Not lore enough in Poesis, let them be sweetlye fynde,
And let them leade to where them liste the hearers plyante mynde.
[tr. Drant (1567)]

Tis not enough the labouring Muse affords
Her Poëms beauty, but a sweet delight,
To worke the hearers minds, still to the plight.
[tr. Jonson (1640); l. 140ff]

He that would have Spectators share his Grief,
Must write not only well, but movingly,
And raise Mens Passions to what height he will.
[tr. Roscommon (1680)]

'Tis not enough, ye writers, that ye charm
With ease and elegance; a play should warm
With soft concernment; should possess the soul,
And, as it wills, the listening crowd controul.
[tr. Francis (1747)]

'Tis not enough that Plays are polish'd, chaste,
Or trickt in all the harlotry of taste,
They must have passion too; beyond controul
Transporting where they please the hearer's soul.
[tr. Coleman (1783)]

'Tis not enough that poetry combine
All fancy's charms in every sounding line:
Empassion'd let her be, and melt at will
The soul to pity or with horror thrill.
[tr. Howes (1845)]

It is not enough that poems be beautiful; let them be tender and affecting, and bear away the soul of the auditor whithersoever they please.
[tr. Smart/Buckley (1853)]

Mere grace is not enough: a play should thrill
The hearer's soul, and move it at its will.
[tr. Conington (1874)]

Fine things won't make a drama: it must thrill
The hearers' souls, and sway them at its will.
[tr. Martin (1881)]

Nor is it enough that poems possess beauty in the construction. They must please and, in whatsoever direction they will, send there the feelings of the auditors.
[tr. Elgood (1893)]

Not enough is it for poems to have beauty: they must have charm, and lead the hearer's soul where they will.
[tr. Fairclough (Loeb) (1926)]

It is not enough for poems to be fine; they must charm, and draw the mind of the listener at will.
[tr. Blakeney; ed. Kramer, Jr. (1936)]

It isn't enough to make lines pretty; they must move,
and affect the hearer's soul exactly as the poet wants.
[tr. Fuchs (1977)]

Poems (oh)
can be (oh)
so beautiful
And (oh) so dull.
Poets need charm, too, to seduce our minds.
[tr. Raffel (1983 ed.)]

Sheer abstract beauty isn't enough in a poem;
Its language must so persuade the listener
And act upon his soul that he'll respond
As the poem intends.
[tr. Ferry (2001)]

Correctness is not enough in a poem; it must be attractive,
leading the listener's emotions in whatever way it wishes.
[tr. Rudd (2005 ed.)]

It’s not enough for poems to have beauty: they must have
Charm, leading their hearer’s heart wherever they wish.
[tr. Kline (2015)]

May I in modesty delight,
Best present which the Gods can give.
Nor torn by jarring passions live
A prey to wrath and canker'd spite.
Still envious of a rival's charms,
Nor rouse the endless strife
While on my soul another Wife,
Impresses vehement alarms:
On us, dread Queen, thy mildest influence shed.
Thou who discern'st each crime that stains the nuptial bed.
[tr. Wodhull (1782)]

May no distracting thoughts destroy
The holy calm of sacred love!
May all the hours be winged with joy,
Which hover faithful hearts above!
Fair Venus! on thy myrtle shrine
May I with some fond lover sigh!
Whose heart may mingle pure with mine,
With me to live, with me to die!
[tr. Byron (1807)]

The noblest present of the skies,
Be modest temperance mine:
May no unruly passions rise,
Nor pride and hate combine
Their baleful venom wide to spread,
And kindling rage and jealous strive,
Embitter all the joys of life,
In vengeance for the injur'd bed,
O Venus, prompt connubial peace t' approve,
And quick to mark the faults of wand'ring love!
[tr. Potter (1814)]

But be my guardian chastity,
The god's best gift, nor let my mind,
By cruel Cypris forced awry,
The burden of hot anger find,
Of gnawing jealousy;
But may she, pleasured with calm wedded lives,
Wisely adjudge their lots to wives.
[tr. Webster (1868)]

On me may chastity, heaven’s fairest gift, look with a favouring eye; never may Cypris, goddess dread, fasten on me a temper to dispute, or restless jealousy, smiting my soul with mad desire for unlawful love, but may she hallow peaceful married life and shrewdly decide whom each of us shall wed.
[tr. Coleridge (1891)]

But may temperance preserve me, the noblest gift of heaven; never may dreaded Venus, having smitten my mind for another's bed, heap upon me jealous passions and unabated quarrels, but approving the peaceful union, may she quick of perception sit in judgment on the bed of women.
[tr. Buckley (1892)]

But let Temperance shield me, the fairest of gifts of the Gods ever-living:
Nor ever with passion of jarring contention, nor feuds unforgiving,
In her terrors may Love's Queen visit me, smiting with maddened unrest
For a couch mismated my soul: but the peace of the bride-bed be holden
In honour of her, and her keen eyes choose for us bonds that be best
[tr. Way (Loeb) (1894)]

The pent hate of the word that cavilleth,
The strife that hath no fill,
Where once was fondness; and the mad heart's breath
For strange love panting still:
O Cyprian, cast me not on these; but sift,
Keen-eyed, of love the good and evil gift.
Make Innocence my friend, God's fairest star,
Yea, and abate not
The rare sweet beat of bosoms without war,
That love, and hate not.
[tr. Murray (1906)]

Let my heart be wise.
It is the gods’ best gift.
On me let mighty Cypris
Inflict no wordy wars or restless anger
To urge my passion to a different love.
[tr. Warner (1944)]

Let Innocence, the gods' loveliest gift,
Choose me for her own;
Never may the dread Cyprian
Craze my heart to leave old love for new,
Sending to assault me
Angry disputes and feuds unending;
But let her judge shrewdly the loves of women
And respect the bed where no war rages.
[tr. Vellacott (1963)]

Lady Restraint, befriend me (for it is the gods' greatest gift),
May Aphrodite never drive me to fight with my husband,
Striking my spirit with love of another man,
But do me the honor of making my marriage peaceful,
And decide shrewdly about women's loves.
[tr. Podlecki (1989)]

May moderation attend me, fairest gift of the gods! May Aphrodite never cast contentious wrath and insatiate quarreling upon me and madden my heart with love for a stranger's bed. But may she honor marriages that are peaceful and wisely determine whom we are to wed!
[tr. Kovacs (Loeb) (1994)]

I hope that wisdom, the most treasured gift the gods have given us, protects me from that misfortune!
And, Lady Aphrodite, don’t plant into my heart improper love and then send me all the curses that go with it: Hatred, jealousy, endless fights. Instead, dear Lady, protect marriage and grant honour to all the peace-loving couples.
[tr. Theodoridis (2004)]

But I pray that composure be my friend,
the finest gift of the gods.
Dreaded Kypris, never hit me with quarrelsome angers
and insatiable strife,
after stinging my heart for another bed,
but honoring a match free of conflict, wisely discern
women’s love.
[tr. Luschnig (2007)]

I pray that moderation,
the gods’ most beautiful gift,
will always guide me.
I pray that Aphrodite
never packs my heart with jealousy
or angry quarreling.
May she never fill me with desire
for sex in other people’s beds.
May she bless peaceful unions,
using her wisdom to select
a woman’s marriage bed.
[tr. Johnston (2008)]

May self-control favor me, the gods' fairest gift; may fearful Aphrodite not strike me with angry quarrels and insatiable strife, stunning my heart with lust for someone else's bed; may she respect all peaceful marriage-beds when judging with her sharp mind where women make love.
[tr. Ewans (2022)]

May I find favor with moderation [sōphrosunē], heaven’s fairest gift. And may deina Aphrodite never fasten on me a disputatious temper, or insatiable [without koros] quarrels, smiting my thūmos with a mad desire for unlawful loves. May she reverence peaceful unions, and sagaciously decide the marriages of women.
[tr. Coleridge / Ceragioli / Nagy / Hour25]

Thy wrath, O Venus, still forbear,
Nor at my tender bosom aim
That venom'd arrow, ever wont to inspire,
Wing'd from thy golden bow, the pangs of keen desire.
[tr. Wodhull (1782)]

But, never from thy golden bow,
May I beneath the shaft expire!
Whose creeping venom, sure and slow,
Awakes an all-consuming fire:
Ye racking doubts! ye jealous fears!
With others wage internal war;
Repentance! source of future tears,
From me be ever distant far!
[tr. Byron (1807)]

Ne'er from thy golden bow, Queen of soft joy,
Steep'd in desire thy shafts 'gainst me employ!
[tr. Potter (1814)]

Oh never, queen, I pray,
Drive from thy golden bow into my heart
The escapeless passion-poisoned dart.
[tr. Webster (1868)]

Never, O never, lady mine, discharge at me from thy golden bow a shaft invincible, in passion’s venom dipped.
[tr. Coleridge (1891)]

Never, O my mistress, mayest thou send forth against me from thy golden bow thy inevitable shaft, having steeped it in desire.
[tr. Buckley (1892)]

Not upon me, O Queen, do thou aim from thy bow all-golden
The arrow desire-envenomed that none may avoid -- not on me!
[tr. Way (Loeb) (1894)]

Loose not on me, O Holder of man's heart,
Thy golden quiver,
Nor steep in poison of desire the dart
That heals not ever.
[tr. Murray (1906)]

O goddess, never on me let loose the unerring
Shaft of your bow in the poison of desire.
[tr. Warner (1944)]

Never, Queen Aphrodite,
Loose against me from your golden bow,
Dipped in sweetness of desire,
Your inescapable arrow!
[tr. Vellacott (1963)]

Mistress, never use me as a target, shooting golden arrows
Tipped with desire, unerring in aim.
[tr. Podlecki (1989)]

Never, o goddess, may you smear with desire one of your ineluctable arrows and let it fly against my heart from your golden bow!
[tr. Kovacs (Loeb) (1994)]

Oh never, my lady, may you fire at me from your golden bow the unerring arrow you have poisoned with desire!
[tr. Davie (1996)]

Oh, Lady Aphrodite!
I sincerely hope you don’t shoot any of your unfailing golden arrows, dipped in lust, at me!
[tr. Theodoridis (2004)]

Goddess, I pray you never strike me
with one of those poisoned arrows
shot from your golden bow.
[tr. Johnston (2008)]

Mistress, never shoot me from your golden bow an inescapable arrow anointed with desire.
[tr. Ewans (2022)]

Never, mistress, discharge at me from your golden bow a shaft inescapable, in passion’s venom dipped.
[tr. Coleridge / Ceragioli / Nagy / Hour25]

Never, o goddess, may you smear with desire one of your inescapable arrows and let it fly against my heart from your golden bow!
[tr. Kovacs / Zhang / Rogak]

Th' immoderate Loves in their career,
Nor glory nor esteem attends,
But when the Cyprian Queen descends
Benignant from her starry sphere.
No Goddess can more justly claim
From man the grateful prayer.
[tr. Wodhull (1782)]

When fierce conflicting passions urge
The breast where love is wont to glow,
What mind can stem the stormy surge
Which rolls the tide of human woe?
The hope of praise, the dread of shame,
Can rouse the tortur’d breast no more;
The wild desire, the guilty flame,
Absorbs each wish it felt before.
But if Affection gently thrills
The soul, by purer dreams possest,
The pleasing balm of mortal ills
In love can sooth the aching breast:
If thus thou comest in disguise,
Fair Venus! from thy native heaven,
What heart, unfeeling, would despise
The sweetest boon the Gods have given?
[tr. Byron (1807)]

When with a wild impetuous sway
The Loves come rushing on the breast,
Each virtuous thought is rent away,
Each breath of fame supprest.
But when, confess'd her gentle reign,
Enchanting Venus deigns t'appear,
Of all the pow'rs of heav'n most dear,
She leads the Graces in her train.
[tr. Potter (1814)]

The wild loves that force eager way
Nor worth nor fame on man confer,
But if come Cypris with meet sway
There is no gracious god like her.
[tr. Webster (1868)]

When in excess and past all limits Love doth come, he brings not glory or repute to man; but if the Cyprian queen in moderate might approach, no goddess is so full of charm as she.
[tr. Coleridge (1891)]

The loves, when they come too impetuously, have given neither good report nor virtue among men, but if Venus come with moderation, no other Goddess is so benign.
[tr. Buckley (1892)]

Love bringeth nor glory nor honour to men when it cometh restraining
Not its unscanted excess: but if Kypris, in measure raining
Her joy, cometh down, there is none other Goddess so winsome as she.
[tr. Way (Loeb) (1894)]

Alas, the Love that falleth like a flood,
Strong-winged and transitory:
Why praise ye him? What beareth he of good
To man, or glory?
Yet Love there is that moves in gentleness,
Heart-filling, sweetest of all powers that bless.
[tr. Murray (1906)]

When love is in excess
It brings a man no honor
Nor any worthiness.
But if in moderation Cypris comes,
There is no other power at all so gracious.
[tr. Warner (1944)]

When the Loves descend in full force they never enhance
Men’s fame or virtue, but if Aphrodite approaches
With reserve, there is no more gracious goddess.
[tr. Podlecki (1989)]

Loves that come to us in excess bring no good name or goodness to men. If Aphrodite comes in moderation, no other goddess brings such happiness.
[tr. Kovacs (Loeb) (1994)]

When passions come upon men in strength beyond due measure, their gift is neither one of glory nor of greatness. But if the Cyprian tempers her visit, no other goddess is so gracious.
[tr. Davie (1996)]

When Aphrodite arrives in the hearts of people, with no fuss and with no exaggerated madness, she is a very enjoyable visitor but, alas, overwhelming lust brings neither honour nor glory to any one.
[tr. Theodoridis (2004)]

Love coming on too strong
does not give glory or virtue
to men. But if Kypris comes in moderation,
no other goddess is so gracious.
[tr. Luschnig (2007)]

Erotic love with too much passion
brings with it no fine reputation,
and nothing virtuous to men.
But if Aphrodite comes in smaller doses,
no other god is so desirable.
[tr. Johnston (2008)]

