What does Lucretius say about love?

Lucretius, answered from the texts and cited to the page.

Lucretius answers

I speak of it twice, and the two speak to each other. At the opening of my poem I call on Venus as the power that strikes fond love into the hearts of all creatures, through seas and mountains and rivers and the leafy haunts of birds, so that each renews its own kind; she alone is pilot to the nature of things, and nothing comes forth into the bright coasts of light without her aid.¹

That is love as the spring and the seed, and I do not speak of it with a sneer. I ask her also for peace, since Mavors, lord of the wild works of war, flings himself back upon her lap, conquered by the eternal wound of love, and I would have her whisper gentle peace for the Romans.² In the fourth book I speak as a physician. The pleasure of the body is not what I condemn; the chain is.

A man who has taken a blow from the darts of Venus inclines toward the one who wounded him, and from that first drop of sweetness chilly care trickles after.³ The remedy is to flee the images that feed the passion, to turn the mind elsewhere, and not to fix it once for all on one person, for the sore gains strength and festers by feeding, and day by day the madness grows.⁴

And he who shuns love is not robbed of the fruits of Venus; he chooses the joys that bring no pain, and those are the more untainted for the heart-whole than for the love-sick.⁵ The reason is in the nature of the thing. Meat and drink pass into the limbs and the thirst is sated, but from a fair face and bloom of body nothing enters us save delicate images.

So the lover is like a thirsty man in a dream who seeks water and finds none, and drinks amid the torrent and is thirsty still.⁶ Even in the embrace they cannot tear off anything from the other's frame, nor pass inside and merge the whole body in it, though at times they seem to strive for exactly that.⁷ The desire is sated for a little while, and then the old frenzy returns.⁸

Then there is the cost. Strength is worn away, life is passed beneath another's sway, the substance of a father's wealth is turned to hair-ribbons and Sicyonian slippers and emeralds, duty grows slack and the good name sickens.⁹ Even amid the feasts and garlands some bitter taste wells up from the very fountain of delights: remorse at a life spent in sloth, or an idle word left doubtful, or a glance suspected of straying.¹⁰

And the lover is blind. Men give women excellences that are not theirs: the black is called honey-dark, the snub-nosed a sister to Silenus, the stammerer is said to have a charming lisp, the gaunt one dying of consumption a slender darling.¹¹ So I counsel taking in all the blemishes of mind and body in her whom you seek, and remembering that she does just the same as any other, and that we lived without her before.¹²

It is not so hard to avoid being drawn into the meshes of love as, once caught in the toils, to break through the strong bonds of Venus.¹³

Sources

through seas and mountains and tearing rivers and the leafy haunts of birds and verdant plains thou dost strike fond love into the hearts of all, and makest them in hot desire to renew the stock of their races, each after his own kind. And since thou alone art pilot to the nature of things
On the Nature of Things, pp. 28–29
'tis Mavors, the lord of hosts, who guides the wild works of war, and he upon thy lap oft flings himself back, conquered by the eternal wound of love
On the Nature of Things, pp. 28–29
he who receives a blow from the darts of Venus, whoso'er it be who wounds him, inclines to that whereby he is smitten
On the Nature of Things, pp. 179–180
it is best to flee those images, and scare away from you what feeds your love, and to turn your mind some other way... For the sore gains strength and festers by feeding, and day by day the madness grows
On the Nature of Things, pp. 179–180
Nor is he who shuns love bereft of the fruits of Venus, but rather he chooses those joys which bring no pain. For surely the pleasure from these things is more untainted for the heart-whole than for the love-sick
On the Nature of Things, pp. 179–180
from the face and beauteous bloom of man nothing passes into the body to be enjoyed save delicate images... Just as when in a dream a thirsty man seeks to drink and no liquid is granted him
On the Nature of Things, pp. 180–181
they cannot tear off aught thence, nor enter in and pass away, merging the whole body in the other's frame; for at times they seem to strive and struggle to do it.
On the Nature of Things, pp. 180–181
Then the same madness returns, the old frenzy is back upon them, when they yearn to find out what in truth they desire to attain
On the Nature of Things, pp. 181–182
they waste their strength and are worn away with effort, remember that their life is passed beneath another's sway. Meanwhile their substance slips away
On the Nature of Things, pp. 181–182
from the heart of this fountain of delights wells up some bitter taste to choke them even amid the flowers
On the Nature of Things, pp. 181–182
A black love is called 'honey-dark'... the snub-nosed is 'sister to Silenus, or a Satyr'; the thick-lipped is 'a living kiss'.
On the Nature of Things, pp. 182–183
surely there are others too: surely we have lived without her before, surely she does just the same in all things, and we know it
On the Nature of Things, pp. 182–183
to avoid being drawn caught, into the meshes of love, is not so hard a task as when caught amid the toils to issue out and break through the strong bonds of Venus.
On the Nature of Things, pp. 182–183