But ne'er frequent the wanton theatre,
Where vain desires in all their pomp appear;
840
From music, dancing, and an am'rous part,
1
Perform'd to th' life, how can you guard your heart?
Against myself I frank confession make;
Into your hands no am'rous poet take,
2
Whose Syren muses draw the list'ning throng,
845
And charm them into ruin by their song.
Callimachus first from your sight remove.
Banish Philetas next; they're friends to love.
How oft have Sappho's odes set me one fire!
Who can contain, that hears Anacreon's lyre?
850
Who reads Tibullus must his passion feel;
Propertius can dissolve a heart of steel:
Nor Gallus fails the coldest breast to warm;
And e'en my muse has found the art to charm.
But if Apollo, who conducts my song,
855
Secure me in this point from guessing wrong,
The pain with which most sensibly you're griev'd,
Is on th' account of jealousy conceiv'd.
No fear of rivals must your heart torment:
For true, or false, yet for your own content,
860
At least persuade yourself that you have none,
And that the harmless creature sleeps alone.
Orestes ne'er could find his nymph had charms,
Till he beheld her in another's arms.
Why, Menelaus, dost thou now take on?
865
In
Crete
you long could sauntering stay alone;
Your Helen's absence ne'er disturb'd your rest:
No sooner fled she with her Trojan guest,
The royal cuckold raves, and he must make
A ten years' war, to fetch the harlot back.
870
'Twas on this score the fierce Achilles wept;
With Agamemnon his Briseis slept.
3
Good cause to weep, the maiden toy was got,
Or great Alcides was a sov'reign sot.
His game of love were Ovid to have play'd,
875
The poet had the better hero made.
At last, with gifts he did the loss restore,
And that she was untouch'd profoundly swore,
Swore by his sceptre; — nor can that seem odd;
He knew his sceptre but a wooden god.
4
880
Remedia amoris. P. Ovidius Naso. New York. 1855.
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