Yet, e'en humanity must needs abhor,
715
That you should hate the nymph you did adore
For he discovers a mere brutal mind,
Whose love to enmity the way can find.
A gentle cure is what I recommend;
For he whose passion can in hatred end,
720
As soon may to his first desire return;
His fire does still beneath the embers burn.
To see two lovers at outragious odds,
Is scandal and offence to men and gods.
Many have rail'd, and yet been reconcil'd,
725
That minute they their mistresses revil'd.
Others I've known, who parting without strife,
Have fairly taken leave-but ta'en for life.
A nymph but lately passing in her chair,
Met with her lover (I by chance was there);
730
He storm'd, and with reproaches fill'd the air.
At last, " Come forth thou harlot, come," he cried
She came; at sight of her his tongue was tied;
The writings in his hand he flings away,
Runs to her arms, and has but pow'r to say,
735
"You've conquer'd, and no more I'll disobey."
Let her the presents you have sent retain
And to a less prefer the greater gain.
Weigh the advantage by that loss you reap,
And think the purchase of your freedom cheap.
740
If to her presence you by chance are driven,
Straight recollect the precepts I have given.
Since with your
Amazon
you must engage,
To whet your courage muster all your rage.
Think on your rival in her chamber kept,
745
While you, excluded, on her threshold slept.
How falsely she has treated you; and then
More falsely sworn to draw you in again.
Study no dress when she is to be seen,
But wear your garments careless as your mein.
750
Or, if the sparkish mode your fancy seize,
Take care it be some other nymph to please.
What most retards your cure, I'll now reveal;
And to your own experience dare appeal;
Hoping to be at last belov'd, (though vain
755
Those hopes) we linger, and indulge our pain.
T' our own defects, through self-opinion, blind,
We wonder how the fair can be unkind.
Ne'er think that what she says or swears is true;
She fears the gods no more than she fears you.
760
Nor trust her tears, though plenteous tears distil;
Their eyes are disciplin'd to weep at will.
With various arts they storm a lover's mind,
Like some bleak rock expos'd to waves and wind.
Nourish the just resentments in your heart,
765
But ne'er declare the reason why you part.
For tax'd with crimes, she'll plead her innocence;
And you'll too much incline to her defence.
Contract th' indictment; spinning out the charge,
But shows you'd have her clear herself at large.
770
Remedia amoris. P. Ovidius Naso. New York. 1855.
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