Excess of passion brings no glory or honour to men.
[ed. Yeroulanos (2016)]

Love that comes in great excess does not grant reputation or excellence; but if Aphrodite comes more gently, there is no other god who gives such great pleasure.
[tr. Ewans (2022)]

When loves come excessive and past all limit, they bring neither good repute nor high ideals [aretē] to men; but if Aphrodite approaches in moderate strength, no goddess is so full of charm as she.
[tr. Coleridge / Ceragioli / Nagy / Hour25]

A good marriage (if any there be) refuseth the company and conditions of love; it endevoureth to present those of amity. It is a sweete society of life, full of constancie, of trust, and an infinite number of profitable and solid offices, and mutuall obligations.
[tr. Florio (1603)]

A good Marriage, if it be really so, rejects the Company and Conditions of Love and tries to represent those of Friendship. 'Tis a sweet Society of Life, full of Constancy, Trust, and an infinite Number of useful and solid Offices and mutual Obligations.
[tr. Cotton (1686)]

A good marriage, if there be any such, rejects the company and conditions of love, and tries to represent those of friendship. ’Tis a sweet society of life, full of constancy, trust, and an infinite number of useful and solid services and mutual obligations.
[tr. Cotton/Hazlitt (1877)]

A good marriage, if there is such a thing, rejects the company and conditions of love. It tries to imitate those of friendship. It is a sweet bond of life, full of constancy, of trust, and of an infinite nuimber of useful and substantial services and mutual obligations.
[tr. Zeitlin (1934)]

A good marriage, if such there be, rejects the company and conditions of love. It tries to reproduce those of friendship. It is a sweet association in life, full of constancy, trust, and an infinite number of useful and solid services and mutual obligations.
[tr. Frame (1943)]

A good marriage (if there be such a thing) rejects the company and conditions of Cupid: it strives to reproduce those of loving-friendship. It is a pleasant fellowship for life, full of constancy, trust and an infinity of solid useful services and mutual duties.
[tr. Screech (1987)]

I see no mariages faile sooner, or more troubled, then such as are concluded for beauties sake, and hudled up for amorous desires. There are required more solide foundations, and more constant grounds, and a more warie marching to it: this earnest youthly heate serveth to no purpose.
[tr. Florio (1603)]

I see no Marriages where the conjugal Intelligence sooner fails, than those that we contract upon the account of Beauty and amorous Desires; there should be more solid and constant Foundation, and they should proceed with greater Cicumspection; this furious Ardour is worth nothing.
[tr. Cotton (1686)]

I see no marriages that sooner are troubled and fail than those that progress by means of beauty and amorous desires. It needs more solid and stable foundations, and we need to go at it circumspectly; this ebullient ardor is no good for it.
[tr. Frame (1943)]

I know no marriages which fail and come to grief more quickly than those which are set on foot by beauty and amorous desire. Marriage requires foundations which are solid and durable; and we must keep on the alert. That boiling rapture is no good at all.
[tr. Screech (1987)]

At first I was under Apprehension lest this secret Flame might be a dexterous Surprize of the foul Fiend; and my Heart even resolv'd to avoid your Eyes, believing you an Obstacle to my future Happiness. But at length I perceiv'd, most lovely Beauty, that my passion could not be blameable, that I could reconcile it with Modesty, and this made me abandon my Heart to it.
[tr. Clitandre (1672)]

At first I feared that this secret ardour might be nothing but a cunning snare of the foul fiend; and my heart even resolved to fly your presence, thinking that you might be an obstacle to my salvation. But at last I found, oh most lovely beauty, that my passion could not be blameable; that I could reconcile it with modesty; and this made me feely indulge it.
[tr. Van Laun (1876)]

At first I feared that this secret tenderness might be a skilful assault of the evil one; I event hought I would avoid your presence, fearing you might prove a stumbling-block to my salvation. But I have learnt, O adorable beauty, that my passion need not be a guilty one; that i can reconcile it with modesty; and I have given up my whole soul to it.
[tr. Wall (1879)]

At first I was afraid lest this secret flame might be a subtle surprise of the evil one; and my heart resolved to avoid your eyes as an obstacle to my future happiness; but at length I perceived, most lovely beauty, that: my passion could not be guilty; that I could reconcile it with the rules of modesty, and this made me yield my heart to it.
[tr. Mathew (1890)]

At first I feared lest this secret tenderness might be but an artful assault of the evil one; and my heart even resolved to flee from your eyes, fearing you might be a stumbling-block in the way of my salvation. But at last I learnt, ah! most entrancing beauty, that this passion need not be a guilty one, that I cuold reconcile it with modesty, and so I have let my heart give way to it.
[tr. Waller (1903)]

At first I trembled lest this secret love
Might be the Evil Spirit's artful snare;
I even schooled my heart to flee your beauty,
Thinking it was a bar to my salvation.
But soon, enlightened, O all lovely one,
I saw how this my passion may be blameless,
How I may make it fit with modesty,
And thus completely yield my heart to it.
[tr. Page (1909)]

At first I trembled, lest my secret flame
Should be a stratagem of the Evil One;
Even, I was resolved to flee your presence,
A possible obstacle to my salvation.
But finally I realized, my fair one,
That there need be no guilt in such a passion.
That I can make it chime with modesty;
And so I let my heart follow its bent.
[tr. Bishop (1957)]

At first, I trembled, lest that love should be
A subtle snare that Hell had laid for me;
I vowed to flee the sight of you, eschewing
A rapture that might prove my soul's undoing;
But soon, fair being, I became aware
That my deep passion could be made to square
With rectitude, and with my bounden duty.
I thereupon surrendered to your beauty.
[tr. Wilbur (1963)]

At first I feared that this secret passion was a clever temptation of the Evil One, and I even tried to avoid you, thinking you might be an obstacle to my salvation. But at last, most adorable beauty, I recognized that such love need not be sinful, that I could reconcile it with decency, and I surrendered to it.
[tr. Steiner (2008)]

To think what we do not feel, is to lie to ourselves. Whatever we think, we should think with our whole being, will and body.
[tr. Calvert (1866), ch. 9]

To think what we do not feel is to lie to one's-self. Whatever we think should be thought by our whole being, soul and body.
[tr. Attwell (1896), ¶ 140]

To think what we do not feel, is to lie to ourselves. Everything that we think we must think with our whole being, soul and body
[tr. Lyttelton (1899), ch. 8, ¶ 38]

To think what we do not feel is to lie to ourselves, in the same way that we lie to others when we say what we do not think. Everything we think must be thought with our entire being, body and soul.
[tr. Auster (1983), 1798 entry]

In the soul of man
The endearments of the night, by darkness veil'd,
Create the strongest interest.
[tr. Wodhull (1809)]

For from the secret shade, and from night's joys, the greatest delight is wont to spring to mortals.
[tr. Edwards (1826)]

For of the darkness and the night's love-spells
Cometh on men the chiefest claim for thank.
[tr. Way (Loeb) (1894)]

I know how men adore the dark of night.
[tr. McGuinness (2004)]

The greatest benefit to humans springs from the night and the delights of love within it.
[tr. Theodoridis (2007)]

Whatever Reason we may find for the Passion that subdues us, we shall always be a little ashm'd to own it.
[tr. Clitandre (1672)]

Whatever reason we may find for the passion that subdues us, we always feel some shame in owning it.
[tr. Van Laun (1876)]

Whatever reasons we may find to justify the love that conquers us, there is always a certain shame attached to the avowal of it.
[tr. Wall (1879)]

Whatever gratification we may find for the passion that subdues us, we shall always be rather ashamed to own it.
[tr. Mathew (1890). 4.4]

Whatever reasons we may find for the love which conquers us, there is always a little shame in the avowal of it.
[tr. Waller (1903)]

Whatever cause we find to justify
The love that masters us, we still must feel
Some little shame in owning it.
[tr. Page (1909)]

Even though overmastered by our feelings,
We always find it shameful to admit them.
[tr. Bishop (1957)]

However strong and justified our flame,
We never can admit it without shame.
[tr. Frame (1967)]

No matter how much love persuades us,
we always feel a tiny bit of shame.
[tr. Steiner (2008)]

At that moment, I say most truly that the spirit of life, which hath its dwelling in the secretest chamber of the heart, began to tremble so violently that the least pulses of my body shook therewith; and in trembling it said these words: Ecce deus fortior me, qui veniens dominabitur mihi [Here is a deity stronger than I; who, coming, shall rule over me].
[tr. Rossetti (c. 1847; 1899 ed.), ch. 1]

At that moment (I speak it in all truth) the spirit of life, which abides in the most secret chamber of the heart, began to trumble with a violence that showed horribly in the minutest pulsations of my fram, and tremulously it spoke these words: -- "Ecce deus fortior me, qui veniens dominabitur mihi! Behold a god stronger than I, who cometh to triumph over me!"
[tr. Martin (1862), ch. 1]

At that instant, I say truly that the spirit of life, which dwells in the most secret chamber of the heart, began to tremble with such violence that it appeared fearfully in the least pulses, and, trembling, said these words: Ecce deus fortior me, qui veniens dominabitur mihi [Behold a god stronger than I, who coming shall rule over me].
[tr. Norton (1867), ch. 2]

At that moment, I say truly that the vital spirit, the one that dwells in the most secret chamber of the heart, began to tremble so violently that even the least pulses of my body were strangely affected; and trembling, it spoke these words: “Here is a god stronger than I, who shall come to rule over me.”
[tr. Musa (1971), ch. 2]

At that very moment, and I speak the truth, the vital spirit, the one that dwells in the most secret chamber of the heart, began to tremble so violently that even the most minute veins of my body were strangely affected; and trembling, it spoke these words: Ecce deus fortior me, qui veniens dominabitur michi.
[tr. Hollander (1997), ch. 2]

At that moment I say truly that the vital spirit, that which lives in the most secret chamber of the heart began to tremble so violently that I felt it fiercely in the least pulsation, and, trembling, it uttered these words: "Ecce deus fortior me, qui veniens dominabitur michi: Behold a god more powerful than I, who, coming, will rule over me."
[tr. Kline (2002), ch. 2]

At that moment, I say truly, the vital spirit, which resides in the most secret chamber of the heart, began to tremble so strongly that it was terribly evident in my slightest heartbeats, and tremblingly it spoke these words: "Behold a god stronger than I, who is coming and will dominate me."
[tr. Appelbaum (2006), ch. 2]

At that time, truly, I say, the vital spirit, which dwells in the innermost chamber of the heart, started to tremble so powerfully that its disturbance reached all the way to the slightest of my pulses. And trembling it spoke these words: “Ecce deus fortior me, qui veniens dominabitur michi” [Here is a god stronger than I, who comes to rule me].
[tr. Frisardi (2012), ch. 1]

Great and heroick actions which dazle their eyes who consider them, are represented by Politicians, as if they were the effects of great Interests; whereas they are ordinarily the effects of humour and passions. Thus the war between Augustus and Marc Antony, which some imputed to the Ambition they had of aspiring to the Empire of the World, was an effect of their mutual jealousie.
[tr. Davies (1669), ¶104]

Those great and glorious Actions, that even dazle our Eyes with their Lustre, are represented by Politicians as the result of great Wisdom and excellent design; whereas in truth, they are commonly the effects of Passion and Humour. Thus the War between Augustus and Antony, which is usually thought to proceed from Greatness of Soul, and the Ambition each of them had to become Master of the World, was very probably no more than Envy and Emulation.
[tr. Stanhope (1694), ¶8]

Great actions, the lustre of which dazzles us, are represented by politicians as the effects of deep design; whereas they are commonly the effects of caprice and passion. Thus the war between Augustus and Antony, supposed to be owing to their ambition to give a master to the world, arose probably from jealousy.
[pub. Donaldson (1783), ¶10; [ed. Lepoittevin-Lacroix (1797), ¶7]

Great actions, the lustre of which dazzles us, are by politicians represented as the effects of deep design, whereas they are commonly the effects of caprice and passion. Thus the war between Augustus and Anthony, supposed to be owing to the ambition of giving a master to the world, arose probably from jealousy.
[ed. Carvill (1835), ¶7]

Those great and brilliant actions which dazzle our eyes, are represented by politicians as the effects of great designs, instead of which they are commonly the effects of caprice and of the passions. Thus the war between Augustus and Antony, which is attributed to the ambition they had of making themselves masters of the world, was, perhaps, nothing but a result of jealousy.
[ed. Gowens (1851), ¶8]

Great and striking actions which dazzle the eyes are represented by politicians as the effect of great designs, instead of which they are commonly caused by the temper and the passions. Thus the war between Augustus and Anthony, which is set down to the ambition they entertained of making themselves masters of the world, was probably but an effect of jealousy.
[tr. Bund/Friswell (1871), ¶7]

Historians would have us believe that the most dazzling deeds are the results of deep-laid plans; more often they are the reuslts of men's moods and passions. Thus the war that Augustus waged against Antony, caused, we are told, by their ambition to be masters of the world, was, perchance, but the outcome of jealousy.
[tr. Heard (1917), ¶7]

Statesmen will often present those great and striking deeds with which they dazzle our eyes as the outcome of some grand design, whereas in fact they are usually the product of mood and of emotion. Thus the struggle between Augustus and Mark Anthony, portrayed as the result of their conflicting ambition each to become sole master of the world, was perhaps caused simply by mutual jealousy.
[tr. FitzGibbon (1957), ¶7]

Politicians explain great and resplendent deeds that dazzle the eye as born of high purpose, where for the most part they derive from whim or passion. Thus the war between Augustus and Antony, which we ascribe to their equal ambition to rule the world, was no more, perhaps, than the result of jealousy.
[tr. Kronenberger (1959), ¶7]

Great and glorious events which dazzle the beholder are represented by politicians as the outcome of grand designs, whereas they are usually products of temperaments and passions. Thus the war between ‘Augustus and Antony, attributed to their passion to seize the mastery of the world, was probably nothing more than a result of jealousy.
[tr. Tancock (1959), ¶7]

