OVID DE PONTO. Containing four books of ELEGIES.  
Written by him in Tomos, a city of Pontus, in the four last years of his life, and so died there in the seventh year of his banishment from ROME.  
Translated by W. S. The second Edition.  
Printed at London by T. Cotes, for Michael Spark● junior, dwelling at the blue Bible in green arbour. 1640.   


Study me in thy Prime  
Bury Death and weary Time.  
The glass doth run, and Time doth Go,  
Death hath his End, I have not so.    

To the Right worshipful Sir John Suckling Knight.  
Sir,  
Ovids' youngest daughter dressed in black, and like a mourner drowned all in tears, doth come to desire your favour, that since you have honoured the Muses with a famous poem, you would express your noble mind in defending her from the censure of the world. She doth not mourn like some dissembling heir in formal black, but doth show unfeigned grief for Ovid's sorrow: And though virtue doth not always run in a blood, yet I hope she will not d sgrace him from whom she did derive her birth, but rather merit tha● my service in waiting on her to so noble a Patron may be accepted, that while she is entertained, I for her sake may be acknowledged,  
The servant of your worthy virtues, Wye Saltonstall.   

OVID DE PONTO.  

LIB. I.  

Elegy. I.  
To Brutus.  
NAso that long hath lived in Tomos land,  
Sends this work to thee from the Getick strand  
To receive these books, friend Brutu● take some care,  
And hide them in some place no matter where  
M●ngst other public works they dare not come,  
lest for their author's sake they find no room,  
Alas, oft have I said you teach no ill,  
Then go, chaste verses do find some place still▪  
And yet they would not yield, but as you see  
Within some private house would hidden be.  
If thou wouldst know where to place them without fear,  
Where my Art of love did stand let them stand there.  
Thou mayst ask what they are because they are new?  
Yet receive them since no Art of love they show.  
Though th●y have no mournful title you shall see,  
They are as sad as Tristia could be,  
Their titles differ, but their subjects are  
The same while every elegy doth declare  
His undissembled name to whom 'tis sent,  
Though perhaps you are not therewithal content,  
But you cannot prohibit me, for still  
My muse will be officious 'gainst your will  
Yet howsoever, see that you do join  
Unto the other these last books of mine.  
You need not fear, Antonius works are read,  
And learned Brutus reads them without dread,  
Though with such great names I do not compare  
Yet 'gainst the gods I never waged war.  
Lastly my books give Caesar his due praise,  
Though from my books he would receive no bays,  
Receive my book since they his praise contain,  
And take my verse though you blot out my name▪  
If the peaceful Olive bough makes war cease,  
And is the emblem of ensuing p●●ae;  
Then shall it not avail me tha: I sing,  
The praises of a happy peaceful King?  
When Aeneas bore his father, they do say  
The sire in mercy unto him gave way.  
Then since these present books of mine do bring  
One of Aeneus glorious great offspring  
Should not the way to them lie open rather,  
Since that great Caesar is his countrles' father.  
Who will boldly from his door drive him away  
That with his hand doth on a timbrel play,  
And when the minstrel on his crooked horn  
Doth play before Diana, none do scorn  
His music, but when they do hear him sing,  
Who gives not a small piece of coin to him.  
We know Diana no such charge did give,  
But yet the Prophesier needs must live.  
The reverence of the gods doth move us thus,  
And it is good to be thus credulous.  
But to no hollow Phrygian pipe I sing,  
But the sacred names of the Roman nation bring▪  
Give place then to my books I thee desire  
Not I but Caesar's name doth it require.  
For though that I have felt the Prince's wrath,  
Our honouring of him some acceptance hath:  
I have seen one that 'gainst Isis did commit  
A fault, confessed did at her Altar sit;  
Another for like fault deprived of sight,  
Cried out his punishment was just and right.  
The heavenly gods do such confessions love,  
That what their power is they may so approve.  
They restore sight, and take off punishment,  
When they perceive that sinners do repent.  
I repent if misery may be believed,  
I do repent, and for my fact am grieved.  
My fault doth grieve me more than banishment,  
And to deserve, than suffer punishment.  
Though the gods and Caesar should my fault remit▪  
They can't wipe out the offence I did commit.  
Though death from punishment do me free,  
Death cannot make me no offender be.  
Then 'tis no wonder if my mind tired grow,  
And do dissolve like unto melting snow,  
For as the hidden worm a ship doth eat,  
And waves make hollow rocks on which they 〈◊〉,  
As rust eats Iron when it hath it took,  
And paper-mothes do feed upon a book●,  
Even so cares do feed u●on my breast,  
And sorrow which do never give me r●st;  
Nor will they cease to sting me while I live,  
My grie●e is longer lived than I that grieve.  
If the gods would believe me, whose we are,  
They'd send me some small help from this my ●are  
And would remove me from cold Scythia,  
I shall be impud●n● if for more I pray.   

Elegy. II.  
To Maximus.  
MAximus, great by name and great by kind,  
Who gracest thy birth by thy noble mind.  
For when that thou into the world didst come,  
As if they meant to give thy birthright room,  
Three hundred Fab●● in one day did fall,  
That fatal day took not away them all.  
Perh●p thou wouldst know from whom this letters sent  
Or else to know whose I am thou art bent.  
What shall I do? when thou my name hast red,  
I fear thou wilt unwillingly proceed:  
Yet if that any chance these lines to see,  
I dare confess that I writ them to thee,  
And that my purpose therein was that I  
Might so bewail my own sad misery,  
And that I writ them to thee▪ I dare conf●sse,  
To signify to thee my own 〈◊〉,  
Who though I do confess I worthy am  
Of more punishment, I cannot more sustain,  
Dangers and enemies on each side come on me,  
As if with my Country, safety were took from me▪  
Who that their wounded enemies may fall,  
Do poison their arrow●s with the viper● gall.  
The horseman armed with these the walls beholds,  
Like a Wol●e that walks round about Sheepefolds.  
When with a string of horses guts compact,  
He bend● his Bow, whose string is seldom sl●ckt.  
A shower of arrows from their bows doth fly▪  
And the gate can ●earce keep out the enemy.  
The country's barren without leaf or tree,  
And Winters joined unto winters be.  
Five winters I have been in this estate,  
Enduring cold, and striving with my fate,  
My grief is in continual tears expressed,  
And deadly dulness doth possess my breast,  
Happy was Niobe, for although that she,  
The death of her children did behold and see,  
Yet being changed into a stone thereby  
She grew insensible of her misery.  
Happy are you, who weeping for your brother  
The poplar with his bark your face did cover,  
Bu● I cannot be changed to any tree,  
And I do wish in vain a stone to be;  
Nay if that I Medusa's head should see,  
Medusa's head could have no power on me  
Thus do we live, still sensible of woe,  
And griefs by length of time more grievous grow.  
Thus Ti●ius liver grows, that he thereby  
Instead of dying once, may often die.  
But when rest and sleep, which sorrow's medcine● are,  
Do come at night and ease me of my care,  
Then imitating dreams false sorrows show,  
Which when I wake my sorrows do renew.  
Me thinks I from the Sar●a●ian arrows ●lye  
Or that I am held in captivity.  
Or when some happier dream doth me deceive  
I see my Country which I for●'d did leave:  
Sometimes with you my friends, me think●s I speak,  
And sometimes to my wife my mind I break.  
When thus with false dreams I have pleased been,  
They make my present state far worser seem  
Shadows of joy make sorrows greater seem.  
And thus by day in misery I live,  
And when the dewy night her Coach doth drive,  
My breast even with continual cares doth melt  
As soft wax when the fires heat hath felt,  
I pray for death and do unpray again,  
lest that Sarmatia should my bones contain.  
When I think on Caesar's clemency I believe,  
That unto me he will a pardon give.  
But thinking on the constancy of my trouble,  
My former hope doth fail and my fear double.  
Yet this is all to which my hopes aspire  
To be removed hence is all I desire,  
This is a suit which you with modesty,  
To obtain in my behalf may easily try.   

Elegy. III:  
To Maximus.  
MAximus most eloquent in the Roman speech,  
Defend my doubtful cause I thee beseech,  
'tis bad, but will be good if thou it plead  
And with gentle words in my case intercede,  
For though Caesar all things knows, he knows not this,  
Of what condition this remote place is  
In government his thoughts employed are  
For his royal breast this is too mean a care,  
Or to inquire how Tomos land doth lie,  
Scarce known unto the Getes that live thereby▪  
Nor knows he what the Sauromatians do,  
The Lazygians, or Tauricans fi●rce in show,  
Or other Nations, who o'er Ister ride,  
Where frozen ice doth all the River hide:  
The most of them, for thee Rome do● not care,  
Nor of the Roman soldier stand in fear.  
Their bows and Quivers make them wax stou●.  
And their fleet horses sit abroad to scout.  
And because they thirst and hunger can endure,  
While their enemies no water can procure,  
Sure his mild anger had not sent me hither,  
If he had known this land or people either.  
He would not have any Roman to be,  
Captive unto a foreign enemy,  
And I suppose that he much less would have  
Me taken captive, to whom life he gave.  
He did not seek my death although he might,  
Without the Getes help have destroyed me quite:  
But he found that death was not deserved by me,  
So that he was most merciful to me;  
And what he did, I did compel him to  
And in his wrath much mildness he did show;  
You Gods grant, 'mongst whom none can juster be  
Then Caesar, that none may greater be than he,  
And that after his long reign it still may be,  
Governed by one of Caesar's progeny.  
And when thou findest his mercy is no l●sse,  
Then speak to him for me in great distress,  
Seek no repeal from banishment, but that I  
May live in banishment safe from the enemy.  
Th●t that life which Caesa●s mercy did afford,  
The Get may not take from me by the swo●d.  
But when at length I die, I may die in peace,  
That the Scythian earth my bones may never press  
Nor the Bistonian Horse may tread upon▪  
The scattered ashes of a banished man,  
And that if the Sp●rit often death survive,  
'mongst the Sarmatian ghosts I may not live.  
O Maximus these matters may incline  
Caesar's m●nde to pity, if they first move thine;  
O may thy words his royal mind once sof●●n,  
Which have defended guilty parties often,  
And with the usual sweetness of thy speech,  
Caesar's most godlike majesty beseech,  
Atreus nor Theromedon shalt thou entreat  
Who gave their horses human flesh to eat  
But a Prince to punish slow, to reward free,  
Grieving when he must needs more cruel be:  
Who c●nquers, that he may the conquered spare  
With quiet peace suppressing civil war  
By fear, not punishment he doth command,  
And casts his thunder with an unwilling hand.  
Beg of him to banish me to some place where  
Unto my Country I might live more near;  
I'm he whose love to you hath been expressed,  
And on holidays have been your frequent guest,  
I am he, did Hymen to your wedding bring,  
Whi●e at your marriage I did verses sing,  
And thou wert wont to praise my books I am sure,  
Excepting those my ruin did procure.  
I am he, to whom thy writin●s thou didst read,  
Who out of thy family a wife did wed,  
Whom Martia did from her childhood love  
And for her chief companion did approve,  
Caesar's grandmother did her much esteem;  
She must be good that's loved by a Queen,  
But Claudia whose fame 'bove envy stood,  
Did want none of their pra●se to make her good.  
Besides my former life is free from spot,  
Though the last part of life must be forgot.  
●ut though I'm silent of myself and life,  
Yet you are bound to take care of my wife:  
She flies to you, your Altars she embraces,  
(All fly to their own gods in distressed cases)  
And she entreating you with mournful tears,  
That you would try with your most humble prayers.  
Great Caesar's wrat ● to appease and pacify,  
That her husband nearer unto her might die.   

Elegy. iv.  
To Rufinus.  
rusinus, Naso doth this letter send,  
If one in misery may be a friend:  
For in your comfort, my confused mind,  
Much help, and hope in misery did find,  
As Paeantius by Machaonian Art▪  
Had his wound cured which before did smart;  
So I being sick in mind, with wounds of grief,  
Yet by your admonition found relief.  
And by your words to life I was restored,  
As veins do swell when wines into them pored,  
And yet your eloquence had not so great strength,  
That your words could cure my grieved mind at length,  
For though you take some cares out of my breast  
That which remains will be as much at least,  
A scar in time may unto skinning come,  
But green wounds do at first all handling shun▪  
The physicians cannot always help impart,  
Sometimes the malady doth exceed his Art;  
You see how a little blood from the Lungs drawn,  
Most certain death doth still occasion.  
Though Epidaurius sacred herbs do bring,  
The wounded heart cannot be cured by him:  
No Medicine can take away the knotty gout,  
Nor can any sovereign waters work it out:  
So sometimes no Art can cure grief and care  
Till they by l●ngth of time outworn are.  
For when thy words had well confirmed my mind  
Armed with that courage I in thee did find.  
My country's love above reason did prevail,  
And made the comfort of thy writings fail.  
Call it affection, or a womanish part.  
I confess that wretched I have a soft heart.  
Ulysses wisdom, cannot doubled be,  
Yet he did wish his country's smoke to see.  
All think their native soil to be most sweet,  
And in absence they will remember it.  
What more fair than Rome? while Scythia cold lies,  
Yet the savage from the City hither flies.  
Thus Pandion daughters shut in a Cage of wire,  
To return unto the woods do still desire.  
Wild bulls the forests where they haunt approve,  
And the wild lions their usual Dens do love.  
Yet your words cannot draw out of my breast  
The sting of banishment that doth it molest.  
Make yourselves less beloved of me, that I  
May bear the want of your sweet company,  
For I am banished from my native Land  
To an inhuman place of fates command;  
●n the farthest part of the world I abide,  
Whereas continual Snow the earth doth hide.  
For here the barren and unfruitful field,  
No apples, nor sweet pleasant grapes doth yield,  
No Osiers on the Rivers banks are seen,  
Nor oaks upon the mountains do look green.  
Nor can you praise the Sea more than the Land,  
Whose gloomy waves swell at the winds command.  
Wheresoever you look untilled fields you may see,  
And vast grounds that to none belonging be.  
The enemy on each hand doth abide,  
And puts us in a fright on either side.  
One side doth feel the strong Bistonian bows,  
On the other the Sarmatian arrows throws:  
G●e, and some old example show to me,  
Of men that bravely bore adversity:  
Admire the valiant Rutilus who did scorn  
To make use of a conditional return.  
He in Smyrna not in Pontus then did live,  
Smyrna a place which did much pleasure give  
Sinopeus grief for his Country was not great,  
For he chose Attica to be his seat.  
Neoclides who the Persian power did quell,  
In a Grecian city banished did dwell,  
Aristides did to Lacedaemon fly,  
Which of his Country had no priority:  
Patroclus having done a murder run away,  
From Opus and came to Thessalia.  
He that from Aemonia was a banished man,  
Unto the waters of Pirenis came;  
And went captain of that ship which sailed to Greece,  
To fetch from C●lchos the rich golden fleece.  
Cadmus from Sidons' walls did co●e away,  
That a better foundation he might lay.  
And Tyd●us banished from Calydon,  
Unto Adrastus did for succour come:  
And Carthage which fair Venus still defended,  
Received Aen●as and him much befriended.  
What should I show how the ancient ●omanes sent  
Their banished men no farther than Tiber went.  
Should I reckon all the banishment that were,  
Yet from their Country none were sent so far;  
Then let your wisdom pardon my sad grief,  
If by your words it do ●●nde sm●ll relief.  
I 〈◊〉 s if that my griefs could be composed.  
My wound of grief had by your words been closed.  
But I fear you in vain do strive to cure me,  
And that you can no help at all procure me.  
I speak not this because I wiser am,  
But more known to myself than the Physician;  
However I your goodwill do esteem,  
Which hath most acceptable to me been.   

Elegy. V.  
To his Wife.  
Now age upon my hair a whiteness sprinkles,  
And on my face hath ploughed up many wrinkles,  
The vigour of my body now doth languish,  
〈◊〉 all my strength doth ruin to pai●e and anguish,  
●hose sports which pleased me when I was young,  
●re most unpleasant unto me b●come.  
●or on a sudden can you me scarce know,  
●●nce I by age do so much changed show.  
●eares I confess this change upon me draws,  
●et gri●fe and labour do it also cause.  
● my years be reckoned by my misery,  
●han ancient Nesto● I shall older be  
●ou see that Oxen (through their strength abound)  
●re worn out with ploughing stiff clay ground.  
●nd that ground which doth never fallow lie,  
●y bearing fruit doth barren w●xe thereby,  
the ●orse will be tired out, and even fall down,  
●hat in the race continually doth run.  
〈◊〉 ship decays that still at Sea doth lie,  
〈◊〉 she be not moored within the dock to dry;  
〈◊〉 length of troubles makes my strength decline,  
●nd maketh me grow old before my time.  
〈◊〉 rest doth feed the body and the mind,  
●ut immoderate labour wears both out we ●inde:  
●ecause that Jason hither sailed, you see  
●on he was praised by posterity;  
●ut his labours lesser were than mine, though feigned,  
● great men's action● may be truly scanned,  
●or he to Pontus was by Peltas sent,  
●ho in Thessalia held his government  
●aesars wrath hurt me, whom all Lands everywhere,  
●on the rising to the setting sun do ●eare.  
●●monia is to Pontus nearer far,  
●han Rome and the cold River Ister are,  
●o that his journey shory▪ was then mine.  
●esides he had some chief Grecians a● that time,  
Who went along to bear him company,  
But in my banishment all my friends left me,  
We in a weak bark ploughing the Sea were,  
But it was a stout Ship that did Iaso● bear.  
Nor was Typhis our Pilot, or Amintor's son,  
To reach us how to steer, or what course run.  
Pallas and royal Juno him protected,  
But none of heavens' powers my ship directed.  
And Cupid's stolen pleasures he discerned  
Which I do wish from me he had learned,  
He returned home, we in these fields must die,  
If Caesar's wrath endure continually.  
Therefore my troubles heavier do appear,  
(Most constant wife) than those Jason did bear,  
And though when I left the City thou wert young  
I believe thou now with grief art aged grown.  
Yet I wish the gods would grant, I might thee see,  
And kiss thee, though thy hair white changed be,  
Embracing thy slender body, while I remember,  
That grief for me did make thee grow thus slender,  
That I with tears might tell my griefs to thee,  
While thou with ●eares didst harken unto me,  
Relating my past labours, while that I  
Enjoyed thy unhoped for company.  
That to Caesar and his Consort I might bring  
Frankince●se as a grateful offering,  
I wish that Caesar's wrath were so appeased,  
That fair Auron● would but once be pleased  
That she would bring this happy news away;  
Soon as her Rosy che●ke sends forth the day.   

Elegy. VI.  
To Maximus.  
NAso, that was esteemed in times past  
Amongst thy other friends not to be last.  
(Maximus) doth entreat thee now to read  
These words which from his banished Mus● proceed,  
●ooke, not in them for former strains of wit,  
You know that they in banishment were writ.  
The body by idleness doth corrupt grow,  
And water corrupts that doth not move or flow.  
●o if I had in verse a happy strain,  
●or want of use I have lost it now again,  
●nd Maximus if you will believe me I  
●hese lines you read have writ unwillingly,  
●ly mind my present griefs cannot resist,  
●ly Muse among the Getes will not me assist.  
Yet to write some verses I do strive you see,  
Though they as rugged as my fortunes be.  
And I am ashamed when I have red them over,  
●ecause I in them so many faults discover.  
●hat in my judgement, who them first did frame,  
●hey do deserve to be blotted out again.  
●et to mend them, then to write them is more pain,  
●nd my sick mind no labour can sustain.  
●hall I begin to use an exacter line,  
●o place with judgement every word of mine.  
●e that would have my troubles worser grow,  
●akes the River Lychus into Hebrus flow.  
●r maketh the high mountain Achos add,  
●eaves to the alps of which they great store had.  
Therefore you ought a wo●nded mind to spare,  
Oxen leave drawing when they gawled are.  
If profit would requite pain undergone,  
And if I should reape●fruite from that I had sown;  
Yet reckon all my works, no work of mine  
Hath brought any profit to me at any time,  
And I do wish since they no profit bring,  
That they 〈◊〉 neve●● to me harmful been,  
Do you wonder why I wri●e? even so do I;  
And with you admite what good I find thereby.  
Or is the peopl●s opinion confirmed by m●?  
Who deny that Po●●s in their 〈◊〉 be.  
Since I so oft deceived with a barren field,  
Do sow seed in a ground doth nothing yield.  
Yet in his own study every one takes pl●asure,  
And in his Art delights to sp●nd his leisure.  
The wounded Fencer that swears he will not fight,  
Forgets his wounds, and in weapons doth delight.  
The Ship wracked man says he the Sea● will shun,  
Yet straight doth sail, where he before hath swo●e.  
Thus in a fruitl●sse study● do labour,  
I forsake the Muses, and yet seek their favour.  
What shall I do? I cannot idle be,  
Time spent in idleness, is like de●th to me.  
In drinking too much wine, I take no pleasure,  
Or in throwing flattering dice to spend my leisure.  
When I have given my body so much ●est  
As it requires, so that it is refreshed.  
When I do wake, how shall I then bestow  
The time which seemeth to ●unne on so slow.  
Shall I learn to bend accordi●g to their fashion,  
The Sarmatian Bow, forgetting my own Nation,  
I have not strength in that Art to go on,  
My mind is than my body far more strong  
Considering what I should do, you shall see,  
These unprofitable Arts are best for me:  
By them misfortune out of mind I keep  
It is enough if I this fruit do reap,  
Glory makes students, that their verse recited  
May be approved, and of all be liked.  
It's enough for me easy verse to frame,  
Since there's no cause to make me take more pain.  
Why should I polish my lines with great care?  
That the Getes should not like them do I fear?  
Though it may boldness seem, yet boast I do  
●●ster no better Wit than mine can show  
And while I live here, 'tis enough to gain  
Among inhuman Getes a Poets na●e.  
For Fame in another world should I strive?  
Rome is the place doth fame and fortune give,  
My poor muse with this The●t●r is content  
So I have deserved, so the gods are b●nt.  
Nor do I think my books can thither go,  
Where the Northwind can hardly come to blow,  
Our climates different are, for the cold bear,  
Which is far from Rome, to the Getes is near.  
Through many Lands and sens, I can't believe  
My studies should pass, censure to receive.  
●f they were red, and did please which is strange,  
●heir Authors sorrows would not thereby change.  
What avails it, if thou in Syene please,  
●r Tabroband washed, with Indian Seas?  
●f Countries near the Pleiades●hee praise  
Wilt thou go on in hope, thy fame to raise?  
●ince my best writings hardly thither come,  
●y famo with, me was banished from Rome.  
And now I do conjecture and believe,  
That to speak of my death you all do leave,  
Since unto you I then indeed was dead,  
Men live not when their fame is buried.   

