mysteriously, Love dips his darts.
So Hector made love with Andromache long ago
(War wasn’t his only talent), and so
Did great Achilles with his slave when, battle-spent,
He lay on her soft bed in the tent,
While you, Briseis, let hands still warm
With Trojan blood fondle your naked form—
Or was it rather that your body thrilled
At the touch of a conqueror who’d killed?
I tell you, you should approach the peak of pleasure
Teasingly, lingeringly, at leisure.
Once you’ve discovered the right
Places to touch, the ones which delight
Women most, don’t hold back through shame,
Carry on with the game,
And you’ll see her eyes light up, flash and quiver
Like sunlight on the surface of a river.
Soon she’ll be murmuring, moaning, gasping, saying
Words in tune with the instrument you’re playing.
But take care not to crowd on sail and race
Ahead of her, don’t fall behind her either; matching pace,
Arrive together at the winning-post
In a dead heat. Of all pleasures this is the most
Exquisite, when a man and a woman, satisfied,
Lie in mutual surrender, side by side.
That’s the rhythm to aim at—no hurry,
No furtiveness, no worry.
If dallying means danger, of course
It’s best to raise the stroke of your oars,
Or in other words to spur the galloping horse.
[L ATIN :
Finis adest operi…
]
Here this part of my task ends.
You grateful young friends,
Give me the palm, perfume my hair, bring a myrtle crown.
Among the Greeks Podalirius won renown
For medical skill, Nestor for knowing men’s hearts,
Achilles for strength, Ajax for martial arts,
Calchas as priest and seer,
Automedon as charioteer;
So I, too, have no peer
In
my
field: love. Praise me, you youngsters, proclaim
Me poet and prophet, broadcast my name
World-wide.
I’ve equipped you for war, just as Vulcan supplied
Achilles with the arms he made.
Go and conquer as he did, and if with the aid
Of my weapons you lay an Amazon low,
Let this inscription on the trophy go:
“Ovid, our master, taught us all we know.”
[L ATIN :
Ecce, rogant tenerae…
]
But now the girls are begging for lessons. Your turn,
Ladies. You’re my next concern.
----
* A reference to Virgil’s
Eclogues
, ii, 52.
B OOK T HREE
[L ATIN :
Arma dedi Danais…
]
Having armed Greeks against Amazons, I must now prescribe
Weapons, Penthesilea, for you and
your
tribe.
You must fight on equal terms. Victory’s won
Through the favour of kind Venus and her son
Who ranges the world on wings. It wouldn’t be fair
If women had to oppose armed troops with bare
Breasts, for victory, then,
Could only shame us men.
“But why give venom to snakes? Why betray
Our sheepfold to wild she-wolves?” you may say.
Don’t smear the whole sex with the disgrace
Of the few who are bad, judge each as a separate case.
It’s true, Helen and Clytemnestra had to face
Charges from both their husbands, and Eriphyle’s crime
Sent Amphiaraus before his time,
Together with his horses, hurled
Still living to the underworld;
But think of Penelope, chaste for ten years of war,
And then for ten years more
While her lord wandered; of Laodamia, who took her life
To be with her husband; of Alcestis, a wife
Who saved Admetus from the dead
By offering to join them in his stead;
Of Evadne’s cry, “Take me, we’ll embrace in the fire,
Capaneus!” as she leapt on to the pyre.
Virtue’s dressed as a woman, she’s feminine in gender—
No wonder her sex’s view of her is tender—
But faced with such paragons, my poetry fails:
Mine’s a light pleasure craft, with small sails.
What you’ll learn through me is only naughtiness;
I’m going to teach you nothing less
Than how you should be loved. Flaming arrows and bows
Aren’t usually used by women, I don’t suppose
I’ve seen many men hurt by those.
Men frequently, girls rarely, cheat:
Ask around—very few are accused of deceit.
Although Medea was by then a