Those great and brilliant actions that dazzle the eyes of men are represented by politicians as being the effects of great designs; but they are usually the results of temper and the passions. Thus the war between Augustus and Antony, which is supposed to be due to the ambition they both had of making themselves the masters of the world, was perhaps nothing more than an effect of jealousy.
[tr. Whichello (2016) ¶7]

Then let amorous kisses dwell
On our lips, begin and tell
A thousand, and a Hundred score,
An Hundred and a Thousand more,
Till another Thousand smother
That, and that wipe off another.
Thus at last when we have numbred
Many a Thousand, many a Hundred,
We'll confound the reckoning quite,
And lose ourselves in wild delight:
While our joyes so multiply
As shall mocke the envious eye.
[tr. Crashaw (1648)]

Give me, then, a thousand kisses,
Twice ten thousand more bestow,
Till the sum of boundless blisses
Twice ten thousand more bestow,
Neither we nor envy know.
[tr. Langhorne (c. 1765)]

Then first a thousand kisses give,
An hundred let me next receive,
Twice ten thousand more bestow,
Another thousand yet;
To these a second hundred join,
Still be another thousand mine,
Twice ten thousand more bestow,
An hundred then repeat:
Such countless thousands let there be,
Sweetly confus'd ; that even we
Twice ten thousand more bestow,
May know not the amount;
That envy, so immense a store
Beholding, may not have the pow'r
Twice ten thousand more bestow,
Each various kiss to count.
[tr. Nott (1795)]

Then come, with whom alone I'll live,
A thousand kisses take and give!
Another thousand! to the store
Add hundreds -- then a thousand more!
And when they to a million mount,
Let confusion take the account, --
That you, the number never knowing,
May continue still bestowing
That I for joys may never pine,
Which never can again be mine!
[tr. Coleridge (1798)]

Give me kisses thousand-fold,
Twice ten thousand more bestow,
Add to them a hundred more;
Other thousands still be told
Twice ten thousand more bestow,
Other hundreds o'er and o'er.
But, with thousands when we burn,
Twice ten thousand more bestow,
Mix, confuse the sums at last,
That we may not blushing learn
Twice ten thousand more bestow,
All that have between us past.
None shall know to what amount
Twice ten thousand more bestow,
Envy's due for so much bliss;
None -- for none shall ever count
Twice ten thousand more bestow,
All the kisses we will kiss.
[tr. Lamb (1821)]

Give me then a thousand kisses,
Add a hundred to my blisses,
Then a thousand more, and then
Add a hundred once again.
Crown me with a thousand more,
Give a hundred as before,
Then kiss on without cessation,
Till we lose all calculation,
And no envy mar our blisses,
Hearing of such heaps of kisses.
[tr. T. Martin (1861)]

Then, charmer mine, with lip divine!
Twice ten thousand more bestow,
Give me a thousand kisses;
A hundred then, then hundreds ten,
Twice ten thousand more bestow,
Then other hundred blisses.
Lip thousands o'er, sip hundreds more
Twice ten thousand more bestow,
With panting ardour breathing;
Fill to the brim love's cup, its rim
Twice ten thousand more bestow,
With rosy blossoms wreathing.
We'll mix them then, lest to our ken
Twice ten thousand more bestow,
Should come our store of blisses,
Or envious wight should know, and blight
Twice ten thousand more bestow,
So many honey' d kisses.
[tr. Cranstoun (1867)]

Thousand kisses, anon to these an hundred,
Thousand kisses again, another hundred,
Thousand give me again, another hundred.
Then once heedfully counted all the thousands,
We'll uncount them as idly; so we shall not
Know, nor traitorous eye shall envy, knowing
All those myriad happy many kisses.
[tr. Ellis (1871)]

Kiss me a thousand times, then hundred more,
Then thousand others, then a new five-score,
Still other thousand other hundred store.
Last when the sums to many thousands grow,
The tale let's trouble till no more we know,
Nor envious wight despiteful shall misween us
Knowing how many kisses have been kissed between us.
[tr. Burton (1893)]

Give me a thousand kisses, and then a hundred, then another thousand, then a second hundred, then another thousand without resting, then a hundred. Then, when we have made many thousands, we will confuse the count lest we know the numbering, so that no one can cast an evil eye on us through knowing the number of our kisses.
[tr. Smithers (1894)]

Come, in yonder nook reclining,
Twice ten thousand more bestow,
Where the honeysuckle climbs,
Let us mock at Fate's designing,
Twice ten thousand more bestow,
Let us kiss a thousand times!
And if they shall prove too few, dear,
When they're kissed we'll start anew, dear!
 
And should any chance to see us,
Twice ten thousand more bestow,
Goodness! how they'll agonize!
How they'll wish that they could be us,
Twice ten thousand more bestow,
Kissing in such liberal wise!
Never mind their envious whining;
Come, my Lesbia, no repining!
[tr. Field (1896)]

Give me a thousand kisses, then a hundred, then another thousand, then a second hundred, then yet another thousand, then a hundred. Then, when we have made up many thousands, we will confuse our counting, that we may not know the reckoning, nor any malicious person blight them with evil eye, when he knows that our kisses are so many.
[tr. Warre Cornish (1904)]

Give me then a thousand kisses, then a hundred, then another thousand, then a second hundred, then still another thousand, then one more hundred, then when we have had many a thousand, let us jostle them up, so that we may not keep count and no jealous-eyed person may envy us, knowing the number of our kisses.
[tr. Stuttaford (1912)]

Then oh my Lesbia!
Live and love!
Quick to my arms, and quick to my heart!
A thousand kisses!
Ten thousand kisses!
Have done with a million! Then start
Again; for I fear
Some wretch may envy us, dear,
[tr. Dement (1915)]

Come then , give me of kisses now a hundred,
Then a thousand and then yet hundreds other;
When our kisses their many thousands measure,
Blot the score out and reckon it as nothing,
Lest some evil eye paralyse our pleasure,
Seeing jealously such a wealth of loving.
[tr. Symons-Jeune (1923)]

A thousand kisses, then five score,
A thousand and a hundred more,
Then one for each you gave before.
Then, as the many thousands grow,
We'll wreck the counting lest we know,
Or lest an evil eye prevail
Through knowledge of the kisses' tale.
[tr. MacNaghten (1925)]

Let me a hundred kisses take
And then of them a thousand make,
A hundred and a thousand more
Repeated twice shall swell the score.
But when to thousands we shall get,
We will the reckoning upset;
That none may envy us our bliss
Knowing the number of each kiss.
[tr. Wright (1926)]

Twice ten thousand more bestow,
Give me a thousand kisses,
then a hundred, another thousand,
another hundred
Twice ten thousand more bestow,
and in one breath
still kiss another thousand,
another hundred.
Twice ten thousand more bestow,
O then with lips and bodies joined
many deep thousands;
Twice ten thousand more bestow,
confuse
their number
Twice ten thousand more bestow,
so that poor fools and cuckolds (envious
even now) shall never
learn our wealth and curse us
with their
evil eyes.
[tr. Gregory (1931)]

Give me a thousand kisses, then a hundred,
another thousand next, another hundred,
a thousand without pause & then a hundred,
until when we have run up our thousands
we will cry bankrupt, hiding our assets
from ourselves & any who would harm us,
knowing the volume of our trade in kisses.
[tr. C. Martin (1979)]

Give me a thousand kisses, a hundred more,
another thousand, and another hundred,
and, when we’ve counted up the many thousands,
confuse them so as not to know them all,
so that no enemy may cast an evil eye,
by knowing that there were so many kisses.
[tr. Kline (2001)]

Give me a thousand kisses, then another hundred,
then another thousand, then a second hundred,
then yet another thousand more, then another hundred.
Then, when we have made many thousands,
we will mix them all up so that we don't know,
and so that no one can be jealous of us when he finds out
how many kisses we have shared.
[tr. Negenborn (1997)]

Give me a thousand kisses, then a hundred,
then a thousand more, a second hundred,
then yet another thousand then a hundred
then when we've notched up all these many thousands,
shuffle the figures, lose count of the total,
so no maleficent enemy can hex us
knowing the final sum of all our kisses.
[tr. Green (2005)]

So kiss me, Sweet, and kiss me plenty:
First a thousand, then a hundred kisses;
Then catch your breath and kiss me more:
Another thousand, another hundred,
Still thousands yet till we've lost all count
And must begin again, keeping
Envious others guessing the sum
Of how many kisses much we love.
[tr. Hager (2006)]

Give me a thousand kisses and then a hundred,
then another thousand and a second hundred,
And even then another thousand, a hundred more.
When we’ve had so many thousands,
we will mix them together so we don’t know,
so that no wicked man can feel envy
when he knows what a number of kisses there’ve been.
[tr. @sentantiq (2015)]

Give me a thousand kisses, then a hundred,
then a thousand others, then a second hundred,
then up to a thousand others, then a hundred.
Then, when we have made many thousands,
we will mix them up, lest we should know,
--or lest any evil person should be able to envy us
when he knows--how many kisses there are.
[tr. Wikibooks (2017)]

Give me a thousand kisses, then a hundred,
then another thousand, then a second hundred,
then immediately a thousand then a hundred.
then, when we will have made many thousand kisses,
we will throw them into confusion, lest we know,
or lest anyone bad be able to envy
when he knows there to be so many kisses.
[tr. Wikisource (2018)]

The Predominant Passion or rather Fury of most of the French is, to be thought Wits; and the Predominant passion of those who would be thought Wits, is to write Books.
And yet there is nothing so ill-contrived.
[tr. Ozell (1736 ed.), No. 64]

The passion of most of the French is to be taken for wits, and the passion of thole who would be thought wits, is to write books. And yet there is nothing so badly imagined.
[tr. Floyd (1762)]

The passion of nearly every Frenchman, is to pass for a wit; and the passion of those who wish to be thought wits, is to write books.
There never was such an erroneous idea.
[tr. Davidson (1891)]

The passion of most Frenchmen is to be thought wits ; and the passion of those who wish to be thought wits is to write books.
It is impossible to imagine a more unfortunate mania.
[tr. Betts (1897)]

The passion of most of the French is to be thought witty, and the passion of those who wish to be considered wits is to write books.
A worse misconception cannot be imagined.
[tr. Healy (1964)]

Most Frenchmen are desperately eager to be thought witty and, of those who seek to be witty, most are desperately eager to write a book.
No plan, however, could be less well conceived.
[tr. Mauldon (2008), No. 64]

There is no dram of blood,
That doth not quiver in me. The old flame
Throws out clear tokens of reviving fire.
[tr. Cary (1814)]

There is not one drop
Of blood within me trembling but became:
I know the tokens of the ancient fame.
[tr. Bannerman (1850)]

Not a drachm
Of blood remains in me, that does not tremble;
I know the traces of the ancient flame.
[tr. Longfellow (1867)]

Less than a dram of blood remains to me which trembles not; I recognise the signs of the ancient flame.
[tr. Butler (1885)]

Rests within my frame
No dram of blood that does not tremble now;
I know the symptoms of the olden flame.
[tr. Minchin (1885)]

Less than a drachm of blood remains in me that doth not tremble; I recognize the signals of the ancient flame.
[tr. Norton (1892)]

Less than a drachm of blood
is left in me that trembleth not; I recognise
the tokens of the ancient flame.
[tr. Okey (1901)]

Not a drop of blood is left in me that does not tremble; I know the marks of the ancient flame.
[tr. Sinclair (1939)]

Scarce one drop remains
Of blood in me that trembles not: by this
I recognize the old flame within my veins.
[tr. Binyon (1943)]

There is scarce a dram
That does not hammer and throb in all my blood;
I know the embers of the ancient flame.
[tr. Sayers (1955)]

There is not within me
one drop of blood unstirred. I recognize
the tokens of the ancient flame.
[tr. Ciardi (1961)]

Less than a drop of blood
Is left in me, that is not trembling:
I know the signs of the ancient flame.
[tr. Sisson (1981)]

I am left with less
than one drop of blood that does not tremble:
I recognize the signs of the old flame.
[tr. Mandelbaum (1982)]

There is a barely a drop of blood in me that does not tremble: I know the tokens of the ancient flame.
[tr. Kline (2002)]

Less than a dram of blood is left me that is not trembling: I recognize the signs of the ancient flame!
[tr. Durling (2003)]

There is not one gram
of blood in me that does not tremble now.
I recognize the signs of ancient flame.
[tr. Kirkpatrick (2007)]

Not a single drop of blood
remains in me that does not tremble --
I know the signs of the ancient flame.[tr. Hollander/Hollander (2007)]

There isn't a single drop of whatever blood
Still flows in my veins that isn't shaking from fear:
I recognize the signs of that ancient fire.
[tr. Raffel (2010)]

The fable of Tantalus is hardly ever applied except to the passion of avarice; but it is at least as applicable to ambition, to the love of glory, and to nearly all the other passions.
[tr. Mathers (1926)]

The fable of Tantalus has been used almost exclusively as an emblem of avarice, but it is at least as applicable to ambition, the love of fame, and virtually all the passions.
[tr. Merwin (1969)]

The fable of Tantalus has almost never served as a precept except in the case of avarice. But it is, at all events, a precept attaching no wit less to ambition, to love of glory, to almost all passions.
[tr. Pearson (1973)]

The fable of Tantalus has nearly only ever served as an emblem of avarice. However, it is at least as much a symbol of ambition, of the love of glory, and of nearly every passion.
[tr. Siniscalchi (1994)]

The great evil of the passions does not lie in the torments which they bring upon men, but in the faults and shameful actions they cause him to commit. Were it not for this drawback they would have too great an advantage over cold reason, which can never be productive of happiness. His passions make man live, his wisdom only makes him last.
[tr. Mathers (1926)]

