Amores 1.1: A Poetic Analysis

This past week, as the French and others around the world commemorated Bastille Day, the world was reminded that protesting and critiquing one's government takes many different forms. The fight for freedom stretches far beyond drafting and voting on laws or taking up weapons; culture, art, and expression are just as, and in some cases more, powerful tools. And because of their power, these tools are readily constrained and silenced.

Written in the shadow of Augustan cultural reforms, Ovid’s Amores 1.1 grapples with what it means to be a poet and fights against the empire’s attempt to define “worthy” art. In an age where poets were expected to glorify the state and dispel moral virtue, Amores 1.1 instead glorifies love, desire, and the messiness inherent to human passion. Indeed, Ovid rejects the grandeur of the Roman epic not only in theme but in meter and tone, crafting more than just a witty literary jest. This bold statement on artistic freedom and the power of love to shape both hearts and genres serves as a timeless meditation on poetry's purpose: to, just like the French storming the Bastille prison, revolt against unjustified control.

The Poem Itself

*The English version was translated by John Svarlien, Transylvania University Classics Professor.

Original Latin

arma gravī numerō violentaque bella parābam

ēdere, māteriā conveniente modis.

pār erat inferior versus; risisse Cupīdo

dīcitur atque ūnum surripuisse pedem.

“Quis tibi, saeve puer, dedit hōc in carmina iūris?

Pīeridum vātēs, nōn tua turba sumus.

Quid, sī praeripiat flāvae Venus arma Minervae,

ventilet accensas flāva Minerva faces?

Quis probet in silvis Cererem regnāre iugōsis,

lēge pharetrātae Virginis arva coli?

crīnibus insignem quis acūta cuspide Phoebum

īnstruat, Āoniam Marte movente lyram?

sunt tibi magna, puer, nimiumque potentia regna;

cūr opus adfectas, ambitiōse, novum?

an, quod ubīque, tuum est? tua sunt Helicōnia tempe?

vix etiam Phoebō iam lyra tūta sua est?

cum bene surrexit versu nova pagina primo,

attenuat nervos proximus ille meos;

nec mihi māteria est numeris leviōribus apta,

aut puer aut longas compta puella comas.”

questus eram, pharetra cum prōtinus ille solūta

lēgit in exitium spīcula facta meum,

lūnāvitque genū sinuōsum fortiter arcum,

“quod” que “canās, vātēs, accipe” dixit “opus!”

mē miserum! certās habuit puer ille sagittas.

ūror, et in vacuō pectore regnat Amor.

sex mihi surgat opus numerīs, in quinque resīdat:

ferrea cum vestris bella valēte modis!

cingere lītoreā flāventia tempora myrto,

Mūsa per undēnos ēmodulanda pedes!

English Translation

Weapons and war were my theme. I was ready to roll forth battlelines

in meter to match my subject matter.

Ranks of verse stood in strict formation – when Cupid laughed

(it’s said) and stole a foot of hexameter.

“Barbarous boy, who gave you leave to meddle in the art of poetry?

It’s the Pierides, not you, we bards flock to.

What if you caught Venus trying on the breastplate of blond Minerva,

or blond Minerva fanning the flames of love?

Who would approve Ceres ruling over wooded mountains, or put

bow-bearing Diana in charge of farm work?

Should long-haired Apollo march and drill with a battle spear,

while Mars sits drumming an Aonian lyre?

Your empire, boy, is enormous and far too powerful as it is.

Why grasp after more? Let ambition rest.

Or do you rule the whole world? Is Helicon now your private resort?

Is Apollo in hock to you for his lyre?

I had just unfurled my opening line on the wide open page,

when in the second you slackened my sails.

Don’t you see I haven’t the themes light verse is made of: no boy

or girl with her hair nicely done up.”

So I complained. He just reached into his opened quiver

and found the arrow meant for me.

