I re-accomplished this translation, rendering it in elegiac couplets.
Amores I.1
P. Ovidius Nasonis
Ready to write in grave meters, I celebrate violent battles,
xxxxxlegends from so long ago,
. told in a form apropos
Each couplet line was the same in its length as its twin—Cupid chuckled,
Xxxxxso it is said, and he took
. one foot from each in my book.
“Who gave to you, rowdy boy, such control of poetic creations?
Xxxx Know it’s the Muses who guard
. all who affect the name, ‘Bard.’
What if the goddess of love snatched the weapons of fair-haired Minerva?
xxxxxWhat if Minerva would scorch
xxx wedding guests fanning a torch,
if in the woods and the hills Mother Ceres would hold sovereign power,
Xxxxxif the plowed fields would all roll
xxxunder Diana’s control,
who would approve? And should curly-haired Phoebus be given sharp spearpoints?
xxxxxMars, I suppose, we’ll admire
xxx playing some songs on a lyre.
You, little boy, have a surplus of great and important commissions.
XxxxxWhy, you self-serving young jerk,
xxx covet additional work?
What? You are taking it all? Now you’re claiming Mount Helicon’s valleys?
XxxxxPhoebus can scarcely protect
xxx lyres from your theft, I suspect.
When a new verse on a new piece of parchment appears strong and manly,
xxxxxalways the next one is weak,
xxxshowing defective technique;
Nor are my subjects appropriate for the less serious meters,
Xxxxxbetter for boys or sweet girls,
xxxbeautifully coifed in tight curls.”
Just as I finished complaining, at once he unfastened his quiver.
xxxxxFrom it he picked out a dart
xxxmade to transfix my poor heart.
Bending the wood of the intricate bow with his knee like a strongman,
Xxxxx”Bard,” he said, “since you must sing,
xxxtake for your prize love’s best thing!”
Wretchedness! Oh, but that boy has sure arrows that all find their victim.
xxxxxBurning me deep in my soul,
xxxLove now has total control.
Sextuple meter enlarges my work, then quintuple deflates it:
Xxxxx’Bye iron war with your rules.
xxxSix-footed lines are for fools!
Circle, my Muse, your fair brows with fresh garlands of Venus’s myrtle.
xxxxxCouplets eleven feet long
xxxmeasure our passionate song.
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Edits:
L1: Ready to praise arms and violent wars in the gravest of meters, > Ready to write in grave meters, I celebrate violent battles,
L2:
à propos > apropos (Julie)
L7: Venus, if snatching away all the weapons of fair-haired Minerva, > What if the goddess of love snatched the weapons of fair-haired Minerva? (Julie)
L8: If blonde Minerva would scorch wedding guests with a fanned torch > What if Minerva would scorch wedding guests fanning a torch, (Julie)
L11: spears > spearpoints
L15: What? Because you claim it all, do you own, too, Mount Helicon’s valleys? > What? You are taking it all? Now you’re claiming Mount Helicon’s valleys? (Carl)
L20: better a boy or a girl, beautiful tresses in curls. > better for boys or sweet girls, beautifully coifed in tight curls.
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I taught Latin for many years, and Ovid was always a favorite of my students. This ditty is the introductory poem to his three books of humorous love poems. In Latin poetry, long, serious poems—epics and such, even Ovid’s
Metamorphoses— were written in dactylic hexameter, each line having six feet. Less serious, humorous, or romantic poems were often written in elegiac couplets, in which the top line (odd-numbered line) of the couplet is in dactylic hexameter, but the lower (even-numbered line) replaced the third and sixth feet with single long syllables, like half-feet. This line, consisting of four complete feet and two half-feet was called the “pentameter” line, and thus an elegiac couplet had eleven feet. I include these rather tedious prosodic details because an understanding of them is necessary to understand this poem. The Latin text I used was from Richard A. LaFleur’s 2nd edition of
Love and Transformation: An Ovid Reader. Longman’s Latin Series, 1999.
——————————————
Amores I.1
by Publius Ovidius Naso
Of weapons and fierce wars I would declaim,
with meter as solemn as the serious theme,
all couplets with equal lines, when Cupid came,
and, chuckling, swiped a foot from each. His scheme
enraged me. “Punk! Who gave our poems to you?
Our sacred band of bards obeys the Muses.
If Venus steals Minerva’s weapons—who
would think that right, or if Minerva uses
a wedding torch to warm up? What if Ceres
rules wild woods, or Diana, the huntress, runs
plowed fields, or curly-haired Apollo carries
a spear, and Mars plays lute-songs just for fun?
You have great kingdoms, boy, and too much power.
Why, hustler, do you want more work to do?
You’re everywhere, even in the Muses’ bower,
Apollo can scarcely guard his lyre from you.
On a new page a first line swells with promise,
the next line shrinks my manliness to nothing.