The unfortunate thing about passions is not the misery they make one commit, and which degrade man. Without these disadvantages, they would overpower cold reason, which does not in the least a source of happiness. Passions make men live, wisdom only makes the endure.
[tr. Pearson (1973)]

The great disaster of passions is not the torment they cause, but the debasing errors and depravity into which they lead men. Without these drawbacks, passion would enjoy many advantages over cold reason, which never produces happiness. Passions enable men to live, wisdom merely enables them to survive.
[tr. Dusinberre (1992)]

The great misfortune of passions does not come from the torments that they cause, but from the base things they make a person do, and which degrade him. Without these inconveniences, they would have too many advantages over cold reason, which never makes people happy. Passions make a man live, wisdom and facts only make him endure.
[tr. Siniscalchi (1994)]

All passions are exaggerated, otherwise they would not be passions.
[tr. Hutchinson (1902)]

All of the passions lead to exaggeration. That is why they are passions.
[tr. Merwin (1969)]

All passions involve excess, in fact that's what makes them passions.
[tr. Parmée (2003), ¶59]

All passions exaggerate, and they are only passions because they exaggerate.
[tr. Siniscalchi (1994)]

Nowe folowith the iij vituperacion & defaute by the which yong men seyne that olde age is noiouse myschaunte & wretchid by cause it hath almost no flesshely delectacyons or sensualitees as for to gete with childeren and yssue to encrece and multiplie the world. To whom I answere forwith that it is right a noble gyfte rewarde & the right grete worship of olde age that it be sequestred depryved and dischargid of the delectacyons of sensualitee of the body or flesshely lustis for ys it be so that olde age be pryved and sequestred of such delectacyons It had takin awey from us olde men that thyng whiche is right vicious & right foule in the age of adolescence & yongthe.
And neverthelesshe my right good and lovyng yong men Scipion and Lelius an auncyent senatour purposid an oracion that a philosopher callid Archites made whiche was takyn of Haniballe duc of Cartage when he werrid in Ytaile. He was recoverde by Quintus Fabius the noble senatour when he recoverd Tarente, takyn by the said Haniballe. Archites was pryncypally a grete man connyngly lernyd in sciences and in vertues and was right famous and noble. This oracion purposid which Archites made was yeven to me when I adolescent and yong of age was at Tarente with the seid Fabius, and by this oracyon seid Archites that nature which ordeyned to men complexions gave nevir no pestelence peyne nor turment more damageable to yong men than is flesshely delectacyon. The coveitous playsirs of delectacyon moven tyce and steeren men over boldely and withoute bridell of reason or shame or any restraynt to execute and make an ende of their foule lustys. For thought delectacy∣ons ben made and conspired treasons divisions and dissencyons of countrees & the destruccions of their comon profite, and the secretes of parlementys disclosed to our ennemyes and adversarye partye there is noon untrou∣the there is noon evyll werke but pleasyre of delectacyon which shall constrayne men to encline therto, by cause that they enioyen owt of mesure of spousehode brekyng & that so fervently the cause of defoulyng of maydens virgins the anontry of weddyd women & all such corrupte untrew werkys, whiche ben nevir mevid nor undirtakyn but by the insolence & wantownes & wenlacys of flesshely delectacyon. Archites also saide that as nature by power of which god hath yeven to men noth̄yng bettir than is the soule by the which they have undirstondyng & mynde, also to that soule which is an office & a gift dyvine nothyng is so grete ennemye nor so contrary as ben flesshely delectacyons, for sith delectacyon & flesshely pleasir have dominacyon in the regyon of man. That is to witt in the courage of his body, the vertue of attemperance may not be lodgid therin & wthin the regyon of man which is yeven to delectacyon may not abyde any wisedome nor vertue.
[tr. Worcester/Worcester/Scrope (1481)]

Now followeth the third dispraise and fault which is laid in old age, because (say they) it is without pleasure, and must forego voluptuous appetites. O noble and excellent gift, wherewith old age is so blessed, if it take from us that thing, which is in youth most vicious and detestable. But you (noble and virtuous gentlemen, Scipio and Laelius) hear what Archytas, the famous philosopher of Tarentum, was wont to say, whose oration touching on the same matter was lent and delivered to me, when I was a young man and served under Quintus Maximus at the siege of Tarentum. He said that no plague was given by nature so great and pernicious unto men, as the bestial pleasures and voluptuousness of the body: which which pleasures the dissolute and libidinous lusts of men do so much affect and desire, that with all licentious profanation and outrage, their minds be incited and stirred to pursue the same, thinking all things lawful for their unbridled appetites, so that they may enjoy their beastly desires and still wallow in the filthy puddle of their hellish sensuality. Hence (said he_ as from a fountain do spring out all kinds of mischief, as treason, betraying of countries, the ruin and subversion of commonwealths, secret conventicles, and privy conferences with the enemies; finally (he said), there was none so great a villainy, nor any so flagitious and horrible an enormity, which the inordinate desire of pleasure would not egg and prick forward men's froward wills to enterprise: furthermore, that whoredom, adultery, and all such like heinous facts of carnal concupiscency were by none other lures or enticements provoked but by pleasure. And whereas either nature or God hath given unto man nothing of so noble excellency as the mind or reasonable soul, there is nothing so great an enemy until this inestimable and divine gift as pleasure.
For where pleasure beareth away and ruleth the roast, there is no mansion or dwelling-place left for temperance and sobriety, and, to be short, virtue cannot remain where pleasure reigneth.
[tr. Newton (1569)]

There followeth the third Objection to age; they say that it wanteth pleasures. Oh excellent gift of age, if it take away that which makes our youth vitious; therefore hear now, O yee excellent young men, the old oration of Architas the Tarentine, a singular and worthy man, which was delivered me when I was a young man with Q. Maximus at Tarentum. He said that there was no deadlier plague given by nature to men, then the pleasure of the body, the greedy lusts whereof are rash and unbrideledly, stirred up to get and gain. From hence are derived treasons, from hence arise the overthrowes of Commonwealths, and the privy conspiracies and whisperings with the enemies. That to conclude, there was no wickednesse, nor no evill deed, to the undertaking of which, the lust of pleasure did not incite a man; and that whoredome, adultery, and all such evill was stirred up by no other bait then pleasure. And forasmuch as nature, or some God, hath given nothing more excellent to a man, then his minde; to this divine gift, there is no greater enemy then pleasure. For lust bearing rule, there is no place for temperance, neither in the Kingdome of pleasure can virtue consist.
[tr. Austin (1648)]

Now must I draw my forces 'gainst that Host
Of Pleasures, which i'th' Sea of age are lost.
Oh, thou most high transcendent gift of age!
Youth from its folly thus to disengage.
And now receive from me that most divine
Oration of that noble Tarentine,
Which at Tarentum I long since did hear;
When I attended the great Fabius there.
Yee Gods, was it man's Nature? or his Fate?
Betray'd him with sweet pleasures poyson'd bait?
Which he, with all designs of art, or power,
Doth with unbridled appetite devour;
And as all poysons seek the noblest part,
Pleasure possesses first the head and heart;
Intoxicating both, by them, she finds,
And burns the Sacred Temples of our Minds.
Furies, which Reasons divine chains had bound,
(That being broken) all the World confound.
Lust, Murder, Treason, Avarice, and Hell
It self broke loose; in Reason's Pallace dwell,
Truth, Honour, Justice, Temperance, are fled,
All her attendants into darkness led.
But why all this discourse? when pleasure's rage
Hath conquer'd reason, we must treat with age.
Age undermines, and will in time surprize
Her strongest Forts, and cut off all supplies.
And joyn'd in league with strong necessity,
Pleasure must flie, or else by famine die.v [tr. Denham (1669)]

The third Accusation against Old Age is, that it deprives us of the Enjoyments of Pleasure. O glorious Priviledge of Age, if through thy means we can get rid of the most pernicious Bane, to which our You is liable! Give me leave to repeat to you, what a great Orator has said upon this Subject.
"Nature has not implanted in Man any more execrable Curse, than that of bodily Pleasures; to the gratification of which we are hurried on, wich such unbounded and licentious Appetites. For to what else is oweing the Subversion of so many States and Kingdoms? What Villainy too daring, what Undertaking too hazardous, which the Desire of satisfying our unbounded Lusts will not instigate us to attempt? To what are Rapes, Adulteries, or such like abominable Enormities owing, but to the gratification of our Appetites? And since the Faculties of Reason, and Judgment, are the most excellent Qualities, which Nature, or Providence, has conferred upon us; it is certain that nothing can be more destructive, more pernicious to this divine Gift, than the Indulging bodily Pleasures? For it is impossible to observe an Degrees of Temperance, while we are under the Dominion of our unruly Passions, nor can Virtue consiste with the pursuit of such Enjoyments."
[tr. Hemming (1716)]

We come now to the Third Objection, which is, That Old Age is deprived of Pleasure. O excellent State! if it deprives us of what is most vitious in You! For, hear ye well-disposed young Men, the old Remark of Architas the Tarentine, a most ingenious Man, which was given to me when I was a young Fellow at Tarentum, with Q. Maximus. He said, "That Nature had not given Mankind a greater Plague than the Pleasure of the body, whose eager Desires for the Enjoyment of it, are altogether loose and unbridled: That from hence arise Conspiracies against our Country, Subversions of the Commonwealth, and treasonable Conferences with the Enemy. In short, that there was no Wickedness nor Capital Crime, but this Lust after Pleasure would put a man upon undertaking; that Whoredom, Adultery, and all such Vices, were excited by no other Allurements than those of Pleasure. That as Nature, or some God, had given to Man nothing more valuable than his Mind, so to that Gift was joined nothing so much its Enemy as Pleasure; for when Lust is predominant, there is no Room for Temperance; nor can Virtue possibly consist in Pleasure's Throne."
[tr. J. D. (1744)]

The third Charge against Old-Age was, That it is (they say) insensible to Pleasure, and the Enjoyments arising from the Gratifications of the Senses. And a most blessed and heavenly Effect it truly is, if it eases of what in Youth was the sorest and cruellest Plague of Life. Pray listen, my good Friends, to an old Discourse of Archytas the Tarentine, a great and excellent Man in his Time, which I learned when I was but young myself, at Tarentum, under Fabius Maximus, at the Time he recovered that Place. The greatest Curse, the heaviest Plague, said he, derived on Man from Nature, is bodily Pleasure, when the Passions are indulged, and strong inordinate Desires are raised and set in Motion for obtaining it. For this have Men betray'd their Country; for this have States and Governments been plunged in Ruin; for this have treacherous Correspondences been held with publick Enemies: In short, there is no Mischief so horrid, no Villany so execrable, that this will not prompt to perpetrate. And as Adultery, and all the Crimes of that Tribe, are the natural Effects of it; so of course are all the fatal Consequences that ensue on them. 'Tis owned, that the most noble and excellent Gift of Heaven to Man, is his Reason: And 'tis as sure, that of all the Enemies Reason has to engage with, Pleasure is the most capital, and the most pernicious: For where its great Incentive, Lust, prevails, Temperance can have no Place; nor under the Dominion of Pleasure, can Virtue possibly subsist.
[tr. Logan (1750)]

Let us now proceed to examine the third article of complaint against old age, as "bereaving us," it seems, "of the sensual gratifications." Happy effect indeed, if it deliver us from those snares which allure youth into some of the worst vices to which that age is addicted. Suffer me upon this occasion, my excellent young friends, to acquaint vou with the substance of a discourse which was held many years since by that illustrious philosopher Archytas, of Tarentum, as it was related to me when I was a young man in the army of Quintus Maximus, at the siege of that city. "Nature," said this illustrious sage, "has not conferred on mankind a more dangerous present than those pleasures which attend the sensual indulgences; as the passions they excite are too apt to run away with reason, in a lawless and unbridled pursuit of their respective enjoyments. It is in order to gratify inclinations of this ensnaring kind that men are tempted to hold clandestine correspondence with the enemies of the state, to subvert governments, and turn traitors to their country. In short, there is no sort of crimes that afiect the public welfare to which an inordinate love of the sensual pleasures may not directly lead. And as to vices of a more private tendency -- rapes, adulteries and every other flagitious violation of the moral duties -- are they not perpetrated solely from this single motive? Reason, on the other hand," continued Archytas," is the noblest gift which God, or nature, has bestowed on the sons of men. Now nothing is so great an enemy to that divine endowment, as the pleasures of sense. For neither temperance, nor any other of the more exalted virtues, can find a place in that breast which is under the dominion of the voluptuous passions."
[tr. Melmoth (1773)]

The third charge against old age comes next, namely, that they say that it is without pleasures. O glorious privilege of old age, if indeed it takes away from us that which in youth is most faulty! For listen, excellent young men, to an ancient discourse of Archytas of Tarentum, a singularly great and renowned man, which was delivered to me when I was a young man with Quintus Maximus: He said, that no deadlier plague than the pleasure of the body was given to men by Nature; of which pleasure the passions being excessively fond, impelled men to enjoy them rashly and precipitously. That hence rose betrayals of country, hence subversions of states, hence clandestine correspondence with enemies. In a word, that there is no atrocity, no wicked deed, to the undertaking of which the lust of pleasure did not incite; and that seductions and adulteries, and every such crime, are called into existence by no other allurements but pleasure; and whereas, whether Nature or some deity had given nothing to man more excellent than the understanding, nothing was more hostile to this divine gift and endowment than pleasure. For neither, when lust bore sway, was there room for temperance, nor could virtue hold any place at all in the reign of pleasure.
[Cornish Bros. ed. (1847)]

