Kitap 2
Love's soft'ning pleasures ev'ry grief remove,
There's nothing that can make your peace like love.
540
From drugs and philters no redress you'll find,
But nature with your mistress will be kind.
The love that's unconstrain'd will long endure,
Machaon's art was false, but mine is sure.
Whilst thus I sung, inflam'd with nobler fire,
545
I heard the great Apollo's tuneful lyre;
His hand a branch of spreading laurel bore,
And on his head a laurel wreath he wore;
Around he cast diffusive rays of light,
Confessing all the god to human sight,
550
" Thou master of lascivious arts," he said,
"To my frequented fane thy pupils lead;
And there inscrib'd in characters of gold,
This celebrated sentence you'll behold.
'First know yourself ;' who to himself is known,
555
Shall love with conduct, and his wishes crown.
Where nature has a handsome face bestow'd,
Or graceful shape, let both be often show'd:
