Classic Poem

Venus her meinie summoned, then gave word
Her chariot to prepare; for in the mud
She would not go afoot. Her car was bright,
Rolling on four gold wheels begemmed with pearls.
In place of collared horses, six fair doves
She chose from out her dovecots for the shafts.
All things are ready, so she mounts her car
And starts to wage her war with Chastity.
The birds do not cavort, but beat their wings
And then are on their way; the air divides
Before them as they cleave it in their flight.
Betimes they come upon the battlefield.
No sooner there than from her chariot
Venus descends, and to her in great haste
Her famous son, with great rejoicing, comes.
Already, by his own command, the truce
Is broken, ere the enemy show signs
Of violating it; for Cupid keeps
No faith or vow or even covenant.
Then forcefully they gave their heed to war —
These to attack, the others to defend.
The besiegers aimed their mighty mangonels.
Most moving Prayers, like heavy rocks, were hurled
To break the walls. The guardians fortified
The towers with hurdles of Refusal made,
With flexible birch switches interlaced,
Which they with great brutality had culled
From Danger's hedge. Love's army shot at them
Barbed arrows feathered with great Promises
That soon they'd have whatever they deserved
In gifts and services; for never a yard
Ungraced with Promises could enter there,
Or any shaft unfortified with steel
Made of Assurances of plighted troth.
The guardians were not slow in self-defense
But screened themselves with targets hard and strong,
Neither too light nor heavy, rightly made
From that same wood that Danger had supplied
From out his hedge. To shoot at them was vain.
As thus the combat went, the God of Love
Approached his mother, telling of the case
That he was in and asking for her aid.
Said she, " May evil death o'erpower me soon
If Chastity I suffer to uphold
Dominion over any living dame,
No matter how much Jealousy may strive.
Too oft she's made us suffer painfully.
Fair son, swear all your men that they'll advance
Only employing your accustomed paths. "

" Right willingly, my dame, " he answered her.
" There shall be no exception made; no man
Can truthfully assert that he is mine
Unless he's now in love or once has been.
Great dolor 'tis that any man alive,
If he is able, should renounce the joys
Of Love. May he arrive at some bad end!
I hate them so that if I could confound
Their ways of life I'd do so willingly.
Of such men I complain and always shall;
Nor my displeasure will I strive to screen.
I'd injure them whene'er I got a chance
That I might be revenged, and that their pride
Might be laid low, or that they all should be
Condemned. Cursed be the day when they were born
Of Adam's line, who dare to cross my will!
Within their bodies may their foul hearts burst
When they attempt love's joys to abrogate!
'Twould seem no worse if one should beat me well
Or, with pickaxes, even break my head.
I am not mortal. If I were, I'd die,
Such grief and anger I endure from this;
For if my game should fail I would have lost
All that I have of worth except my clothes,
My body, and my weapons, and my crown.
At least, if Cupid's joy should lose its power
So that all men would fain abandon it,
They'd feel chagrin and curb their hearts in grief.
Where could man seek to find a better life
Than that of being in his sweetheart's arms? "
Straightway the host all ratified the oath,
And in the place of relics swore upon
Their quivers, arrows, bows, and darts, and brands.
They said, " No better relics can we ask
And none more pleasing have. If on such things
We swore false oaths, we'd ne'er be credited. "
And what they swore was truth; for they believed
In these as much as in the Trinity,
And would not swear an oath on any other thing.