Light-hearted music mocks my warlike dramas,
more apt for boys, for well-coifed girls, and loving.”
I stopped complaining. He untied his quiver,
and chose a dart made just for my demise.
He flexed his bow and knelt down to deliver
the missile: “Because you’d sing, bard, here’s your prize!”
Poor me! That boy’s sure arrow burns me alive.
In my once loveless, flaming heart, Love rules.
My work rises in six, falls limp in five.
Farewell, iron wars! Hexameter’s for fools.
With Venus’ myrtle, circle your golden brows,
my Muse, with eleven feet you’ll sing our vows.
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Crib:
In dignified meter I prepared to tell of arms and violent war,
the subject matter appropriate to the prosody.
The even-numbered verses were equal [to the odd]—Cupid laughed,
it is said, and spirited away one [metrical] foot.
“Who gave to you, savage boy, this rule over poems/songs?
We are bards of the Muses, not your crowd.
What if Venus snatched the weapons of blonde Minerva?
(or) if blonde Minerva fanned the kindled [wedding] torches?
Who would approve of Ceres reigning in the hilly woods,
[or] the plowed fields to be ruled by the law of the quiver-bearing virgin [Diana]?
Who would teach Phoebus [Apollo], remarkable for his curly hair, about the sharp spear-point,
[or] the playing of the Aonian [from an area sacred to the Muses around Mt. Helicon] lyre to Mars?
You have great kingdoms, boy, and too much power;
why do you affect a new responsibility, ambitious one?
[whether] because everywhere is yours, are the valleys of Mt. Helicon yours?
His lyre now is scarcely even safe for Phoebus [Apollo].
When at first/in the first line a verse rises well on a new page,
in the next it shrinks my manliness;
I have no subject matter appropriate for the light\trivial meters,
either a boy or a girl with long hair carefully combed/arranged.”
I had complained, when immediately he untied his quiver
and chose a dart made for my destruction,
He bent the intricately curved bow strongly with his knee,
and said, “Because you would sing, bard, receive the prize/work/masterpiece!”
Poor me! That boy had sure-fire arrows.
I burn, and in my empty/carefree/uncommitted heart, Love rules.
For me the work rises in six feet; it falls/ebbs/becomes limp in five:
farewell, iron wars with your meters!
Surround your blonde temples with Myrtle from the seashore,
Muse, with eleven feet you must tune your song.
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Original
Amores I.1
P. Ovidi Nasonis
Arma gravi numero violentaque bella parabam
xxx edere, materia conveniente modis.
par erat inferior versus—risisse Cupido
xxx dicitur atque unum surripuisse pedem.
‘Quis tibi, saeve puer, dedit hoc in carmina iuris?
Xxx Pieridum vates, non tua turba sumus.
quid, si praeripiat flavae Venus arma Minervae
Xxx ventilet accensas flava Minerva faces?
quis probet in silvis Cererem regnare iugosis,
Xxx lege pharetratae Virginis arva coli?
crinibus insignem quis acuta cuspide Phoebum
Xxx instruat, Aoniam Marte movente lyram?
sunt tibi magna, puer, nimiumque potentia regna;
Xxx cur opus adfectas, ambitiose, novum?
an, quod ubique, tuum est? tua sunt Heliconia tempe?
Xxx vix etiam Phoebo iam lyra tuta sua est?
cum bene surrexit versu nova pagina primo,
Xxx attenuat nervos proximus ille meos;
nec mihi materia est numeris levioribus apta,
Xxx aut puer aut longas compta puella comas.’
Questus eram, pharetra cum protinus ille soluta
Xxx legit in exitium spicula facta meum,
lunavitque genu sinuosum fortiter arcum,
Xxx ‘quod’que ‘canas, vates, accipe’ dixit ‘opus!’
Me miserum! certas habuit puer ille sagittas.
Xxx uror, es in vacuo pectore regnat Amor.
Sex mihi surgat opus numeris, in quinque residat:
Xxx ferrea cum vestris bella valete modis!
cingere litorea flaventia tempora myrto,
Xxx Musa, per undenos emodulanda pedes!
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Edits
L1: proclaim > declaim
L3: of equal measure > with equal lines
L5: enraged me. “Punk! Who gave control to you > enraged me. “Punk! Who gave our poems to you?
L6: honors > obeys > of poems? our band of bards obeys the Muses. > Our sacred band of bards obeys the Muses.
L7: steals > grabs > If Venus steals Minerva’s weapons—who
L10: rules hilly woods, or if Diana runs > rules wild woods, or Diana, the huntress, runs
L14: Why, envious one, do you want more work to do? > Why, hustler, do you want more work to do?
L15: You sneak everywhere, even in the Muses’ bower, > You’re everywhere, even in the Muses’ bower,