Elegy. VII.  
To Graecinus.  
WHen in a foreign Country thou heardst ●ad  
Of my misfortune, was not thy heart sad?  
Graecinus, though thou fearest to confess,  
I know thou wert sad hearing my distress;  
Such hardness with thy ingenuity,  
And with thy studies doth no less agree.  
By witty Arts in which thou tak'st delight,  
The mind is softened, rudeness put to flight.  
And none more studious of all Arts can be,  
When the wars, and occasions suffer thee.  
Truly when I perceived my own sad case  
(For I was senseless long, and in a maze)  
Of this misfortune I had also sense  
That thou who shouldst have been my strong defence  
Were't absent, and my comfort gone with thee,  
Who didst give courage, and counsel to me.  
Now though far of some help to me impart,  
Speak words of comfort to my grieved heart.  
Which (if you dare believe no lying friend)  
By folly, not by wickedness did of●end.  
'Twere tedious, and not saf● for to touch here  
My faults beginning which doth touching fear.  
Ask me not how those wounds have first made been  
Touch them not if that you would have them skin.  
It was no vice, and yet a fault ne'er less,  
Or are faults 'gainst the gods held wickedness.  
Therefore all hope hath not forsook my mind,  
I may at last (Graecinus) comfort find.  
This goddess, when the rest from earth were flown  
Remained on the hated earth alone.  
This makes the ditcher bound with fetters live,  
And that his legs shall be free he doth believe.  
This makes the shipwrecked man begin to swim,  
Then when no land at all by him is seen.  
He that by the Physician hath been left  
Yet of all hope of life is not bere●t.  
The condemned prisoner hopes for life they say,  
Some hanging on the cross for life do pray.  
This goddess those would hang themselves doth stay  
Not s●ffering them to make themselves away.  
When I to end my grief with a sword thought,  
She chid me, and fast hold on me she caught,  
What dost thou do? by ●eares, not blood saith she,  
The wrath of a Prince may appeased be.  
Though no hope doth to my deserts belong,  
In Caesar's mercy still my hope is strong.  
Entreat his favour Graecinus, and join  
With me, in this petition of mine.  
And that thou dost move him I understand  
Else may I buried be in Tom●s sand.  
For sooner shall the gentle Doves begin  
To leave those Towers where they have lived in▪  
Wild beasts, and Cattle and the quick Dived appear,  
Shall first leave their Dens, the grass, and water▪  
Then Graecinus should forsake his old friend  
My fate will not such a misfortune send▪   

Elegy. VIII.  
To Messallnus.  
THis Letter which you read, friend Mess●li●e,  
Health from the cruel Getes to you doth bring.  
Does not the mention of the place show whom  
Was author of it, and whence it doth come.  
Or dost not know that Naso writ the same  
Until that you at length have read my name.  
Which of your friends in banishment doth lie,  
In farthest part of all the world but I?  
And the gods grant that those who reverenc● show  
And love to you this Country may not know.  
Let us 'mongst Ice and Scythian arrows live,  
If we to death the name of life may give.  
Either the earth with war doth us oppress  
Or else the air with cold doth us distress,  
Or the fierce Get with arms doth us assail,  
Or else the winter sendeth storms of hail.  
No grapes or apples in this Country be,  
No part of it from enemies is free.  
May your other friends in happiness go on,  
Of which as of the people, I once was one.  
Woes me, 〈◊〉 that these words do thee offend,  
And that thou dost deny I was thy friend.  
Pardon my lie, if that thy words be true,  
My glory takes away no praise from yo●.  
Who doth not fain himself a friend to be  
To Caesar, you shall Caesar be to me.  
Yet I into your friendship have not broken,  
'tis enough if the gates of love stand open,  
Though you will have nothing with me to do  
Permit me that I may salute thee too.  
Your father did not deny ●e his friend,  
But wished me my study to attend,  
At whose death I wept, and writ Elegies  
As my last gift to attend his obsequies.  
I loved ● is brother too besides all this,  
As stout Atrides did Tindarid●s.  
Yet he scorned not my love nor company  
If you think this did him no injury.  
If not I will confess that I do lie;  
Let me lose the love of his family.  
Yet why should I lose it, since no power can  
A friend from doing an offer res●raine.  
Though I could wish I could my fault deny,  
All know it was free from impiety.  
If my fault did not pardonable seem,  
Banishment too small punishment had been;  
But Caesar saw this, who doth all things see,  
That my offence might folly called be.  
He spared me for my offences quality,  
And used his ●laming thunder moderately.  
My life nor country he took not away,  
If you by suit his anger could allay,  
But yet my fall was great, for 'tis no wonder,  
He should be wounded that's struck with Jove's thunder.  
And though Achilles his ●●ackned force restrained,  
Pe●●as spear wounded deeply from his hand.  
Since direful judgement hath overtook me so,  
There's no cause why thy gate should not me know▪  
I frequented your house oft, I do confess,  
But 'twas my fortune to do so I guess,  
No other house of my love had such proof,  
For I was always underneath your roof.  
And your love did not on yourself reflect,  
But as a brother did your friend respect.  
Besides, that then advanced to honour wert,  
Thou mayest both thank thy fortune and desert.  
If I may wish w●at thou desi●'st thyself,  
That thou mayst give, not pay, ask the god's wealth.  
So thou dost, may I mention it to thee,  
Thy goodness makes thee bountiful to be.  
And therefore Me●●aline let me be placed  
Amongst your other friends, though I be last.  
And grieve that Ovid's grief, deserved doth seem,  
If not for's grief, grieve he hath faul●y been.   

Elegy. Ix..  
To Severus.  
SEverus, whom my soul loves as itself,  
Thy Ovid loved of thee doth wish thee health  
Ask not how I do, for if my griefs were  
Reckoned, they would enforce from thee a tear.  
It is enough for thee that thou dost know,  
The total sum of all my grief and woe.  
We live without peace and in arms still are  
The Quiver-bearing Get still making war.  
Of so many banished men, I only am  
At once a soldier and a banished man.  
And that thou mayst my books with pardon take  
I in my Armour did these verses make.  
There stands a City upon Ister's side,  
By walls and situation fortified.  
Aegypsus if that we may them believe,  
Did build it, and his name thereto did give.  
This the Get took, th' Odrysians being slain,  
And 'gainst the King did a fierce war maintain,  
Descent, and valour caused him to raise  
An Army which he thither led straight ways,  
Nor departed not, till on his slaughtered foes,  
He did revenge himself with bloody blows.  
And mayst thou valiant King, even many a day  
The glorious sceptre of this Land still sway.  
And besides (what fuller wish can thee behoove)  
May martial Rome, and Caesar thee approve.  
But to return, O sweet companion I  
Complain the wars increased my misery.  
Since far from you in Scythia I have been  
The rising Pleiades have four autumns seen.  
You will not believe Ovid thinks upon  
The city's pleasure, yet he thinks thereon.  
Now sweet friends I remember you, and after  
I think upon my dear wife, and my daughter.  
And on the buildings in the City be,  
For in my fancy I do all things see.  
The Courts, the houses, and Theaters lined  
With Marble, and the Porch it brings to mind.  
The fields, and gardens into mind it brings,  
The standing Lakes, the streams, and virgin Springs,  
Yet though I am deprived of city's pleasure,  
I think I may in the Country spend my leisure,  
My mind doth not desire to view these fields,  
Or delights the Pel●gnian Country yields.  
Nor these gardens which upon the mountains lay,  
By Claudia's house, near the Fla●inian way.  
Where I in gardning used to take some pain.  
And to water young plants held it for no shame.  
Some grafts I set, if living there do stand,  
Whose fruit must not be gathered by my hand.  
Which pleasures having lost, I wish that I  
Might here though banished practice husbandry.  
Goats that do climb upon the rocks I would keep;  
Or leaning on my staff, tend on my sheep.  
And that my mind with cares might not be broke,  
My labouring Oxen I would daily yoke.  
I would learn words the Geti●ke Oxen know,  
With usual threatenings making them on go.  
I'd hold the Plough, and heavily on it lie,  
And to so● seed on f●rrowes I would try.  
And with my long hook I the fields would weed,  
Or water my garden if that it did need.  
But how should I do this? there only be,  
A wall and gate 〈◊〉 us and the enemy.  
But I am glad the fatal sisters did,  
At the birth spin thee a more happy thread.  
The fi●lds, and shady Porch thou dost frequent,  
Or the Court, where thou little time hast spent.  
In Appian Coach t●ou dost the City leave,  
While Vmbria and A●●ana thee receive,  
Where you wish Caesar would be pleased again,  
And that your village mig●t me ●ntertaine.  
O friend it is too much which you require,  
Contract your wishes, moderate your desire.  
Let me live in a Country from wars free,  
This will take off part of my misery.   

Elegy. X.  
To Maximus.  
OF Celsus death I in your Letter read,  
Which made tears from my eyes straightway proceed.  
And that which I did never think could be,  
I read your Letter most unwillingly.  
No harsher news my ear did ever strike,  
In Pontus may I never hear the like:  
Me thinks that I do see him still surviving,  
My love doth make me think he should be living.  
I often think how merry he would be,  
And perform serious matters faithfully.  
Those times with sorrow to remembrance come,  
And I do wish my life had then been done.  
When that my house, whose ruin was not small,  
Did suddenly upon my own head fall,  
Maximus, he when that the most ●id leave me,  
Was not my fortune's friend, nor did deceive me.  
At my living death, I saw him weep,  
As if his brother's funeral he did keep.  
His love was in his kind embraces shown,  
And with my tears he mingled his own.  
O how oft said he that life I did scorn.  
And kept my hands from doing myself harm?  
How oft said he, the gods may pleased be,  
Then live, and think that they may pardon thee.  
But these words were the best, when he did say,  
Think Maximus will help thee any way.  
Maximus will endeavour, and will try,  
If he great Caesar's wrath can mollify:  
And wish his brother if he at Court have grace,  
To mediate some ●avour in thy case.  
These words of his diminished the pain  
Of life, than Maximus prove them not vain.  
And he swore he would come hither to me,  
If you would give him leave and liberty.  
For in like manner he did honour thee,  
As thou dost reverence Caesar's majesty.  
Believe me, though you friends deserved many  
He was as worthy a friend as you had any.  
If not wealth, or the pedigree of name,  
But wit, and honesty do merit fame.  
Then let me weep for Celsus who is dead,  
And weep back those tears which on me shed.  
Let me write Elegies may his life contain,  
That posterity may read of ●elsus name.  
These from the Gete● I can send thee this time,  
And this is all that I can here call mine.  
I can't embalm thy body, nor yet be  
At thy hearse, who am a world off from thee,  
M●ximus, whom thou living didst adore,  
Hath performed all those ri●es for thee before.  
He in a worthy funeral hath expressed  
His love, and poured swee●e odours on thy breast,  
And with his tears the ointments soft hath made,  
And in some ground hard by thy bones hath laid.  
Since to his dead friends he thus kind will be,  
Amongst the dead he may too reckon me.   

Elegy. XI.  
To Flaccus.  
BAnished Ovid, sends thee Flaccus, health,  
If one can send, what he doth want himself:  
For languishing and bitter cares at le●gth  
Have worn my body and decayed my strength.  
And yet I feel no pain▪ nor panting fever,  
My pulse doth beat as well as it did ever.  
But yet my taste is dull, I loathe my meat,  
And at due times I have no list to ea●e.  
For if that Ga●imede should give to me  
Sweet ●ectar and Ambrosi●, which be  
●anquets for Gods to feed on, and to drink▪  
T●eir rell●sh could not please my tas●e I think;  
Though the● are pleasant and most savoury,  
Yet in my stomach the● would heavy lie.  
This truth to every one I dare n●t w●ite.  
lest I should seem in misery to delight.  
As if such were my fortunes and my sta●e  
That I in wantonness delight could take.  
May he take such delight who e'er ●e be  
Who fears lest Caesar's wrath should milder be.  
And that sleep which doth a full body cherish,  
Doth not at all the empty body nourish.  
But as I wake my endless sorrows wake,  
And from the place fresh cause of grief do take.  
So that my face by you could not be known,  
And ●ou would wonder how my colours gone.  
My slender limbs but little bl●od contain  
And than new wax I am more pale and wan.  
Excessive drinking wine doth not cause this,  
Water you know my common drink here is,  
I am not pleased with bankers, if I were,  
Amongst the Getes there's no such plenty here.  
And Venus pleasures do not weaken me,  
Those desires vanish in adversity.  
The place, and water, causers of it be,  
And sorrow which is present still with me.  
You and your brother still my helpers were,  
Or else my mind could not her sorrows bear.  
You are the Port to which my bark doth drive,  
That help which som● deny unto me give,  
Then help me still, for I shall need help sure,  
While Caesar's anger against me doth endure.  
Humbly beseech your gods his mind to bend  
That so his wrath may lessen though not end.    

OVID DE PONTO.  
LIB. II.  

Elegy. I.  
To Brutus.  
THE fame of Caesar's triumph hi●her stretches,  
Whether the weary South scarcely reaches  
I thought no good news could to Scythia come,  
I hate the place now less than I have done.  
●t length my cares being vanished out of sight,  
●ike moving clouds; I saw some glimpse of light,  
●o that my fortune I began to flatter,  
●eing glad to raise joy out of any matter.  
●hough Caesar would not these joys should chance to me  
●ou must grant he would have them common be,  
the gods that all men with a cheerful mind  
●light worship them, have festivals assigned,  
●hat they might lay aside, all grief and sadness,  
●nstead thereof expressing holy gladness▪  
So I'll enjoy this joy though he forbid,  
Though it were madness to say that I did.  
When love with fruitful showers the ●ield doth water,  
The corn and C●ckle both grow by it a●ter.  
And I like an 〈◊〉 weed have felt  
This shower of joy which did on m● too melt,  
And did from Caesar's powerful deeds distil  
Whereby I am refreshed against his will:  
Thanks fame to thee, by whose help I have seen,  
This triumph ●●ile I with the Getes have been.  
How infinite natio●s came of late to see  
Their captain's face, this (Fame) I learned f●om thee.  
Thou toldst me how that the Southwind did pour,  
For many days together 〈◊〉 a show●e.  
Yet on that day the sun did shine most cleer●,  
The day rejoy●●d and people that were there,  
While that the conqueror with a loud applause  
Warlike gifts upon worthy men bestows,  
And before he his royal robes put on,  
His offerings at the Altar first were done,  
Sacrificing to his Parents with resp●ct,  
Justice in him her Temple doth erect.  
Where he went, joy was in applauses showed,  
And the street blushed with roses on them strewed.  
Then there were Pageant● brought all silvered o'er,  
That represented towns he took before,  
With 〈…〉 being closed about,  
And the be●eiged seemed to march out.  
The Rivers▪ mountains, woods resembled were,  
And their joined battles were represented there.  
And with their Sunburnt god, as Trophy yielded,  
The Roman Marketpl●ce, was richly guilded.  
And that s● many captains chained were  
By the neck, which chiefly maintained the war.  
The most of which had life and pardon granted,  
Being the chief that in those wars commanded.  
Then may not Caesar's wrath wax mild towards me,  
Who is so merciful to his enemy?  
And Fame (Ger●anians) brought the news to me,  
That all the towns are yielded unto thee.  
Their walls, munition, nor their situation;  
Could not defend them against thy invasion:  
Gods, give thee years, thyself the rest will give.  
That so thy virtues may a long time live.  
Thus I do wish, and Poets Prophets be  
The Gods my wishes seem to ratify.  
And joyful Rome, on plumed steed shall see  
Thee after some brave noble victory,  
In triumph riding to the Tarpeian tower,  
As may become so great a conqueror.  
Your triumph by your father shall be seen,  
●oying in you, as much as you in him.  
To thee most virtuous and va●iant, I  
Thus much do now foretell, and prophesy.  
And if I live and do my griefs abide,  
Thy triumph than I will in verse describe.  
If I with Scythian arrows be not shot,  
Not the Get with his sword my head of cut.  
But if in my life time your wreath of bays  
Be offered in the Temple to your praise.  
You will confess it was twice truth that I,  
Did at this time unto you prophecy.   

Elegy. II:  
To Messalinus.  
OVid, that from his youth did reverence thee,  
And also all thy virtuous family  
That lives in banishment, distres●d and poor,  
Upon the left side of the Euxine shore.  
From the Get●s (Messalina) hath thee health sent,  
Which he in person usually did present.  
Woes me, if thou dost blush to read my name,  
Doubting to read the rest for fear of blame.  
Read them; and banish not my lines with me▪  
My v●rse may lawfu●ly in your City be.  
I made not ●●lion on Ossa stand  
That I might touch the clear stars with my hand.  
Nor followed I Enceladus, that I  
Should ●ight for him 'gainst Caesar's Majesty.  
Nor as Tydides' rash hand did attempt,  
'Gainst higher powers my sword I have not bent,  
My fault is grievo●s, and yet just ne'er less,  
It wrought my ruin by no wickedness.  
Unwary, fearful I may called be,  
These two names with my nature do agree.  
I confess since I Caesar did offend,  
Thou justly missed my prayers slight hearing lend.  
For such is thy love to the Iu●●an name,  
Thou thin●'st thyself wronged if they wrong sustain,  
Yet if thou shouldst come armed, and vow to kill me,  
Thy threatening with no fear at all could fill me.  
The Trojan ship received in distress,  
The val●ant Graec●a● Athemenlde●.  
●e that committeth sacrilege doth ●lye,  
Unto the Altar and is saved thereby.  
And himself to God's power doth commend:  
Whom he before d●d ●ormerly offend.  
Some may say safety in this course can't be,  
Yet my adversity makes it suit with me.  
Let others safety to themselves procure  
A miserable fortune is secure,  
And doth not fear, that any bad suecesse,  
Can bring him into any worse distress.  
He that relies on Fortune, all fea●e scorns,  
And with his naked hands will grasp ●ha●pe thorns▪  
The trembling fearful bird being put into a fright  
By the fierce Hawe●e, and tired in her ●light,  
With trembling wings will to the ●aulkoner sly,  
That so she may a●oyde her enemy.  
The hunted D●ere into some house will run,  
That she the following dogs may thereby shu●ne,  
So gentle friend, let me in my distress▪  
Flying unto thee find most free access.  
Though in a weak estate I c●me to thee,  
Yet let not thy gate be shut against me.  
In my behalf see thou great Caesar move,  
Whom thou dost reverence as much as Jove.  
My cause is the embassage I command,  
Though my case bad is, whatsoever na●'d.  
For I now sick, and even past hope grown,  
Will be recovered by yourself or none,  
Now make use of the Prince's love and grace,  
To mediate some favour in my case:  
Now use thy usual shining eloquence,  
Whereby the guilty have obtained defence.  
You have your father's speech and fluent tongue,  
And to you as his heir they do belong.  
Yet I do not entreat thee to defend  
My cause, it is not that which I intend.  
For that party's case can never be maintained,  
That doth confess he's guilty when arraig●'d.  
Yet see if that thou canst excuse my fault  
Or not, which was by my own error wrought▪  
For since my wound can of no cure admit  
The safest course is not to handle it.  
Be silent tongue, no more thou must unfold,  
Let some things in oblivion be involved.  
Speak to him, ●s if error did deceive me,  
That I may ●njoy life, which he did give me.  
And when his v●sage pleas●nt seems a●d clea●e,  
Which the whole Empire of the world doth fear.  
For some safe place of banishment entreat,  
That I may not be a prey unto the Get.  
The time to make suit is most fit and 〈◊〉,  
Rome knows that you in Caesar's favour are.  
The season is fair, Caesar's in health,  
And Rome doth flourish both in strength and wealth,  
His Queen upon her Couch in health doth lie,  
His son gains his Empire in rich Ita●y.  
Germa●●●us courage exceeds his years,  
Like noble vigour in Dru●us appears.  
His daughters in law, and his kindred dear,  
And all his family in health now are.  
Besides he hath triumphed now of late,  
And brought Dalmatia to a quiet state.  
And now Illyria thinketh it no ●corne,  
Casting away those arms which she had borne,  
To prostrate humbly her most servile neck,  
Beneath great Caesa●s feet even at his beck.  
Who with a sweet and mild aspect beside,  
I● his triumphant Chariot did ride.  
And on his brow which shined with bright rays,  
He wore a green wreath of 〈◊〉 bays.  
Attended with his royal Progeny,  
Who on each side did him accompany.  
Like those brothers, the next Temple doth enfold.  
Which I●lians house in prospect doth behold.  
To them Messalinus in public ●hew,  
Of joy, gave the fi●st place as it was due.  
M●n strove for the next place as zealous love  
To Caesar did their true affections move.  
In this contention of affection he  
Would to no other s●bject second be.  
For he before did reverence this day,  
On which his virtue should receive due pay.  
While to express desert, his head and hair,  
With a green wreath of bays encircled were.  
Happy are they that did this triumph see,  
The Em●erour riding th●s in Maje●ty.  
But I instead of seeing Caesar's f●ce,  
Behold the 〈◊〉 in this place.  
A land wherein there is con●n●●ll war.  
While all the waters with cold ●rozen are.  
Yet if thou hearest now my present mo●e,  
And that the voice of my ●riefe to thee come.  
Then use thy power with Caesar and thy grace  
P●rswade him to remove me from this place.  
Thy father was loved from my youth by me,  
And his ghost seemeth to crave this of thee.  
Thy brother desires it, though he doth fear,  
Thou sh●uldst hurt thyself, taking of me care.  
Thy kindred ask it, not canst thou deny,  
That I was once one of thy family.  
And thou my ill employed wit didst approve,  
Excepting when I writ the Art of Love.  
And if so be my last fault be not named,  
Thy family by my life can't be shamed,  
So may thy house still flourishing appear,  
May gods and Caesar have of thee a care.  
His gentle Majesty offended pray,  
That I may be removed from Scytb●a,  
I know 'tis hard, but virtue still is bent,  
The hardest matters always to attempt,  
Besides the greater thy deservings be,  
The greater thanks thou dost deserve from me.  
Of Aetnaean Polyphemus in his Cave,  
Nor of Antiphates shalt favour crave.  
But of a Prince whose pardon is prepared,  
By whose thunders men are not hurt but scared.  
Who to make sad decrees is discontent,  
Grieving when others suffer punishment.  
Yet my fault hath his mercy overcome,  
And urged his wrath to do what he hath done,  
And since I so far from my Country am,  
I cannot kneel to Caesar and complain.  
Be thou my Priest and unto Caesar pray,  
And let thy own words to my words make way.  
In such sort that they may not him displease,  
Pardon me if Shipwrackt I fear the Seas.   