Then follows the third topic of blame against old age, that they say it has no pleasures. Oh, noble privilege of age! if indeed it takes from us that which is in youth the greatest defect. For listen, most excellent young men, to the ancient speech of Archytas of Tarentum, a man eminently great and illustrious, which was reported to me when I, a young man, was at Tarentum with Quintus Maximus. He said that no more deadly plague than the pleasure of the body was inflicted on men by nature; for the passions, greedy of that pleasure, were in a rash and unbridled manner incited to possess it; that hence arose treasons against one's country, hence the ruining of states, hence clandestine conferences with enemies: in short, that there was no crime, no wicked act, to the undertaking of which the lust of pleasure did not impel; but that fornications and adulteries and every such crime, were provoked by no other allurements than those of pleasure. And whereas either nature or some god had given to man nothing more excellent than his mind; that to this divine function and gift, nothing was so hostile as pleasure: since where lust bore sway, there was no room for self-restraint; and in the realm of pleasure, virtue could by no possibility exist.
[tr. Edmonds (1874)]

I come now to the third charge against old age, that, as it is alleged, it lacks the pleasures of sense. O admirable service of old age, if indeed it takes from us what in youth is more harmful than all things else! For I would have you hear, young men, an ancient discourse of Archytas of Tarentum, a man of great distinction and celebrity, as it was repeated to me when in my youth I was at Tarentum with Quintus Maximus. "Man has received from nature," said he, "no more fatal scourge than bodily pleasure, by which the passions in their eagerness for gratification are made reckless and are released from all restraint. Hence spring treasons against one's country; hence, overthrows of states; hence, clandestine plottings with enemies. In fine, there is no form of guilt, no atrocity of evil, to the accomplishment of which men are not driven by lust for pleasure. Debaucheries, adulteries, and all enormities of that kind have no other inducing cause than the allurements of pleasure. Still more, while neither Nature nor any god has bestowed upon man aught more noble than mind, nothing is so hostile as pleasure to this divine endowment and gift. Nor while lust bears sway can self-restraint find place, nor under the reign of pleasure can virtue have any foothold whatever."
[tr. Peabody (1884)]

The third charge against old age is that it LACKS SENSUAL PLEASURES. What a splendid service does old age render, if it takes from us the greatest blot of youth! Listen, my dear young friends, to a speech of Archytas of Tarentum, among the greatest and most illustrious of men, which was put into my hands when as a young man I was at Tarentum with Q. Maximus. "No more deadly curse than sensual pleasure has been inflicted on mankind by nature, to gratify which our wanton appetites are roused beyond all prudence or restraint. Fornications and adulteries, and every abomination of that kind, are brought about by the enticements of pleasure and by them alone. Intellect is the best gift of nature or God: to this divine gift and endowment there is nothing so inimical as pleasure. For when appetite is our master, there is no place for self-control; nor where pleasure reigns supreme can virtue hold its ground."
[tr. Shuckburgh (1895)]

Thirdly, it is alleged against old age,
It has no sensual pleasures to enjoy.
Divinest gift of age, to take away sensual pleasures.
What is the greatest blot on youthful years!
Hear, my dear friends, a speech Archytas made
(Who was a very old and famous man),
And told me at Tarentum, where I was
With Quintus Maximus, when quite a youth:
'No greater curse than sensuality
Has Nature given to man: its foul desires
To feed, lust grows unbridled and unwise;
Hence countries are betrayed, states overthrown,
Secret arrangements with our foes are made.
There is no crime, no ill deed to which lust
Cannot entice : abominable vice
Of every kind is due to this alone.
Nature herself, or some kind deity
Has given to man no greater gift than mind:
But to this gift, this faculty divine,
No greater enemy can be than lust.
When that bears sway, all moderation's gone,
And 'neath its rule virtue cannot survive.
[tr. Allison (1916)]

Next we come to the third allegation against old age. This was its deficiency in sensual pleasures. But if age really frees us from youth's most dangerous failing, then we are receiving a most blessed gift.
Let me tell you, my dear friends, what was said years ago by that outstandingly distinguished thinker, Archytas of Tarentum, the city at which I heard of his words when I was a young soldier serving under Fabius. "The most fatal curse given by nature to mankind," said Archytas, "is sensual greed: this incites men to gratify their lusts heedlessly and uncontrollably, thus bringing about national betrayals, revolutions, and secret negotiations with the enemy. Lust will drive men to every sin and crime under the sun. Mere lust, without any additiona impulse, is the cause of rape, adultery, and every other sexual outrage. Nature, or a god, has given human beings a mind as their outstanding possession, and this divine gift and endowment has no worse foe than sensuality. For in the realm of the physical passions there can be no room for self-control; where self-indulgence reigns, decent behavior is excluded.
[tr. Grant (1960, 1971 ed.)]

I turn now to the third charge against old age -- one commonly leveled with vehemence: men say that it is cut off from pleasures. What a glorious blessing the years confer if they take away from us the greatest weakness that afflicts our younger days! Let me repeat to you, my dear young friends, what Archytas of Tarentum said many, many years ago. (He was one of the truly great -- a distinguished man -- and his discourse was reported to me when as a young man I visited Tarentum in the company of Quintus Maximus.) Archytas declared that nature had afflicted man with no plague more deadly than physical pleasure, since the hope of pleasure roused men’s desires to fever-pitch and spurred them on, like wild, unbridled beasts, to attainment.
Pleasure, he said, was the ultimate source of treason, of riot and rebellion, of clandestine negotiations with an enemy; to sum it up, there was no crime, no foul perversion, which men were not led to commit by the desire for pleasure. As for crimes of passion, adultery, and the like, he declared that pleasure and its blandishments were the sole cause of them "Here is man," said he. "Nature, or if you will, God, has given him nothing more precious and distinctive than his mind, yet nothing is so hostile to this blessing -- this godlike power -- as pleasure."
Further, he asserted that when the appetites had the upper hand there was no room left for self-discipline -- in fact, to put it generally, virtue could find no foothold anywhere in the kingdom of pleasure.
[tr. Copley (1967)]

Now I come to the third reason why old age is so strenuously condemned: that when we are old we can’t enjoy sensual pleasures. On the contrary, what a gift it is that age takes away from us the most objectionable vices of the young! When I was a young man in the army, someone quoted to me from a speech -- and it is well worth listening to it today -- that was delivered long ago by a distinguished philosopher, Archytas of Tarentum. “Nature,” he said, “has never visited on man a more virulent pestilence than sex. There is nothing we will not do, however rash and ill-considered, in order to satisfy our desires. Sex has impelled men to treason, to revolution, to collusion with the enemy. Under the influence of sex, there is no criminal enterprise they will not undertake, no sin they will not commit. Infidelity, of course, and then any kind of depraved perversion you can think of -- all are driven by the search for sexual pleasure. Nature -- or perhaps some god -- has given us nothing more valuable than the power to reason; but there is nothing more inimical to reason than sex. Lust will always overcome self-control; there is no moral value that can stand up to the attacks of unbridled desire.”
[tr. Cobbold (2012)]

THEY SAY OLD AGE DEPRIVES US OF ALMOST ALL OF THE PLEASURES. Oh, this is a wonderful gift of old age, if it does indeed relieve us of most of the reasons youth gets itself into trouble. Remember, you young folks, the famous warning from Dr. Johnson, the especially great and famous eighteenth century savant. I came to admire him when I was a young man at Oxford. He said that the body is all vice. The body's avid desire for the pleasures makes it seek them rashly and without control until it finds gratification. Oh the trouble! These things often create traitors of their countries: they ruin governments and cause secret dealings with enemies. The desire for bodily pleasure drives people to commit debauchery, adultery, and crimes of all sorts. Since nature's (or God's) greatest gift to mankind is our reason, nothing is so harmful to God's gift than the desire for pleasure because it makes us act so irrationally. By golly, when we are in hot pursuit of pleasure, there is no place for modration or good sense. If the pleasure is too great and lasts too long, it will blot out any trace of rational thinking.
[tr. Gerberding (2014)]

Again old age is given a third censure.
It is devoid, they say, of sensual pleasure,
But that’s also a wonderful gift without price
Taking from us youth’s most wicked vice!
Listen, my good lads, to the time-honoured advice
Of Archytas from Tarentum, great and blessed,
Who in my young days his thoughts expressed,
While I was in Tarentum with Q. Maximus:
No evildoing can be worse than the voluptuous
Pleasure of the senses was his complaint
Which makes men blind and act with no restraint.
From it descend treason, revolution and
Pacts with the enemies of the Fatherland.
All evil actions and crimes combined
Have an urge for lust not far behind,
And then adultery and lewdness
Are set on fire by voluptuousness.
There must have been some god who gave mankind,
Or maybe it wasn’t a god but nature,
The divine privilege of the mind
Which is the enemy of pleasure.
Indeed under the rule of passion
Temperance has no place at all,
And virtue can be kept in thrall
By sensuality’s enticing coils.
[tr. Bozzi (2015)]

We come now to the third objection to growing older -- that the pleasures of the flesh fade away. But if this is true, I say it is indeed a glorious gift that age frees us from youth's most destructive failing. Now listen, my most noble young friends, to the ancient words of that excellent and most distinguished young man, Archytas of Tarentum, repeated to me when I was serving as a young soldier in that very city with Quintus Maximus. He said the most fatal curse given to men by nature is sexual desire. From it spring passions of uncontrollable and reckless lust seeking gratification. From it come secret plotting with enemies, betrayals of one's country, and teh voer throw of governments. Indeed, there is no evil act, no unscrupulous deed that a man driven by lust will not perform. Uncontrolled sensuality will drive men to rape, adultery, and every other sexual outrage. And since nature -- or perhaps some god -- has given men no finer gift than human intelligence, this divine endowment has no greater foe than naked sensuality. Where lust rules, there is no place for self-control. And in the kingdom of self-indulgence, there is no room for decent behavior.
[tr. Freeman (2016)]

The third typical criticism of old age follows this, and that is that people complain that it lacks [sexual] pleasures. Oh! Glorious wealth of age, if it takes that from us, the most criminal part of youth! Take this from me, most noble young men, this is the ancient speech of Archytas of Tarentum, which was repeated to me when I was a young man working for Quintus Maximus there: “Nature has given man no deadlier a curse than sexual desire.”
[tr. @sentantiq (2019)]

Doth God our mind inspire, Or makes each man a god of's own desire? [tr. Ogilby (1649)]

Or do the gods inspire
This warmth, or make we gods of our desire?
[tr. Dryden (1697)]

Do the gods, Euryalus, infuse this ardour into our minds? or is each one's earnest inclination his god?
[tr. Davidson/Buckley (1854)]

"Can it be Heaven" said Nisus then
"That lends such warmth to hearts of men,
Or passion surging past control
That plays the god to each one's soul?"
[tr. Conington (1866)]

Is it the gods who give
This ardor to our minds, Euryalus?
And must our strong desires be deemed divine?
[tr. Cranch (1872), l. 230ff]

Lend the gods this fervour to the soul, Euryalus? or does fatal passion become a proper god to each?
[tr. Mackail (1885)]

Doth very God so set the heart on fire,
Euryalus, or doth each man make God of his desire?
[tr. Morris (1900)]

Is it that the Gods inspire,
Euryalus, this fever of the breast?
[tr. Taylor (1907), st. 24, l. 208ff]

Is it gods above that breathe
this fever in my soul, Euryalus?
or is the tyrant passion of each breast
the god it serves?
[tr. Williams (1910)]

Do the gods, Euryalus, put this fire in our hearts, or does his own wild longing become to each man a god?
[tr. Fairclough (1918)]

Euryalus, what is it?
Do the gods put this ardor in our hearts
Or does each man’s desire become his god?
[tr. Humphries (1951)]

Is it God that makes one burn to do brave things,
Or does each of us make a god of his own fierce passion to do them?
[tr. Day-Lewis (1952)]

Euryalus, is it
the gods who put this fire in our minds,
or is it that each man's relentless longing
becomes a god to him?
[tr. Mandelbaum (1971), l. 243ff]

This urge to action, do the gods instill it,
Or is each man's desire a god to him,
Euryalus?
[tr. Fitzgerald (1981), l. 252ff]

Is it the gods who put this ardour into our minds, or does every man's irresistible desire become his god?
[tr. West (1990)]

Euryalus, do the gods set this fire in our hearts,
or does each man’s fatal desire become godlike to him?
[tr. Kline (2002)]

Do the gods
Put this fire in our hearts, Euryalus,
Or do our passions become our gods?
[tr. Lombardo (2005)]

Do gods enflame our hearts, Euryalus,
or do our fierce desires become our gods?
[tr. Bartsch (2021)]

I was in love; and love, it turns out, is madness for mortals.
[tr. Karamanou]

I was [they were?] in love: and that showed that love is madness for mortals.
[tr. Valtadorou (2020)]

Together we, for pleasure, one day read
How strictly Lancelot was bound by love;
We, then alone, without suspicion were:
T'admire each other, often from the book
Our eyes were ta'en, and oft our colour chang'd;
That was the point of time which conqurer'd us,
When, reading that her captivating smile
Was by the Lover the adored kiss'd;
This, my Companion, always with me seen,
Fearful, and trembling, also kiss'd my mouth.
The Writer, Galeotto, nam;d the Book.
But from that day we never read in't more.
[tr. Rogers (1782), l. 113ff]

One day (a day I ever must deplore!)
The gentle youth, to spend a vacant hour,
To me the soft seducing story read,
Of Launcelot and fair Geneura's love,
While fascinating all the quiet grove
Fallacious Peace her snares around us spread.
Too much I found th' insidious volume charm,
And Paulo's mantling blushes rising warm;
Still as he read the guilty secret told:
Soon from the line his eyes began to stray;
Soon did my yielding looks my heart betray,
Nor needed words our wishes to unfold.
Eager to realize the story'd bless,
Trembling he snatch'd the half resented kiss,
To ill soon lesson'd by the pandar-page!
Vile pandar-page! it smooth'd the paths of shame.
[tr. Boyd (1802), st. 24-26]

One day
For our delight we read of Lancelot,
How him love thrall’d. Alone we were, and no
Suspicion near us. Ofttimes by that reading
Our eyes were drawn together, and the hue
Fled from our alter’d cheek. But at one point
Alone we fell. When of that smile we read,
The wished smile, rapturously kiss’d
By one so deep in love, then he, who ne’er
From me shall separate, at once my lips
All trembling kiss’d. The book and writer both
Were love’s purveyors. In its leaves that day
We read no more.
[tr. Cary (1814)]