He stoutly gripped his bow and bent it back against his knee:

“Here’s something,” he said, “to make you sing.”

O unhappy me! That boy really knew how to use a bow and arrow!

I’m on fire – Love’s taken charge of my heart.

Now let my verse swell with one line and fall back with the next.

Farewell war and iron-shod hexameters!

Muse, now bind your fair forehead with myrtle from the shore,

and prepare to dance to a different tune.

Part I: Theme & Authorial Voice

At its core, Amores 1.1 is a metacommentary on poetic control and the loss of it. Beginning with a direct allusion to Virgil's Aeneid, Ovid appears to begin a Roman epic. Yet, this high-minded endeavor is subsequently sabotaged by Cupid, the trickster god of love, who shifts the meter to elegiac couplets, the meter of love, and invites the reader to engage with a wholly different type of poetry. The theme, therefore, is clear from the start: poetry should not be constrained to grappling with statecraft and war, but free to explore love, lust, and personal expression.

Ovid's voice, clever and self-aware, winkingly plays the role of the frustrated poet theatrically protesting Cupid's antics. His mock submission is made obvious; it's clear that Ovid doesn't truly resist love poetry. Indeed, he revels in it. In Amores 1.1, Ovid, the speaker, is both subject and victim, creating a layered, self-aware voice that sets the tone for the entire Amores.

Part II: Meter

Amores 1.1 is written in elegiac couplets, a form traditionally associated with love poetry and other expressions of loss and longing. However, this form, which pairs one line of dactylic hexameter with another of dactylic pentameter, allows the meter of the poem itself to become a function of the theme. The first line of the poem, invoking "arma" (or "weapons"), is written in dactylic hexameter, a form traditionally reserved for epic poetry, tricking the audience into expecting an epic. Yet, in the very next line, Ovid switches to pentameter and signals to the audience that, in fact, they are reading an elegy. The metrical form, therefore, mirrors the poem's thematic message: martial ambition, and the poetic control that necessitates it, is eroded, line by line, by the forces of love. In this sense, the meter itself stages drama that operates on three different levels: hexameter is undercut by pentameter, Ovid's "desire" to write war poetry is undercut by Cupid, and the state's desire to control art is undercut by the poet reclaiming their artistic freedom.

Additionally, the rhythm of elegiac couplets is softer and more lyrical than the grand, elevated hexameter, crafting a stylistic shift that enables Ovid to flirt and joke. This change serves as an elegant defiance, allowing Ovid to undermine authority without loud displays of resistance. Indeed, in his very choice to transition to an elegy, Ovid argues that freedom and love, not state loyalty, are the frameworks through which all meaning should be filtered.

Part III: Rhetoric

Defying Expectation: Juxtaposition & Antithesis

As mentioned previously, the first line of Amores 1.1 appears to launch an epic. The line, "arma gravī numerō violentaque bella parābam” (translated as "weapons and war were my theme. I was ready to roll forth battlelines") is riddled with elevated, war-like language, intensifying the impact of the juxtaposition provided by the second couplet, beginning with line two:  “par erat inferior versus.” This line, both shorter and self-deprecating, actively posits that its new meter is inferior to that of the first couplet. Ovid even confesses, moreover, that Cupid "stole a foot" of verse, concocting a pun on metrical "feet" that sharply contrasts the first couplet's seriousness.

Additionally, throughout the poem, Ovid continues the juxtaposition by invoking antithesis and drawing the contrast between war and love. A series of oppositions that include "arma" vs. "amor" ("weapons" vs "love") and "ferrea" vs. "myrto" ("iron" vs "myrtle") reinforces that although the realms of Mars, God of war, and Cupid are incompatible, they are not separate. Indeed, in a face-off between violence and love, love triumphs.

