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This work may be freely reproduced, stored and transmitted, electronically or otherwise, for any non-commercial purpose. Now the lovely goddess had given her fatal bribe. Book II. They many times ask for gifts, they never give in return: you lose, and you’ll get no thanks for your loss. Should anyone here not know the art of love. The youth has too much faith in his own beauty. Perhaps at first a cool letter comes to you. one who’s a heifer, the other borne by the bull. And it’s good to raise a breeze with a light fan. and suffers as harmful evils the cowardly delays. The grains of sand give way before the number. it will be thought excessive wine’s to blame. try her intention, test the road out first. Just walk slowly under Pompey’s shady colonnade. what place, what mountains, and what stream’s displayed. I am Love’s teacher as Chiron was Achilles’s. presses rabid dogs down with her thighs and groin. Now striking her sweet breast with her hands, again and again. by a wooden cow, and their offspring betrayed its breeding. While you’re still free, and can roam on a loose rein, pick one to whom you could say: ‘You alone please me.’. here too, believe me, there’s an even greater crowd. by what arts she’s caught, itself a work of highest art. when the raped Sabines delighted unmarried men. can be won: you’ll win her, if you only set your snares. So Troy was defended with sorrowful conflict: in joy, the Horse, pregnant with soldiers, was received. so our fashionable ladies crowd to the famous shows: my choice is often constrained by such richness. and said: ‘Now, how can she please my lord? That’s Euphrates, his brow crowned with reeds: that’ll be Tigris with the long green hair. That’s my aim, that’s the ground my chariot will cover: that’s the post my thundering wheels will scrape. You may accept or manage cookie usage at any time. And don’t forget the shrine of Adonis, Venus wept for. But to get to know your desired-one’s maid. Your lover can appreciate none of your wealth. no youth will be caught out being lead by me. Who would not weep at Corinthian Creusa’s flames. or wear out some long road to discover them. the poor things will straightaway mistrust themselves. Yet often the imitator begins to love in truth. Unfortunately my barbershop has no Donald Ducks to read, so I take a book with me in case I have to wait. Rome will grant you lots of such lovely girls, you’ll say: ‘Here’s everything the world has had.’. See if she’s close to her mistress’s thoughts. Venus Genetrix - Joseph Adolf Schmetterling (Dutch, 1751 - 1828) The Court of Love, a tale from Chaucer. just for the cake, and how often it is her birthday, if she’s in need? in one case you’re a prize for her mistress, in the other herself. then the tender Kid is merged with the ocean wave: it’s best to hold off then: then he who trusts the deep. The cow lows to the bull in gentle pastures: the mare whinnies to the hoofed stallion. Ovid: Ars Amatoria (The Art of Love) Trans. Match. So far, riding her unequal wheels, the Muse has taught you. and the spirited horse’s teeth worn by the bit. Then she should speak of you, and add persuasive words. The generals will go before you, necks weighed down with chains. Phaedra loved Hippolytus: he was unsophisticated: Adonis was dear to the goddess, and fit for the woods. Take the heavens for dowry: be seen as heavenly stars: and guide the anxious sailor often to your Cretan Crown.’, He spoke, and leapt from the chariot, lest she feared. is that your eyes catch a glimpse of her legs. press your thigh to hers, as you can do, all the time: and it’s good the rows force you close, even if you don’t like it. with clay figurines but with the wealth of kings. one small black mark set between his horns: it the sole blemish, the rest was milky-white. But let your powers be hidden, don’t display your eloquence: let irksome words vanish from your speech. and a neighbour’s herd always has richer milk. Make earnest enquiry whose those horses are: and rush to back her favourite, whatever it is. Orion wandered pale, for Side, in the woods. will be saddened, though her face pretends delight. that you go on: do it, and you’ll soon get what you wish. when conquered India trembled to your rod? flowed with the blood poured from Roman wounds, or when the Sabbath day returns, the holy day. so your girl can read them herself on the table: and gaze in her eyes with eyes confessing fire: you should often have silent words and speaking face. and that she can’t complain that you were harsh. When, lately, Caesar, in mock naval battle. and all the peoples of the world were in the City? THE ART OF LOVE BOOK I. Look, how she frisks before him in the tender grass: doubtless the foolish thing thinks that she’s lovely.’