'Twas on a day when we for pastime read
Of Lancelot, whom love ensnared to ruin:
We were alone, nor knew suspicious dread.
That lesson oft, the conscious look renewing,
Held us suspense, and turned our cheeks to white;
But one sole moment wrought for our undoing:
When of the kiss we read, from smile so bright.
So coveted, that such true-lover bore.
He, from my side who ne'er may disunite,
Kissed me upon the mouth, trembling all o'er.
The broker of our Vows, it was the lay,
And he who wrote -- that day we read no more.
[tr. Dayman (1843)]

One day, for pastime, wwe read of Lancelot, how love restrained him; we were alone, and without all suspicion.
Several times that reading urged our eyes to meet, and changed the color of our faces; but one moment alone it was that overcame us.
When we read how the fond smile was kissed by such a lover, he, who shall never be divided from me,
kissed my mouth all trembling: the book, and he who wrote it, was a Galeotto; that day we read in it no farther.
[tr. Carlyle (1849)]

We were reading one day, for our delight,
In Lancilotto, bound in love so strict.
We were alone, and neither could suspect
Suspended were our eyes, and more than once,
In reading, and the visage colorless;
One point it was lone that conquered us.
When we read first of that -- the longed-for smile
At being kissed by one who loved so well;
Galeotti was the book -- he wrote it:
That Day we read not there any farther.
[tr. Bannerman (1850)]

One day we read, to pass a pleasant time,
How Lancelot was bound in chains of love;
Alone we were and no suspicion knew.
often we sigh'd; and as we read our eyes
Each other sought, the color fled our cheeks;
But we were vanquish'd by one point alone.
When we had read how the smile long desir'd
Was kiss'd by him who lov'd with such deep love,
This one, from me no more to be apart,
Trembling all over, kiss'd me on the mouth.
Galeotto was the writer and the book;
In it we read no further on that day.
[tr. Johnston (1867)]

One day we reading were for our delight
⁠Of Launcelot, how Love did him enthrall.
⁠Alone we were and without any fear.
Full many a time our eyes together drew
⁠That reading, and drove the color from our faces;
⁠But one point only was it that o'ercame us.
Whenas we read of the much longed-for smile
⁠Being by such a noble lover kissed,
⁠This one, who ne'er from me shall be divided,
Kissed me upon the mouth all palpitating.
⁠Galeotto was the book and he who wrote it.
⁠That day no farther did we read therein.
[tr. Longfellow (1867)]

We were reading one day, for delight, of Lancelot, how Love constrained him; alone were we, and without any suspicion. Many times did that reading impel our eyes, and change the hue of our visages; but one point only was it that overcame us. When we read that the wished-for smile was kissed by such a lover, this one who never from me shall be parted kissed me on the mouth all trembling. A Gallehault was the book, and he who wrote it. That day we read no further in it.
[tr. Butler (1885)]

We read one day for pleasure, in the song
Of Launcelot, how Love him captive made;
We were alone without one thought of wrong.
Many and many a time our eyes delayed
The reading, and our faces paled apart;
One point alone it was that us betrayed.
In reading of that worshipt smile o' the heart,
Kissed by such lover on her lips' red core.
This one, who never more from me must part,
Kissed me upon the mouth, trembling all o'er:
For us our Galeotto was that book;
That day we did not read it any more.
[tr. Minchin (1885)]

We were reading one day, for delight, of Lancelot, how love constrained him. We were alone and without any suspicion. Many times that reading made us lift our eyes, and took the color from our faces, but only one point was that which overcame us. When we read of the longed-for smile being kissed by such a lover, this one, who never from me shall be divided, kissed my mouth all trembling. Galahaut was the book, and he who wrote it. That day we read in it no farther.
[tr. Norton (1892)]

We read one day, to while the hour, of Lancelot, how love enthralled him: we were alone, with never a thought of harm. And oft and oft that reading brought our eyes together and drave the colour to our cheeks ; but one point, only one, it was that overcame us. When that we came to read of how the smiling lips he loved were kissed by lover such as he, he that no more shall e'er be parted from me, kissed my mouth trembling through. Our Galahad was the book and he that penned it: that day we read in it no more.
[tr. Sullivan (1893)]

One day, by way of pastime, we were reading
Of Lancelot, how love in fetters held him:
We were alone, and without thought of danger.
Full often did that reading bring together
Our glances, and made colourless our visage;
But just one point was that which overcame us:
When as we read how that the smile much longed for
Was kissed by one so passionately loving,
He who from me shall never be divided
Kissed me upon the mouth, all, all a-quiver: --
A Galehalt was the book and he who wrote it: --
Upon that day we read therein no further.
[tr. Griffith (1908)]

We read one day for pastime of Lancelot, how love constrained him. We were alone and had no misgiving. Many times that reading drew our eyes together and changed the color in our faces, but one point alone it was that mastered us; when we read that the longed-fro smile was kissed by so great a lover, he who never shall be parted from me, all trembling, kissed my mouth. A Galeotto was the book and he that wrote it; that day we read in it no farther.
[tr. Sinclair (1939)]

One day we read for pastime how in thrall
Lord Lancelot lay to love, who loved the Queen;
We were alone -- we thought no harm at all.
As we read on, our eyes met now and then,
And to our cheeks the changing color started,
But just one moment overcame us -- when
We read of the smile, desired of lips long-thwarted,
Such smile, by such a lover kissed away,
He that may never more from me be parted
Trembling all over, kissed my mouth. I say
The book was Galleot, Galleot the complying
Ribald who wrote; we read no more that day.
[tr. Sayers (1949)]

One day for dalliance we read the rhyme
of Lancelot, how love had mastered him.
We were alone with innocence and dim time.
Pause after pause that high old story drew
our eyes together while we blushed and paled;
but it was one soft passage overthrew
our caution and our hearts. For when we read
how her fond smile was kissed by such a lover,
he who is one with me alive and dead
breathed on my lips the tremor of his kiss.
That book, and he who wrote it, was a pander.
That day we read no further.
[tr. Ciardi (1954), l. 124ff]

One day, for pastime, we reqd of Lancelot, how love constrained him; we were alone, suspecting nothing. Several times that reading urged our eyes to meet and too the color from our faces, but one moment alone it was that overcame us. When we read how the longed-for smile was kissed by so great a lover, this one, who never shll be parted from me, kissed my mouth all trembling. A Gallehault was the book and he who wrote it; that day we read no farther in it.
[tr. Singleton (1970)]

One day we read, to pass the time away,
of Lancelot, how he had fallen in love;
we were alone, innocent of suspicion.
Time and again our eyes were brought together
by the book we read; our faces flushed and paled.
To the moment of one line alone we yielded:
it was when we read about those longed-for lips
now being kissed by such a famous lover,
that this one (who shall never leave my side)
then kissed my mouth, and trembled as he did.
The book and its author was our galehot!
That day we read no further.
[tr. Musa (1971)]

One day, to pass the time away, we read
of Lancelot -- how love had overcome him.
We were alone, and we suspected nothing.
And time and time again that reading led
our eyes to meet, and made our faces pale,
and yet one point alone defeated us.
When we had read how the desired smile
was kissed by one who was so true a lover,
this one, who never shall be parted from me,
while all his body trembled, kissed my mouth.
A Gallehault indeed, that book and he
who wrote it, too; that day we read no more.
[tr. Mandelbaum (1980)]

One day, when we were reading, for distraction,
How Lancelot was overcome by love --
We were alone, without any suspicion;
Several times, what we were reading forced
Our eyes to meet, and then we changed color:
But one page only was more than we could bear.
When we read how that smile, so much desired,
Was kissed by such a lover, in the book,
He, who will never be divided from me,
Kissed my mouth, he was trembling as he did so;
The book, the writer played the part of Galahalt:
That day we got no further with our reading.
[tr. Sisson (1981)]

One day, for pleasure,
We read of Lancelot, by love constrained:
Alone, suspecting nothing, at our leisure.
Sometimes at what we read our glances joined,
Looking from the book each to the other's eyes,
And then the color in our faces drained.
But one particular moment alone it was
Defeated us: the longed-for smile, it said,
Was kissed by that most noble lover: at this,
This one, who now will never leave my side,
Kissed my mouth, trembling. A Galeotto, that book!
And so was he who wrote it; that day we read
No further.
[tr. Pinsky (1994), l. 112ff]

We were reading one day, for pleasure, of Lancelot, how Love beset him; we were alone and without any suspicion.
Many times that reading drove our eyes together and turned our faces pale; but one point alone was the one that overpowered us.
When we read that the yearned-for smile was kissed by so great a lover, he, who will never be separated from me,
kissed my mouth all trembling. Galeotto was the book and he who wrote it: that day we read there no further.
[tr. Durling (1996)]

We read, one day, to our delight, of Lancelot and how love constrained him: we were alone and without suspicion. Often those words urged our eyes to meet, and coloured our cheeks, but it was a single moment that undid us. When we read how that lover kissed the beloved smile, he who will never be separated from me, kissed my mouth all trembling. That book was a Galeotto, a pandar, and he who wrote it: that day we read no more.
[tr. Kline (2002)]

One day, to pass the time, we read of
Lancelot, who loved illicitly.
Just the two of us; we had not thought of what, as yet, was not.
From time to time that reading urged our eyes to meet.
and made our faces flush and pale,
but one point in the story changed our lives;
for when we read of how the longed-for smile
was kissed by such a noble knight,
the one who for eternity is by my side all trembling
kissed my trembling mouth.
The man who wrote this was a Galeotto; so was the book.
That day the rest of it remained unscanned.
[tr. Carson (2002)]

One day we read together for pure joy
how Lancelot was taken in Love's palm.
We were alone. We knew no suspicion.
Time after time, the words we read would lift
our eyes and drawn all color from our faces.
A single point, however, vanquished us.
For when at last we read the longed-for smile
of Guinevere -- at last her lover kissed --
he, who from me will never now depart,
touched his kiss, trembling to my open mouth.
This book was Galehault -- pander-penned, the pimp!
That day we read no further down those lines.
[tr. Kirkpatrick (2006)]

One day, to pass the time in pleasure,
we read of Lancelot, how love enthralled him.
We were alone, without the least misgiving.
More than once that reading made our eyes meet
and drained the color from our faces.
Still, it was a single instant overcame us:
When we read how the longed-for smile
was kissed by so renowned a lover, this man,
who never shall be parted from me,
all trembling, kissed me on my mouth.
A Galeotto was the book and he that wrote it.
That day we read in it no further.
[tr. Hollander/Hollander (2007)]

One day we read the story of Lancelot
And how his love attacked and held him tight.
We were alone and unaware of our thoughts.
More than once the story forced our eyes
To meet, and as we looked our faces turned pale,
But just one single moment hung and decided
Us. We read how a smile we longed for stayed
On her lips until the greatest of lovers kissed them,
And then this man, who cannot be taken away
From me, kissed my mouth, his body trembling.
A famous go-between had written that tale.
That day, our time for reading suddenly ended.
[tr. Raffel (2010)]

One day, to amuse ourselves, we were reading
The tales of love-struck Lancelot; we were all alone,
And naively unaware of what could happen.
More than once, while reading, we looked up
And saw the other looking back. We'd blush, then pale,
Then look down again. Until a moment did us in.
We were reading about the longed-for kiss
The great lover gives his Guinevere, when that one
From whom I'll now never be parted,
Trembling, kissed my lips.
That author and his book played the part
Of Gallehault. We read no more that day.
[tr. Bang (2012)]

Reading together one day for delight
Or Lancelot, caught up in Love's sweet snare,
We were alone, with no thought of what might
Occur to us, although we stopped to stare
Sometimes at what we read, and even paled.
But then the moment came we turned a page
And all our powers of resistance failed:
When we read of that great knight in a rage
To kiss the smile he so desired. Paolo,
This one so quiet now, made my mouth still --
Which, loosened by those words, had trembled so --
With his mouth. And right then we lost the will --
For Love can will will's loss, as well you know --
To read on. But let that man take a bow
Who wrote the book we called our Galahad,
The reason nothing can divide us now.
[tr. James (2013), l. 149ff]

Those who such torments suffered, I learnt,
Were condemn'd to them for their carnal Sins,
Their reason by their Passion being subdued.
And as the Birds, who at the first approach
Of cold, take wing, and gather in thick clouds,
So does the Storm these wretched Spirits drive,
From 'bove, below, and ev'ry side around.
They have no hope of ever being releas'd:
And e'en of lighter punishments despair.
[tr. Rogers (1782), l. 32ff]

These were the hapless slaves of lawless love,
Soft pleasure's vot'ries in the world above,
Who the still voice of reason held in scorn;
And as a flight of starlings wing their way,
Riding the wintry blast in long array,
The phantoms fleet, in airy tumult borne.
Aloft we saw the moody revel ride,
Then, in long eddies, like the swallowing tide,
With its full freight the hurricane descends:
Around the sinner sweep, above, below,
Nor respite of their cares rest they, nor refuge know
From the resistless storm that never ends.
[tr. Boyd (1802), st. 8-9]

I understood that to this torment sad
The carnal sinners are condemn'd, in whom
Reason by lust is sway'd. As in large troops
And multitudinous, when winter reigns,
The starlings on their wings are borne abroad;
So bears the tyrannous gust those evil souls.
On this side and on that, above, below,
It drives them: hope of rest to solace them
Is none, nor e'en of milder pang.
[tr. Cary (1814)]

Then understood I of that woe's intent,
How framed with sinners in the flesh to deal
Who to their passion have their reason bent.
And like as starlings in their aery wheel
Some winter's day float wide upon the wing.
So doth those guilty souls the whirlwind's reel
Now up, now down, now this, now that way fling;
Nor aught to comfort them may soothing hope.
If not of rest, of milder sufferance bring.
[tr. Dayman (1843)]

