Metin
Where fatal it would prove, let passion cease;
Nor love destroy, who should our race increase.
A child you are, and like a child should play;
And gentle as your years should be your sway.
Keen arrows, and to wound the hardest hearts,
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You are permitted-but no mortal darts.
Let your step-father, Mars,The fable of Mars and Venus being caught in a net is elegantly told in the Art of Love ((2.561 ff). on sword and spear,
The crimson stains of cruel conquest wear;
You should your mother's milder laws observe,
Who ne'er did childless parent's curse deserve;
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Or if you must employ your wanton pow'r,
Teach youths by night to force their mistress' door:
How lovers safe and secretly may meet,
And subtle wives the cautious husband cheat.
Let now th' excluded youth the gate caress,
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A thousand wheedling soothing plaints express;
Then on th' ill-natur'd timber vent his spite,
And to some doleful tune weep out the night.
For tears, not blood, love's altar should require:
Love's torch, design'd to kindle kind desire,
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