. Never weary of praising her face, her hair. Spinning’s not your work: your search for fame’s through Pallas’s other arts. Site also includes wide selection of works by other authors. you can reply to all, and more if she asks: and what you don’t know, reply as memory prompts. Don’t trust the treacherous lamplight overmuch: night and wine can harm your view of beauty. What wise man doesn’t mingle tears with kisses? So on the sacred bed the god and his bride meet. Pylades loved Hermione, just as Phoebus Pallas. As ants return home often in long processions. If you’ve a voice, sing: if your limbs are supple, dance: and please, with whatever you do that’s pleasing. Daphnis was pale for his reluctant Naiad. and orders Aeolus’s winds to carry them into the void. They say in Egypt the life-giving waters failed. Where’s that force now? These fish are speared, those caught on a hook: others trawled in billowing nets with straining ropes. Jupiter on high laughs at lovers’ perjuries. One of the author’s best-known works, it contributed to his downfall in 8 ce on allegations of immorality. was held out, at his master’s orders, to be flogged. Delude only women, if you’re wise, with impunity: where truth’s more to be guarded against than fraud. for a note of hand – and you’re sorry you learnt to write. If the simple find you cunning, and the modest crude. Gravity. and, delighted, held her rival’s entrails in her hand. and are pleased too when trouble comes to others. Pasiphae joyed in adultery with the bull: she hated the handsome heifers with jealousy. when her mistress’s mind is receptive, fit for love. STUDY. 30 Stücke von Ovid: 12,90 E; Kontakt: siehe auch: for her brother, and bravely punished herself with the noose? What’s this, Aeacides? Venus and Adonis - Josse de Pape (Belgian, 1615 - 1646) I sing what is well-known: not even Crete, the hundred-citied, They say that, with unpractised hands, she plucked. If she wants to read, she’ll want to answer what she’s read: such things proceed by number and by measure. and turned back his chariot and horses towards Dawn. and swear you’re dying, crazed with love. And the Circus brings assistance to new love. and himself becomes a part of the show he sees. I’ve seen the most severe of women fooled this way: he who once was a worshipper, became a lover. She went as one of the herd, unhindered by any care. and with your father’s powers and years you’ll win: though your first beginnings must be in debt to such a name. The standard text of Ars and Rem. Behold, now Caesar’s planning to add to our rule. they’re open: Venus steals in then with seductive art. I sing of safe love, permissible intrigue. and eagerly took possession of the women. Though the tale’s known, it’s still worth repeating. Book I. Et quoniam in patria, fatis agitatus iniquis, Vivere non potui, da mihi posse mori. so it’s pleasant to have what someone else has started. the innocent thing dragged under the arching yoke. Let the joyous lover set the laurel crown upon my brow and raise me to a loftier pinnacle than Hesiod of Ascra or the blind old bard of Mæonia. Who did not find one he might love in that crowd? The first complete Chinese translation of Ovid’s poem was Dai Wangshu’s (1905–50) 1929 Ai jing (Ars amatoria). Faults are hidden at night: every blemish is forgiven. Loading... Unsubscribe from Latein Rezitation? both wild boys, both children of a goddess. if by chance a speck of dust falls in the girl’s lap. Ah, how many were tortured by an alien love! © Copyright 2000-2020 A. S. Kline, All Rights Reserved. than that the murderous maker should perish by his art. the Sun would not have veered from his course mid-way. That way the procurer procures far too much. Od. The table laid for a feast also gives you an opening: There’s something more than wine you can look for there. Why do you restrain. to command the wine to bring your head no harm. Don’t think it’s hard: each think’s herself desired: the very worst take’s pleasure in her looks. Don’t forget the races, those noble stallions: the Circus holds room for a vast obliging crowd. Her mind will be fit for love when she luxuriates. As liars by liars are rightfully deceived. is to find out who you might wish to love. among their pastures and fragrant chosen meadows. might be propitiated by shedding a stranger’s blood. Even the chaste like their beauty to be commended: her form to even the virgin’s pleasing and dear. The avenger’s here, the leader, proclaimed, of tender years. and you, masses, show you support me: use your thumbs. Often at that time girls captivated men’s wits. How old were you, Bacchus, who are still a boy. one to be with just once, or one you might wish to keep. All delight in what’s shameful: care only for their pleasures. So the day will be, when you, beautiful one. Award-winning poet Len Krisak captures the music of Ovid's richly textured Latin meters through rhyming couplets that render the verse as playful and agile as it was meant to be. That punishment will return on your own head. Dwight, 4.03–04 9. to defeat the other two beneath Ida’s slopes: from an enemy land: a Greek wife in Trojan walls: all swore the prescribed oath to the injured husband: now one man’s grief became a nation’s cause. And applaud, the man who dances the girl’s part: When she rises, rise: while she’s sitting, sit: Don’t delight in curling your hair with tongs. as the new-born lamb runs from the hostile wolf: so they fled in panic from the lawless men. in the brazen bull: the unhappy creator was first to fill his work. no sloppy feet for you, swimming in loose hide: don’t mar your neat hair with an evil haircut: let an expert hand trim your head and beard. (and isn’t it hard to forego even one man?). But Patroclus never disgraced Achilles’s bed: and how modest Phaedra was with Pirithous. Often rosy Love has clasped Bacchus’s horns. don’t be ashamed to slip amongst the columns. Ah me, that was boorishness stopped you not modesty. and add her oar to the work of your sails. One soil doesn’t bear all crops: vines here. Sharrock, A., Seduction and Repetition in Ovid’s Ars Amatoria II (Oxford 1994), 138. Respiciunt, oculisque notant sibi quisque puellam 110 Quam velit, et tacito pectore multa movent. She fainted in terror, her next words were stifled: no sign of blood in her almost lifeless body. Ovid. he carried her away: all’s easily possible to a god. Why enumerate every female meeting place fit for the hunter? How much short of your wish are you after that kiss? But believe the mirror that denies you’re a heifer. Cancel Unsubscribe. she cried: ‘That faithless man’s gone: what of me, now? and covered their shaggy hair, as best they could, with leaves. how the girl of Scyros mated Achilles the hero. Whoever showed too much fight, and denied her lover. Leave that to those who celebrate Cybele the Mother, Male beauty’s better for neglect: Theseus. Ovid; Ovid, Ars Amatoria; Search the Perseus Catalog for: Editions/Translations; Author Group; View text chunked by: text: book: line; Table of Contents: Amores Epistulae (vel Heroides) Medicamina faciei femineae Ars Amatoria Liber primus Liber secundus Liber tertius Remedia amoris Click on a word to bring up parses, dictionary entries, and frequency statistics. Race-horses between races on the testing course. She’ll not give you away, sharing the guilt for the crime. So, on, and never hesitate in hoping for any woman: there’s hardly one among them who’ll deny you. A strong letter often causes her displeasure. Chiron made the young Achilles perfect at the lyre. All of Ovid's works were burned by Savonarola in Florence, Italy in 1497; an English translation of the Ars amatoria was seized by U.S. Customs in 1930. so much the fitter am I to avenge the wounds. What’s harder than stone, softer than water? Though she might not give, take what isn’t given. When I am waiting at the barbershop, I see many magazines about hair fashion. Perseus brought Andromeda from darkest India. She’ll ask you to look, because you know what to look for: then kiss you: then ask you to buy her something there. Friendship and loyalty empty words. There are as many manners of heart as kinds of face: and like Proteus now, melt into the smooth waters. and shafts the enemy hurl from flying horses. Corrupt her with promises, and with prayers: you’ll easily get what you want, if she wishes. Now’s the time to speak to her: boorish modesty. But if you don’t give, always appear about to: like barren fields that always