Classic Poem

Whilst Ovid here reveals the various arts
Both how to polish and direct their darts,
Let meaner beauties by his rules improve,
And read these lines to gain success in love:
But Heav'n alone, that multiplies our race,
Has pow'r t' increase the conquests of your face.
The Spring, before he paints the rising flow'rs,
Receives mild beams and soft descending shew'rs;
But love blooms ever fresh beneath your charms,
Tho' neither pity weeps nor kindness warms.
The chiefs who doubt success assert their claim
By stratagems, and poorly steal a name:
The gen'rous son of Jove in open sight
Made bleeding Victory proclaim his might:
Like him resistless, when you take the field
Love sounds the signal, and the world must yield.