Elegy. III.  
To Maximus.  
MAximus, like in virtues to thy name,  
Whose wit doth thy nobility not shame.  
Whom to my latest hour I reverenced,  
(For now what differ I from those are dead?)  
Thou leavest not thy friend in adversity,  
Which in this age a miracle may be.  
'tis true, though base, the people still are friends  
For their own profit, and their private ends:  
Their first care is what may expedient be,  
Preferring profit before honesty.  
And as our present fortunes rise or fall,  
So doth their faith and friendship therewithal,  
To find one among thousands it is hard  
Who thinks that virtue doth itself reward.  
The beauty of good actions cannot move them,  
Unless they profit bring, they do not love them.  
And they are very sorry that the rate is  
Of a right honest man, to do good gratis.  
That which brings profit, that is only dear,  
And if no hope of profit should appear,  
None of the people would desire a friend,  
For it is profit which they do attend,  
While every one doth love his private gain,  
And on his singers casteth up the same.  
Thus friendship once a venerable name,  
Like a whore prostitutes itself for gain;  
Therefore I wonder thou hast constant tarried,  
And with this common stream hast not been carried.  
He's stored with friends that's in prosperity,  
If fortune frown, than friends away will fl●e.  
For I had many friends, while gentle gales  
Of prosperous fortune breathed in my sales;  
But when winds of troubles once to rise began.  
Like a ship cleft at Sea they left me then:  
And when some would not know me, two or three  
Of you in my distress did succour me.  
Amongst whom you did chiefly me relieve,  
And unto others didst example give.  
For no re●pect that might thy love envi●●.  
But thou in doing good didst take delight▪  
Showing that virtue needs not to be hired,  
But for her own sake is to be desired.  
And that she cares not for the company,  
Of those external goods which fading bee.  
Thou scornedst to leave thy friend in misery,  
Or to forsake him in adversity.  
It is better to hold thy friend by the chin,  
Then to thrust his head down while he doth swim.  
Ae●cides dead friend unto him was dear,  
And my life doth a kind of death appear.  
When Pirithous to Stygian waters went,  
T●escus to go with him was content.  
Phoc●us loved Orestes being mad▪  
My fault in it a kind of madness had,  
Then as those men for friendship praised be,  
So strive to help your friend in misery.  
If I know you● if you are still the same  
If you your former courage do retain,  
The more that fortune's cruelty doth persist,  
The more you dee her violence resist.  
And as 'tis fit thou takest care that she,  
Shall never have the power to conquer thee.  
Her fighting with thee teacheth thee the slight,  
Toward her blows, and how with her to fight.  
So I by bearing f●rtune● enmity,  
I hereby lea●ne to resist my enemy,  
But thou most rare young, man dost scorn to be,  
●ickle as fortune in inconstancy,  
Or to be at that goddesses command,  
Who on arowlin● 〈◊〉 doth always stand.  
For you are friends and will not from me slip,  
But guide t●e sail of my poor broken ship,  
Which is so weather beaten, that some think,  
Unless you do supp●rt her she will sink.  
Thy wrath at first, was just and mild like thee,  
Who justly we●t offended then with me.  
And when I had grieved Caesar thou didst swear,  
Thou wert so grieved, as if it thy grief were▪  
But when my fault, occasion thou ● add'st heard▪  
Then thou didst grieve, because I had so erred,  
And in thy Lotters thou didst comfort me,  
With hope that Caesar, wrath app●asd might be.  
Our constant, friendship move● thee therein.  
Which did as soon as thou wert borne begin.  
Because that others made a friend of thee,  
But thou wert borne to be a friend to me.  
And I did kiss thee in thy Infancy.  
W●ile t●ou didst smiling in the cradle lie,  
Since from my youth you have been loved by me,  
My troubling you must plead antiquity.  
Your father (eloquent in Roman speech,  
And in nobility of birth as rich)  
Made me my verses unto same commit,  
Being the first encourager of my wit.  
Yet not because I loved thee above all other,  
Do I strive to be esteemed as thy brother.  
My love preferred thee so, that I made thee  
My refuge still in my adversity.  
We parted last, as Italy can tell.  
While upon thee tears from my sad eyes fell.  
When asking me, if my fault were the same,  
Which thou hadst ●eard abroad by evil fame.  
I was doubtful to confess, or to deny,  
Until my blushes did my guilt descry.  
Then as Snow melts which the Southwind doth soften  
So down my cheeks the tears did trickle often,  
Which moved your pity, because that you thought,  
That this offence of mine was my first fault.  
And therefore of your old ●●●end care hast took,  
And in adversity on his wounds dost look.  
For which, if wishes their effect might take,  
I then would wish a thousand for your sake.  
But that my wishes your desire suit may,  
For Caesar's health and your mothers I pray.  
I remember you prayed to the gods for that,  
And with Frankincense made their Altars ●at●   

Elegy. IV.  
To Atticus.  
REcei●e my Letters from the Ister cold,  
Atticus, whom most constant I do hold.  
A●t thou still mindful of thy hapless friend,  
Or doth thy love now languish in the end?  
My fortunes are not so averse to me,  
As to procure forgetfulness in thee.  
Thy Figure still before m● eyes doth glance,  
Me thinke● t●at I do see the countenance;  
And then I do remember presently  
Serious discourses between thee and I,  
With all those happy hou●es which we have spent  
In pleasant jesting, and in ●●erriment.  
Oft in discourse we past the hou●es away,  
And ●ft our conference did ou● last the day.  
To bring my verses to you, I did use,  
And you did pass your judgement on my Muse,  
For that which was commended once by you,  
I did think worthy of the people's view.  
Whose praise I did esteem of more than gains,  
It was the sweet reward of my fresh pains,  
And with a friendly hand thou didst correct,  
My books, all those faults thou didst detect.  
Both in the Court, Porch, and theatre we,  
And in the street would both together be.  
Lastly, dear friend we in our mutual love,  
Aeacides and Actorides did prove.  
If thou shouldst drink the River Lethe's water,  
I think thou couldst not forget this hereafter.  
Su●mers days than winters shall shorter be,  
And Summer nights with winter nights agree,  
Nor Babylon shall be hot, nor Pontus cold,  
Calt●a's Rose, shall 'fore Pa●stums be ●xtold,  
Before thou canst forget our former love,  
My fates cannot so black and dismal prove.  
But yet beware it be not said that I,  
Had too much confidence and credulity;  
And it without trouble if you may defend,  
Most constantly your true and ancient friend.   

Elegy. V:  
To Solanus.  
O'Oid doth Solanus these verses send,  
B●t first he wishes health to you his friend.  
And doth desire his wishes may succeed,  
That you in health dear friend my lines may read:  
Your candour, a fair virtue now decayed,  
Is the cause I for your sake thus have prayed.  
For though wit● you I small acquaintance had,  
You for my sudden ba●ishment were s●d.  
And when you read my verses that were sent  
From Pontus, you to favour them were bent,  
That caessars wrath might not last thou didst wish,  
Whic● if he knew he would not hinder this.  
These prayers did with thy gentle mind agree,  
Which are not less acceptable to me.  
But dear friend, if thou wouldst know my misery,  
The natu●e of this place will then move thee.  
Trust me, thou canst not find all the world o'er,  
A Country that with war is troubled more.  
These verses which I in the wars did frame,  
Thou readst, and having read dost like the same:  
My wit although it slow with a poor vain,  
Thou dost applaud, and likest of my strain;  
Though like a River it a course doth take,  
Yet thou of it, a mighty stream dost make.  
And these thy free applauses I do find,  
Do yield much sweet contentment to my mind,  
Since those who are in m●sery scarce write,  
To please themselves, or yield themselves delight.  
Yet while that I on meaner subjects writ,  
My subject then could not exceed my wit.  
But hearing Caesar's triumph now of late,  
When I attempted a work of that weight.  
The gravity of the matter quite outwent  
My strength, which could not such a work attempt.  
Yet the will aiming high doth merit praise,  
Weak matters have no pow●r themselves to raise.  
Then if this book unto yours hands doth come,  
I charge you to give it protection.  
Which I know you would do though not entreated,  
And with light thanks you shall be now requi●ed.  
No praise, deserve I but thy breast I know  
Is whiter than milk, or untrodden snow:  
Thou admirest others when thy own self art,  
Admirable for thy ●loquence and Art.  
The Prince that from Germany name doth take  
In study doth thee his companion make:  
His young years and his elder thou dost fit,  
Thy manners being equal to thy wit.  
And he doth take delight to hear thee speak,  
While thou in thy own words his mind dost break.  
When you leave off, there's general silence then,  
But when they have a while thus silent been,  
Royal Germanicus from his seat doth rise,  
Like the bright morningstar in Eastern skies.  
When they are silent, he stands up in st●re,  
Whose mild and learned aspect then doth make  
Much expectation, and much hope affords,  
To hear his eloquent and 〈◊〉 words.  
Then ●e without delay doth silence break,  
And you would swear, he like the gods doth speak.  
His speech is such as a great Princes should be,  
His eloquence being full of Majesty.  
Whom though you please, and are raised to this height,  
Read what a banished Poet here doth write.  
For between wits, there will still concord be,  
And those that love one study do agree.  
Clowns do love clowns, and soldiers men of war,  
The Shipmaster doth love the Ma●iner:  
Thou lovest Poetry, and dost study it,  
And being witty favorest my wit.  
Though you the Thyrsus, I the bays do bear.  
Poetic fl●me doth in us both appear.  
Your eloq●ence is stronger than my lines.  
And in my verse your eloquence so shines.  
And since my verse on your study doth con●ine,  
You do defend my verses at this time.  
For which I pray, that thou mayest be esteemed,  
And loved o●Caesar unto thy lives end;  
And of him that sh●ll next the Empire sway,  
For which let all the people with me pray.   

Elegy. VI.  
To Graecinus.  
Ovid Graecinus from the Euxine shore.  
Salutes in verse, in person heretofore.  
Letters in banishment are my voice and tongue▪  
And if I might not write, I should be dumb.  
Thou dost reprove my fault, and sorry art,  
That I am not punished unto my desert.  
Reproo●es are true, but too late ne'ertheless▪  
Then chide not him, that guilty doth confess,  
For I by the Ceraunian rocks had come,  
You might admonish me those rocks to shun.  
Now being shipwrackt what am I availd?  
If you tell me where my ship should have sailed:  
Rathertake hold of me, as I do swim,  
And with your hand hold up my sinking chinn●,  
You do, and therefore may your mother and wife,  
And br●●hren be healthful all their life.  
And since to pray with mind and voice you love,  
May all the Caesars all thy deeds approve.  
'twere base if thou shouldst not in some kind be  
Helpful to thy old friend in misery,  
'twere base if thou thy foot shouldst now pull back,  
Or now my ship in her distress forsake,  
'tis base to follow fortune, and deny,  
A friend cause he's not in prosperity;  
Strophius and Agame●nons sons you know,  
Nor T●eseus and Pirithous lived not so.  
Whom former ages reverenced, and shall be  
Admired by following posterity,  
While whole Theaters did aloud resound,  
With the applauses which their friendship found.  
Thou in adversity dost thy friend preserve,  
Therefore a name amongst them dost deserve.  
Deserving praise too for thy piety,  
For which I will preserve thy memory.  
T●ust me, if my verse shall immortal be,  
You shall be mentioned by posterity,  
Yet let your love, Graecinus faithful be,  
And constant to me in adversit●.  
Which although you already do perform,  
To spu●re a horse that runs can be no harm.   

Elegy. VII.  
To Atticus●  
MY Letter to salute thee first is bent,  
Which●Atti●us, from the fierce Getes is sent  
Next what y●u do, it doth desire to know,  
And if you think on ●e, whatso●re you do.  
I doubt not but you do, but often fear,  
Makes me afraid when no cause doth appear.  
Yet pardon fe●res, w●ich too much on me seize,  
The S●ipwra●kt man's afraid of t●e calm Seas,  
The fish that by the Angler hath been struck,  
Feare● f●od, lest it should prove a ba●ted hook.  
The lamb too from the Shep●erds dog doth runn●,  
Fearing the wol●e, and doth his keeper shun.  
A wound dot● fear the touch though so●t and light,  
And a vain shadow troubled winds dot● 〈◊〉,  
So I once shot with fortune's unkind arrow,  
My 〈…〉 on nothing now but sorrow,  
I sinde t●e fat●s will 〈◊〉 their course begun,  
And in their wonted way will always run,  
No serving of t●e gods sure can make me  
Fortunate, nor can Fortune flattered be,  
For us her only care to ove●tl row me,  
And in wantonn●ss: some mischief do me,  
Trust me, if there be any truth in me,  
My griefs and sorrows cannot reckoned be.  
Y●u may first count ●●●yphia's ●ares of corn,  
Or how much sweet th●me Hybla doth adorn,  
How many birds cut the air with their wing,  
How many fishes through the Sea do swim;  
Before thou canst all my griefs understand,  
Which I have suffered both by Sea and land.  
No people than the Getes more cruel be,  
Yet they have pitied my misery;  
Which if I should describe to thee in verse,  
An Iliad of my griefs I should rehearse.  
Yet fear I not thou wilt inconstant prove,  
H●ving had many pledges of thy love,  
But since that misery fears everything,  
And joy from me long time hath banish● been;  
●y sorrows are into a custom grown,  
As water drops oft falling make a stone  
●ollow, so Fortune doth me so oft wound,  
That no place for a new stroke can be found.  
Nor is the plough by often use more worn,  
the Appian way by bending w●eeles more torn;  
Than is my breast with length of misery,  
●et I have nothing found that could ●●lpe me.  
●ome by the liberal Ar●s have gotten fame,  
●ut by my gifts destruction I did gain.  
My former l●●e was blamel●sse, without spot,  
Yet this in misery avayled me not.  
Great faults are pardoned, when that friends entreat.  
But none at all in my behal●e would sp●ake.  
T●oubles befall some when t●ey present be,  
But I was absent when they fell on me.  
Though Caesar's wrath not crush where it is bent?  
●eproch was added to my punishment.  
The time doth often lighten banishment,  
●ut in the winter I to Sea was sent,  
And Ships oft ●nd t●e winter calm enough,  
〈◊〉 ship found not the Sea more rough.  
Faithful companions might some com●ort be,  
●ut I was robbed by my company.  
●or the place of Exile, no land doth l●e  
Under both Poles so full of misery.  
●is comfort to our Country to be n●ere,  
●'me in the farthest part of the world here,  
●y Caesar's power, banished men protected are,  
●ut Po●tus still is troubled with fierce war.  
To spend the time in ploughing of the ●●eld,  
●s a delight which doth some pleasure yield,  
But the ●ierce enemy lying near us, will  
Not suffer us to plough the ground or till.  
The mind and body love a temperate air,  
Sarn●atian f●ces with cold frozen are.  
To drink sweet water doth the palate pl●ase;  
Our water is salt like that in the Seas.  
Though all things fail▪ my mind doth overcome▪  
And that is it which makes my body strong.  
To bear a burden you must strive withal,  
But if you bend or yield, than you will fall.  
And my hope that the Prince's wrath may be,  
Appealed, doth make me live, and c●m●orts me.  
And you no small comfort to me do yield,  
Whose faith I in my troubles have beheld.  
Proceed as you have now begun I pray,  
Leav● 〈◊〉 a Ship in the mi●st of the Sea.  
Me and your judgement you shall so preserve,  
Which judged that I your friendship did deserve.   

Elegy. VIII.  
To Cotta.  
THe Caesar's Pictures that like the gods be,  
Which, Cotta, you sent were deliv●r'd me.  
And that your gi●t might more acceptance find,  
Livia's there was with the Caesars joined.  
These silver pieces are than gold more blessed,  
Wh●reon the Caesar's figures are expressed.  
You could have given no greater wealth to me,  
Than Pictures wherein I three god● see.  
To see the gods in Picture comforts me,  
To speak as 'twere unto their Majesty;  
Me thinks remote lands do not me contain,  
But I returned in the City am.  
I do see Caesar's face as I did before,  
Though I scarce have hope to see him more;  
And as before I salute his Majesty,  
If I returned I could not happier be.  
What do not we behold but the palace?  
Whereto great Caesar's presence giveth grace:  
Beholding him, me thinks I Rome do s●e,  
His face presents his Empire unto me.  
Dream I? or doth his Pictu●e still appear,  
To threaten, as with me he angry were?  
O spare me then, whose virtues do exc●ede  
And in thy just revenge do not ●roceede.  
Spare me young Prince the glory of our time,  
Whose nature doth to sovereignty incline:  
By thy land to thee than thyself more dear,  
By the gods who do always hear thy praye●;  
And by your Consort, who was found to be  
Fit o●ely to match with your Majesty.  
And by thy son, so like in virtues grown.  
T●at to be thine he may be thereby known.  
And by all your other kindred who be,  
By your command advanced to high degree.  
Abate my punishment and grant that I  
May live 〈◊〉 from the Syt●ian enemy.  
And you that next unto great Caesar are,  
Be not averse unto my humble prayer,  
So may subdued Germany soon be,  
Carried in solemn triumph before thee.  
So may thy Father live to Nestor's years  
And thy old mother until ●he appears  
A Cum●an Syb●ll, and mayst thou long  
Be unto both of them a happy son.  
And you his royal Queen be pleased to grant  
The humble prayers of a poor suppliant.  
So may your husband and your progeny  
Live in health and your royal family.  
So may Drusus only of your offspring die,  
Being snatched from you by fate in Germany.  
So may thy son on his white horse soon be,  
The revenger of his brother's destiny.  
Ye gentle powers 〈◊〉 this my fearful prayer,  
Help me since you by picture present are.  
I take delight your countenance to see,  
Since thr●e gods in one house encluded be.  
H●ppy are they w●o in your presence do,  
Your majesty's ●n ● not your picture view.  
Which since my hapless fate to me envies,  
I ●dore the pictures of your Majesties.  
Thus men did know the gods in the skies hid,  
And for great Jove, Jove's Image honour did.  
Let not your Images which shall still reside  
With me, here in this hateful place abide.  
My head shall sooner be cut from my neck,  
My eyes be digged out and lie on my cheek;  
Then I w●nt the pictures of your Majesty,  
In banishment they shall my comfort be.  
For you I would ●mbrace, if by the stout  
Armed Getes I were encompassd round about:  
And following the Roman Eagles I  
Will follow the pictures of y●ur Majesty.  
But my desires are to deceive me bent,  
Or t●ere is hope of milder banishment.  
The Pictures aspects do more mild appear,  
And seem as if they granted my desire:  
And may my fearful mind the truth presage,  
That Caesar's wrath, although just, may a●●wage.   