cheat the farmer. no voice from a heavenly bird gives me advice, I never caught sight of Clio or Clio’s sisters. Award-winning poet Len Krisak captures the music of Ovid's richly textured Latin meters through rhyming couplets that render the verse as playful and agile as it was meant to be. fly far from here: Chance and Venus help the daring. Now, there, I've done; my pleasant task is o’er. Conditions and Exceptions apply. Venus appointed me as guide to gentle Love: I’ll be known as Love’s Tiphys, and Automedon. curbing his team of tigers, with golden reins: the girl’s voice and colour and Theseus all lost: three times she tried to run, three times fear held her back. And Love will yield to me, though with his bow. Latein-Nachhilfe muss nicht sein: Spelator- Latein für Hoffnungslose! Why speak of Baiae, its shore splendid with sails. D. Robathan "Ovid in the Middle Ages" in Binns, Ovid (London 1973) L.P Wilkinson, Ovid Recalled (Duckworth 1955) William Turpin (2016). Some sing ‘O Hymenaeus’, some ‘Bacchus, euhoe!’. I warn you of this, if art’s skill is to be believed. Book II Now Io Paean sing! Book III . I’ve done, but there’s diversity in women’s. Now I’ll undertake to tell you what pleases her. would be ashamed if all your body was white. It’s true he quickly shakes out his damp feathers: though still the heart that’s sprinkled by love is hurt. Cydippe was deceived by the message the apple brought. and don’t let the wind blow my words out to sea: follow the thing through or don’t attempt it: she’ll endure the whispers once she’s guilty herself. Here one returning, his heart wounded, said: ‘That water’s not as healthy as they claim.’. She spoke, and straightaway had her led from the vast herd. Who hopes for that, hopes for apple-bearing tamarisks. if you can, the true ones, if not the most fitting. The more he pierces me, the more violently he burns me. and that mother bloodstained by her children’s murder? must be taught the places that the girls frequent. knows the waters where the most fish spawn: You too, who search for the essence of lasting love. with hidden words she’ll feel were spoken for her alone: and write sweet nothings in the film of wine. and the sacred Sabbath rites of the Syrian Jews. Learn. The daughter who savaged Nisus’s purple lock. From that I suppose came the theatres’ usual customs: now too they remain a snare for the beautiful. Works by Ovid; English translation only. Despite the actions against the work, it continues to be studied in college courses on Latin literature. Why put on your finest clothes, Pasiphae? All these things were driven by woman’s lust: it’s more fierce than ours, and more frenzied. carrying their favourite food in their mouths. If you’d please Minos, don’t seek out adulterers: If you want to cheat your husband, cheat with a man! and to speak with gestures and with glances. that imaginary gem that fell from her pierced ear? Dwight, 5.8. Cowards, don’t count the birthdays of the gods: a Caesar’s courage flowers before its time. echoed to the sound of cymbals and frenzied drums. Automedon was skilled with Achilles’s chariot reins. from under Venus’s temple, made of marble. Perhaps she’ll struggle, and then say ‘you’re wicked’: struggling she still wants, herself, to be conquered. Deceive deceivers: for the most part an impious tribe: let them fall themselves into the traps they’ve set. and those standards wickedly laid low by barbarians. Now they all fear as one, but not with one face of fear: Some tear their hair: some sit there, all will lost: one mourns silently, another cries for her mother in vain: one moans, one faints: one stays, while that one runs: the captive girls were led away, a joyful prize. where you might choose your love, where to set your nets. You’ll be forced to be unsure of your desires: if you delight greatly in older wiser years. Don’t skip the Memphite temple of the linen-clad heifer: she makes many a girl what she herself was to Jove. Why - she asks doesn’t she for money as if it’s her birthday. Let your leanness show your heart: don’t think it a shame, Let youthful limbs be worn away by sleepless nights, and those who see you can say ‘You’re in love.’, Should I lament, warn you perhaps that right and wrong. ("Agamemnon", "Hom. P. Ovidius Naso, Ars Amatoria various, Ed. From Chaucer, while she ’ ll get busy, in a friend ’ s to be brandished by hand. 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