Mirroring Disruption: Synchisis & Word-Play

Throughout Amores 1.1, Ovid frequently plays with word order to emphasize meaning and build tension. For example, in "questus eram, pharetra cum prōtinus ille solūta" (translated as "So I complained. He just reached into his opened quiver"), the modifier "soluta" ("loosened") is separated from its corresponding noun "pharetra" ("quiver"). This deliberate synchisis adds tension by delaying the moment when the audience can visualize Cupid preparing his arrow, and mimics the looseness of the quiver itself.

Less subtly, Ovid often employs references to the art of writing poetry in Amores 1.1, providing the audience with a witty metapoetic commentary. With the inclusion of the pedem (foot) pun, as well as the line "sex mihi surgat opus numeris, in quinque residat" ("now let my verse swell with one line and fall back with the next"), Ovid makes the act of writing the poem's subject. Indeed, Ovid makes the writing process itself an arena of conflict, emphasizing the battle between an artist's freedom and the powers that intend to stifle it.

Gods as Characters: Apostrophe & Parody

In Amores 1.1, Ovid uses apostrophe to directly address Cupid multiple times, beginning with the line  “quis tibi, saeve puer, dedit hoc in carmina iuris?” (“barbarous boy, who gave you leave to meddle in the art of poetry?"). In addressing Cupid directly, Ovid mocks the epic invocations that gods receive in traditional Roman epic poetry and undermines divine authority. While Homer and Virgil call upon the Muses, Ovid bickers with a petulant boy-god with far less maturity than he. Therefore, this apostrophe masterfully interweaves subtle mockings of traditional poetry with a half-hearted, comedic complaint.

Indeed, Ovid repeatedly mimics the formulaic language and themes of the epic only to reject them. As quickly as epic tropes are named, they are discarded, with Ovid handing over their subject matter to the Muses and reserving his pen for love. More than merely rejecting their words, Amores 1.1 is parodying the stringent sense of nationalism Virgil and his counterparts were imbued with while writing, and the Augustan propaganda that led them to feel this way.

Part IV: Audience Reception

Ovid's wealthy Roman audience, experienced readers of poetry, would have recognized the subversion of Amores 1.1 instantly. The poem plays with obvious cultural expectations for literature--that it should be patriotic, morally instructive, and supportive of traditional Roman values--and subverts them, creating an innovative verse that revels in pleasure and venerates love. Ovid is purposefully not attempting to teach his audience anything clear-cut, but rather instill the benefits of fighting against societal standards and control within them. Thus, for his elite Roman readers, Ovid's poem would have been the perfect mixture of scandal and entertainment.

Moreover, in Amores 1.1, Ovid positions himself as almost an anti-Virgil with repeated mockery of his language and tropes. Where Virgil writes the traditional Roman epic grappling with themes of statecraft and destiny, Ovid gives the audience the Amores: a book of flirtation and heartbreak that is extremely self-aware of its subversion of the norm. By positioning himself against a famous Latin poet, Ovid signals to his audience that they are not just reading the beginning of a love poem; instead, they are witnessing the birth of a rebellion against literary orthodoxy.

In Conclusion...

Amores 1.1 is not your traditional love poem in any sense. Indeed, in the verse, there is more bickering than flirtation and more metacomentary on love poetry than love poetry itself. Nonetheless, Amores 1.1 is absolutely a poem about love, specifically, the power of one's love for poetry to tear down the poetic standards erected by society. With his brilliant, biting inversion of epic conventions, Ovid is making a serious claim: love is as worthy of literature as war. By stealing just one metrical foot, Cupid steals the entire poem itself, and Ovid, though superficially complaining, lets him. Yet this seemingly small act contains the seeds for a poetic revolution. With wit as his weapon and the page as his battlefield, Ovid starts

a literary uprising with Amores 1.1, proving that, like the storming of the Bastille, it only takes one act of rebellion to begin the toppling of an empire.

We hope you enjoyed this poetic analysis of Amores 1.1. Please leave any comments, questions, or concerns below, and be sure to recommend future poems for us to dive into!