Elegy. Ix..  
To Cotys.  
COtys, who art of a royal progeny,  
Fetching from Eumolpus thy Pedigree.  
If Fame have brought the news unto your ●are,  
That in a Country near you I live here.  
Then hear my humble speech gent●e young man,  
And help a banished man, since that yoh can.  
Fortune delivered me to thee, (nor I  
Complain) she was not then my ene●y.  
On thy shore to ●●ceive me shipwrackt please,  
Let not thy land be unsafer than Seas.  
To help the distressed is a royal thing,  
And such great men as you are doth beseem.  
This becomes your fortune, which though it be  
Great, is not like your mind's nobility.  
For power can never better be expres●,  
Than when it hears and grants a just request,  
Thy great descent requireth this of thee,  
This work suits thy divine nobility.  
Eumolpus whence thy famous descent is  
And Erichthonius persuade thee to this.  
In this you are like gods, both of you grant,  
After some suit help to your suppliant.  
Why should we honour gods with wonted care  
But that the gods to help us ready are?  
If ●●piter would not hear prayers at all,  
Should sacrifices in his Temple fall?  
If Seas in passage have not quiet been,  
Why unto Neptune should I vain gifts bring?  
If Ceres do the ploughman's ●ope deceive,  
Why should she inwards of a Sow receiv●●  
The goat on Bacchus' altar is not laid,  
Vnl●sse much wine that Vintage hat● been made,  
We with t●at Caesar may the Empire reign,  
So long as he well governeth the same.  
Thus honours given both to gods and men,  
For help, and profit that's r●ceiv'd from them.  
T●en Cotys help me who in thy land lie,  
And be thou like thy noble Progeny,  
For one to help another in misery,  
Is a duty belongs to humanity.  
Besides there is no better way to gain  
B● any other Art favour or fame.  
An●●●hates or Le●●●igon who doth love,  
Alcinous bounty who doth not approve?  
C●●●andrus, nor Caphar●us thy father is,  
Nor ●et the cruel tyrant Pha●aris.  
He's fierce in wars, and not to be withstood,  
So peace once made he ne'er d●si●eth blood.  
Besides the liberal Arts being studied often  
Exp●ll all rudeness, and the mind do soften.  
In which no other King hath thee outwent  
Or in those gentle studies more time spent,  
Thy verses witness it, which thy name shows,  
A Thracian●oung man happil● did compose:  
Or else some Orph●us that doth here abide;  
In thy wit the Bistonian land takes pride.  
As on occasion thou thy arms ca●st take  
And a ●●erce slaughter on the ●nemy make.  
Or sometime with thy strong arm sling thy da●●,  
Or as in●●ling thou most cunning art.  
So h●ving studied Arts of sovereignty,  
When matters in thy kingdom quiet be:  
lest you in sloth should seem then to delight,  
Your M●se, unto the stars doth take her slight:  
This of our league may some occasion be,  
B●cause we both, do honour poesy.  
A Poet p●ayes a Poet, with ●eav'd up ●ands  
To live, though exiled safely in your lands.  
For when that I did into Pontus come,  
By poison mixed I had no murder do●e.  
And no false tables forged by me were  
Which did with counterfeited seals appear.  
Nor did I any thing which laws forbid,  
Yet I confess that I a worse fault did.  
If you ask what, the Art of Love I writ,  
My guilt● hand did this offence commit.  
Tother offence do not desire to know,  
Under my Art of Love it must hid go.  
But yet the judge did moderate his wrath,  
And unto exile on●ly sent me hath:  
And though far from my Country let me b●,  
Safe in this hated place, since near to thee.   

Elegy. X.  
To Macer.  
MAcer, thou Mayst know that thy Ovid writ  
This Letter to thee, by the s●ale on it.  
Or if the seal do not the author show  
Dost thou know that my hand this Letter drew?  
Or hath length of ●ime made thee both forget  
That thy eyes know them not, before thee set?  
Though hand and seal should both forgotten be,  
You fo●got not the care you had of me.  
Which for our old acquaintance you should show,  
Or because my wife was a friend to you,  
Or for our studies, which you did use  
And by no Art of love did them abuse.  
That w●ich immortal Homer left undone  
Of Trojan wars was by thy o●ne muse sung.  
But unwise Ovid, while he did impart  
The Art of Love, was punished for his Art.  
Yet Poets do amongst themselves agree,  
Though every one in writing different be.  
We have amongst us all one common bays,  
Though all of us d●e follow several ways.  
Of me though absent you will mindful be,  
And willingly help me in my misery.  
The city's fair of Asia I have seen  
And Trinacris while you my guide have been:  
We saw the Heavens shine with Aetnean flame,  
Which from the giant's mouth beneath it came,  
Aetnean Lakes, and Palicus pools not sweet,  
And where Anapus doth Cyane meet▪  
Not far of that Spring, which while it doth shu●n●  
The River 〈◊〉, under ground doth run.  
Here I did spend a great part of the year,  
How unlike this place Geticke lands appear!  
How many other places did we see,  
Whilst you made the way pleasant unto me?  
Both while our Ship cut the wave● with his keel,  
Or t●e Coach carried us with nimble 〈◊〉.  
Oft our discourse did make the way to seem  
Short, while our words more than our steps have been!  
Oft our discourse was longer than the day,  
While our discourse past summer's days away.  
Of perils at Sea we have been afraid  
And to the gods have both together prayed.  
We acted both together, and again  
Told others jests, which ●o tell was no shame.  
If you remember this, though I should be,  
Here all my life time, yet you might me see.  
Under the North Pole of the world I am,  
●hich doth above the Sea one point maintain.  
Y●t in my mind I do thee still be hold  
And talk with thee under the Pole so cold.  
Famous friend thou art here unknown to thee,  
Though absent, thou art present here with me.  
Me thinks I see thee here among the Getes,  
Come from the 〈◊〉 love works these conceits.  
〈◊〉 Lieu whereof since those lands happier be,  
Have me there always in your memory.   

Elegy. XI.  
To Rufus.  
OVid by whom the Art of Love was penned  
These lines in haste doth to thee Ru●us s●nd  
That thou●h we the whole world asunder be:  
Yet thou Mayst know I do remember t●ee.  
For I shall sooner sure my name forget,  
Than thy love shall out of my mind be beat,  
And I shall sooner render up my spirit,  
Than I shall be unthankful to your merit:  
Your merit wa● your tears, which did bedew  
Your face, when mine with sorrow still dry grew.  
Your merit was, that comfort to my mind  
Which you did give, and both of us did find.  
My wife deserves praise for her own conditions,  
Yet she grows better by your admonitions.  
I am glad you will my wife's counsellor be,  
As Hector to Iul●s, Castor to Hermione.  
She strives to be like you in what is good,  
And by he● life seems to be of your blood.  
And what she would do without provocation,  
She does more fully by your fair persuasion.  
The swift horse that within the race doth run,  
Will run more swiftly if he be spurred on.  
Besides in absence th●u performst my will,  
And for my sake refusest no pains still.  
Because we cannot, may the gods thank thee,  
Who do reward those good deeds which they see.  
And may thy virtues with long life be crowned,  
●ufus the glory of the Fundane ground,    

OVID DE PONTO.  

LIB. III.  
Elegy. I.  
To his Wife.  
O Sea on which young Jason fi●st did row,  
O Land, ne'er wanting enemies and snow.  
When will the time come Ovid shall you leav●  
While some quieter place doth him receive?  
Must I still live where barbarism abounds?  
Must I be buried here in Tomos grounds?  
With favour I speak it, if there may be,  
Any peace or favour Po●tus, within thee  
With favour thou dost make my bani●hment  
So grievous, and my sufferings dost augment.  
Thou dost not see the garland-crowned haymaker,  
Nor dost behold the thin clothed sweating reaper.  
Autumn doth yield no ripened grapes to thee,  
But all thy seasons extream● cold still be.  
Thou 〈◊〉 up the Seas, that fish have been  
Oft frozen in the waves while they did swim.  
Thou hast no springs, but of salt brackish water,  
Which do not qu●nch thirst, but increase it rather.  
A few poor withered trees in the fields grow,  
And the land like the b●rren Sea doth ●how.  
No birds do sing their sweet and pleasant notes,  
But Vultures cro●ke out of their hollow throats  
When sl●ing hither from some remote wood,  
They come to quench their thirst in the salt ●lood.  
Sa● worm●wood grows here in the empty field,  
Which bitter harvest like the place doth yield.  
Besides assaults of enemies we fear,  
Whose arrows dipped in deadl● poison are.  
Besides this Country far remo●e doth lie,  
And none by land or sea can come safely.  
Wonder not then if I desire to be  
Sent to som● place that yields less misery  
But wonder (wife) that these things do not make  
Thee weep, and to shed tears even for my sake.  
If you ask what you should seek, seek some favour,  
You sha●l find it, if you do● it endeavour.  
Wish and desire that you may it obtain,  
And break your sl●epe with thinking on the same.  
Many wish it, for who so unjust is  
That restless banishment doth to me wish?  
It becom●s you with all strength to endeavour  
Con●inually to work for me some ●avour.  
For thou wi●e shouldst exceed another friend,  
And first of all shouldst help to me extend.  
For to my books thou shouldst conform thy life,  
Which call thee the example of a wife.  
Do not degenerate but let me see,  
That I the truth of thee did prophesy,  
And see that thou dost take heed to maintain  
Thy former glory, and well gotten fame,  
Though I complain not, fame will accuse thee,  
Unless as tho● oughtst, tho● tak'st care of me.  
Fortune exposed me to the people's view  
And made me known to more than ere I knew.  
Capan●us struck with thunder was more known,  
And Amphiaraus when his horse sunk down  
Into the earth, V●ysses was throughout  
The world known, by wandering about,  
And Philoctetes by his wound did gain  
A general knowledge, and much glorious fame,  
I mean men with such great ones may ●anc●'d be,  
My ruin giveth glory unto me.  
Besides you know my books have raised your fame,  
Equal in honour unto Battis name.  
The world shall view the actions of thy life,  
And approve thee to be a loyal wife.  
He that thy praises doth in my verse read,  
May ask if they from merit do proceed,  
Since many will thy virtuous life commend,  
So some thy actions will soon reprehend.  
Prevent their envy that they may not say  
That thou to help thy husband didst delay.  
And though I fail to draw the yoke with thee  
O● marriage, y●t be still a wife to me.  
Being sick my Physician I do look,  
Stay with me, till all life hath me forsook.  
And since thou ar● in health, show unto me  
T●at love, which I in health would show to thee.  
Our marriage love doth this of thee require,  
Thy nature wife, doth thee with love inspire:  
Your house requires this of you whence you came  
Whose honest credit you should still maintain.  
For unless you be a praiseworthy wife,  
None will think, that you hono●rd Martia's life:  
Nor am I unworthy, if you'll confess  
The truth, or altogether meritlesse;  
For which thou largely hast requited me,  
So that ●ame if she would cannot hurt thee.  
Increase thy former good deeds by addit●on  
Of helping me, let this be thy ambition.  
Entreat that in some quiet Country I  
May live, and this thy love shall testify.  
My suit is great, yet can no harm procure  
If granted not r●p●lse I can endure.  
Be not slender, that my verse moves you  
To perform that which I do know you do,  
The Trumpet●r doth valiant men excite,  
And the captain doth encourage men to fight.  
That you, are honest Time doth testify,  
Let virtue equalise your honesty.  
The Amazo●ian ax● thou needst not take,  
Or bear in hand a Buckler for my sake;  
Only entreat great Caesar he would be,  
Though not pleased, ●et less angry with me.  
And let thy tears for mercy intercede,  
For they will Caesar move while thou dost plead▪  
Thy husband's misery will afford thee plenty  
Of tears, an ● never let thy eyes be empty.  
My troubles will yield matter to be wail  
My fortune, so that tears can never fail:  
If with thy death thou couldst red●eme my life,  
Then thou wouldst follow Admetus dear wife.  
And thou like to Penelope wouldst cheat  
Thy urgent suitors with a chaste deceit.  
Laodamia would teach thee to die,  
With thy husband and to bear him company.  
Thou wouldst think upon Iphias and desire,  
To throw thyself into a funeral fire.  
Thy death or a spun web I do not need,  
But that to Caesar's wife thou intercede,  
Whose vert●es excel, lest antiquity  
Should exceed our age for praised chastity.  
Who Juno's stool, and Venus' beauty had  
Which made her worthy of the royal bed.  
Why dost thou tremble, or her presence fear?  
Thou shalt speak to no wicked Progne there.  
No●Agamemnons wife, Aegistus daughter,  
Nor Scylla that ba●kes in S●●●lian water.  
No●Telegonus mother cl●anging shapes,  
Nor Medusa with hair full of curled snakes,  
But a Princess, who made fortune to find  
Eyes, and is falsely accused to be blind.  
Who next to Caesar is most famous grown.  
●ven from the rising to the setting sun.  
Then choose a time, that for suit fit may be,  
●east thou fail wanting opportunity.  
The Oracles have not at all times spoken,  
Nor do the Temples at all times stand open.  
When city's state is happy, as 'tis now  
●o that no grief contracts the people's brow.  
When that August●s house, and Progeny,  
Which like the Capitol adored should be.)  
Doth flourish in height of prosperity,  
As now it doth and may it still so be.  
Then take a happy opportunity,  
When thou dost think thy words shall powerful be,  
●f he be busy then thy suit defer,  
●east ●ashn●sse should destroy my hopes bewa●e,  
And yet again I do not bid thee go,  
To him when he hath no affairs to do.  
Since he hath hardly leisure to put on  
Those royal rob●s which unto him belong,  
When with t●e ancient Senators he doth sit  
In the Court, then to go to him 'tis fit:  
W●en thou comm●st before Juno's Majesty,  
Look you remember then to speak for me.  
Defend not my offence, for it ●s best  
That an ill cause in silence be suppressed.  
And therefore in thy speech take only care  
To plead for me by earnest suit and prayer.  
Then presently thou mayest shed tears and weep  
And prostrate thyself at their royal fee●e.  
Ask, that from the foe I may removed be:  
Fortune hath been a foe enough to me.  
More I 〈◊〉 ●ay, but thou with fear d●smaid,  
Wilt scarcely speak even that which I have s●id  
And ●et this fear c●nnot endamage thee:  
It will show that thou dost dread her Majesty.  
Nor can it hurt, if tears thy speech of break,  
For sometimes tears as much as words do speak.  
And on a prosperous day thy first suit mak●  
In an hour may be fit, and fortunate.  
But first to the gods holy Altar bring  
Wine and sweet mcense for an offering.  
Let Augustus above all adored be,  
With his Conso●t, and royal Progeny.  
May they their wonted graciousness still keep,  
And pity thee, when they do see thee weep.   

Elegy. II.  
To Cotta.  
COtta, I wish the health that's sent from me,  
As it is truly sent, may come to thee.  
For to my sorrows thou dost yield relief,  
And dost take off a good part of my grief.  
While others leave me, and away do slip,  
Thou art an Anchor to my ●orne ship,  
Thy love is grateful, and we pardon them▪  
That left me, since my fortunes changed have been.  
When one is thunder struck, all that are near  
To him was struck, are struck with sudd●ine fear:  
Or when a wall is ready down to come,  
All from that place for fear of it do ●unne.  
Who doth not shun the sick with circumspection,  
●caring lest he from them should draw insect ●n?  
●o some of my friends that too fearful were,  
●orsooke me not for hatred, but for fear.  
Nor love in them was wanting or good will,  
●ut the offended gods they feared still.  
●●ey may be called circumspect and wary,  
●ut yet not wicked, although they were chary.  
●hus I excuse my friends in courtesy,  
That towards me they might not faulty be,  
And with my pardon let them be content.  
●hat so they may be from all blame exempt.  
●ou better friends are not ashamed to be  
●elpefull unto me in adversity.  
〈◊〉 memory of your merit cannot fade  
●ill my consumed body be ashes made.  
N●y it shall survive me when I am dead,  
If by posterity I shall be re●d.  
For though our bodies in the grave must lie,  
Yet Fame and 〈◊〉 live ete●nally:  
Theseus and Orestes both were slain,  
Yet they still live by their praise worthy fame.  
And you shall be praised by succeeding times  
Your love shall be most famous by my lines.  
The Sauromates and Ge●es, do know your love,  
And barbarous people do of it approve.  
For when I of your love to them made mention,  
(Speaking the 〈◊〉 and Sarmatian tongue)  
By chance an old man there in company,  
Did in this following manner answer me.  
The name of friendship (stranger) we have known,  
Although our Count●y be far from your own;  
A place in S●ythia is T●urus named.  
Which is not far of from the G●ticke land.  
Of this my bi●th place, I am not ashamed,  
D●ana is much honoured in this Land,  
Her Te●ple built on Pillars doth remain,  
To which by fourteen ●ising steps they came:  
Her Image here (as Fame says) was contained,  
The Basis of the Image still doth stand:  
The Altar which was builded of white stone,  
Looks red with blood that hath been shed thereon,  
T●e noblest Virgin, Scythia can show,  
Performs those sacred ●ites which are due:  
A stranger then (as those times did ordain)  
By the Virgins for a sacrifice is slain.  
Thus these kingdoms had well known all o'er,  
The Euxine Seas, and the Maeoticke shore,  
In his reign, one came hither as they say,  
Flying, who was called Iphigenia.  
W●om the light winds, did carry through the air,  
Till Phoebe (they believe) set her down here,  
Many years she this Temple did command  
And sacrificed with an unwilling hand.  
When two young men did in a Ship come hither,  
And both did land upon the shore together.  
Equal in love and years, the one of these  
Orestes was, the other Pylades.  
Their names for friendship which they did maintain,  
To one another, are cried up by fame,  
Unto Diana's cruel Altar straight,  
With their hands bound behind them they were brought,  
The priestess sprinkled them with holy water,  
Covering her yellow hair, with a veil after:  
And while she doth the sacrifice prepare,  
And with a fillet bindeth up her hair  
While she doth seek occasion any way,  
To lengthen out the time with slow delay.  
It is not I that cruel am said she,  
And therefore young men pray you pardon me,  
But to perform these rites it is my case  
Which are more barbarous than his savage place,  
It is the custom of this nation,  
Whence are you, from what City did you come?  
Or whether was your hapless ship then bound,  
When you did first arrive upon this ground?  
T●is said, when as the Virgin heard them n●me  
Their Land, she knew they from her City came,  
One of you must be sacrificed, said she,  
But t'other may return home presently,  
Pylades that was ready to die there,  
B●d Orestes go home whom he loved dear,  
But brave Oreste● to go did deny,  
And both of them contended which should die.  
This only made them both to disagree,  
Who still had lived in peaceful amity.  
While these brave young men, did in love contend,  
Vnt● her brother ●he a letter penned:  
Giving it one of them, it came to pass,  
(Mark how it fortuned) he her brother was:  
Which known, Diana's Image they took away,  
O●t of the Temple, and so sailed away.  
The young men's love, though many years agone,  
Yet through all Scythia is famous grown.  
When the old man had this old fable told,  
They all did praise their love▪ and courage bold,  
So that even here, in these most savage parts,  
The name of friendship, moves their hard hearts.  
What ought you then to do, being borne in Rome?  
When such deeds move the Getes compassion.  
Besides thy gentle mind and manners be,  
The Cognisance of thy Nobility.  
Such as the name of Vol●sus do become,  
And such as Nu●a need not shame to own.  
Of t●e name of Cotta, thy house can't be  
Ashamed, who dost uphold thy family.  
Worthy man, think that it doth well agree  
With virtue, to help friends in misery.   

