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Ò V I D's ART O L O V E.
N Cupid's school whoe'er would take degree,
Seamen with sailing arts their vessels move;
Yet Cupid and Achilles, each with scorn And rage were fill’d; and both were goddess-born. The bull, reclaim'd and yok'd, the burden draws: The horse receives the bit within his jaws; And stubborn Love shall bend beneath my sway, Tho struggling oft he strives to disobey. He shakes his torch, he wounds me with his darts; But vain his force, and vainer are his arts. The more he burns my soul, or wounds my fight, The more he teaches to revenge the spite.
I boast no aid the Delphian God affords, Nor auspice from the flight of chattering birds; Nor Clio, nor her sisters have I seen; As Hefiod saw them on the shady green: Experience makes my work; a truth so try'd You may believe; and Venus be my guide.
Far hence, ye vestals, be, who bind your hair ; And wives, who gowns
You, who in Cupid's rolls inscribe your name, First seek an object worthy of your flame; Then strive, with art, your lady's mind to gain: And, last, provide your love may long remain.