Ovid's Erotic Poems - Ovid

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The broken filly feels a curb that fits. So Love will crush that bridling enemy who braves Him—crush him harder than surrendering slaves. And Cupid, look: I’m one! Your newest prize says yes, And puts his hands up. See how I profess 20 Your creed? Your word is law; there is no war. I plead For peace, so where’s the glory in a deed Like conquering an unarmed man? No, braid your hair With myrtle, hitch your mother’s pigeon pair To Vulcan’s chariot, and in that war car, steer 25 Those doves, as crowds cry out their love and cheer. And youth that you lead on, those captive girls and boys, Will make a mighty triumph of your toys. Myself, your latest spoil, will wear a wound that’s fresh, Bearing as mind-forged chains what binds the flesh. 30 Good Sense and Shame, their hands bound back by cuff and clamp, Trudge on with everyone not in Love’s camp. The crowd that cries your triumph “Io!” cries from fear, Hands high. Their one great throat gives out that cheer. Then Frenzy and Delusion follow in your train 35 Forever, and caresses made in vain. These are your forces that defeat all human foes; Sans them, you’re just a boy without his clothes. Oh, how your mother high above will clap, and shower Your head with roses in your finest hour! 40 You’ll shine like gold, with jeweled wings, gems in your hair. Your golden self will dazzle all the air. And we who know you well, know you will leave wound-free Few souls you fire with your ardency. Boy Archer, all your arrows are their own. Blind seer, 45 They scorch and singe whatever they come near, As if you were great Bacchus on the Ganges’ shore, Whose tigers had been tamed—like doves—for war. So spare me as a victim in your triumph’s train, And save your breath to blast some other swain. 50 Extend the kindness cousin Caesar’s smiles exude: His arms reach out to each new land subdued.

       I.3

Love, give me justice. Make my heart’s thief love me, or…
Make her the one I’ll live forever for.
No, that’s too much to ask. Just let her let me love,
And hear my prayers, O Venus up above.
Accept me for a man who’ll be your lifelong servant; 5
Take one who in your faith will be observant
Despite the fact my family name’s not old or fine,
And though it’s just a knight who “wrote” our line.
Perhaps our family can count its fields and ploughs,
And parsed-out pennies are all it allows 10
Me. Phoebus, though, and Bacchus, and the Muses, and
Amor, deliver me into your hand.
I’ll offer you the greatest trust, love free from stain,
And proper modesty—all clean and plain.
I am no ladies’ man who jumps from horse to horse, 15
Some circus rider, but will stay the course
Spun out by Clotho through the years—their whole, long thread—
And die with you beside me at my bed.
You only need to give yourself to be my theme
To see that what I write’s worth your esteem. 20
Recall those other famous women: she who turned
Bovine; and one a swan left not quite spurned;
That girl who went to sea with what just seemed a bull
(Her virgin hands held horns to push and pull)?
Oh, we’ll be sung that way throughout the world forever— 25
Two names that earth and time will never sever.

       I.4

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Your husband’s coming to our feast? That same repast
I’m praying will turn out to be his last?
So I must see my darling like some common guest;