Fair Flora! Now attend thy sportful feast,
Of which some days I with design have past;
A part in April and a part in May
Thou claim'st, and both command my tuneful lay;
And as the confines of two months are thine
To sing of both the double task be mine.
Ovid lies here, the poet, skilled in love's gentle sport;
By his own talents he worked his undoing.
Oh, you who pass by, if ever you have loved,
Think it not a burden to wish him calm repose.
If thou wishest to put an end to love, attend to business (love yields to employment); then thou wilt be safe.
[Lat., Qui finem quaeris amoris,
(Cedit amor rebus) res age; tutus eris.]