Ars Amatoria; or, The Art Of Love

alas! it is not safe to praise the object that you love to your friend. When he has credited your praises, he supplants you. But the descendant of Actor did not defile the couch of Achilles; so far as Pirithous was concerned, Phædra was chaste. Pylades [812] loved Hermione, with the affection with which Phoebus loved Pallas; and he was such, daughter of Tyndarus, as thy twin brother Castor was towards thee. If any one expects the same, let him expect that the tamarisks will bear apples, and let him look for honey in the middle of the stream. Nothing pleases but what is base; his own gratification is the object of each. This, too, becomes pleasant from the sorrow of another. Oh disgraceful conduct! no enemy is to be dreaded by the lover. Shun those whom you think trustworthy; then you will be safe. Shun your kinsman, and your brother, and your dear friend; this class will cause you real alarm. I was _here_ about to conclude; but there are various dispositions in the fair; treat these thousand dispositions in a thousand _different_ ways. The same soil does not produce everything; one suits the vine, another the olive; in this, corn springs up vigorously. There are as many characters in these various dispositions, as there are forms in the world; the man that is wise, will adapt himself to these innumerable characters. And as at one moment Proteus will make himself flow in running water; and now will be a lion, now a tree, now a shaggy goat. These fish are taken with a dart, [813] those with hooks; these the encircling nets draw up, the rope being extended. And let no one method be adopted by you for all years. The aged hind will espy from a greater distance your contrivances. Should you seem learned to the ignorant, or forward to the bashful, she will at once distrust herself, now apprehensive. Thence it happens, that she who has dreaded to trust herself to the well-bred man, _often_ falls into the embrace of some worthless inferior. A part remains of the task which I have undertaken, a part is completed; here let the anchor, thrown out, hold fast my bark. BOOK THE SECOND. |Sing, "Io Pæan" [901] and "Io Pæan" twice sing; the prey that was sought has fallen into our toils. Let the joyous lover present my lines with the verdant palm; to _Hesiod_ the Ascræan and to _Homer_ the Mæonian old man shall I be preferred. Such did the stranger son of Priam set his whitening sails from the armed Amyclæ, [902] together with the ravished wife. Such was he who bore thee, Hippodamia, in his victorious chariot, carried by the wheels of the stranger. Why hasten then, young man? Thy ship is sailing in the midst of the waves; and far distant is the harbour for which I make. It is not enough, me your Poet, for the fair to be gained by you. Through my skill has she been acquired; through my skill must she be retained. 'Tis no less merit to keep what is acquired, than to gain it. In the former there is some chance; in the latter will be a work of art. Now, if ever, Boy _Cupid_ and Cytherea, be propitious _to me_: now, Erato; [903] for thou hast a name from Love. Great attempts do I contemplate; to tell by what means Love can be arrested, the Boy that wanders over the world so wide. He is both inconstant, and he has two wings with which to fly.'Tis an arduous task to impose laws on these. Minos had obstructed all means of escape to the stranger. He discovered a bold path [904] with his wings. When Dædalus had enclosed the man half-bull, and the bull half-man, that was conceived in the criminality of his mother; he said, "Most just Minos, let there be a termination of my exile; and let my paternal land receive my ashes. And since, harassed by the cruel Destinies, I cannot live in my country, let me be enabled to die. If the merits of an old man are but small, grant a return to this boy; if thou art unwilling to favour the boy, then favour the old man." This he said: but both this and many more things he might have said; the other did not permit a return to the hero. Soon as he saw this, he said, "Now, O now, Dædalus, thou hast a subject, upon which thou mayst prove ingenious. Lo! Minos possesses the land, and he possesses the ocean; neither earth nor water is open for our escape; there remains a path through the heavens; through the heavens will we attempt to go. Jupiter on high, grant pardon to my design. I do not aim to reach the starry abodes; there is no way but this one, by which I may escape the tyrant. Should a road through Styx be granted; then we will swim through the Stygian waves; let the laws of nature be changed by me." _Misfortunes often sharpen the genius_; who could have ever believed, that a mortal could attempt the paths of the air? He arranges swift feathers in order, like oars, [905] and connects the light work with fastenings of thread; the lower part, too, is bound together with wax, melted by the fire; and now the work of the new contrivance is finished. The smiling boy handles both the wax and the feathers, not knowing that these instruments are prepared for his own shoulders. To him his father says: "With these ships must we reach our native land; by these means must we escape from Minos. The air Minos could not, all else he has, shut against us. Cleave the air, which still thou mayst, with these my inventions. But neither the virgin of Tegeæa, nor the sword-bearing Orion, [906] the companion of Bootes, will have to be beheld by thee. Follow me with the wings given to thee: I will go before on the way. Be it thy care to follow; me thy leader, thou wilt he safe. But if we shall go through the air of the heavens, the sun close to us, the wax will not be able to endure the heat. If we shall wave our wings below, the sea near to us, the fluttering feathers will be wet with the ocean spray. Fly between them both; dread, too, the winds, my son; and whichever way the