Amores 1.2: A Poetic Analysis

When one has not experienced purely requited love and instead has been relegated to an endless onslaught of talking stages, situationships, and crushing from afar, they fall into the trap of believing that, within a relationship, one partner always has power over the other. This conclusion is not without ample corroboration; having experienced only unrequited yearning or arrant disgust at a pursuer obfuscates the truth behind the age-old saying: "true love is equal." Inundations of "I love you more" when one eventually finds themselves within a relationship only further confuse, planting the idea that, although no partner would ever admit it, someone must love more powerfully.

However, I would argue that when one is in a profoundly healthy relationship, both the individual and their partner understand that they have ceded their power to a force larger than each of them. The personification of love is a trite cliché, but one that cannot be cast aside as outdated. Because no matter the name we assign to the force of love that courses between two people, it exists, and it strips those afflicted by it of their agency, rational thought, and ability to do anything but revel in the overwhelming emotions of infatuation. This force has always existed and will continue to do so, with an extensive history of being acknowledged, respected, and, at times, feared. Ovid's Amores 1.2 is a seminal piece of literature that defines the universal experience of being in love. To understand how this experience's perception has become warped over time, we must first understand how it was initially defined.

The Poem Itself

*English translation by A.S. Kline, Chief Translator of "Poetry in Translation"

Latin Text

Esse quid hoc dīcam, quod tam mihi dūra videntur

strāta, neque in lēctō pallia nostra sedent,

et vacuus somnō noctem, quam longa, perēgī,

lassaque versātī corporis ossa dolent?

nam, puto, sentīrem, sī quō temptārer amōre—

an subit et tēctā callidus arte nocet?

sīc erit: haesērunt tenuēs in corde sagittae,

et possessa ferus pectora versat Amor.

cēdimus, an subitum luctandō accendimus ignem?

cēdāmus: leve fit, quod bene fertur, onus.

vīdī ego iactātās mōtā face crēscere flammās

et vīdī nūllō concutiente morī.

verbera plūra ferunt quam quōs iuvat ūsus arātrī,

dētrāctant prēnsī dum iuga prīma, bovēs.

asper equus dūrīs contunditur ōra lupātīs:

frēna minus sentit, quisquis ad arma facit.

ācrius invītōs multōque ferōcius urget,

quam quī servitium ferre fatentur, Amor.

ēn ego, cōnfiteor, tua sum nova praeda, Cupīdō;

porrigimus victās ad tua iūra manūs.

nil opus est bellō: pācem veniamque rogāmus;

nec tibi laus armīs victus inermis erō.

necte comam myrtō, māternās iunge columbās;

quī deceat, currum vītricus ipse dabit;

inque datō currū, populō clāmante triumphum,

stābis et adiunctās arte movēbis avēs.

dūcentur captī iuvenēs captaeque puellae:

haec tibi magnificus pompa triumphus erit.

ipse ego, praeda recēns, factum modo vulnus habēbō

et nova captīvā vincula mente feram.

Mēns Bona dūcētur manibus post terga retortīs

et Pudor et castrīs quicquid Amōris obest.

omnia tē metuent, ad tē sua bracchia tendēns

vulgus 'iō' magnā vōce 'triumphe' canet.

Blanditiae comitēs tibi erunt Errorque Furorque,

assiduē partēs turba secūta tuās.

hīs tū mīlitibus superās hominēsque deōsque;

haec tibi sī dēmās commoda, nūdus eris.

laeta triumphantī dē summō māter Olympō

plaudet et appositās sparget in ōra rosās.

tū pinnās gemmā, gemmā variante capillōs

ībis in aurātīs aureus ipse rotīs.

tum quoque nōn paucōs, sī tē bene nōvimus, ūrēs;

tum quoque praeteriēns vulnera multa dabis.

nōn possunt, licet ipse velīs, cessāre sagittae;

fervida vīcīnō flamma vapōre nocet.

tālis erat domitā Bacchus Gangētide terrā:

tū gravis ālitibus, tigribus ille fuit.

ergō cum possim sacrī pars esse triumphī,

parce tuās in mē perdere victor opēs.

aspice cognātī fēlīcia Caesaris arma:

quā vīcit, victōs prōtegit ille manū.

English Translation

How to say what it’s like, how hard my mattress

seems, and the sheets won’t stay on the bed,

and the sleepless nights, so long to endure,

tossing with every weary bone of my body in pain?

But, I think, if desire were attacking me I’d feel it.

Surely he’s crept in and skilfully hurt me with secret art.

That’s it: a slender arrow sticks fast in my heart,

and cruel Love lives there, in my conquered breast.

Shall I give in: to go down fighting might bank the fires?

I give in! The burden that’s carried with grace is lighter.

I’ve seen the torch that’s swung about grow brighter

and the still one, on the contrary, quenched.

The oxen that shirk when first seized for the yoke

get more lashes than those that are used to the plough.

The hot steed’s mouth is bruised from the harsh curb,

the one that’s been in harness, feels reins less.

Love oppresses reluctant lovers more harshly and insolently

than those who acknowledge they’ll bear his slavery.

Look I confess! Cupid, I’m your latest prize:

stretching out conquered arms towards your justice.

War’s not the thing – I come seeking peace:

no glory for you in conquering unarmed men.

Wreathe your hair with myrtle, yoke your mother’s doves:

Your stepfather Mars himself will lend you a chariot,

and it’s fitting you go, the people acclaiming your triumph,

with you skilfully handling the yoked birds.

leading captive youths and captive girls:

that procession will be a magnificent triumph.

I myself, fresh prize, will just now have received my wound

and my captive mind will display its new chains.

You’ll lead Conscience, hands twisted behind her back,

and Shame, and whoever Love’s sect includes.

All will fear you: stretching their arms towards you

the crowd will cry ‘hurrah for the triumph!

You’ll have your flattering followers Delusion and Passion,

the continual crew that follows at your side.

With these troops you overcome men and gods:

take away their advantage and you’re naked.

Proudly, your mother will applaud your triumph

from high Olympus, and scatter roses over your head

You, with jewelled wings, jewels spangling your hair,

will ride in a golden chariot, yourself all golden.

And then, if I know you, you’ll inflame not a few:

and also, passing by you’ll deal out many wounds.

You can’t, even if you wish, suspend your arrows:

your fiery flames scorch your neighbours.

Such was Bacchus in the conquered land by Ganges:

you drawn by birds, he by tigers.

So since I will be part of your sacred triumph,

victorious one, spend your powers frugally on me now!

Look at Caesar’s similar fortunes of war –

what he conquers, he protects with his power.

Part I: Theme & Voice

Ovid's Amores 1.2 is not so much an investigation of love itself, but rather a detailed account of falling in love. The subject of this poem, a surrogate for Ovid himself, welcomes his experience of love with a natural set of questions. Like a newborn first seeing its reflection in the mirror and recognizing the strange lumps of flesh it has agency over, Ovid, too, was stunned and terrified to realize the agency he has now lost. He asks why he cannot sleep, why his bones ache, and why his mind feels not completely his own. Yet, as readers, we do not sit and ponder with Ovid for long, as he quickly diagnoses himself. He proclaims that he has been shot by Cupid, a fantastical way of expressing that he has fallen in love. From there, the poem evolves into an exploration of what it means to be consumed by an emotion. We learn the most valuable insight Ovid has gleaned from his lovestruck affliction: love cannot be resisted.

In a mock-poetic and brutally self-aware tone, Ovid assumes the role of both victim and teacher. He revels in the artistry of his surrender into love, leaning into poetic tropes as he ostensibly mourns the loss of his previous life, whilst secretly embracing the joys that love has gifted him. Yet beneath this playful tone, Ovid impresses upon the reader the importance of recognizing and accepting love, lest they fight a losing battle. Oscillating between lover and showman, the voice of Amores 1.2 exists in a liminal state, straddling wisdom and humor and managing to successfully find one in the other. While as prophetic as ever, Ovid manages to imbue his ironic, biting edge with deep sincerity, revealing to his reader that he is merely putting into words a universal experience of being overwhelmed by love. Indeed, the voice present in Amores 1.2 reflects that of love itself: brutally overwhelming yet always wonderfully honest.

Part II: Meter

Following suit with the rest of the Amores, Amores 1.2 is written in the style of elegiac couplets. Popularized by Ovid himself, this form came to represent the defining style of ancient love poetry; yet, at the time the Amores were written, it was still a relatively new metrical style. Yet this meter, which is composed of alternating lines of dactylic hexameter and pentameter, is defined by a contrast that makes it the perfect encapsulation of Ovid's interpretation of love. Indeed, the meter in of itself represents the themes underpinning the Amores. By interplaying the grandeur of the hexameter, which is traditionally reserved for ancient epics, with its poignant, concise counterpart, Ovid argues that love both matches the power of darker themes (such as war, politics, and the like), yet has access to a sincerity that no other poetic subject could rival.

Specifically in reference to Amores 1.2, the elegiac couplets help reinforce the effect that love has on his subject. On the one hand, love exerts unbridled power on its subject, stripping him of emotional control and bodily autonomy. His manhood is no match for this otherworldly force, which systematically decimates any thought or action unrelated to the consummation of his love. Through the heameter, Ovid explicates the indefatigable force of love that ravages even the most stoic mind. Yet, in the transition to the pentameter, Ovid illuminates the nuance resting behind this previous statement. He reveals that, rather than diametrically opposed enemies, love and man can instead be complementary forces if the latter does not resist the power of the former. Indeed, by relating Caesar's conquests to those of a man in love, Ovid subtly implies that, although both war and love can lead to the death of the soldier/lover, they can also grant them undying glory. It is therefore through the acceptance of love that a man can achieve his most powerful form.

Part III: Rhetoric

Questions As Answers: Rhetorical Questioning

Amores 1.2 opens with a string of questions that Ovid has no intention of letting the reader answer or even ponder. The lines, "Esse quid hoc dīcam, quod tam mihi dūra videntur/strāta, neque in lēctō pallia nostra sedent,/et vacuus somnō noctem, quam longa, perēgī,/lassaque versātī corporis ossa dolent?," translated as "How to say what it’s like, how hard my mattress/seems, and the sheets won’t stay on the bed,/and the sleepless nights, so long to endure,/tossing with every weary bone of my body in pain?" ostensibly position Ovid in a state of bewilderment, endearing him to the audience. Yet, Ovid and his rhetorical surrogate are not genuinely confused. Rather, they know precisely what ails them, but choose to obfuscate this revelation in order to place the reader into a temporary state of disorientation. In effect, the reader is granted the image of a struggling man in love, through which they will interpret the rest of the poem.

Yet this rhetorical questioning also has another intended effect: to set the stage for Cupid's introduction. Indeed, the question "an subit et tēctā callidus arte nocet?" is even idiomatically translated into a phrase ("Surely he’s crept in and skilfully hurt me with secret art,"), underpinning how Ovid is only mock-confused. Therefore, this line does not ask how Ovid grew to be afflicted by love, but forcefully suggests that love operates as a stealth enemy, hiding within the most personal of one's being. The question, therefore, serves as an introduction to the power of love to transcend the human realm, acting as an otherworldly force that we will later learn is personified as Cupid. Left in an ephemeral suspense that is broken in the next line with the clarification that it was, indeed, Cupid's arrows that had stripped the subject of his agency, the reader is now more prone to embracing that love itself is far more powerful than human will.

