Come now, ye lovers all! who serve in Cupid's hard campaign,
Let us together to the wars, and thus our peace regain!

This age of iron frowns on love and smiles on golden gain,--
On spoils of war which must be won by agony and pain.

For spoils alone our swords are keen, and deadly spears are hurled
While carnage, wrath, and swifter death fly broadcast through the world.

For spoils, with double risk of death the threatening seas we sail,
And climb the steel-beaked ship-of-war, so mighty and so frail!

The spoilers proud to boundless lands their bloody titles read,
And see innumerable flocks o'er endless acres feed

Fine foreign marbles they will bring; and all the city stare,
While one tall column for a house a thousand oxen bear.

They bind with bars the tameless sea; behind a rampart proud
Their little fishes swim in calm, when wintry storms are loud.

Ah! Love! Will not a Samian bowl hold all our mirth and wine?
And pottery of poor Cuman clay, with love, seem fair and fine?

Nay! Woe is me! Naught now but gold can please our ladies gay;
And so, since Venus asks for wealth, the spoils of war must pay.

My Nemesis shall roll in wealth; and promenade the town,
All glittering, with my golden gifts upon her gorgeous gown.