breezes shall blow, set thy prospering sails." While he thus advises; he fits his work on to the boy, and shows how it is to be moved; just as their mother teaches the helpless birds. Then he places upon his shoulders the wings made for himself; and with timidity he poises his body along this new track. And now about to fly, he gives kisses to his little son; and the cheeks of the father do not withhold their tears. There is a hill, less than a mountain, more lofty than the level plain; hence are their two bodies entrusted to their mournful flight. Dædalus both moves his own wings himself, and looks back on those of his son; and he ever keeps on his own course. And now this unusual path delights him, and, fear laid aside, Icarus flies more courageously with emboldened skill. A person sees them, while he is angling [907] for fish with his quivering rod, and his right hand desists from the work he has commenced. Now Samos and Naxos had been left behind, on the left hand, and Paros, and Delos beloved by the Clarian God. [908] Lebynthos was to the right, and Calymne [909] shaded with its woods, and Astypalæa, [910] surrounded with its fishy shallows; when the boy, too venturesome in his inconsiderate daring, took a higher flight, and forsook his guide. The fastenings give way; and the wax melts, the Divinity being so near; and his arms, when moved, no longer catch the light breeze. Alarmed, he looks down upon the sea from the lofty heavens; darkness, arising from trembling apprehension, comes over his eyes. The wax has now melted; he waves his bare arms, and he trembles, and has no means whereby to be supported. Downward he falls; and as he falls, he cries, "Father! O father! I am undone!" As he spoke, the azure waves closed his mouth. But the unhappy father, a father now no longer, cried aloud, "Icarus, where art thou? Or under what part of the sky dost thou fly?" "Icarus," again he cried aloud; his feathers he beheld in the waves. The dry land covers his bones; the sea retains his name. Minos could not restrain the wings of a mortal; I myself am attempting to arrest a winged Divinity. If any one has recourse to the Hæmonian arts, and gives that which he has torn from the forehead of the young horse, [911] he is mistaken. The herbs of Medea will not cause love to endure; nor yet the Marsian spells [912] mingled with the magic notes. The Phasian damsel would have retained the son of Æson, Circe Ulysses, if love could only have been preserved through incantations. Philtres, too, causing paleness, [913] are of no use when administered to the fair. Philtres injure the intellect, and have a maddening effect. Afar be all criminal attempts; to be loved, be worthy to be loved; _a property_ which comeliness, or beauty alone, will not confer upon you. Though you should be Nireus, [914] be praised by ancient Homer, and the charming Hylas, [915] carried off by the criminality of the Naiads; that you may retain your mistress, and not have to wonder that you are deserted, add the endowments of the mind to the advantages of the person. Beauty is a fleeting advantage; and the more it increases in years, the less it becomes, and, itself, is consumed by length of time. Neither the violets nor the opening lilies bloom for ever; and, the roses lost, the thorny bush is prickly left behind. And, handsome man, soon shall come to you the hoary locks; soon shall come the wrinkles, to furrow your body over. Now form a disposition which may be lasting, and add it to your beauty; that alone endures to the closing pile. And be it no light care to cultivate the mind with the liberal arts, and to learn thoroughly the two languages, _the Latin and the Greek_. Ulysses was not handsome, but he was fluent; and yet with love he racked the ocean Goddesses. [916] Ah! how oft did Calypso grieve at his hastening to depart, and declare that the waves were not favorable to his oars! Again and again did she enquire into the catastrophe of Troy. Often in another manner was he wont to repeat the same thing. On the shore they were standing; even there did the beauteous Calypso enquire about the blood-stained death of the Odrysian chief. With a little stick, for by chance he was holding a stick, he depicted on the firm shore the subject on which she was enquiring. "This is Troy," said he; and the walls he drew on the shore; "This must be Simois for thee, and suppose these to be my tents. There was a plain," and here he drew the plain, "which we moistened with the blood of Dolon, [917] while, as a spy, he was longing for the Hæmonian horses. [918] There were the tents of the Sithonian Rhesus; in this direction was I borne back again by the captured steeds." And many other things was he depicting, when the waves suddenly carried off both Pergamus and the tents of Rhesus together with their chief. Then the Goddess said, "Dost thou behold how famous names these waves have swept away, which thou dost trust will be favorable to thee about to depart?" Come then, with hesitation, feel confidence in beauty so deceiving, whoever you are; or else possess something of more value than comeliness. A beseeming courtesy especially enlists the feelings; rudeness and harsh language promote hatred. We dislike the hawk, because it is always living in warfare; the wolves too, that are wont to rush upon the startled flocks. But the swallow, because it is gentle, is exempt from the snares of men; and the Chaonian bird [919] has the turrets for it to inhabit. Afar lie all strife and contentions of the abusive tongue; with sweet words must gentle love be cherished. With strife let both wives persecute their husbands, and husbands their wives; and, each in their turn, let them ever be thinking that they must resort to law. [920] This is the part of wives; strife is the dowry of the wife. Let the mistress ever hear the accents that she longs for. At the bidding of no law have