thou caught,
For nothing can with empty Names be bought.
Hang the poor Lover, and his Pedigree,
The thriving Merchant, or fat Judge give me.
If any beardless Stripling ask a Night,
And think thee paid with mutual delight;
Bid him go earn thy price among the men,
And when he has it, come to thee again.
Love truly none, but seem in Love with all,
And at old friends to thy new Lover rail.
Sometimes deny, 'twill Appetite procure;
The sharp-set Hawks will stoop to any Lure.
Then grant again, lest he a habit get
Of living from thee, but be sure thou let
No empty Lover in: murmur sometimes,
And as first hurt, reproach him with thy Crimes.
Seem jealous, when thou'st been thy self to blame,
'Twill stop his mouth, if thou the first complain.
All thou hast done be ready to forswear,
For Lovers Oaths fair Venus has no Ear,
Whilst he is with thee, let some Woman bring
Some Indian stuff, or Foreign pretious thing;
Which thou must say thou want'st, and he must buy,
Though for it six months hence in Gaol he lye.
Thy Mother, Sister, Brother, and thy Nurse,
Must have a pull each at thy Lover's Purse.
Let him from Rivals never be secure,
That hope once gone, Love will not long endure.
Shew him the presents by those Rivals sent,
So shall his bounty thy request prevent.
When he will give no more, ask him to lend,
If he wants money, find a trusting Friend.
Get hangings, Cabinets, a Looking-glass[,]
Or any thing for which his word will pass.
Practise these Rules, thou'lt find the benefit;
I lost my Beauty e'er I got this wit.
I at that word stept from behind the door,
And scarce my Nails from her thin Cheeks forbore.
Her few Grey hairs in rage I vow'd to pull.
And thrust her drunken eyes into her Skull.
Poor in a Dungeons bottom mayst thou rot,
Dye with a blow with thy beloved Pot,
No Brandy and Eternal thirst thy Lot.

XCII
BOOK II

Elegy the Fifth

To his false Mistress.

Cupid, begon! who wou'd on thee rely,
And thus at every moment wish to dye?
Death is my wish, when on thy guilt I think,
(Thy faithless guilt) at which I fain wou'd wink.
False Maid, thou various torment of my life,
Thou flying pleasure, and thou lasting grief;
No doubtfull Letters thy lost faith accuse,
Nor private gifts, thou mightst with ease excuse
Such proofs, one word of thine might overcome;
Why is my cause so good, and thou so dumb?
Happy's the man that's handsomely deceiv'd,
Whose Mistress swears and lies, and is believ'd.
Those Eyes beheld thee, when thou thoughtst me
In books and signs (nor yet in those alone)
Conveying the glad message of thy Love
To that gay, vain, dull Fopp that sate above.
I knew the Language soon, what could be hid
From Lovers Eyes of all ye said or did?
When others rose, I saw thee Dart a kiss,
The wanton prelude to a farther bliss:
Not such as Wives to their cold Husbands give,
But such as hot Adulterers receive.
Such as might kindle frozen appetite,
And fire even wasted nature with delight.
What art thou mad, I cry'd, before my face,
To steal my wealth, and my new Rival grace?
I'll rise and seize my own upon the place.
These soft endearments should not farther go,
But be the secret treasure of us two,
How comes this third in for a share I'd know?
This, and what more my grief inspir'd, I said;
Her face she cover'd with a Conscious red:
Like a Cloud guilded by the rising Sun,
Or Virgin newly by her Love undone.
Those very blushes pleas'd, when she cast down
Her lovely Eyes, with a disdainfull frown.
Disdain became her, looking on the Earth,
Sad were her looks, but Charming above mirth.
I could have kill'd my self or him, or her,
Scarce did my rage her tender Cheeks forbear:
When I beheld her Face my anger cool'd,
I felt myself to a mere Lover fool'd.
I, who but now so fierce, grow tame and sue,
With such a kiss we might our Love renew.
She smil'd and gave me one might Jove disarm,
And from his hand the brandisht Thunder charm.
'Twas worse than Death, to think my Rival knew
Such Joys as till that hour to me were new.
She gave much better kisses than I taught,
And something strange was in each touch methought.
They pleas'd me but too well, and thou didst tongue,
With too much art and skill, for one so young:
Nor is this all, though I of this complain,
Nor should I for a kiss be so in pain:
But thine cou'd never but in Bed be taught,
I fear how dear thou hast thy Knowledge bought.

XCIII
BOOK III

Elegy the Fourth

To A Man that lockt up his Wife.

Vex not thy self and her, vain Man, since all
By their own Vice, or Vertue stand or fall.
She's truely chaste and worthy of that name,
Who hates the ill as well as fears the shame:
And that vile Woman whom restraint keeps in
Though she forbear the Act, has done the Sin.
Spies, Locks and Bolts may keep her brutal Part,
But thou'rt an odious Cuckold in her heart.
They that have Freedom use it least, and so
The power of ill does the design o'erthrow.
Provoke not Vice by a too harsh restraint,
Sick men long most to drink, who know they may'nt.
The fiery Courser, whom no Art can stay
Or rugged force, does oft fair means obey:
And he that did the rudest Arme disdain,
Submits with Quiet to the looser rein.
An hundred Eyes had Argos, yet the while
One silly Maid did all those Eyes beguile.
Danae though shut within a brasen Tower,
Felt the male virtue of the Golden shower:
But chaste Penelope, left to her own will
And free disposal, never thought of ill;
She to her absent Lord preserv'd her truth,
For all th'Addresses of the smoother Youth.
What's rarely seen our fancy magnifies,
Permitted pleasure who does not despise?
Thy Care provokes beyond her Face, and more
Men strive to make the Cuckold, than the Whore.
They're wondrous charms we think and long to know,
That in a Wife inchant a Husband so:
Rage, Swear and Curse, no matter, shee alone
Pleases who sighs and cryes I am undone;
But could thy Servants say we have kept her chaste?
Good Servants then but an ill Wife thou hast.
Who fears to be a Cuckold is a Clown,
Not worthy to partake of this lewd Town:
Where it is monstrous to be fair and Chaste,
And not one Inch of either Sex lies waste.
Wouldst thou be happy? with her ways comply,
And in her Case lay Poynts of honour by:
The Friendship she begins wisely improve,
And a fair Wife gets one a world of Love:
So shalt thou wellcome be to Every treat,
Live high, not pay, and never run in debt.