I learnt that to such torment [are] doomed the carnal sinners, who subject reason to lust.
And as their wings bear along the starlings, at the cold season, in large and crowded troop: so that blast, the evil spirits;
hither, thither, down, up, it leads them. No hope ever comforts them, not of rest, but even of less pain.
[tr. Carlyle (1849)]

Of torment such as this, I understood,
Were carnal sinners made to drink their fill,
Their reason who subject unto their will.
And as the starlings spread their wings aloft
In the cold time, in long and crowded flock,
Such are the evil spirits to the shock:
From here to there, from low to high, it leads;
Nor hope nor comfort in their breast remain,
Not of a pause, but even of lesser pain.
[tr. Bannerman (1850)]

Then I perceiv'd this torment was to those
Whose condemnation was for carnal sins,
Who made their reason subject to their lusts.
As starlings in their wingèd strength are borne
In winter season, flocking wide and deep;
So are the wicked spirits by this blast
Upwards and downwards, hither, thither swept,
Having to comfort them of no hope of rest
From their great woe, nor e'en of lesser pain.
[tr. Johnston (1867)]

I understood that unto such a torment
The carnal malefactors were condemned,
Who reason subjugate to appetite.
And as the wings of starlings bear them on
In the cold season in large band and full,
So doth that blast the spirits maledict;
It hither, thither, downward, upward, drives them;
No hope doth comfort them forevermore,
Not of repose, but even of lesser pain.
[tr. Longfellow (1867)]

I was aware that to a torment thus fashioned are condemned the carnal sinners who made their reason subject to their inclination. And as their wings bear away the starlings in the cold season, in a broad and thick flock, so did that blast the evil spirits. On this side, on that, up and down it sways them; no hope ever comforts them, I say not of rest, but of a lesser penalty.
[tr. Butler (1885)]

Then did I understand that this was pain
Reserved for those who sin in carnal things,
And over reason their desires maintain.
And, like the summer starlings, stretch their wings
In the cold time, in large and ample train,
So that wild wind those evil spirits swings
Hither and thither, up and down again;
No hope can comfort them of far repose
For evermore, nor even of lesser pain.
[tr. Minchin (1885)]

I understood that to such torment are condemned the carnal sinners who subject reason to appetite. And as their wings bear along the starlings in the cold season in a troop large and full, so that blast the evil spirits; hither, thither, down, up it carries them; no hope ever comforts them, not of repose, but even of less pain.
[tr. Norton (1892)]

I came to know that to tortures of such a kind were doomed sinners in the flesh, who make their better judg- ment the thrall of lust. And as in winter time starlings are borne on their wings, in large and crowded flock; even so beareth this blast these sinful spirits. Hither and thither, high and low, it whirleth them, nor ever cometh hope of any rest to cheer them, nor even of lesser punishment.
[tr. Sullivan (1893)]

I understood that unto such like torment
Are damned eternally the carnal sinners.
Who make their reason subject to their passions.
And as their pinions bear along the starlings,
In the chill time, in wide and full battahon,
In such wise doth that blast the wicked spirits:
Hither and thither, up and down, it bears them;
Nor any hope encourages them ever.
Not to say hope of rest, but of less torment.
[tr. Griffith (1908)]

I learned that to such torment are condemned the carnal sinners who subject reason to desire. As in the cold season their wings bear the starlings along in a broad, dense flock, so does that blast the wicked spirits. Hither, thither, downward, upward, it drives them; no hope ever comforts them, not to say of rest, but of less pain.
[tr. Sinclair (1939)]

I learnt that in such restless violence blown
This punishment the carnal sinners share
Whose reason by desire was over thrown.
And as their beating wings the starlings bear
At the cold season, in broad, flocking flight,
So those corrupted spirits were rapt in air
To and fro, down, up, driven in helpless plight
Comforted by no hope ever to lie
At rest, nor even to bear a pain more light.
[tr. Binyon (1943)]

Into this torment carnal sinners are thrust,
So I was told -- the sinners who make their reason
Bond thrall under the yoke of their lust.
Like as the starlings wheel in the wintry season
In wide and clustering flocks wing-borne, wind-borne,
Even so they go, the souls who did this treason,
Hither and thither, and up and down, outworn,
Hopeless of any rest -- rest, did I say?
Of the least minishing of their pangs forlorn.
[tr. Sayers (1949)]

I learned that to such torment are condemned the carnal sinners, who subject reason to desire.
And as their wings bear the starlings along in the cold season, in wide, dense flocks, so does that blast the sinful spirits; hither, thither, downward, upward, it drives them. No hope of less pain, not to say of rest, ever comforts them.
[tr. Singleton (1970)]

I learned that to this place of punishment
all those who sin in lust have been condemned,
those who make reason slave to appetite;
and as the wings of starlings in the winter
bear them along in wide-spread crowded flocks,
so does that wind propel the evil spirits:
here, then there, and up and down, it sweeps them
forever, without hope to comfort them
(hope, not of taking rest, but of suffering less).
[tr. Musa (1971)]

I learned that those who undergo this torment
are damned because they sinned within the flesh,
subjecting reason to the rule of lust.
And as, in the cold season, starlings' wings
bear them along in broad and crowded ranks,
so does that blast bear on the guilty spirits:
now here, now there, now down, now up, it drives them.
There is no hope that ever comforts them --
no hope for rest and none for lesser pain.
[tr. Mandelbaum (1980)]

I understood it is to this torment
That are condemned those who sin in the flesh,
And let their reason give way to their wishes.
And, as starlings are carried on their wings
In the cold weather, in a vast wavering troop,
So that breath carries the unfortunate spirits:
It drives them here and there, now down, now up;
There is no hope ever to comfort them;
They cannot stop, or ever suffer less pain.
[tr. Sisson (1981)]

I learned
They suffer here who sinned in carnal things --
Their reason mastered by desire, suborned.
As winter starlings ride on their wings
Form crowded flocks, so spirits dip and veer
Foundering in the wind's rough buffetings,
Upward or downward, driven here and there
With never ease from pain nor hope of rest.
[tr. Pinsky (1994), l. 34ff]

I understood that to this torment were damned the carnal sinners, who subject their reason to their lust.
nd as their wings carry off the starlings in the cold season, in large, full flocks, so does that breath carry the evil spirits
here, there, down, up; no hope ever comforts them, not of lessened suffering, much less of rest.
[tr. Durling (1996)]

I learnt that the carnal sinners are condemned to these torments, they who subject their reason to their lust.
And, as their wings carry the starlings, in a vast, crowded flock, in the cold season, so that wind carries the wicked spirits, and leads them here and there, and up and down. No hope of rest, or even lesser torment, comforts them.
[tr. Kline (2002)]

And then I learned such torments are incurred
by those who like to practice carnal sin,
when reason is by furtive lust ensnared.
As starlings, when the evenings draw in,
assemble in tremendous seething flocks,
so are those dark souls gathered by the wind,
and hurtled to and fro in random flecks
devoid of hope of rest, or rest from pain
to which they are eternally affixed.
[tr. Carson (2002)]

Caught in this torment, as I understood,
were those who -- here condemned for carnal sin --
made reason bow to their instinctual bent.
As starlings on the wing in winter chills
are borne along in wide and teeming flocks,
so on these breathing gusts the evil souls.
This way and that and up and down they're borne.
Here is no hope of any comfort ever,
neither of respite nor of lesser pain.
[tr. Kirkpatrick (2006)]

I understood that to such torment
the carnal sinners are condemned,
they who make reason subject to desire.
As, in cold weather, the wings of starlings
bear them up in wide, dense flocks,
so does that blast propel the wicked spirits.
Here and there, down and up, it drives them.
Never are they comforted by hope
of rest or even lesser punishment.
[tr. Hollander/Hollander (2007)]

I learned that sinners blown, tormented in bursting
Gales, are those condemned by acts of lust,
Which melt our reason down in desire and thirst.
Just as their wings, stretched wide, hold starlings up
In great, wide flocks fleeing freezing weather,
So those windstorms force the wicked souls
This way, that way, down and up together.
No hope can ever ease their pain, giver comfort;
They never rest, never suffer less.
[tr. Raffel (2010)]

I learned this special kind of torment is reserved
For those whose ravenous appetite for carnal knowledge
Allowed lust to triumph over reason.
Like wings carry starlings off in crowded flocks
When the end of October hints at winter, so the wind
Carried these sinners: up, down, and at an angle.
In broad and compact masses.
What is there to comfort them? Neither more peace
Nor less pain, although they beg for both.
[tr. Bang (2012)]

I understood this was the punishment
For carnal sinners, who let appetite
Rule reason, and who, once drawn, are now sent --
Like winter starlings by their wings in flight --
Across the bleak sky in a broad, thick flock:
Here, there, now up, now down, the winds dictate
Their track. Small hope of pausing to take stock
Of whether anguish might not soon abate
At least a little, and no hope at all
Of peace.
[tr. James (2013), l. 47ff]

Ah ignorant Priests, what availes temples, pray'r,
To ease th'inrag'd! whilst soft fire wastes her veins,
And in her breast, a silent wound remaines.
Unhappy Dido burnes ....
[tr. Ogilby (1649)]

What priestly rites, alas! what pious art,
What vows avail to cure a bleeding heart!
A gentle fire she feeds within her veins,
Where the soft god secure in silence reigns.
[tr. Dryden (1697)]

Alas, how ignorant the minds of seers! what can prayers, what can temples, avail a raging lover? The gentle flame preys all the while upon her vitals and the secret wound rankles in her breast. Unhappy dido burns ....
[tr. Davidson/Buckley (1854)]

Alas! but seers are blind to day:
Can vows, can sacrifice allay
     A frantic lover's smart?
The very marrow of her frame
Is turning all the while to flame,
     The wound is at her heart.
Unhappy Dido! all ablaze ....
[tr. Conington (1866)]

Alas, the ignorance
Of all prophetic lore! What vows, what shrines
Can help her raging love? The soft flame burns,
Meanwhile, the marrow of her life; the wound
Lives silently, and rankles 'neath her breast.
The unhappy Dido [...] with burning bosom ....
[tr. Cranch (1872), l. 85ff]

Ah, witless souls of soothsayers! how may vows or shrines help her madness? all the while the subtle flame consumes her inly, and deep in her breast the wound is silent and alive.
[tr. Mackail (1885)]

Woe's me! the idle mind of priests! what prayer, what shrine avails
The wild with love!—and all the while the smooth flame never fails
To eat her heart: the silent wound lives on within her breast:
Unhappy Dido burneth up ....
[tr. Morris (1900), l. 65ff]

Blind seers, alas! what art
To calm her frenzy, now hath vow or shrine?
Deep in her marrow feeds the tender smart,
Unseen, the silent wound is festering in her heart.
Poor Dido burns ....
[tr. Taylor (1907), st. 9-10; l. 71ff]

How blind the hearts of prophets be! Alas!
Of what avail be temples and fond prayers
to change a frenzied mind? Devouring ever,
love's fire burns inward to her bones; she feels
quick in her breast the viewless, voiceless wound.
[tr. Williams (1910)]

Ah, blind souls of seers! Of what avail are vows or shrines to one wild with love? All the while the flame devours her tender heart-strings, and deep in her breast lives the silent wound. Unhappy Dido burns ....
[tr. Fairclough (1916)]

Alas, poor blind interpreters! What woman
In love is helped by offerings or altars?
Soft fire consumes the marrow-bones, the silent
Wound grows, deep in the heart.
Unhappy Dido burns ....
[tr. Humphries (1951)]

Ah, little the soothsayers know! What value have vows or shrines
For a woman wild with passion, the while love's flame eats into
Her gentle flesh and love's wound works silently in her breast?
So burns the ill-starred Dido ....
[tr. Day Lewis (1952)]

But oh the ignorance of the augurs! How
can vows and altars help one wild with love?
Meanwhile the supple flame devours her marrow;
within her breast the silent wound lives on.
Unhappy Dido burns ....
[tr. Mandelbaum (1971), l. 86ff]

Alas, what darkened minds have soothsayers!
What good are shrines and vows to maddened lovers?
The inward fire eats the soft marrow away,
And the internal wound bleeds on in silence.
Unlucky Dido, burning ...
[tr. Fitzgerald (1981), l. 91ff]

But priests, as we know, are ignorant. What use are prayers and shrines to a passionate woman? The flame was eating the soft marrow of her bones and the wound lived quietly under her breast. Dido was on fire with love ....
[tr. West (1990)]

Ah, the unknowing minds of seers! What use are prayers
or shrines to the impassioned? Meanwhile her tender marrow
is aflame, and a silent wound is alive in her breast.
Wretched Dido burns ....
[tr. Kline (2002)]

But what do prophets know? How much can vows,
Or shrines, help a raging heart? Meanwhile the flame
Eats her soft marrow, and the wound lives,
Silent beneath her breast. Dido is burning.
[tr. Lombardo (2005)]

But what can prophets know? What use are vows
and shrines to the obsessed? The flame devoured her soft marrow;
the silent wound throbbed in her heart.
Unhappy Dido burned.
[tr. Bartsch (2021)]

The first step towards getting into a passion is to announce that you are in a passion. By this means you begin the conflict with command over your temper, for one has to regulate one's passion to the exact point that is necessary and no further. This is the art of arts in falling into and getting out of a rage.
[tr. Jacobs (1892)]

It is the custome of the head strong to regard neither truth in contradicting; nor profit in disputing. A wise man hath always reason on his side, and never falls into passion. He either prevents or retreats.
[Flesher ed. (1685)]

'Tis the common failing of the obstinate that they lose the true by contradicting it, and the useful by quarrelling with it. The sage never places himself on the side of passion but espouses the cause of right, either discovering it first or improving it later.
[tr. Jacobs (1892)]

The vulgarity of these clowns, that they observe not the truth, because they lie, nor yet their own interest, because on the wrong side. A heedful man stands always on the side of reason, and never that of passion, either because he foresaw it from the first, or found it better afterwards.
[tr. Fischer (1937)]

