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Browsing named entities in P. Ovidius Naso, Art of Love, Remedy of Love, Art of Beauty, Court of Love, History of Love, Amours (ed. various).

Found 635 total hits in 183 results.

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Paris (France) (search for this): poem 18
that Sabinus, my departed friend, Could from all quarters now his answers send! Ulysses' hand should to his queen be known, And wretched Phaedra hear from Theseus' son; Dido Aeneas' answer should receive, And Phillis Demophoon's, if alive; Jason should to Hypsipyle return A sad reply, and Sappho cease to mourn: Nor him whom she can ne'er possess, desire, But give to Phoebus fane her votive lyre. As much as you in lofty epics deal, You, Macer, show that you love's passion feel, And sensible of beauty's powerful charm, You hear their call amid the noise of arms. A place for Paris in your verse we find, And Helen's to the young adult'rer kind; There lovely Laodamia mourns her lord, The first that fell by Hector's fatal sword. If well I know you, and your mind can tell, The theme's as grateful, and you like as well To tune your lyre for Cupid as for Mars, And Thracian combats change for Paphian wars; If well I know you, and your works design Your will, you often quit your camp for mine.
Greece (Greece) (search for this): poem 18
Elegy XVIII: To Macer, blaming him for not writing of love as he did. While, Macer, you Achilles' choler sing, And Greece before the walls of Ilium bring; While feats of arms in Phrygian fields you tell, And how old Tory by Grecion vengeance fell; I my soft hours in softer songs employ, And all my leisure give to love and joy. When to high acts, my voice I strive to raise, Love laughs at my attempt, and mocks my lays; "Begone!" I often to my mistress cry, But have not courage, yet, myself to fly. Whene'er she sees me in this sullen fit, She fondles me, and, on my knee will sit: "Enough of this (say I), for shame give o'er, Enough of love, we'll play the fool no more." " Ah, is it then a shame to love?" she cries, And chides, and melts me with her weeping eyes. Around my neck her snowy arms she throws, And to my lips with stifling kisses grows. How can I all this tenderness refuse ? At once my wisdom, and my will I lose; I'm conquer'd, and renounce the glorious train Of arms, and war,
Ithaca (Greece) (search for this): poem 18
my own. Once I confess I did the drama try, And ventur'd with success on tragedy; My genius with a moving scene agrees, And if I ventured further I might please: But love my heroics makes a jest, And laughs to see me in my buskins drest. Asham'd, and weary of this tragic whim, For tender thoughts I quitted the sublime. My mind my mistress bends another way, Her must my muse in all her songs obey; Though oft I do not what I write approve, Like, or not like it, I must sing of love. Whether for Ithaca's illustrious dame, To great Ulysses I a letter frame, Or for Oenone tender things indite, Or soft complaints for injur'd Phillis write; Whether fair Canace's incestuous care I sooth, or flatter Dido's fierce despair; Whether I fan Medea's raging fire, Or for sweet Sappho touch the Lesbian lyre; Whether I Phaedra's lawless love relate, Or Theseus' flight and Ariadne's fate: Oh, that Sabinus, my departed friend, Could from all quarters now his answers send! Ulysses' hand should to his queen b
Hector (New York, United States) (search for this): poem 18
, that Sabinus, my departed friend, Could from all quarters now his answers send! Ulysses' hand should to his queen be known, And wretched Phaedra hear from Theseus' son; Dido Aeneas' answer should receive, And Phillis Demophoon's, if alive; Jason should to Hypsipyle return A sad reply, and Sappho cease to mourn: Nor him whom she can ne'er possess, desire, But give to Phoebus fane her votive lyre. As much as you in lofty epics deal, You, Macer, show that you love's passion feel, And sensible of beauty's powerful charm, You hear their call amid the noise of arms. A place for Paris in your verse we find, And Helen's to the young adult'rer kind; There lovely Laodamia mourns her lord, The first that fell by Hector's fatal sword. If well I know you, and your mind can tell, The theme's as grateful, and you like as well To tune your lyre for Cupid as for Mars, And Thracian combats change for Paphian wars; If well I know you, and your works design Your will, you often quit your camp for mine.
Mars (Pennsylvania, United States) (search for this): poem 18
, that Sabinus, my departed friend, Could from all quarters now his answers send! Ulysses' hand should to his queen be known, And wretched Phaedra hear from Theseus' son; Dido Aeneas' answer should receive, And Phillis Demophoon's, if alive; Jason should to Hypsipyle return A sad reply, and Sappho cease to mourn: Nor him whom she can ne'er possess, desire, But give to Phoebus fane her votive lyre. As much as you in lofty epics deal, You, Macer, show that you love's passion feel, And sensible of beauty's powerful charm, You hear their call amid the noise of arms. A place for Paris in your verse we find, And Helen's to the young adult'rer kind; There lovely Laodamia mourns her lord, The first that fell by Hector's fatal sword. If well I know you, and your mind can tell, The theme's as grateful, and you like as well To tune your lyre for Cupid as for Mars, And Thracian combats change for Paphian wars; If well I know you, and your works design Your will, you often quit your camp for mine.
