Poems by Ovid

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But oh, I suppose she was ugly; she wasn't elegant;
If Memnon's mother mourned, Achilles's mother mourned,
In summer's heat and mid-time of the day
Lovers all are soldiers, and Cupid has his campaigns:
It was very hot. The day had gone just past its noon.
NOW shone the morning star in bright array,
HERE, while the Thracian bard's enchanting strain
WHILE Perseus entertain'd with this report
OF bodies chang'd to various forms, I sing:
NOW Glaucus, with a lover's haste, bounds o'er
YET still Alcithoe perverse remains,
Theseus requests the God to tell his woes,
THE Sun's bright palace, on high columns rais'd,
THE Argonauts now stemm'd the foaming tide,
PALLAS, attending to the Muse's song,
THENCE, in his saffron robe, for distant Thrace,
WHEN now Agenor had his daughter lost,
THE chiefs were set; the soldiers crown'd the
PRIAM, to whom the story was unknown,
Already over the sea from her old spouse she comes,
I don't ask you to be faithful - you're beautiful, after all -
...Short partings do best, though: time wears out affections,