Ars Amatoria; or, The Art Of Love: Literally Translated into English Prose, with Copious Notes — John Shaqi
Ars Amatoria; or, The Art Of Love: Literally Translated into English Prose, with Copious NotesOvid
General
Ars Amatoria; or, The Art Of Love: Literally Translated into English Prose, with Copious Notes
Ovid
Latin poetry -- Adaptations; Latin poetry -- Translations into English
Romulus, 'twas thou didst first institute the exciting games; at the
time when the ravished Sabine fair [718] came to the aid of the solitary
men. Then, neither did curtains [719] hang over the marble theatre,
[720] nor was the stage [721] blushing with liquid saffron. There, the
branches were simply arranged which the woody Palatium bore; the scene
was void of art. On the steps made of turf sit the people; the branches
promiscuously overshadowing their shaggy locks. They look about them,
and they mark with their eyes, each for himself, the damsel which to
choose; and in their silent minds they devise full many a plan. And
while, as the Etrurian piper sends forth his harsh notes, the actor with
his foot thrice beats the levelled ground; in the midst of the applause,
(in those days applause was void of guile,) the King gives to his people
the signal to be awaited for the spoil. At once, they start up, and,
disclosing their intentions with a shout, lay their greedy hands upon
the maidens. [722] As the doves, a startled throng, fly from the eagles,
and as the young Iamb flies from the wolves when seen; in such manner do
they dread the men indiscriminately rushing on; the complexion remains
in none, which existed there before. For their fear is the same; the
symptoms of their fear not the same. Some tear their hair; some sit
without consciousness; one is silent in her grief; another vainly calls
upon her mother; this one laments; this one is astounded; this one
tarries; that one takes to flight. The ravished fair ones are carried
off, a matrimonial spoil; and shame itself may have been becoming to
many a one. If one struggled excessively, and repelled her companion;
borne off, the man himself lifted her into his eager bosom. And thus
he spoke: "Why spoil your charming eyes with tears? What to your mother
your father was, the same will I be to you." Romulus, 'twas thou alone
didst understand how to give rewards to thy soldiers. Give such a reward
to me, and I will be a soldier. In good truth, from that transaction,
the festive Theatres, even to this day, continue to be treacherous to
the handsome.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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