Corinna (Maine, United States) (search for this): poem 19
Elegy XIX: By Dryden. If for thyself thou wilt not watch thy whore, Watch her for me that I may love her more. What comes with ease we nauseously receive, Who but a sot would scorn to love with leave? With hopes and fears my flames are blown up higher; Make me despair, and then I can desire. Give me a jilt to tease my jealous mind; Deceits are virtues in the female kind. Corinna my fantastic humour knew, Play'd trick for trick, and kept herself still new; She, that next night I might the sharper come, Fell out with me, and sent me fasting home. Or some pretence to lie alone would take ; Whene'er she pleas'd her head and teeth would ache: Till having won me to the highest strain, She took occasion to be sweet again. With what a gust, ye gods, we then embrac'd! How ev'ry kiss was dearer than the last! Thou whom I now adore, be edified, Take care that I may often be denied; Forget the promis'd hour, or feign some fright, Make me lie rough on bulks each other night. These are the arts
Juno (North Carolina, United States) (search for this): poem 19
en embrac'd! How ev'ry kiss was dearer than the last! Thou whom I now adore, be edified, Take care that I may often be denied; Forget the promis'd hour, or feign some fright, Make me lie rough on bulks each other night. These are the arts that best secure thy reign, And this the food that must my fires maintain. Gross easy love does, like gross diet, pall; In squeasy stomachs honey turns to gall. Had Danae not been kept in brazen tow'rs, Jove had not thought her worth his golden show'rs: When Juno to a cow turn'd Io's shape, The watchman help'd her to a second leap. Let him who loves an easy whetstone whore, Pluck leaves from trees, and drink the common shore. The jilting harlot strikes the surest blow, A truth which I by sad experience know; The kind, poor, constant creature we despise, Man but pursues the quarry while it flies. But thou dull husband of a wife too fair, Stand on thy guard, and watch the precious ware; If creaking doors, or barking dogs, thou hear, Or windows scratch'd
Corinna (Maine, United States) (search for this): poem 1
my lowly lays to thine; Too weak materials for the vast design. The style unlabour'd, negligent the dress, My verse is humbler, and my matter less. Gay, wanton, soft, my business is to move, With melting strains, the playful god of love. Bereft of me, fair Venus wants her charms, I help the goddess, and prepare her arms. My luring art, and soothing lays prevail, Where lofty port, and tragic buskins fail. I more deserve, by making that my care, Thy rigid pride allows not thee to bear: By me, Corinna first was taught to try Tobreak from prison, and deceive the spy; I first induc'd the fearful fair to slide With tremb'ling caution from her husband's side; When to thy arms, all loose, and disarray'd, Prepar'd for pleasure, flew the melting maid. Fix'd on her door, how oft I've hung on high, Expos'd, and patient of each gazing eye ! How oft, in secret, while the keeper stay'd, Within her woman's panting bosom laid ! Once sent a birthday gift, the cruel dame In pieces tore, and gave me to t
Venus (Pennsylvania, United States) (search for this): poem 1
eguil'd) And joyous eyes her rival sweetly smil'd; Sustain'd her hand a myrtle branch upright? Or did my fancy form the charming sight? "Still so severe, 0, tragedy ! (she cried); And canst thou ne'er forego thy sullen pride? I not compare my lowly lays to thine; Too weak materials for the vast design. The style unlabour'd, negligent the dress, My verse is humbler, and my matter less. Gay, wanton, soft, my business is to move, With melting strains, the playful god of love. Bereft of me, fair Venus wants her charms, I help the goddess, and prepare her arms. My luring art, and soothing lays prevail, Where lofty port, and tragic buskins fail. I more deserve, by making that my care, Thy rigid pride allows not thee to bear: By me, Corinna first was taught to try Tobreak from prison, and deceive the spy; I first induc'd the fearful fair to slide With tremb'ling caution from her husband's side; When to thy arms, all loose, and disarray'd, Prepar'd for pleasure, flew the melting maid. Fix'd o
Neptune (New Jersey, United States) (search for this): poem 2
at then are these, But flames on flames, and waters to the seas? By these a thousand other charms are guess'd, Which are so advantageously suppress'd. Oh for some air! this scorching heat remove, Your fan would do't, but 'tis the heat of love." But now the pomp appears, the sacred throng Command applauses from the heart and tongue; First victory with expanded wings does move, Be near, O Goddess ! to assist my love; To Mars let warriors acclamations raise, The merchants' tongues resound with Neptune's praise; Whilst I, whom neither seas nor arms invite, In love alone, the fruit of peace, delight; To their Apollo let the prophets pray, And hunters to Diana homage pay. Let the mechanics to Minerva vow, Rustics to Ceres, and to Bacchus bow; Whilst I devote myself to thee alone, Kind Venus, and the pow'rful god thy son; 0 be propitious to my enterprize, Inform with all thy softness these fair eyes, And to love's cause her gentle breast incline; She grants, and has contriv'd it with a sign;
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