Power through Complacency: Antithesis

In the front half of Amores 1.2, Ovid introduces a paradox that explicates the message of the poem itself. He writes, "cēdimus, an subitum luctandō accendimus ignem?/ cēdāmus: leve fit, quod bene fertur, onus./ vīdī ego iactātās mōtā face crēscere flammās/ et vīdī nūllō concutiente morī," translated as "Shall I give in: to go down fighting might bank the fires?/ I give in! The burden that’s carried with grace is lighter./ I’ve seen the torch that’s swung about grow brighter/ and the still one, on the contrary, quenched." The imagery here crystallizes the lover's dilemma: to give in, or not to give in? If one does surrender to the power of love, they risk losing themselves entirely. Yet if one resists, the grip of love only grows stronger. Through the juxtaposition of these two options, Ovid presents capitulation as the rational choice: if resistance only worsens desire, then yielding is not weakness, but wisdom. Via arranging these lines antithetically, Ovid renders love's irrationality logical, and conditions the audience to accept that the only viable path, when one is afflicted with love, is surrender.

Rendering the Ordinary Remarkable: Simile

After entertaining antithesis, Ovid turns to explaining love through similes of agricultural life. Through the imagery within, "verbera plūra ferunt quam quōs iuvat ūsus arātrī,/dētrāctant prēnsī dum iuga prīma, bovēs./asper equus dūrīs contunditur ōra lupātīs:/frēna minus sentit, quisquis ad arma facit" ("The oxen that shirk when first seized for the yoke/get more lashes than those that are used to the plough/The hot steed’s mouth is bruised from the harsh curb,/the one that’s been in harness, feels reins less") Ovid grounds love within the everyday. Rather than simply a quixotic musing, Amores 1.2 now shifts into a deeply relatable exploration of love's impact on even the most quotidian experiences. For a Roman audience, the connection of love to an obstreperous ox or fiery steed makes Ovid's messaging coherent. Just as these animals must be tamed, so too must love tame the unwilling lover.

Externalizing Love: Virtuic Allusion

In the latter half of Amores 1.2, Ovid alludes to and names virtues characteristic of ancient Rome, particularly under the reign of Augustus. In the lines "Mēns Bona dūcētur manibus post terga retortīs/et Pudor et castrīs quicquid Amōris obest," translated as "You’ll lead Conscience, hands twisted behind her back,/and Shame, and whoever Love’s sect includes," Ovid pinpoints "Conscience" and "Shame," characteristics necessary of a successful Roman man. Yet by rendering these virtues in Cupid's control, Ovid emphasizes the power of love. Indeed, love has not only overpowered the body of its subject, but the stoic virtues he exudes. By personifying virtues paramount to Roman life as led in chains behind love, Ovid underscores his subversive claim: love can dismantle society.

Part IV: Audience Reception

For a Roman audience, Ovid's imagery of triumph would be remarkably familiar, but who (or, more accurately, what) is triumphing would subvert their expectations. Triumph and the glory associated with it were the supreme honors in Roman public life, yet they were monopolized chiefly by victorious emperors. By casting Cupid in the role of conqueror, Ovid parodies the prevalence of Roman militarism and argues that the deeply personal force of love has infinitely more power than traditional markers of Roman masculinity. Readers may have delighted in this playful inversion, in which love rules instead of brawn, but may have been uncomfortable with Ovid's call to submit. After all, the Roman man was not so eager to submit to anything, let alone a force he could not understand.

In Conclusion...

Love is a confusing thing in our current zeitgeist. Many who claim they've felt it before have only felt one of its synonyms: infatuation, lust, or longing. These people, therefore, argue that one lover always has the upper hand, because the forces masquerading as love that they have experienced have always been heavily one-sided. Yet true love is defined by its radical equality: both lovers are at the mercy of a force more powerful than themselves. Arguing that one person can "love more" or "love better" grants undue agency to those within a relationship. Indeed, we do not choose to love, and therefore cannot choose to love more. We merely accept love and revel in its extraordinary, terrifying power.

We hope you enjoyed this poetic analysis of Amores 1.2. Please leave any comments, questions, or concerns below, and be sure to recommend future poems for us to dive into!