Elegy. III.  
To Maximus.  
IF thou hast time to bestow on thy friend,  
Maximus, chief of Fabius attend  
While I relate to thee what I have seen,  
Either it was a true shape, or a dream.  
The moon upon my window shined one night,  
As she in the midst of the month shines bright.  
Sleep that doth ease all cares, had me possessed  
While I lay on my bed, and took my rest.  
A pair of wings a noise in the air did make,  
And the glass windows did a little shake.  
I frighted, raised myself up in my bed,  
On my left elbow, sleep away soon fled,  
When Love with sad looks, did before me stand,  
Bearing a Maple sceptre in his hand▪  
No chain on's neck, no Corone● on his hair,  
His locks not combed, as heret●fore they were.  
His hair hung o'er his face, and it did s●eme,  
The feathers of his wings had ruffled been,  
Such as upon the airy Doves back stand,  
When she hath handled been, by many a hand.  
When I knew him (whom I so well had know●e)  
To speak to him in this sor● I begun;  
Oh boy, that hast thy Master's exile wrought,  
Whom I had better never to have taught;  
Why dost thou hither come where there's no pea●e,  
But barbarous Ister's water still doth freeze?  
Thou didst dictate to me my youthful rhymes  
And mad'st me to write elegiac Lines.  
Thou wouldst not have me rise by Homer● verse,  
While I great captains actions did rehearse.  
Perhaps thy bow and Torch did spoil my wit,  
For I had some, and they did weaken it.  
For w●ile I of thee, and thy mother sung,  
My mind no greater work did think upon,  
And besides this, I did in verse discover  
The Art of Love, unto the ignorant Lover.  
For which I am now banished to a place  
That's far remote, and where there is no peace,  
Eumolp●n was not such to Orpheus,  
Nor Olympus to Phrygian Satyrus.  
Chiron not so by Achilles' hurt was,  
And Numa did not hurt Pythagoras.  
Instead of reckoning nam●s were long agone  
I by my scholar perished alone.  
While I armed thee, and taught thee wanton shift●,  
Thou didst reward thy master with such gifts,  
Yet thou dost know, and thou Mayst safely swear,  
No married folks by me instructed were.  
I writ to those who do not bind their hair,  
With a chaste fillet, nor a long robe wear.  
When did I teach how wives should be beguiled?  
While the● scarce know by whom they are with chil●.  
Yet what avails this, if they think I did  
Write, the Art of Adultery forbid.  
So may thy arrows hit the mark aright,  
So may thy blazing torch never want Light,  
So may great Caisar o'r● this Empire reign,  
Who is thy cousin, and from Aeneas came.  
If thou his anger dost so far appease,  
That to remove me hence, he would but please▪  
Me thought I spoke thus to the winged Lad,  
And from him this same following answer had,  
By my arrows, and the blazing Torch I bear  
By my mother, and by Caesars●ead I swear,  
That none but lawful rules thou hast me taught,  
And in thy Art of Love there was no fault.  
And I do know thou Mayst defend the same,  
But for another fault thou art to blame.  
For though I will not thy sad grief renew.  
That was the chief●st fault that thou didst do.  
Although an error thou wouldst have it thought,  
Thy punishment 〈◊〉 not like to thy fault,  
To visit thee, and comfort thee here lying,  
Down through the air I on my wings came flying.  
This place I first saw, when 〈◊〉 the request  
Of my mother, I did wound Calistho's breast.  
And for thy sake I visit thee again,  
Who to my colours hast t●ue soldier been.  
Fear not, for Caesa●s wrath being milder grown,  
The happy hour which thou desirest shall come●  
Fear not delay, the time i● now at hand,  
For while his triumph doth great joy command.  
While'● mother rejoices, and his family,  
And Father who is Pater Patri●.  
While people praise him, and sweet incense burn,  
Which makes the Altars of the City warm.  
And while the Temple affords me access,  
Hope that my prayers may help thee in distress●.  
This said, his slight he through the air did take,  
And then my senses did begin to wake.  
Believe these words although I doubtful am,  
And sooner think there may be a black Swan,  
Yet milk white cannot to black changed 〈◊〉,  
Nor Ivory white, turn to black Ebony,  
Thy noble birth doth with thy mind agree,  
Hercules heart thou hast and honesty.  
Envy that slothful vice in thee's not found,  
Which like a Viper creeps low by the groun●,  
Thy lofty mind above thy birth doth fly,  
Not greater than thy ingenuity.  
Some seek by oppression to be feared of all,  
And do bear dar●s of envy dipped in gall,  
Your house doth use to help the supplian●  
Among which to count me I pray you gran●.   

Elegy. IV.  
To Rufinus.  
THese words which health unto thee do commend  
Thy Ovid, doth from 〈◊〉 City send;  
Favour this paper-Triumph I command,  
Rufi●●● if it come unto thy hand.  
The work is small, though the triumph were great,  
Yet howsoe'er receive it I entreat.  
The strong and healthful need no Machaon  
The sick man doth to the physician run.  
Great Poets do no gentle reader need,  
For they can make the unwilling Reader read,  
But I who either had at all no wit,  
Or else long labour hath decayed it,  
My weakness by your candour is made strong  
Which if you take away then all is gone.  
And since my works your courteous favour crav●,  
This book especially may pardon have▪  
Other Poets wrote the triumph they did see,  
And the sight helps the hand and memory.  
But I beheld it only by relation,  
Instead of seeing, I heard the narration.  
And c●n those strains, and passions, alike be,  
That proceed from things heard, and things we see●  
Nor am I grieved, I did not see the gold  
And silver Pageants, which you did behold.  
But the places and lands which they did present,  
And battles had given my verse nourishment.  
And the King's royal aspect● at that time,  
Would have helped me in this same work of mine.  
The people's loud applause had power in it,  
With acclamations to warm any wit.  
Such vigour in myself I should have found,  
As soldiers do that hear the trumpet sound.  
Were my heart colder than the Ice or Snow,  
Or this place where I misery undergo.  
If that I should the general behold,  
In's Ivory Chariot, I should feel no cold.  
I ●earing the relation of this sight,  
Do desire you to favour what I write,  
The captain's names, and places, are unknown  
To me, I have no matter to write upon.  
How little of it could I hear by fame,  
Or who by writing could relate the same?  
Therefore, O Reader, you ought pardon me  
If I have erred, or aught omitted be.  
Besides, my Muse being used to complain,  
Can hardly reach unto a joyful strain.  
My words do only suit an elegy,  
And joy doth seem to me a Novelty.  
And as the eye unused to the sun,  
Is dazzled when that it doth look thereon,  
Even so joy is an object far too bright  
For my mind, which doth dazzle at the sight.  
And those things are most grateful which are new,  
No thanks to slow officiousness are due.  
Much of this Triumph hath been writ before,  
Which I suppose the people have read o'er.  
The thirsty reader, did their lines drink up,  
When he is full, he will drink of m● cup.  
And then their lines like wine seemed brisk and fresh,  
But mine will seem both warm and waterish.  
It was nor sloth that made me come behind,  
But because I so far off am confined.  
Ere I could hear the news, and make in haste,  
Vers●s, and send them a year might be past.  
Besides it is better at the first to pull,  
An● gather Roses when the gardens full:  
Then to come aft●r and pluck what you find,  
And gather that which hath been left behind.  
If others the flowers of the garden take,  
Can we a garland for the Emperor make?  
Yet let no Poets my words misesteeme,  
As spoke against those verses made by them.  
Let them not gather this construction hence,  
My Muse hath spoke but in her own defence.  
Poets, I am one of your company,  
And of your Tribe although in misery.  
Friends I did always in my soul affect you,  
And now in absen●e I as much respect you.  
Then favour my verse, and let them gain thence,  
Applause, since I can't speak in my defence.  
Those works are grievous and do oftenest please  
That come forth after the author's decease,  
Because that envy doth unjustly use,  
To wound the living and their name abuse.  
If sad life be death, than I am dead;  
And only stay but to be buried.  
The earth is only stayed that should be thrown  
Upon me, and I only want a tomb.  
Lastly although my work should all offend,  
Yet no man will my duty reprehend.  
Though strength do fail, the will praiseworthy is  
The gods I suppose are content with this.  
And accept the poor man's will, that doth bring  
A lamb, as w●ll as an ox offering.  
This Subject was so great, that it was fit  
For that chief Poet who Aeneids wr●t.  
Soft Elegies the great weight could not bear  
Of Triumph, since their feet unequal were,  
And I am doubtful now, what verse to frame,  
For Rhine shall yield a new triumph again.  
Poet's presages have not untrue been,  
Fresh bays must Caesar crown, while these are green.  
Nor do you read my words, who here am sent,  
To the River Ister unto banishment.  
Where the Getes who are never pacified,  
Drink of the stream, as it along doth glide.  
They are the words of that power that inspi●es me,  
By whose 〈…〉 thus prophesy.  
Livia why delay you to prep●re,  
His chariot for his triumphs gained by war?  
Unfaithful Germany throws her spears away  
My prophecy hath weight, you now willsay.  
Believe me, it to pass shall shortly come,  
That honours shall be doubled on thy son:  
And in his chariot he shall then be seen,  
Drawn on with horses as he once hath been.  
Bring forth his robes that are of purple dye,  
To clothe ●is shoulders for his victory.  
His wre●th of bays may even know his head,  
Which it so often hath encircled.  
His Buckler, Helmet shall with gold shine bright,  
A●d pecious stones which cast a glittering light.  
The pieces of those Trophies he did get  
From the foe, shall above their head be set.  
The towns are compassed with a towering wall,  
And the feigned show doth seem to be real.  
Let conquered Rhine, go now under the spear,  
And drink those waters which with blood died were.  
The Captive Kings, shall all of them lay by,  
Their barbarous ornaments of regali●ie.  
And all their royal robes and vestures, which  
Are for their present fortune far too rich▪  
And other honours too, which ought to be  
Emblems of virtue, in thy ancestry.  
Ye gods, by wh●se power I do prophesy,  
I pray you my words quickly verify.   

Elegy. V.  
To Cotta.  
Wouldst know from whence this letter doth thee greet?  
From thence, where Ister doth the b●ew Sea meet.  
The place 〈◊〉 named you ought to think on me,  
Ovid who perished by ingenu●tie;  
Who from the savage Getes, doth send thee health,  
Cotta, which he had rather bring himself.  
Young man, heir to thy Father● eloquence, we  
Have read the words spoke in full Court by thee▪  
And having spent many hour●s to read them o'er,  
I was then sorry that they were no more.  
By often reading more of them I did make,  
And always much delight in them did take.  
Which still their former sweetness did retain,  
And I was pleased with the strength of thy vain,  
They are happy that thy speeches hear and know,  
And from whose mouth such eloquence doth flow,  
Though waters sweet, which we away do bring,  
It's sweeter being drunk out of the Spring.  
To ●ather apples from the bough it is,  
Pleasanter than being took out of a dish.  
But if my erring Muse had not banished me,  
Thy works had been recited then by thee.  
And as I was wont, I might then too sit  
With hundred others a judge of thy wit.  
And my heart had been filled with more delight,  
Being took with those words you did recite.  
You and my Country being left, the fates,  
Had rather I should be amongst the Ge●es,  
But that I may by reading present be,  
Some pledges of your study send to me.  
Example from me take, if you will receive,  
That which you may to me more rightly give.  
For Maximus I that long ruined am,  
Strive to recover by my wit again.  
Then let me in requital, receive from thee  
Some works which shall hereafter grateful be,  
Tell me O young man, that art so inclined  
To my studies, bring they not me to mind?  
To what friends dost thou thy new verse recite?  
Or else to read their own, dost them excite?  
My absence sometimes makes thee grieve in mind  
Which in itself a want of me doth find.  
And as in presence thou wouldst speak of me;  
So O●ids name is mentioned now by thee,  
May I by Geticke bows be slain and die,  
(Punishment soon o'retaketh perjury,)  
If I in absence do not thee still see,  
Thanks to the gods, the mind and thought is free.  
By help whereof I to the City come  
Unseen, and often talk with thee alone.  
Then it is hard to say how I esteem,  
That white hour which so happy than doth seem▪  
Then I conceit (if I may be believed)  
That into heaven I am then received▪  
And I do then conceive myself to be  
With the gods in their blessed company.  
But than I think I am' here bereaven,  
Both of the god's society and heaven.  
And then me thinks that this some Po●ticke land  
From Stygian Lake, far distant doth not stand.  
Whence if 'gainst fate I strive repealed to be,  
Maximus, out of this vain hope put me.   

Elegy. VI.  
To his Companio●,  
OVid, to his friend whom he had even n●m'd,  
From Euxine shore sends these li●es here contained,  
For if I rashly, who thou art had written,  
Blame for my love, perhaps I should have gotten,  
If thou ask why I do not name thee too,  
As others think, I may them safely do.  
Since thou dost know great Caesar's clemency,  
In midst of wrath, I can thee c●rtisie.  
If I should judge myself I could not offer,  
To take off any punishment which I suffer.  
To remember my friends he forbids not me,  
No● that I should write to thee, thou to me,  
It is no wickedness, if thou dost spend,  
Some gentle words to comfort up thy friend▪  
This fear of thine, makes Caesar's Majesty  
●eeme dreadful, and thereby envied to be,  
We have seen those were thunder struck, yet did  
Revive again, Jove did not it forbid:  
Neptune did tear V●sses ship, and ●end  
His bark, Leucot●●e did him be friend.  
Neither did she deny to lend to him  
Her aid while he through the green waves did swim.  
Believe me, gods do spare men in distress,  
The wretched they do not alwaye● oppress.  
And no god can than Caesar milder be,  
Who makes his justice power qualli●ie.  
To which a Temple Caesar hath assigned,  
Before, placed in the Temple of his mind.  
Jupiter 'gainst some hath his thunder sent,  
Whose faults have not deserved s●ch punishment.  
When Neptune's cruel waves have many drowned,  
How many worthy of that death are found?  
When the most stout in wars are s●aine, Mars must  
Judging himself, confess his doom's unjust.  
If you inquire of us none will deny  
That our sufferings do proc●ed from equity.  
Besides those who are drowned, or in wars slain,  
Can never be restored to life again.  
But Caesar hath called some from banishment,  
Or else took off part of their punishment.  
And I most earnestly do pray, that I  
Might be one of that happy company.  
Then since we under such a good Prince are,  
To receive a banished man's words dost thou fear?  
Thou mighest if Busires held the government,  
Who in a Brazen Bull did men torment  
Wrong not his gentleness with thy fear hereafter,  
Art thou afraid of rocks in a calm water?  
That I to write to you unnamed have used,  
Me thinks that I can hardly be excused.  
But fear't had took sway my use of reason,  
Grief made me void of counsel at that season.  
Not Caesar's wrath, but my fault fear excited  
And with my own name I was even affrighted,  
Then grant unto your Poet, n●w that he  
May in his verses name, and mention thee.  
To were our diseraces, if my book should make  
No mention of thee for acquaintance sake.  
Yet lest his fear should break thy sleep, I will  
No more than thou wilt be officious still.  
Unless thou wilt, thou shalt be still unknown,  
I will enforce a kindness upon none.  
Though ●ou may safely love me openly,  
Yet if you doubt it, love me secretly.   

Elegy. VII.  
To his friend.  
I want words, the same so oft to en●eate,  
And am ashamed one suit still to repeat;  
I think my verse to you doth tedious grow,  
Still of one theme, since you my suit do know.  
For, ●ou know what my Letter doth reveal,  
Before you open it and break the seal.  
Therefore in ●riting let me change my theme,  
That I go not so oft against the stream.  
Friends pardon me for my good confidence,  
I will no more commit such an offence.  
lest I distrust my wife who doth abide  
Constant, but yet for favour hath not tried.  
Ovid shall bear, for worse than this can be,  
Thou hast borne, bu●thens can be felt by thee.  
T●e ox took from the heard, doth shu● the plough,  
And to the hard ●oke his neck will not bow.  
But I whom sat hath used most cruelly,  
Am long since used to all misery.  
To die on Geticke land, if'ft be my doom.  
Let my fate go on as it hath begun.  
It is delightful some hope maintain,  
But not delightful if it still prove vain.  
And men do always wish those things may be,  
Of which they conceive possibility;  
But being undone, 'tis the next degree,  
Bravely to despair of all remedy.  
Some wounds we see by curing do grow greater,  
Which if they had not been touched had been better.  
It's easier at first to drown in water,  
Than tire with swimming and be drowned after,  
To remove from Sythia why did I believe,  
Or that a happier Land might me receive?  
Why should I hope my fat● should gentler be,  
Have I e'er known fortune so kind to me?  
It doth increase my sorrow, and to show  
My place of banishment doth grief renew.  
Yet 'tis better my friends should not sue for me,  
Than that their suit should not effectual be.  
My friends so great a suit you dare not make  
Would you ask, he would grant it for my sake.  
Since Caesar doth not this to me deny,  
On Euxine shore let me die valiantly.   

Elegy. VIII.  
To Maximus.  
I Considered what gi●ts from Tomos I  
Might send, my love to thee to testify.  
Thou art more worth than silver, or gold bright;  
Which in bestowing well thou tak'st delight.  
But yet these places rich in mettail be,  
Which cannot be dug for the enemy.  
The shiny purple hath thy garments died,  
But in Sarma●icke Seas none doth abide,  
The sleeces which the cattle bear, are hard,  
And the maids know not ●ow to spin or card.  
Instead of carding women grind corn here,  
And heavy water on their heads do bear.  
The Vine here on the elm runs not abroad,  
No apples with their weight the boughs do load.  
But in those sad fields bitter wormwood grows,  
The fruit the bitterness of this Land shows;  
So that in Po●tus I could nothing see.  
That I might send to express love to thee,  
Some S●ythian Arro●es I have sent to thee,  
Which wounding thy soe may they bloodyed be  
These are the pens and books, which here we use,  
In this place Maximus, they are our Muse:  
I am ashamed of such a poor present,  
But 〈◊〉 them kindly, pray, as they are sent.   

ELE●IE. Ix..  
To Brutus.  
Brutus', because my books are still the same,  
You do report that some my verses blame:  
Because they sue that I might nearer be,  
And show how I live with the enemy.  
Of how many faults may one be reprehended:  
'tis well if ●y Muse here alone offended.  
I ●ce what faults I in my books commit,  
When all approve their verse more than is ●it  
Authors do praise their work, Accius said,  
There sites face was good which he had made.  
My judgement is not so led to approve  
W●at I do make, that I should straight it love.  
You may ask why I will offensive be  
In verse, if I my fault in writing see;  
'tis one thing to be sensible of pain,  
Another to take away grief again.  
For all are sensible of misery,  
●ut Art must take away the malady.  
That word which I would change I do leave in,  
My strength of judgement to fail doth begin.  
Some●imes (why should I doubt to speak the troth,)  
To correct them, much trouble me it doth.  
Besides I take delight in popular favour,  
Which maketh me in writing take less labour.  
And when my inspired breast once wa●me is grown,  
Then my encreas●ing work goes swiftly on.  
But to correct a work 'tis a hard thing,  
Homer fore Aristarth●s I esteem.  
Besides the brid●e doth hold back the Horse,  
And cares restrain the mind in her steete course  
But may the gods grant Caesar's wrath may be,  
Appeased and diminished towards me.  
That these bones of mine may be covered,  
And in some quiet land be buried.  
When I would fa●ne describe my misery,  
My Fortune's visage than a●●●ighteeth me.  
Me thinks I am mad, while I vers●s make,  
And 'mongst the Getes care to correct them take,  
Yet this doth make my lines excusable,  
That to show change of humours they are able.  
For I sung when I had cause to be glad,  
Now I sing sadly because I am sad;  
While once I sung of joy, now of misery,  
And both my works with my times agree.  
Can I write of this land but bitterly?  
Praying I in some better place may die.  
I write the same so oft, none it respect,  
And my words are become of none effect.  
But that the reader should not take offence,  
When he doth find the same repeated sense.  
Of all my friends Brutus I entreat thee?  
Respect my worth, you learned pardon me,  
For I do prize the good that I may gain,  
By this work more than I do any fame.  
Besides a Poet can that matter frame,  
Unto his own desire which he doth fain.  
My Muse is Index of my misery,  
Of which she may a faithful witness be,  
That my Letters should be delivered being sent,  
And not to make a book, ●as my intent.  
Afterward I collected some of those,  
That you may not think I this work did choose  
Then pardon these lines, which I did not make  
For glory, but for love and profit sake.    

OVID DE PONTO.  
LIB. IV.  

Elegy. I.  
To Sext: Pompeius.  
Rliceive Po●pei●s, this verse whic● he 〈◊〉,  
Who oweth (Se●tus) even his life to you  
If you permit me your name to set down,  
You add one kindness to the former sum,  
But if you frown, my fault I will confess,  
●et you may pardon my fault ne'er the less,  
●y mind would needs declare her thankfulness,  
Then be not angry at my officiousness●,  
●ow oft did I think it a fault in me,  
That in my books I had not mentioned thee,  
And while I did compose myself and frame,  
To write to others should I write thy name?  
●y erro● pleased me in such a fault,  
Which unwillingly I out again did blor.  
I●e write to him, said I, though he do blame  
Me, for prefixing on the top his name,  
Ah I'm ashamed that I have not commended  
My love before to him, and so offended.  
If I should drink the dull Lathean water,  
Yet I can never forget thee hereafter.  
Then suffer me I pray, do not disdain  
My words, nor verse which I in duty frame.  
Light thanks for former kindnesses receive  
If not I will be grateful without leave.  
You ●eady were to do me good yourself,  
And you did still supply me with your wealth.  
And being not affrighted by my fate,  
Your love hath ●elpfull been to me of lat●.  
But if thou ask per●hance how I can be,  
For future time so confident in thee,  
I see that every one strives to maintain,  
And preserve that work which himself did frame.  
So Venus, which the Painter Cous drew,  
His labour and his glory both doth show,  
Being drawn by him, as if she did repair  
From Sea, and seemed to dry her moistened hair,  
So Pallas in the Act●an Tower doth stand,  
Carved in Ivory by Phidias hand.  
So 〈◊〉 for the horses which he drew,  
Deserveth praise which unto him is due.  
So 〈◊〉 work was of no lesser worth,  
Who did unto the li●e a Cow draw forth.  
So I amongst thy other good deeds am▪  
A piece of workmanship ●hou 〈…〉.   

Elegy. II.  
To Severus.  
THat which thou readst Severus, the most great  
Of Poets, comes from the unshorn 〈◊〉.  
I● I may speak the truth, ashamed I am,  
Tha● my books hitherto concealed thy name.  
Yet my officious Letters which I did frame  
●n Prose, not Verse, unto thee often came.  
I sent no verse to show what ear I take  
Of thee; what should I send, what thou dost make●  
Who giveth Aristeus at any time  
Honey, or unto Ba●ebus Fal●rns wine?  
Who to Tuptolemus doth come and offer,  
Who to A●cinus doth Apples proffer.  
Thou hast a fruitful breast, and amongst those  
That honour Helicon, there's none outgoes  
Thee, for the richness of thy fluent vain,  
Or for the plenteousness of thy sweet 〈◊〉  
To send thee verses then, had been to add  
Leaves to the wood● of which great store they had;  
And this Severus only caused me,  
To be so slow in writing unto thee.  
Nor is my wit such as it was, for now  
The dry and barren sands in vain I plough,  
For as m●d choketh up the waters vain,  
Making a Spring that cannot flow am●in●,  
The mud of grief my breast hath choked so,  
That my verse with a poorer vain doth flow,  
For if this land had been great 〈◊〉 seat,  
Believe me, I had then become a Get.  
Grain me your pardon, if I do confess  
That in my studies I am grown remiss  
And seldom time when I a letter frame,  
Do I the syllables on my fingers scan.  
That ●ury which in Poets doth use to be,  
Is absent now, which was before in me.  
My Muse will scarce assist me, when I take  
Paper to write, to dictate she is slack;  
So that in writing I take little pleasure,  
Nor take delight to join my words in measure:  
Since verse hath not been profitable to me,  
But hath occasioned all my misery.  
Or since to dance in the dark 'tis all one,  
And to write ver●es that are read of none,  
Our study by the audience is ●aisd,  
And virtue doth increase when it is praised.  
For glory is a great spur to excite  
Virtue, and make her take a higher flight.  
To whom but the Coralli can I here  
Recite those lines which by me written are?  
Or to those other Nations which abido  
Fast by the barbarous River Iste●s side●  
But what should do here to pass away  
My hapless leisure or to spend the day?  
I neither love deceitful dice nor wine;  
By which they use to pass away the time.  
Nor do the ploughed fields yield me delight,  
Which if the wars would cease, would please my sigh●.  
My Muses, who my cold comforters be  
Remain, that have not well deserved of me,  
But thou that drinkst of their happy spring,  
Love Poetry which did thee profit bring.  
Let the Muses by thee still be reverenced,  
And send us some new work of thine to read.   

Elegy. III.  
To his unconstant friend.  
SHall I complain? be dumb, or without a name  
Make known who thou art, that art so too blame.  
I will not name thee, lest thou think it be  
A credit, while my verse complains of thee.  
While that my fortunes favourable were,  
One of my chiefest friends thou didst appear.  
Now fortune bends her brow, tho● goest back,  
When you perceived that I your help did lack.  
Now you pretend, you know not who I am  
Asking who Ovid is, when you hear his name.  
Know I am he that was your friend of old  
From a child, though of this you'll not be told.  
I am he that to know your affairs did use,  
Whom then to bear you company you did choose,  
In the house I still bore you company,  
It was my Muse alone that pleased thee.  
I am he, who whether he do live or no,  
Per●idious man, thou took'st no care to know.  
Either confess thou never lovedst me,  
Or confess thyself a counterfeit to be,  
Or else if that thou didst not counterfeit,  
Thou wilt be found to be sickle and light.  
Tell me, what anger hath thus changed thee?  
If thy complaint be not just, mine must be.  
What fault of mine hath thus estranged thee?  
Or is't a fault to be in adv●rsity?  
If to help me in deeds you thought unfit,  
Three words in paper you might then have writ.  
I scarce beloeve it, yet by fame I hear,  
That to insult o'er me, you do not spar●.  
Thou madman; if thy fortune should go back,  
All pity from thyself why dost thou take?  
This goddess, shows her lightness by her wheel,  
●laking the highest spoke to touch her heel,  
She is more light than wind or leave● can be.  
Yet thou art like her in inconstancy.  
Human states on a slender thread are hung,  
Those who are highest, soon to ruin come.  
Who hath not heard of Caesar's wealth? yet he  
Wa● taken captive by his enemy.  
He of whom Syracuse was so afraid,  
Hunger compelled him to use a trade.  
Who greater was than Alexander great  
Yet he once put to flight, did help entreat:  
While he whom all the world before obeyed,  
Poorer than any of them all was made.  
Marius by the Jugurthine triumph glorious,  
Who being consul, Rome was oft victorious,  
In the mud and the marish reeds did lie,  
And suffer many an indignity.  
Human affairs the sport of the gods be,  
In present time there is no certainty.  
If any one had said that I should go,  
To th' Euxine shore, and fear the Get●s stiff bow,  
To purge ●is madness, I had bid him go,  
Drink Hellebore which doth in Anti●yra grow.  
Yet I have suffered this for though I could shun  
Man's power, from Caesar's thunder I could not runn●:  
Then wisely fear, and think prosperity,  
While thou speak'st, may change into adversity.   

Elegy. iv.  
To Sext. Pompeius.  
THere is no day with Southern showers so wet  
That no soft rain their violence doth remit,  
Nor any place hath yet so barren been,  
That no good herbs among the thorns do spring:  
For Fortune no such misery doth inflict,  
That no joy can in part diminish it.  
I from my house, my country, and friends am sent  
To Getick shores to live in banishment,  
Yet I have found away myself to cheer,  
And not remember my sad fortune here.  
For while I walked on the yellow sand.  
I heard a pair of wings which gently ●●nd  
The air, as it did seem then unto me,  
I looked back, but nobody could see:  
At last I heard these words, behold I Fame,  
Come flying through the wide ayr●, to proclaim  
These tidings which shall happen unto thee,  
A messenger of joyful news to be.  
The next ensuing year shall happy be,  
In Pompey's Consulship, who's dear to thee:  
When she had this report through Pontus blown,  
The goddess through the Countries-journyd on.  
This news made care to leave me for a space,  
That I forgot the barbarism of the place:  
Therefore when 〈◊〉 doth the year begin,  
Whose month after December cometh in,  
Pompeius then the purple robe shall wear,  
Which honours due unto his virtues ar●.  
Me thinks I see the vulgar people hurt,  
While they do press and throng into his Court.  
While thou to Ta●pelan Temples dost repair,  
To the merciful gods to make thy prayer,  
While snow white oxen there are sacrificed,  
Which in the fair Faliscan fields were bred:  
Desiring all the gods to favour thee,  
Especially Jove and C●sa●s majesty.  
The Court shall love thee, and the convocation  
Of Senators harken unto thy Oration,  
When having pleased them with a fluent stile,  
Having received gratulations all the while;  
Having thanked the gods, and C●sars majesty,  
Who will confer more honours upon thee.  
The Senate than shall bring thee back again,  
While thy ●ouse can't the throng of people contain:  
Woes me, that I may not amongst them be,  
And that I may not those sights view and see.  
Yet in my mind, which I may only do,  
The consul's face I will behold and view.  
Gods grant thou Mayst sometimes think on my name,  
And say, alas, how doth that wretched man?  
When I hear thou hast said it so, I'll confess,  
The sorrows of my banishment are ●●sse.   

Elegy. V.  
To the same, now consul.  
LIght Elegies go to the Consuls ●are,  
And to his honour's view, these my lines bear.  
A long way on unequal feet you go●  
The earth being covered o'er with winter's snow.  
Having past cloudy 〈◊〉, and cold Thrace,  
And the rough billows of the Ionian seas.  
You need not make much haste, for you shall come,  
In ten days to the Queen of Cities, Rome.  
Then to Pompeius' house go out of hand,  
Which next unto Augustus Court doth stand.  
If people ask whose you are whence you came,  
Then tell them in their care some feigned name:  
Your Author you with safety may confess,  
Yet a feigned name will be more dangerless.  
And when you come to his gate, go and see●  
The consul, for none will prohibit thee.  
While he doth unto the Quirites speak,  
Sitting in state upon his Ivory seat.  
Or while he doth the people tax and cease,  
And strives to make the city's wealth increase:  
Or like a consul holds a consultation,  
To call the Senators to a convocation  
In the Julian Temple, or else goes himself,  
To wish Augustus and his son all health:  
Or else he takes care to discharge, and look  
Unto his office, which he undertook.  
To salute Germanicus● after them he goes,  
To whom as to the gods he honour shows.  
When his affairs are settled and do quiet stand,  
Than he will take you in his gentle hand,  
And perhaps ask how I your Author do,  
To answer him in these words I would have you.  
He lives and says he owes his life to thee,  
First granted him by Caesar's majesty:  
And gratefully remembers how he went,  
By thy convoy safely to banishment,  
While the Bisto●ian sword had been died in  
His blood▪ unless thou hadst took care of him,  
And suppliedst him with●n cassaries thy sel●e,  
That he might not diminish his own wealth,  
That to requite your love, he vows that he  
A servant unto you will always be.  
For first the mountains shall want shady trees,  
sail bearing ships shall not sail on the seas,  
And Rivers shall run back unto their spring,  
Ere I forget what your love to me hath been.  
This having said, entreat him he would dain●  
To keep you, for unto this end you came.   

Elegy. VI.  
To Brutus.  
Brutus', 〈◊〉 letter thou readest is sent thee  
From thence, where thou wouldst not have Ovid be:  
Thou wouldst not have it so, but fate requires,  
Alas the fates are stronger than desires.  
Five years past since I have in Sc●thia been,  
And now another five years doth begin.  
Fortune is constant in her cruelty,  
And treacherously she still opposeth me.  
Maximus honour of the Fabian family,  
Would have moved Caesar for me certainly,  
Thou didst before thy suit could moved be  
Unworthily, I think, with grief for me.  
Now to commit my cause to any I fear,  
For after thy death all my hopes dead were.  
Augu●tus to pardon my fault did begin,  
But than he died, and my hopes died in him:  
Yet I though far off, verses to you writ,  
Of him whom Heaven did of late admit,  
And may my pious duty so pro●it me,  
That Caesar's wrath may once appeased be:  
That you pray for the same, I dare be sworn  
Brutus, whose faithfulness to me is known:  
For the love was still constant unto me,  
And it increased in adversity.  
He that did see our t●ares together shed,  
Did believe that we both were banished.  
Nature hath given asof●nesse unto thee,  
To pity such as are in misery:  
And Brutus she hath given unto none,  
Such a gentle temper and disposition;  
That he who doth not know how thou canst plead.  
Thinks not thou couldst 'gainst guilty ones proceed.  
Thou canst at once, though they do seem con●ra●y.  
Be mild to suitors, cruel to the guilty.  
When thou hast undertook to judge a cause,  
According to the severity of laws,  
The words that come from thee in general,  
Seem as if they were dipped in poison all.  
May thy cruelty to enemies be known,  
Feeling the wounding arrows of thy tongue,  
Which thou do●● sharpen carefully, that none  
Would think thou hadst such a disposition.  
But unto such as fortune hath oppressed,  
A woman cannot bear a tenderer breast:  
And this I chiefly then did find in thee,  
When the most of my friends denied me:  
I will forget them, but I will never be,  
V●●●indfull of your help in 〈◊〉▪  
And ●ster that too near me doth flow on,  
From Euxine Seas unto his spring shall run.  
The sun shall drive his chariot to the East,  
As it was when Thyestes kept his feast.  
Sooner than you who were much grieved that I,  
Should be took from you all so suddenly,  
Shall accuse me that I have unto him,  
Either ungrateful, or forgetful been.   

Elegy. VII.  
To Vestalis.  
VEstalis because you were sent before,  
On purpose unto the cold Euxine shore.  
To render justice to those Lands which be  
〈◊〉 under the North Axletree,  
You see in what a country I do ●ie,  
And t●at my complaints true can testify.  
Your words to my complaint much credit brings,  
O young man descended from the Alpine Kings.  
Thou sees● the Sea with Ice is frozen up,  
Thou sees● the wine is frozen in the cup,  
And thou dost see here how the country swain,  
Over the Ister drives his loaden wain,  
And how they do poison arrows you do see,  
That they by two effects may deadly be.  
And I do wish thou hadst them only seen,  
Not by experience known to thee had been:  
For since you did your way through danger make,  
Honour hath been conferred on you of late:  
Which honour though it be to you a grace,  
Your virtue doth deserve a higher place.  
This Ister knows, whose stream was died red  
With blood of Getes by t●y hand slaughtered:  
And this Aegypsos knows, which thou didst take,  
Which strongly situate no defence could make.  
This City was as strong by situation,  
Placed on a hill as by fortification.  
From King Sit●enius, Sa'vages did it win.  
And as conquerors t●ey look the wealth therein,  
Till V●●ellius did by water pass●ge g●t  
For his Army, and Marched up against the Get.  
Thou that valiant Dc●nas art descended,  
To march against the enemy wast intended,  
And glistering armour then put on you did,  
For valiant actions never can be bid.  
And marching on the city didst assail,  
Maugre their swords and stones that flew like hail:  
With arrow's shot thou couldst not be withstood,  
Nor with darts dipped in t●e viper's blood;  
And there thy body did some wounds sustain,  
But love of honour takes away all pain.  
Thus Ajax when their ships to Troy did come,  
Resisted the fireballs which Hector flung.  
But when you fought hand to hand, and came nigh,  
That by the sword you might the matter try:  
'tis hard to say, what valour you did show,  
And whom you killed, or how many you slew.  
And being conqueror didst tread on the Getes,  
Who by thy sword lay slaughtered there is heaps.  
The soldiers from their captain did fire take,  
Receiving wounds, they many wounds did make:  
But yet thy valour did as much exceed,  
As Pegasus surpassed other horse's speed.  
Aegypsu● took in verse Vestalis, I  
Did memorize your deeds to eternity.   

Elegy. VIII.  
To Sttillius.  
LEarned Suill●us your letter was to me  
Most welcome, t●ough lately it delivered be:  
●herein you promise th●● if the gods may  
Be encl●ned by prayer, my help you ●ill assay.  
Though you avail not, your friendly goodwill  
Obliges me to be your debtor still.  
And may you long continue in this desire,  
Let not my misery make your love to tire.  
Bonds of affinity bind us in one yoke,  
Which I do pray may still remain unbroke:  
For she that is thy wife is daughter to me,  
And my wife also son in law calst●ee.  
Woes me, if thou dost frown when th●u hastread  
My verse, and art ashamed of my kin●red:  
Y●t no cause to be ashamed canst thou find  
But Fortune, which unto me hath been blind.  
Ex●mine my descent, my ancestry  
Were Gentlemen of ancient Pedigree:  
If you examine my life's integrity,  
Bate me one error, I should blameless be.  
Then you do think interaty may prevail  
To entreat the gods humbly do not fail.  
Young Caesar is thy gods, his majesty  
An Altar is, that is well known to thee.  
He suffers not his Priests in vain● to pray,  
To get some help from him therefore assay,  
If he do favour me, my bark hereafter,  
Shall rise again that's now sunk in the water.  
T●en I swee●e incense solmnely will bring  
Unto the Altar for an offering:  
And I will t●en both testify and show,  
How much the gods by their own power can do.  
I will not build a marble Temple ●or thee  
Germani●us, since my fall impov●●ishd me;  
Let happy f●milies Temples build to t●ee,  
And Cities that are in pr●●perity.  
Ovid will show his gratitude himself,  
By writing verses▪ which are all his wealth,  
Yet he I know a small requital ●ffords,  
That for life given him doth give back words,  
But he t●at giveth the most he can do,  
His gratitude abundantly doth show;  
And in this action ●e hath truly showed,  
The highest perfection of all gratitude.  
When poor men a little incense sacrifice  
Unto the gods, they do it not despise:  
Their little incense is as powerful, even  
As that which out of a great dish is given.  
The sucking lamb, and that which hath been fed▪  
With the F●lisian grass are offered  
As sacrifices, and with their blood stain  
The Tarpeian Altars when as they are slain,  
And yet the thankful lines of Poets be,  
Most suitable to a Prince's dignity.  
Verses do everywhere your praise proclaim,  
And make your worthy deeds still live by fame.  
Virtue doth live by verse, and cannot die,  
But is made known unto posterity.  
For time consumeth Iron and hard stone,  
There is nothing that is than time more strong.  
Verses do bear t●eir years, by verse you know  
W●o Agamemnon was, and also who  
Did be●re arms on his side, and what might,  
Did on the other side against him fight.  
Of Thebes or the seven captains who had known,  
Without verse, what shall, or hath been done?  
The gods themselves by verse are de●fy'd,  
So that their Majesties do Poets need.  
By it t●e Chaos, nature's first rude heap  
We know was formed into a divers shape.  
B● it the Gya●●s that affected Heaven,  
By d●r●●ull thunder unto Styx were driven.  
So Ba●chus praise b● verse abro●d was sp●ed,  
When 〈◊〉 the Indians had 〈◊〉.  
Hercules in verse hath praised been,  
Cause ●e Och●lia away did bring.  
And Caesar your Grandfather, whose virtues were  
Such that he is now made a shining star.  
Verses partly the c●iefe maintainers be,  
Of his most sa●red gracious memory.  
Therefore if any wit ●emaine in me,  
Germanicus, it shall at thy service be.  
Then being a Poet, thou wilt not contemn  
A poet's love, but judge ere thou condemn.  
Wert thou not called to greater dignity,  
The glory of the Muses thou wouldst be.  
Thou wouldst rather give matter for verse than make  
Verses, and yet thou canst not them forsake.  
Now thou mak'st war, then in a verses measure  
Dost write those warre●, thus war is but thy pleasure.  
And as Apoll● skilled in harp and Bow,  
So that both strings, his sacred fingers know.  
So learning is not wanting unto thee,  
Nor Arts that suit with Principality:  
But in thy royal mind Jove's sovereignty,  
Is mingled with the muse's Poetry.  
Then since that we are banished from that Spring,  
Which by a stroke of Pegasus hoof did begin.  
Let it avail me something that I am  
A Po●t, and do sacred rites maintain,  
That I may leave the Getes, and shoa●es which are  
Subject to the Coralli, who skins wear.  
That if I must live banished, I may come  
To live in some place nearer unto Rome,  
That I may celebrate your praise in verse,  
And suddenly your glorious deeds rehearse.  
And dear Suillui, by earnest pr●yer require  
The gods to grant your Father in laws desire.   

