Let anyone who lacks the art of love read on,
        And having read, his ignorance is gone!
It's art that makes a ship respond to sail and oar,
        And art that drives a team or guides Amor.
Automedon controlled his reins with expert grip
        Like Tiphys, helming that Haemonian ship.
Now Venus says that I shall rule her tender son;
        I'll be Love's Tiphys and Automedon.
And though he's wild, and prone to fighting me in school,
        He's still a little boy that I can rule
(The way that Chiron broke Achilles on a lyre,
        By banking down that cherub's feral fire).
They say that he whom enemies and friends both feared,
        Cowered before a Centaur's hoary beard,
And hands that Hector felt were once held out to feel
        A master's lashing into welt and weal.
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