Reflection is chiefly employed in the investigation of truth, appetite impels to action.
[tr. McCartney (1798)]

Reflection chiefly applies itself in the search of truth. Appetite prompts us to action.
[tr. Edmonds (1865)]

Thought is occupied chiefly in seeking the truth; impulse urges to action.
[tr. Peabody (1883)]

Thought is employed in the discovery of truth, appetite impels to action.
[tr. Gardiner (1899)]

Thought is occupied chiefly with the discovery of truth; impulse prompts to action.
[tr. Miller (1913)]

Thought is mostly expended in seeking out the truth, passion urges men to action.
[tr. Edinger (1974)]

Commonly truth is seen, but it is extraordinary to hear it. It seldom comes pure to our ears, especially when it come from a far. For then it takes some tincture of the passions that it meets by the way. It pleases or displeases, according to the colours that passion or interest give it, which aim always at prepossessing.
[Flesher ed. (1685)]

The truth is generally seen, rarely heard; seldom she comes in elemental purity, especially from afar; there is always some admixture of the moods of those through whom she has passed. The passions tinge her with their colors wherever they touch her, sometimes favorably, sometimes the reverse.
[tr. Jacobs (1892)]

Truth is more often seen than heard. Seldom does it reach us unalloyed, even less so when it comes from afar. It is always blended with the emotions it has passed through. Emotion taints everything it touches, making it odious or favorable. It tries always to impress us one way or another.
[tr. Maurer (1992)]

He therefore, call him by what name you will, who through Moderation and Constancy, hath quiet of mind, and is at Peace with himself; so as neither to fret out of Discontent, nor to be confounded with Fear, who neither is inflam'd with an impatient longing after any thing, nor ravish'd out of himself into the Fools Paradice of an empty Mirth; this is the wise man, after whom we are in quest; this the Happy man.
[tr. Wase (1643)]

Whoever then, through moderation and consistency, is at rest in his mind, and in calm possession of himself, so as neither to pine with care, nor be dejected with fear, neither to be inflamed with desire, nor dissolved by extravagant joy, such a one is the very wise man we enquire after, the happy man.
[tr. Main (1824)]

Therefore the man, whoever he is, who has quiet of mind, through moderation and constancy, and thus at peace with himself, is neither corroded with cares, nor crippled by fear; and, thirsting for nothing impatiently, is exempt from the fires of desire, and, dizzied by the fumes of no futile felicity, reels with no riotous joy: this is the wise man we seek: this man is happy.
[tr. Otis (1839)]

Whoever, then, through moderation and constancy, is at rest in his mind, and in calm possession of himself, so as neither to pine with care, nor be dejected with fear, nor to be inflamed with desire, coveting something greedily, nor relaxed by extravagant mirth, -- such a man is that identical wise man whom we are inquiring for, he is the happy man.
[tr. Yonge (1853)]

Whoever then has his mind kept in repose by moderation and firmness, and is at peace with himself so that he is neither wasted by troubles nor broken down by fear, nor burns with longing in his thirsty quest of some object of desire, nor flows out in the demonstration of empty joy, is the wise man whom we seek; he is the happy man.
[tr. Peabody (1886)]

We, therefore, say once more a strong mind is not one that is merely susceptible of strong excitement, but one which can maintain its serenity under the most powerful excitement; so that, in spite of the storm in the breast, the perception and judgment can act with perfect freedom, like the needle of the compass in the storm-tossed ship.
[tr. Graham (1873)]

We repeat: strength of character does not consist solely in having powerful feelings, but in maintaining one’s balance in spite of them. Even with the violence of emotion, judgment and principle must still function like a ship’s compass, which records the slightest variations however rough the sea.
[tr. Howard & Paret (1976)]

Triumphantly prevails
The heart-compelling eye of winsome bride,
Compeer of mighty Law
Thronèd, commanding.
Madly thou mockest men, dread Aphrodite.
[tr. Storr (1859)]

But victory belongs to radiant Desire swelling from the eyes of the sweet-bedded bride. Desire sits enthroned in power beside the mighty laws. For in all this divine Aphrodite plays her irresistible game.
[tr. Jebb (1891)]

Victorious is the love-kindling light from the eyes of the fair bride; it is a power enthroned in sway beside the eternal laws; for there the goddess Aphrodite is working her unconquerable will.
[tr. Jebb (1917)]

And none has conquered but Love!
A girl’s glance working the will of heaven:
Pleasure to her alone who mock us,
Merciless Aphrodite.
[tr. Fitts/Fitzgerald (1939), l. 653ff]

For the light that burns in the eyes of a bride of desire
Is a fire that consumes.
At the side of the great gods
Aphrodite immortal
Works her will upon all.
[tr. Watling (1947), l. 687ff]

Desire looks clear from the eyes of a lovely bride:
power as strong as the founded world.
For there is the goddess at play whom no man can fight.
[tr. Wyckoff (1954)]

The kindling light of Love in the soft
Eye of a bride conquers, for Love sits on his
throne, one of the great Powers;
Nought else can prevail against
Invincible Aphrodite.
[tr. Kitto (1962)]

Love alone the victor --
warm glance of the bride triumphant, burning with desire!
Throned in power, side-by-side with the mighty laws!
Irresistible Aphrodite, never conquered --
Love, you mock us for your sport.
[tr. Fagles (1982), l. 890ff]

Desire radiant from the eyelids
of a well-bedded bride prevails,
companion in rule with the gods’ great
ordinances. She against whom none may battle,
the goddess Aphrodite, plays her games.
[tr. Tyrell/Bennett (2002)]

You, Love!
Through the lashes of a lusty bride, Passion, you win the day, scorning the great laws which hold sway over the whole world.
Because Aphrodite is invincible!
[tr. Theodoridis (2004)]

The bride’s desire seen glittering in her eyes --
that conquers everything, its power
enthroned beside eternal laws, for there
the goddess Aphrodite works her will,
whose ways are irresistible.
[tr. Johnston (2005), l. 905ff]

Love! in the fight invincible:
Love! whose attacks at once enslave:
Who on the young maid's delicate cheeks thy nightly vigils keepest:
Who roamest o'er the main and mid the rustic cots!
None can escape thee, -- neither Gods immortal,
Nor men whose lives are fleeting as the day:
He raves whom thou possessest.
[tr. Donaldson (1848)]

Love resistless in fight, all yield at a glance of thine eye,
Love who pillowed all night on a maiden's cheek dost lie,
Over the upland holds. Shall mortals not yield to thee?
Mad are thy subjects all.
[tr. Campbell (1873)]

Love, never foiled in fight!
1 Warrior Love, that on Wealth workest havoc!
Love, who in ambush of young maid's soft cheek
All night keep'st watch!--Thou roamest over seas.
In lonely forest homes thou harbourest.
Who may avoid thee? None!
Mortal, Immortal,
All are o'erthrown by thee, all feel thy frenzy.
[tr. Storr (1859)]

Love, the unconquered in battle, Love, you who descend upon riches, and watch the night through on a girl's soft cheek, you roam over the sea and among the homes of men in the wilds. Neither can any immortal escape you, nor any man whose life lasts for a day. He who has known you is driven to madness.
[tr. Jebb (1891)]

Love, unconquered in the fight, Love, who makest havoc of wealth, who keepest thy vigil on the soft cheek of a maiden; thou roamest over the sea, and among the homes of dwellers in the wilds; no immortal can escape thee, nor any among men whose life is for a day; and he to whom thou hast come is mad.
[tr. Jebb (1917)]

Love, unconquerable
Waster of rich men, keeper
Of warm lights and all-night vigil
In the soft face of a girl:
Sea-wanderer, forest-visitor!
Even the pure Immortals cannot escape you,
And mortal man, in his one day’s dusk,
Trembles before your glory.
[tr. Fitts/Fitzgerald (1939)]

Where is the equal of Love?
Where is the battle he cannot win,
The power he cannot outmatch?
In the farthest corners of earth, in the midst of the sea,
He is there; he is here
In the bloom of a fair face
Lying in wait;
And the grip of his madness
Spares not god or man.
[tr. Watling (1947), l. 675ff]

Love unconquered in fight, love who falls on our havings.
You rest in the bloom of a girl's unwithered face.
You cross the sea, you are known in the wildest lairs.
Not the immortal gods can fly,
nor men of a day. Who has you within him is mad.
[tr. Wyckoff (1954)]

Invincible, implacable Love,
O Love, that makes havoc of all wealth;
That peacefully keeps his night-watch
On tender cheek of a maiden:
The Sea is no barrier, nor
Mountainous waste to Love's flight; for
No one can escape Love's domination,
Man, no, nor immortal god.
Love's Prey is possessed by madness.
[tr. Kitto (1962)]

Love, never conquered in battle
Love the plunderer laying waste the rich!
Love standing the night-watch
guarding a girl's soft cheek,
you range the seas, the shepherds' steadings off in the wilds --
not even the deathless gods can flee your onset,
nothing human born for a day --
whoever feels your grip is driven mad.
[tr. Fagles (1982), l. 879ff]

Eros, undefeated in battle,
Eros, who falls upon possessions,
who, in the soft cheeks of a young girl,
stays the night vigil,
who traverses over seas
and among pastoral dwellings,
you none of the immortals can escape,
none of the day-long mortals, and
he who has you is maddened.
[tr. Tyrell/Bennett (2002)]

Love! You are beyond wars, beyond any place you fall!
You make nests out of the soft cheeks of young girls for your slumber
and you hover over the oceans and distant lands
and no immortal god, nor mortal man with his measured days escapes you!
And then, you catch and your catch becomes insane!
[tr. Theodoridis (2004)]

O Eros, the conqueror in every fight,
Eros, who squanders all men’s wealth,
who sleeps at night on girls’ soft cheeks,
and roams across the ocean seas
and through the shepherd’s hut --
no immortal god escapes from you,
nor any man, who lives but for a day.
And the one whom you possess goes mad.
[tr. Johnston (2005), l. 894]

Love, unconquered in battle, Love, who attacks wealth, who sleeps on a young girl's soft cheek and wanders beyond the sea and in the wilderness: There is no escape from you for immortals or men who live but for a day; he who has you is mad. [tr. Thomas (2005)]

• "He, therefore, who wishes Law to govern seems to wish for the rule of God and Intellect alone; he who wishes men to rule bring sin the element of the animal. For appetites are of this lower nature, and anger distorts the judgment of rulers, even of the best. And so Law is Intellect without animal impulses." [tr. Bolland (1877)]


• "Moreover, he who would place the supreme power in mind, would place it in God and the laws; but he who entrusts man with it, gives it to a wild beast, for such his appetites sometimes make him; for passion influences those who are in power, even the very best of men: for which reason law is reason without desire." [tr. Ellis (1912)]


• "He therefore that recommends that the law shall govern seems to recommend that God and reason alone shall govern, but he that would have man govern adds a wild animal also; for appetite is like a wild animal, and also passion warps the rule even of the best men. Therefore the law is wisdom without desire." [tr. Rackham (1932)]


• "One who asks law to rule, therefore, is held to be asking god and intellect alone to rule, while one who asks man adds the beast. Desire is a thing of this sort; and spiritedness perverts rulers and the best men. Hence law is intellect without appetite." [tr. Lord (1984)]

In whose sphere
Were all enticements to delight, all loves, all longings were,
Kind conference, fair speech, whose pow’r the wisest doth inflame.
[tr. Chapman (1611), l. 181ff]

In this was every art, and every charm,
To win the wisest, and the coldest warm:
Fond love, the gentle vow, the gay desire,
The kind deceit, the still reviving fire,
Persuasive speech, and more persuasive sighs,
Silence that spoke, and eloquence of eyes.
[tr. Pope (1715-20)]

It was an ambush of sweet snares, replete
With love, desire, soft intercourse of hearts,
And music of resistless whisper’d sounds
That from the wisest steal their best resolves
[tr. Cowper (1791), l. 256ff]

In it were love, and desire, converse, seductive speech, which steals away the mind even of the very prudent.
[tr. Buckley (1860)]

There Love, there young Desire,
There fond Discourse, and there Persuasion dwelt,
Which oft enthralls the mind of wisest men.
[tr. Derby (1864)]

Therein are love, and desire, and loving converse, that steals the wits even of the wise.
[tr. Leaf/Lang/Myers (1891)]

Love, desire, and that sweet flattery which steals the judgement even of the most prudent.
[tr. Butler (1898)]

Therein is love, therein desire, therein dalliance -- beguilement that steals the wits even of the wise.
[tr. Murray (1924)]

Allurement of the eyes, hunger of longing, and the touch of lips that steals all wisdom from the coolest men.
[tr. Fitzgerald (1974)]

There upon it is affection, upon it desire and seductive dalliance with robs even a sensible person of wisdom.
[tr. Merrill (2007)]

• "If the artist does not throw himself into his work, like Curtius into the gulf beneath the Forum, like a soldier against a fortress, without hesitation, and if, in that crater, he does not work like a miner under a fall of rock, if, in short, he envisages the difficulties instead of conquering them one-by-one, following the examples of lovers in fairy-tales who, to win their princesses, struggle against recurring enchantments, the work remains unfinished, it expires in the studio, wher production remains impossible and the artist looks on at the suicide of his own talent." [tr. Raphael (1992)]
• "If the artist does not fling himself, without reflecting, into his work, as Curtius flung himself into the yawning gulf, as the soldier flings himself into the enemy's trenches, and if, once in this crater, he does not work like a miner on whom the walls of his gallery have fallen in; if he contemplates difficulties instead of overcoming them one by one ... he is simply looking on at the suicide of his own talent." [Source]
• Original French.

In art as in lovemaking, heartfelt ineptitude has its appeal and so does heartless skill, but what you want is passionate virtuosity.

Heartfelt ineptitude has its appeal, Dunyazade; so does heartless skill. But what you want is passionate virtuosity.