Elegy. Ix..  
To Gracinus.  
Ovid, from Euxine shore, not when he would,  
Graecinus, sends th●e health, but whence he could.  
I wish that it that morning may meet thee,  
When thou receivest the consul's dignity.  
Since when thou as consul shalt carried be  
To the Capitol, I shall not go with thee.  
●ay my Letter on that day be received,  
And so perform my duty in my stead.  
But if to better fates I had been borne,  
And that my Fortunes had run smoothly on▪  
I had saluted thee in presence then,  
Which now my hand performeth by my pen.  
And I would mingle kisses with each word,  
Which should honour unto both of us afford.  
I should be so proud if this day once came,  
So that thy house could scarce my pride contain.  
And while the Senate walked on each side,  
I as a horseman should before thee ride.  
And though I desired still next thee to abide,  
I should be glad not to be next thy side.  
I would endure the people's throng and press,  
And to be thronged so, count it happiness.  
And I sh●uld also then rejoice to s●e,  
What troops of people bear thee company.  
And I who am moved, with each vulgar sight,  
To see thy purple robes should take delight.  
And to see thy 〈◊〉 wrought with Imagery,  
Which is carved on Numidian Ivory.  
Then coming to the Tarpeian●ower again,  
While Sacrifices at thy command were slain,  
The god in the midst of it, had heard me  
Giving thanks for giving me this dignity.  
And giving frankincense with grateful mind,  
For joy of honour unto thee assigned,  
And amongst thy friends I should reckoned be,  
If the more gentle fates had suffered me  
To be in the City, so that what I do  
Behold in thought, I with my eyes might view.  
But they were not pleased, and perhaps justly  
My cause of punishment why should I deny?  
Yet in mind, which cannot banished be,  
Thy purple robes and ornaments I see.  
And how to people thou dost justice do,  
And think I me present at thy counsels too▪  
Or how the Cities rents are improved by thee,  
And are cast up with much fidelity.  
Or how in Senate thou mak'st an Oration,  
Or for the public good hold'st consultation.  
Or how thou dost fat Oxen sacrifice,  
To godlike Caesar for thy dignities.  
And I wish, when thy better prayers are made,  
Thou would pray that their wrath might be allayed.  
These words will make the flame rise from the fire,  
Upon the Altar, and to mount up higher,  
Till then ●le cease complaints, and as I may  
When thou art consul, keep a holiday.  
And this no less a cause of joy shall be,  
That thy brother succeeds thee in dignity.  
Thou on December's last dost it forsake,  
He on the last of January shall it take.  
Mutual love shall you to joy incline,  
You for your brother's honour, he for thine.  
Twice consul, you shall in each other be,  
And double honour shall grace your family.  
Which honour is so great, that there can be  
In Martial Rome no greater dignity:  
Beside it is more honour unto thee,  
To have such honour given by his Majesty.  
And may Caesar still think you 〈◊〉 to be,  
Worthy of such honour and dignity.  
If winds stand fair to hoist sails do not fail,  
That my Ship out of Stygian waves may sail.  
Graecinus, Fla●cus did of late command,  
And the Land about Ister in peace maintained.  
I'll by the Mysia● people in fidelity,  
And the Bow bearing Getes did terrify,  
By speedy valour he did Tr●●●es take  
And D●nub●ed with savage blood did make:  
●nquire of him how 〈◊〉 doth lie,  
And how I am frighted by the enemy.  
Or if their shafts are dipped in Serpentsgall,  
Or if that men for sacrifices fall.  
Or that Pontus with cold be frozen over,  
And that Ice many leagues of it doth cov●●.  
Th●n ask how I am esteemed, and how I  
Do spend the time here in hard misery.  
I am not hated, nor deserve to be,  
My mind is not changed by adversity.  
My mind enjoys her own tranquillity,  
Which hath been praised heretofore by thee,  
And thy speech retains that old modesty  
Which was wont usual in it to be.  
Such I was, and am where the enemy,  
Gives to the sword the law's validity,  
So that Graecinus for many years none can  
Complain of us, not woman, child, nor man.  
This makes the 〈◊〉 so kind to be,  
Because the Country doth think well of me I  
Some wish I were gone, since I it desire,  
But for their own sakes wish I may stay here.  
Besides some public decrees extant be,  
That do give praise and privilege to me▪  
And the towns round about do honour me,  
Though glory doth not suit with misery.  
Nor is my piety unknown in this Land,  
The Caesar's pictures in my house do stand.  
His son's Image and wives, there placed be,  
Equal to godlike Caesar in Majesty.  
And to make up his family, on each hand,  
His nephews by Father, and Mother side stand.  
To these I pray and o●●er sacrifice,  
When the day breaketh from the Eastern skies.  
And if you aske●, ●ll 〈◊〉 can testify,  
My pious duty and say I do not lie.  
Pontus knows, that with such sports as I may,  
I here do celebrate Caesar's birth day.  
Nor is my love to strangers lesser known,  
If any from Propontus hither come.  
Perhaps your brother heard thus much of me,  
In whose rule, Pontus enjoyed liberty.  
My fortune is unto my mind unlike,  
Which makes my gifts and sacrifices ●light,  
Nor do I it to show my Piety,  
But am pleased to do good in secrecy.  
Yet these things may come unto Caesar's ear,  
Who of all matters in the world doth hear.  
Thou Caesar joined to the heavenly Deities,  
Dost know this, and see this Land with thy ey●s,  
And being placed among the starry spheres,  
Dost hear the humble meanest of my prayers,  
And dost hear of those verses I did make  
Of thee, who art now made a god of late.  
And therefore I suppose your Deity,  
By these things will incline to pity me,  
And will declare you have the gentle name,  
Of a Father, which you worthily retain.   

Elegy. X.  
To Albinovanus.  
THis is the sixt Summer I have spent here,  
On this shore with the Gete● that skins do wear.  
What s●int or iron, can in hardness be  
Dear Albinovanus, compared with me?  
Drops, hollow stones. Rings by use wear aw●.  
The crooked Ploughshare doth at length 〈◊〉  
Thus Time devoureth all things except me,  
Of whom death cannot get the victory.  
Ulysses' an example of toil may be,  
Who wandered ten years in the ●nknowne Sea.  
Yet all that time misfortunes did not bear  
Some passages delightful to him were.  
To stay with Calypso six years, and●l ●●e  
With a fair goddess, could it be misery?  
Cyrce received him, and gave him a wind  
To drive his sa●les from havens they did find,  
Nor to hear the sweet Sy●ens could it be  
A labour, or to taste the Lotos' tree.  
Whose fruit with part ●f my life I would buy,  
Could the Ivy make me forget my country,  
Neither can you Lestrigons Cit●ies comp●●●,  
With Nations which ●eere unto Ister are▪  
Cyclops exceed not Phiaces in cruelty.  
What terror to m● do they use to be?  
Hemochi●n Ships have more terrified me  
Than Scyllt's waves which barking monsters be.  
The Ach●●ns with Ca●ybd●● cannot compare,  
Though three strong tides in it, and ●bbes there are,  
Who t●ough they on the country's right side lie,  
They suffer this side to have no security,  
For all the naked fields be leanness here,  
And all their shafts in poison dipped are.  
And winters could ●oth freeze o'er the Sea so,  
That you on ●oote may easily o'er it go.  
So that where oars through the waves way did make,  
Travellers without boat their way may take.  
Those who come home, do say you will not belee●●  
Them, nor yet credence to their report give,  
How wretched then and miserable is he,  
Whose sufferings beyond all credit be.  
Believe me winter covers the 〈◊〉 Seas  
With Ice, I'll show the cause why it doth freeze.  
For that cold constellation which doth bear  
The figure of a wain to us is near.  
Here Boreas dwells and hath his Mansion,  
And being near us he doth blow more strong.  
But the warm Souther wind which still doth breath  
From the opposite Axletree is underneath,  
Is far off, and to blow is seldom known,  
And with a weary strength doth hither come▪  
And divers Rivers into the Sea go,  
Beating back the Sea, whereinto they flow,  
Ly●us, Sagaris, Penius, hither come,  
And often winding Italy▪ doth hither run▪  
Hither violent Parthenius doth slide,  
And the stone-rolling 〈◊〉 doth glide.  
Hither the River Tiras doth also flow,  
Who than no other River is more slow.  
And Thermodon to the Ama●o●es well known,  
And Posis which did unto Gre●●e belong.  
With 〈◊〉 there meeteth here  
The River Driaspes that is fair and clear▪  
And gentle Melanthus runs softly on,  
In silent manner till his course be done.  
And that same River which doth take his way,  
Between two Lands, Europe and Asia.  
And divers others, 'mongst which Dan●b is held  
The greatest, who will not to Nilus yield.  
Thus store of Rivers, as they do increase,  
So they do weaken the strength of the Seas.  
For they ●oe make it like to a dull Lake,  
And the blue colour of it away take.  
Fresh water swims aloft, as being lighter  
Than Sea water, which saltness maketh heavier,  
If any ask why I t●ese things rehearse,  
And take delight to speak of them in verse:  
I answer, to pass the time in misery,  
This fruit this present hour doth bring to me.  
While I writ this, my sorrows absent were,  
Nor thought that I amongst t●e Getes was here.  
I do not doubt but since thou dost commend  
Th●seus in verse, thou wilt mine defend.  
Resembling him who denies Love, should be  
The companion only of prosperity.  
Whose actions though composed by thee and sung,  
Were not so well declared as they were done.  
Yet something in him may imitable be,  
Each one may be Theseus in fidelity.  
Thou hast no foes with sword and key to tame,  
In spite of whom he o'er the Istmos came.  
Love's the achievement that's to thee assigned,  
Which is no paine●ull thing to a willing mind.  
For what great pains or labour is it, sure  
To keep our faith inviolate, and pure?  
Yet think not I in these lines do complain  
Of thee, who dost true to thy friend remain.   

Elegy. XI.  
To Galli●.  
GAllio this fault will not excused be,  
That my verse doth not by name mention thee.  
Thou (I remember) didst with many a tear  
Embalm my wounds made by a heavenly spear▪  
And would thou hadst no other cause to grieve,  
But that exile doth thee of thy friend deprive.  
The gods were not so pleased, whose cruelty  
A chaste and modest wife have took from thee.  
Your Letter brought me tidings of your grief,  
And while I red your loss did make me weep.  
To comfort thy wisdom, it would folly be,  
Or apply sayings of learned men to thee▪  
And if that reason can't your grief allay,  
Yet time I know doth make it to decay.  
While your Letter comes, and ours is back sent,  
Through Lands and Seas, a year is spent:  
For how should comfort in due season bring  
To grief, when sorrow is both fresh and green.  
But when those wounds by time have healed li●,  
Then admonitions do those wounds unskin.  
Besides thou mayst happy in a new wife be.  
And may my prophecy prove true to thee.   

Elegy. XII.  
To Tutica●us.  
THe cause why my books do not the● contain,  
I● the measure and condition of thy name.  
Else none should have this honour before thee,  
If that my verse may any honour be.  
The law of verse and fortune of thy name  
Prohibit it, which in verse can contain.  
I am ashamed to divide thy name between  
Two verses, mend with't, and to begin.  
Or to contract a long s●l●able thus,  
And so to call thee in brief Tuticanus:  
Or else Tuti●anus thou in verse must come,  
By making a short syllable of a long.  
Or the short ending syllable may be drawn  
At length, and the sec●nd also made long.  
If I thus bo●chingly brought in thy name,  
I might be thought to have no fluent vain.  
And this to write to thee made me delay,  
Which now I with advantage will repay.  
Now in any measure I will sing of thee,  
And send thee verses whatso●re they be.  
Since when we both were children thou and I,  
Have known ea●h other from our Infancy.  
And all that time that we did live together,  
I loved thee, as if thou wert my brother.  
For thou wert my companion and my guide,  
When I did first begin to learn to ride.  
Often thy books were corrected by me,  
As they before had censured been by thee.  
And oftentimes I have faults deprehended  
In thy works, which by thee have ●eene amended.  
When the Pierian goddesses did teach  
Thee how to frame a strong line that might reach  
Ph●acis worth, who did deserve a strain,  
That might be equal unto Homer's vain,  
This concord in our years of youth begun,  
Continues now when our hairs are wait grow●e,  
But this Land m●y first want both cold and war,  
Which in Pontus most usual to me are.  
The Northwind may be warm, the Southwind be  
Cold, and my fortunes be more kind to me.  
Ere thou of thy friend can forgetful be,  
This burden shall not increase my misery.  
Mayst thou of the gods, of whom chief is he,  
Who daily advances thee to dignity,  
Obtain some favour for me in the end,  
And constantly a banished man defend.  
Wouldst thou know my mind, nay I perish if I know,  
If one may perish that is in depth of woe.  
I know not what to do, nor what would be  
Most profitable at this time to me.  
For men in misery have no wisdom left  
But of all sense and counsel are berest  
Therefore seek how you may help me I pray  
And how you may to my desires make way.   

Elegy. XIII.  
To Carus.  
O Thou who art to be mentioned by me  
'mongst my companions of most constancy▪  
Carus, who truly art to me most dear,  
As thou art by name, I salute thee here.  
From whence thou dost receive this salutation.  
The colour of my verse may show and fashion.  
Because unfit for any public view,  
Yet howsoe'er it seems that I them drew.  
The title leaf of thy workers tear away.  
Yet that they are works of thine I can say.  
Though in old authors thou art often coate●  
And in t●eir annotations o●t●n note●;  
The strong lines show their author which have been,  
Worthy of Hercules of whom thou dost sing.  
So my Muse may be known b●her own colour,  
And by her faults which do display her Fuller.  
Thersites was known by bad shapes drawn by him,  
As Nir●us was in his fair pieces s●ene.  
Nor can you wonder if my verse be blame,  
Which I almost a Getick● Poet frame.  
For in the Geticke speech a book I writ,  
And barbarous words have in our measures set,  
And I have pleased them, so that I began  
To have amongst the Getes a Poets name,  
While I great Caesar's praises did rehearse,  
Whose power did help the novelty of my verse.  
Showing Augustus body mortal was,  
But that his soul did to any dwellings pass.  
While he his father's virtue doth equalise,  
Succeeding him in imperial dignities.  
And that Livia might Vesta of Matrons be  
Whom both her son and Husband dignify.  
That the Princes, who their father's strength are,  
Their courage by their actions do declare.  
When I had writ this in the Geticke verse,  
And the last leaf did unto them rehearse.  
They str●●ke t●eir arrows, and their heads did shake,  
And a long murmuring noise the Getes did make,  
Saying, since he of Caesar writes thus, he might  
By Caesar's command be repealed by right.  
Yet Carus I in banishment have been he●e,  
Under the Snowy Axletree, six year.  
Verses help me, that caused me to be sent,  
At first into this most sad banishment:  
By that Love thou bear'st sacred poesy  
By the name of Friendship esteemed by thee.  
So many Germanicus, subdu●ng the Enemy,  
Afford matter to your ingenuity.  
So may he prosper in his sons who are  
Committed to thy tuition and care.  
As thou dost yield what help thou canst to me,  
Which is none unless I hence removed be.   

Elegy. XIV.  
To Teutican●s.  
I Send these to thee, of whom since thy name,  
Would not stand in my verse I did complaint.  
In which, but that they show I am in health,  
There is not any thing can delight myself.  
I hate my health, and it is my last prayer,  
That hence I may be removed anywhere,  
I care not whether from hence I shall sent be,  
All Lands will prove better than this I see.  
Let my way by rocks, and by Chary●d●● stand,  
So that I may depart out of this Land.  
From Ister unto Styx I'll gladly go,  
Or if th●re be a place than Styx more low.  
For weeds are not more hateful to a field,  
That lately hath been husbanded and t●ll'd.  
The tender Swallow hateth less the cold  
Then Ovid, places which the Getes enfold.  
At these my words the Tomita● angry are,  
My verses do their public anger stir.  
Shall I still by my verse thu● harmed be?  
And punished for rash ingenuity.  
Cut off my fingers that I may not write?  
Why in these ●urtfull weapons do I delight?  
I bend my course unto those rocks and Seas,  
Where my bark formerly Shipwracked was.  
Yet Tomitan● I have acted no faul●,  
I love you though your Country I do hate.  
Let any one peruse my works again,  
M●●etters do not of you once complain●.  
I do complain of cold, and inro●des made,  
And how the Enemy doth the walls invade.  
Against the place not men I do complain,  
You also often ●our own Country blame.  
The Muse of an old husbandman don't sing,  
How his Country Ascra hath shunned been,  
T●e writer was within that Country borne,  
Yet Ascra did not her own Poet scorn.  
Who loved his Country more than Ulysses did,  
Yet he the rudeness of it doth describe.  
Sextius not 'gainst places, but abuses  
Of manners sharply writ, and Rome accuses.  
Who with a patient mind did bear that wrong,  
Nor was the Author amayd by his tongue.  
But people by their own interpretation  
Are offended, and call my 〈…〉,  
Would I were happy as my breast is white,  
For I have wounded none with words of spite.  
If blacker than Illyrian pitch it could be,  
I would not wr●e 'gainst those were friends to me.  
You Tomita●s in pitying my misery,  
Showed that the Gr●tians lost and gentle be,  
Pelignum, nor the Sul● O my birth-pla●e,  
Could not be more kind to my distressed case▪  
So t●at you gave more honour unto me,  
Than unto others in prosperity.  
● only in your Country do l●ve free,  
Subject unto the law's authority.  
My temple's 〈◊〉 crowned with a wreath of B●ye●,  
Given me, 'gainst my will by public praise.  
Thus as the hospitable Land o●Delia,  
Was once beloved of wandering 〈◊〉:  
Even s●Tomes d●are to me doth seem,  
Which hath so kind to me in exile been,  
If gods had granted 〈◊〉 peaceful be  
O● further l●e, from the cold Axletree.   

Elegy. XV.  
To Sex. Pompeius.  
IF any one that yet remembers me,  
Do ask how Ovid doth in misery▪  
Life to Caesar, to Sextus health I owe,  
Whom next the gods I honour, let him know▪  
For in the troubles of my life, I have been  
At all times, much beholding unto him.  
Which are as many as these weeds which grow.  
In the garden of a fertile field and show,  
Of purple colour or a ruddish die,  
While they within the slender skin do lie.  
Or as the ears of corn in Africa,  
Or as the boughs that grow in Tinolia▪  
Or as the Berries are in Sicyon seen,  
Or honycombs which Hib●a forth doth bring.  
I confess myself much in debt to thee,  
I speak it, you by Law need not force me.  
Amongst your fathers riches left of late,  
You may count me as part of your est●te.  
For as Sicily is subject to your command,  
And all that Country in which Philip reigned.  
And as that house near to Aug●stus Court,  
Is yours, and all Campania in like sort,  
And all those other Lands which left you were  
Sextus, or by thyself since purchased are.  
So I am yours, so that you must confess,  
That you in Pontus something do poss●sse.  
And I wish ●ou may prevailing, I may be  
Placed in a Country more friendly to me.  
Which since 'tis in the god's power, therefore try,  
If thou by suit their wrath canst pacify.  
For I can't tell, whether I should make thee  
My helper, or apply my suit to thee.  
I trust unto thy help, yet those who go  
With the stream, to haste their course do row.  
I am ashamed one suit always to move,  
lest it unto your mind should tedious prove.  
What shall I do? desire doth know no end,  
Then grant a pardon to my fault kind friend.  
Oft I desired to write some other thing,  
And fall to writing of the same again.  
My very Letters by themselves encreate,  
And for my removal hence, still suit do make.  
Whether I favour find, or fates decree  
That I shall die under the Axlettee.  
I will still keep thy love in memory,  
And this Land shall know, I belong to thee.  
And other Nations situate wh●refore,  
If my Muse can pass, the Getes shall it hear●.   

Elegy. XVI.  
To the Envious.  
ENvious man why d●st tear verses write  
By Ovid, death can have no power on wit.  
For after death there cometh greater fame,  
And also while I lived I ●ad a name.  
While Marsus and strong lined 〈◊〉 are  
Trosan Virgil, Pedo shining like a star.  
And C● us that gr●at ●uno might offend,  
While he did Hercules her son commend.  
And ●everus that gave to 〈◊〉  
heroic verse, with Numa full of subtlety.  
And then Montanus whose vain did suffice,  
To write Heroickes, or else Elegies.  
And by writing in both kinds didst obtain,  
Unto thyself a twofold Fame, and Name.  
He that makes Ulysses write to Penelope,  
When he had wandered ten years on the Sea.  
And He●iod that an imperfect work writ,  
Of days, and died ere he could finish it.  
Largus, whose wit to him his name did yield,  
Who brings Aeueu● into the French field.  
Or 〈◊〉 us who of Troy doth sing,  
Which Hector did unto destruction bring:  
Or 〈◊〉 scus, who by his P●yllis did gain  
Much renown and everlasting name.  
And that Sea Poet, whose Verses such seem,  
As if the Sea gods had composed them.  
He that of Lihy● and R●mes battles writ,  
And 〈◊〉 for a●l kind of writing ●it.  
He that Pe●s●us actions did p●rfo●me,  
And Lupu● who writ of Jasons' return.  
And he that Ho●ers Ph●acis did translate.  
Rusus that Pindar's vein did imitate.  
And Ture ●●us who writ high Tragedies,  
Me●ssus, who penned m●rry 〈◊〉.  
Varus and 〈…〉 did write,  
And Procu●us in smother ways did 〈◊〉:  
And Tityrus an ancient shepherd writ,  
And showed what weapons were for Hunters sit.  
And Fontanus of the Naiodes did sing,  
Who by the Saty●es have beloved been.  
And Capella who his words did also join,  
And set together in uncquall line.  
And there are others whose names to rehearse  
Would tedious be, the people hath their verse.  
And young men, who since that which they did write,  
Was not published, I cannot them recite.  
Cotta, I can't pass o'●e thee in silence,  
The Light of the Muses, the Courts defence.  
The Cotta's and Messalla's give to thee,  
By ●ny descent, a double Nobility.  
And though I say't, my Muse once had a name,  
And it was read amongst these men of Fame.  
Then Envy cease in exile to wound me,  
Rake not my ashes abroad cruelly.  
I have lost all, only my life is left,  
To make me know of what I am berest.  
Why dost delight to thrust thy sword through him?  
That can't be wounded more than he hath been.     

Ovid's Consolation to Livia for the death of her son Drusus Nero, who died in Germany.  
THou that seem'st happy Nero's mother to be,  
Now half that name is took away from the●  
Livia thou readest verses made upon  
Thy Drusus de●th, thou hast now but one son.  
Thy love is not ext●nded to both them,  
Nor ask'st when thy Sons are named, which they mean?  
Then who is it, to limit thy grief dares?  
Who is it can with words restrain thy tears?  
Woes me, when it happens so, how easily  
Can all in others grief speak valiantly:  
So I might say, light sorrows have struck thee,  
That thou mightst stronger than thy sorrows be.  
Though virtue's young example did decease  
Lately, who was both great in arms, and peace.  
The alps from the foe he did take away,  
And next his brother in the wars bore sway.  
The Suevian, and Sicambrian by might  
He conquered, and put savages to sl●ght,  
Rome, unknown Triumphs ●e deserved of thee,  
For enlarging thy imperial dignity.  
And you his Mother, of his death not knowing,  
To pay your vows to Jupiter were going:  
And armed Pallas, and to give Ma●s 〈◊〉  
Of gifts, and those gods which we ought to adore.  
For your thoughts with his triump● busied were,  
And for his Chariot you perhaps took care.  
For a triumph you must keep a Funeral●,  
A ●o●be expects D●usus, no Capitol.  
To imagine him returned thou tookst delight,  
As if the conqueror had been in thy sight.  
Thinking heel come, and the people shall see  
Me gratulating of his victory.  
Now I must bring my gifts● and offerings make  
Unto the gods for my dear Drusus sake.  
I shall meet him, and rejoice in his dignities,  
And I shall kiss his neck, his lips, and eyes.  
Thus he'll come; thus meet me, thus kisses join:  
Thus he'll discourse; thus I shall speak to him:  
Thou nourishest great jo●e●, but 〈◊〉 lay by  
False hopes which flatter thee in misery.  
Let thy imagination cease to rela●●  
Happy news to thyself, of Drusus state.  
The other branch of Caesar's stock is dead,  
Let Livia, let thy hair be loosened.  
What doth thy ve●tue profit? or that thou hast  
Pleased Caesar? or lived all thy life time chaste?  
What av●iles thy inviolate chastity?  
Which last amongst thy praises must reckoned be.  
And so●ring above vices, in despite  
Of times, didst always keep thy mind upright.  
And that you hurt none, though you powerful were  
To hurt, yet none of your power stood in fear.  
In camp or Court you used no power, whereby  
You might advance your house and Family.  
Since that injurious Fortune, by such ways  
Doth reign, and her uncertain wheel so swaye●▪  
And here her covetous cruelty doth appear,  
Who pretends that she hath right everywhere.  
If Livia should alone from grief be free,  
Then Fortune could not have such sovereignty.  
Did he not so behave himself, that he  
Was never envied in Prosperity.  
Besides Caesar's house which from death is free,  
Aught to be above human misery.  
He was fit a sacred watchman to have been,  
In safety to have viewed the affairs of men.  
Not that toares for his death should our grief● show,  
That he should suffer death as v●lgars do.  
For thy sister's children, his mourning may seen,  
Being public, as this hath for Drusus been.  
Agrippa and Marcellus by him were,  
Buried together in one sepulchre.  
So that one grave his nephews two received,  
Agrippa scarce into the ground was laid.  
And the tomb hardly shut, but presently,  
Behold his royal Sister did forthwith die.  
Three being buried, Drusus is our last loss,  
Who the fourth next unto great Caesar was.  
You parcaes close this tomb, which it doth seem,  
Hath most unjustly too much opened been.  
Drusus thou now art gone, and art our loss,  
And may we ne'er have such another cross.  
Succeeding ages, grief from hence may borrow,  
And make thy loss to be their greatest sorrow.  
Not one good man, many were lost in thee  
Who 〈…〉 which in many be.  
None can be f●uitfull●r than thy Mother thought,  
Who so much good at two births to us brought.  
We saw how Nero for's brothers death did keep  
A stir●e, and with disheveled hair did weep.  
While his face did an uncom●ly grief profess,  
Woes me, the world was then in heaviness.  
Yet at your brother's d●ath you present were,  
He 〈…〉 shed for him many a tear.  
He did f●●le thy embraces when he did die,  
And ●n thy c●untenance did ●ixe his eye.  
His blue eyes which with death did now round swim,  
〈…〉 now their brother's hand clo●d in.  
But thy loving mother k●st not thee at last,  
Nor thy cold 〈◊〉 was by her embraced:  
〈…〉 breath when you d●ing were,  
Nor cov 〈…〉  
When she was absent thou w●rt took away.  
While thou abroad in the fierce warr●s ●id s●ay.  
As in the Spring time the soft snow doth mel●,  
When it the warm Southwinds● and sun hath felt.  
Her 〈…〉 losing thee she doth been ●ne,  
And does complain that she hath lived too long.  
So in the shade; woods the Nightingal●,  
The loss of ●ys, sadly doth bewail.  
The Ha●cions do make such complaints as these  
To the deaf waves, and to the storm● Seas.  
And so those birds beating with their new wing,  
Their feathered breast did Oenis dirge sing.  
So C●ymene wept, and her sisters all,  
When Phaethon did from his father's Coach fall.  
Sometimes to stay, and hold back tears she tri●s,  
〈◊〉 doth force tears to stand wit●in her eyes:  
B●t then a sigh makes them again forth break,  
And trickle down her bosom and her cheek.  
●er tears thus stopped do thereby stronger grow,  
As water stayed a w●ile doth faster flow.  
At length, when tears gave her leave to complain,  
She sighed and sobbing thus to speak began;  
My son, whom second birth did me allow,  
My son, thy mother's glory, where art thou?  
For though thou art not my second son now,  
T●ou art thy mother's glory, where art thou?  
Alas where art? must funeral fire thee burn,  
Are these the gi●ts prepared for thy return?  
Didst deserve thus to thy mother to come?  
Did I deserve that thou shouldst thus come home?  
May lawfully if ●aesars Queen say so,  
Doubtful whether there be gods or no.  
What have I done? what gods might not have been  
More kind to me, that have so honoured them.  
Is this the honour which our piety brings?  
T●at I may now embrace his cold dead limbs.  
Which now because his soul from them is flown  
The funeral fire doth call for, as its own.  
Can I endure to see thee laid thereon?  
Or can my hands embalm thee m● dear son?  
Do I now see thee in thy dignity?  
Do I embrace thee? or do I kiss thee?  
Consu'l and conqueror do I see thee?  
Are these the honour's tho● bringst back to me?  
And at thy funeral, first I saw them bear  
Thy royal ensigns which reversed were.  
Can this day to a mother happy come,  
To see the funeral honour of her son.  
Am I not happy? one Nero I have lost,  
Drusus who o●'s grandfathers name might boast;  
Is he mine now? can I his mother be?  
Was I Drusus mother? and my son was he?  
When Nero is with victory come home,  
Can I now ask which of them is home come?  
I am now a Mother, but unto one son,  
And if he were not mine, I should have none.  
Woes me I tremble at that word, since I  
Call nothing mine with any certainty.  
For behold he once was mine, but now he  
By his death to fear's brother's death makes me.  
My former courage now is quite dismayed,  
And I of all misfortu●e am afraid.  
But Nero mayst thou live to see my death,  
And close my eyes and take m● dying breath.  
And I do wish that Drusus and his brother,  
Might with their hands, close up my eyes together.  
Yet Drusus in one tomb, we both will lie,  
In th' tomb belonging to thy ancestry.  
My bones and ashes shall be mixed with thine,  
Would fat●s would quickly spin out my life time.  
Thus having said, tears on her speech attended,  
And trickled down her face when that was ended.  
Beside● his mother could scarce get at all  
His corpses, nor Livia keep ●is funeral.  
For all the army did desire that he  
Should in his ro● all Armour buried be.  
But his brother took his corpses from t●em all,  
That Drusus might have usual burial.  
And Drusus hearse through Roman towns drawnes was,  
Through which he as a conqueror should pass.  
Through which he in triumphant manner came,  
When he had conquered the Rhetian.  
Woes me how unlike were these journeys in all,  
That was a triumph, this a funeral.  
●●ad he bee●e vanquished, what grief had there been,  
When being conqueror he did thus come in?  
His sad house did resound with sorrow now,  
Where to hang up his arms ●e had made a vow.  
The city did put on a mourning face,  
May so our enemies mourn in like case.  
Th●y shut their houses, the city here and there,  
Secretly and openly mourned in fear.  
The law's tongue tied and silenced did seem,  
No judge in purple in the Court was seen.  
The gods were not pleased with this funeral,  
Nor would accept any sacrifice at all.  
The gods were hid in the Temple, those that prayed  
With fear of their disfavour were dismayed:  
Some pious man for his son making prayers,  
Lifted his fearful hands unto the stars.  
And then about to pray, why do I, s●ith he,  
Make prayers to the gods, since none there be?  
Thus having said, he angry did straight way  
Harden his mind, and so left off to pray.  
Livia could not move them with her prayer  
For Drusus and will they of us have care?  
The people slocking altogether wept,  
Because they of their council were bereft.  
A general grief with tears did fill their eyes,  
And the horsemen followed his obsequies.  
You●g men and old for his loss grieved be,  
The matrons and wives of all Italy.  
And then his Image they along did bring,  
Crowned with victorious bays, which should have 〈◊〉  
Offered up in the Temple, while young men there,  
Out of affection strived who should it bear.  
Caesar with weeping tears did praise his son,  
While grief made him break his speech ere hal●e done.  
Thou wishedst that thy death like his might be,  
If that the fates to die would suffer thee.  
But heaven is unto thy deserts most due,  
And Jove's great Court shall gladly receive you.  
What would he have? to please you he desired,  
And by his death to 〈◊〉 he hath aspired.  
The Cohorts on his hearse attended all,  
Both horsemen, and 〈◊〉 at's funeral.  
And with acclamations the● called on thy name,  
While opposed 〈◊〉 sent bac●e their vo●ce again.  
Old Tiber's yellow st●eame being afeard,  
Out of the 〈◊〉 lifted up his head.  
His blue ●sapn● of moss and reed.  
Then with his great hand he did stroke aside.  
And rivers of tears he sent from his eyes,  
Which his 〈◊〉 to receive could not suffice.  
For he resolved the funeral ●lame to quench,  
And take the untouch● body away from thence▪  
He stayed his waters, and did stop their course,  
To wash away the fire with greater ●orce.  
But Mars from the next Temple did begin,  
With tears in following manner to speak to him.  
Rivers may be wrath, Tiber wrath command,  
Not thou nor any one can fate withstand:  
My soldier, in the war he perished,  
'mongst swords the captain for his Country died,  
I gave what I could● victory he did gain,  
The Conqueror's gone, but victory doth remain.  
I doubt with Clotho and the Sisters two,  
Who the severe threads of ma●●s life forth drew,  
That R●mus and his brother who builded Rome,  
The power of death by any way might shun.  
Take what I can grant, said one of the three,  
As ●●ou desirest both of them shall be●  
To thee and V●nus the Caesar's translated,  
In Mart●all Rome shall gods be consecrated.  
Thus sung the godd●sses, Tiber it vain,  
Do not then strive to quench the funeral flame,  
Hinder not honours to the young Prince done,  
But let thy stream most gently glide along.  
He obeys, and forward rouleth himself on,  
Hidden under his banks of Pumice stone.  
The ●lame was loath to touch his sacred head,  
And slowly round about the ●earse did spread.  
But when the wood had fed it, 〈…〉  
And st●aightway mount up to the starry skies.  
As that ●ire on the Mount 〈◊〉 had done,  
When Hercules was ●aid and burnt●t ere●n.  
Alas his beauty, and his generous form,  
And mild● aspected face the fire did burn.  
His hands and Princely figure were burnt thereby,  
And noble breast full of ingenuity.  
The hopes of many were burned in those flames,  
While funeral ●ire his mother's joy cont●ines.  
Yet ●is deeds live, and glory by pains won,  
This remains, this the funeral fire doth shun●e,  
All ages shall read him in History,  
He shall the subject of wit and ●erse be.  
His Titles shall in pleading places be read,  
That Drusus died for us it shall be said.  
But Germany no pardon 〈◊〉 for thee,  
Thou shalt with death hereafter punished be,  
I shall behold thy Kings by the neck chained,  
And their fierce hands within hard bands contained.  
Them looking with sad countenances I shall see,  
While tears fast down their cheeks unwillingly,  
Those Spirits that of Drusus death proved were,  
Shall be delivered to the Executioner.  
And I with joy shall then behold and see,  
How their naked bodies sp●ead in the ways be.  
Let Auro●a with her purple sterdes soon bring  
This day, when such great Triumphs may be seen;  
And honours to the Ledean brothers done,  
And Temples which may then be seen at Rome.  
How soon hath he performed his Princely part?  
And died old to his Count●y b● desert.  
Drusus no gifts given unto thee shall see,  
Nor t●tles which o'er ●●mple gates write be.  
Oft ●●ro shall in tear●s his speech thus smother,  
Go I to the b●ot●ers Temple tha● hath no brother?  
Drusus thou wouldst not return till thou were  
Victori●us, and so thou we●t a ●onquerou●.  
We lost ●ur consul, and Capta●e, and now all  
The city mourns, fo● t●ee in ge●erall.  
Thy soldier's fac●s ●ull of sorrow be,  
To Drusus●aple●●e, but full of lo●alty,  
Of which some li●ting up their hands towards thee,  
Have said, why goest without our company?  
●Drus●s wort●y wife, w●at can I say?  
Fit to be Drusus mo●●ers 〈◊〉 in law.  
An ●quail pair ●e valian●est of men,  
And 〈◊〉 with like aff●ction I●ving him.  
Thou wer● a Princess, he did thee esteem  
No l●sse than if thou hadst great Jove's wife been●.  
T●ou we●● his loyal Spouse, his first and last,  
Thou wert his comfort after labours past.  
He lay dying for thy absence did complain,  
And the last word that he spoke was thy name.  
He comes not as he promised, when he went,  
Nor returns in such fort as he was sent:  
Nor can discou●se to thee, ●ow he overcame  
The Sicambrian and the stout Suev●●●●.  
Nor of Rivers, and great mountains, and which there  
Nor wonders he in the new world did see.  
His dead corpse were brought back to thee and laid  
Upon a ●un●rall hearse was for him made.  
Why dost th●u ●ave like one were mad, and tear●  
With thy hands thy am●zed face and hair?  
Like Andromache w●en ●er husbands cold corpse  
Being dragged about, did fright the ●earefull horse.  
And in t●is sort Evadne her gri●fe took,  
When th●t stout cap meus was thunder struck.  
Why dost with death? ●mbrace thy sons which be  
The pledges of great D●usus love to thee?  
Why dost let f●lle dreams sometimes thee deceive?  
While Drusus in thy arms thou dost believe.  
And with thy hand, in hope that ●e is th●re,  
About the empty bed ●eelest everywhere?  
For he, if we believe report, shall be  
Buried am●ng his noble ancestry.  
To the glory of his house from whence he ●ame,  
His statue shall on his Chariot be drawn.  
In his royal robes of state, and his head  
With bays triumphant shall be compassed,  
They'll receive him, since from Germani●us he  
Received in the wars much dignity.  
And rejoice when they hear Germanic●s name,  
Which he by conquering Germany did gain.  
Yet will they scarce believe he should obtain,  
In so few years such ● large ample same.  
From these thing● he such honour shall receive,  
That you hi● mother ought the less to grieve.  
Such women in the ●golden age have been,  
You to your sons and Caesar honour bring.  
Behave thyself in such sort as may be seem,  
Drusus and Nero●● Mother, C●sa●s Queen,  
People and Rule●s several t●ings become,  
Set acts to royal persons belong.  
Fortune advanced thee to hig● dignity,  
Then Li●●● bear thy sorrows p●tiently.  
We mark●, an● harken, and obs●rve thy deed●s,  
Each word is mar●●d that from a Prince proceeds.  
Preserve your height▪ and above grief advance,  
Keep an un●onquer'd mind what ere do chance.  
For can we ●ve better learn from thee,  
These virtues which in thee exemplary be?  
Then if thou by thy actions dost set forth,  
The Idea of a Roman Princess worth.  
For we must each one die in general,  
The greedy Ferry man expects us all,  
So that his one boa● scarcely doth ●uince,  
To carry over such ●●ronging compan●●s.  
Hither we come, we hasten to this end,  
Death maketh all things unto ●●s ●●wes bend.  
Death that doth heaven, earth, and Sea a●●ai●e,  
Doth prophesy the threefold work shall fall.  
Then since all things to dissolution come,  
W●y ●hou'dst thou for thy loss make such great mo●e?  
He was a ●opefull Prince w●●le that he lived,  
And from a royal stock he was derived.  
But he was mortal, nor besi●es could he  
That still maintained wars be from dangers free.  
For l●fe is given unto us most free,  
Given to use, without paying usury▪  
Nor on condition that we must repay  
It on a certain, but uncertain day.  
Fortune at pleasure doth our time dispense,  
And both young men and old she taketh hence.  
For through the world she abroad doth thunder,  
By force crushing what she will bring under:  
And being blind herself, she in her pride  
In Chariot drawn with blind ●orses doth ride.  
Yet take heed least complaints her wrath exci●e,  
Do not provoke a goddess of such might,  
For she that so unkind to thee doth seem,  
Hath oftentimes more fovourable been.  
For you are nobly b●r●e, and you have been,  
Enriched with t●o sons, and are great loves Queen.  
And Caesar still victorious did come home,  
And in his wars doth prosperously go on.  
And both the nero's were their mother's joy,  
They beat their enemies and did them de 〈◊〉  
This Rhine and Alpine vales can t●stisie:  
The River Itargus which blood did die.  
And Danubius, Da●i●s, Apul●s which nigh  
Pontus, in the farthest part of the world do lie.  
Armenians put to 〈◊〉, Dalma●ians conquered,  
Pannonicus on the high mountains scattered.  
And Germany to Rome's subjection brought,  
Behold her merit's greater than her fault.  
Besides thy son was absent, nor would she,  
To view the death of t●y son suffer thee.  
And that grief to thy mind might gently slow,  
Thou by relation didst of thy loss know.  
Besides thy fear, thy sorrows did prevent,  
Because that he such dangers underwent,  
That when of perils thou didst only hear,  
They put thy mind into a mazed fear.  
Grief did not suddenly on thy heart cease.  
But when that fear had softend it by degrees.  
Jupiter gave signs did ●is death betoken,  
When Temples three were by his thunder strooken.  
Juno's, Minerva's, whom nought can affright,  
And Caesars were thunder stooke in the night.  
The stars out of the heavens fled they say,  
And Luciser forsook his wonted way.  
Lu●ifer through the world appeared to none,  
Not morning star did break of day foreron.  
The setting of this star betokend then,  
The following death of some great Noble man,  
But 〈◊〉 thy other son live till he be  
Old, that he may afford comfort to thee.  
May he live t●ose years were due to his brother,  
Till Mother and son both grow old together.  
T●e gods I hope will make amends to thee,  
After D●usus death to send prosperity.  
Yet thou dar'st humour thy griefs which are grea●,  
And cherishest an abstinence f●om meat.  
And for some few hours thou werteven dead,  
Although great Caesar's self thee comforted.  
Though he besought thee, and did often chide,  
And powerful hot waters to thee appl●d.  
Nor did thy son's entreat●ies less● care show▪  
To save his mother's life, as he oug●t to do.  
To thy Husband and son, we beholding are,  
Because that Livia lives still by their care.  
Suppress thy tears, they cannot him recover.  
Whom Charon's fatal boat hath carried over.  
Though Hector's brothers, sisters, wife and father,  
And some Astyanax wailed his death together.  
And his old mother they could not fetch him back,  
No ghost can be rowed o'er the Stygian lake.  
The truth hereof is in A●hillis found,  
Whose bones lie buried in the Trojan ground.  
For whom Panope unloosed her blue hair,  
Enlarging her stream did shed many a tear.  
With hundred goddesses, and the old father,  
O●eanus with his old wife together.  
●nd chiefly The●is, yet all could not be,  
So powerful to make gods c●ange their decree.  
Why do I repair ancient matters here?  
Octa●●● for Marcellus sh●d many a ●eare.  
And Caesar wept, for both of them being dead,  
And many tears before the people shed.  
But deat●s seve●e doom is irrevocable,  
No hand to lengthen ●●reds of life i● able,  
Should he come from Avernian shores to thee,  
He would speak in this manner valiantly.  
Why dost count my years? since that I did live,  
To greater age than years to me did give?  
For since brave actions do make an old man,  
I would have my age reckoned by them.  
They did fill up my age, not years, and I  
Wish a long ●●othfull age to my enemy.  
The nero's being my royal Ancestr●,  
In Punic wars s●ine might admonish thee.  
And my being one of Caesar's progeny,  
Might show you mother what my 〈◊〉 should be.  
Yet my dissent, desert increased not,  
But honours which I by myself have got.  
For thus the Titles which I got read be,  
Consul, and conqueror of Germany.  
My Statue doth declare, and show the prai●●  
Of Conquests, decked with Apollo's bays.  
And I was sensible of m● funeral,  
Of the concourse of my friends, and names were read  
Of all the Nations I had conquered.  
And how the young men most officious were,  
While they my hearse most solemnly did bear.  
And lastly sacred Caesar praised me,  
And my death drew tears from his Majesty.  
Then why should any pity me? tears keep  
This I en●reate, for whom thou now dost weep.  
Drusus ghost in the shades below thinks thus,  
And of so great a man believe no less.  
Thou hast one son, who stead of many may be,  
And may thy eldest son long live with thee.  
Thou hast a husband, and while he doth live.  
It doth disgrace thee Livia thus to grieve.  
FINIS.