THE Three first BOOKS OF Ovid de Tristibus Translated into English.  
IMPRINTED at London in Fleetestrete, near unto Saint Dunston's Church, by Thomas Marsh. 1580. Cum Privilegio.   

The occasion of this Book.  
OF ovidius Naso his banishment, divers occasions be supposed: but the common opinion and the most likely is, that Augustus Caesar then Em perour, reading his Books of the Art of Love, misliked them so much, that he condemned Ovid to exile. After which time the said Ovid aswell in his passage on the Sea, as after arrived in the Barbarous countries, the rather to recover the emperors grace, wrote these Elegies, or Lamentable verses, directing some to the Gods, some to Caesar, some to his wife, some to his Daughter, some to his Friends, some to his foes, etc. And called this book, the book of Sorrows: In latin de Tristibus.   

TO HIS MOST Assured and tried Friend Master Christopher Hatton Esquire, Thomas churchyard wisheth continuance of Virtue.  
AS I have great desire to perform my promise touching my whole works of English Verses, good master Hatton, so I wish myself able every way to keep the worthiness of your Friendship, which many have tasted, and few can find fault withal: such is the eevennesse of your dealings, and the upright behaviour of the same. Well, lest I should seem to unfold a farthel of Flattery, I return to my matter My book being unready, considering I was commanded (by a great and mighty parsonage) to write the same again, I am forced in the mean while to occupy your judgement with the reading of another man's work, whose doings of itself, are sufficient to purchase good report, albeit it wanted such a Patron as you are to defend it. The rest of that work which as yet is not come forth, I purpose to pen and set out, craving a little leisure for the same. And surely sir, I blush that mine own book bears not a better Title, but the baseness of the matter will not suffer it to bear any higher name, than Churchyards Chyps: for in the same are sundry trifles composed in my youth, and such fruit as those days and my simple knowledge could yield, so that the aptest name for such stuff, was as I thought, to give my works this Title, to be called Churchyards Chips (to warm the wits of his well-willers.) In my first book shallbe three Tragedies, two tales, a Dream, a description of Friendship, a Farewell to the Court, the siege of Leeth and sundry other things that are already written. And in my second Book shallbe four Tragedies, ten Tales, the Siege of Saint Quintaynes, Newhaven, caleis, and Guynes, and I hope the rest of all the sorrein wars, that I have seen or heard of abroad, shall follow in another volume.  
Thus commending this little present to your consideration, I trouble you not long with the tediousness of my Epistle, and wishing you much worship, good ●ame and blessed fortune, I bid you most heartily farewell.  
Yours in all at commandment. Thomas churchyard.   

Ovid to his Book.  

The Elegy first.  
MY little book (I blame thee not) to stately town s●all go.  
O cruel chance, that where thou goest, thy master may not so.  
Go now thy way: yet suit thyself, in sad and simple gear,  
Such exiles weed as time require, I will that thou do wear.  
No vasty Violet shalt thou use, nor rob of Purple hue,  
Those costly colours be unset, our careful cause to ●ue.  
With ruddy red die not thy face, nor sap of Cedar tree,  
Such outward hu● see that thou have, as cause assigns to thee.  
Frounce not thy fearful face I say, nor hapless head to streke,  
But rough and rugde so show in sight that pity may provoke.  
Those subtle sleights be much more meet, for volumes void of pain  
But thou of my unfriendly fate a mirror must remain.  
Be not abashed thy rueful blots, to set and show in sight,  
That of my tears men may them judge, to have been made a right.  
Depart thy way and in my name, salute those blessed bowers,  
When as thy fearful foot shall fall, in Caesar's stately towers.  
If any be (as some there are) amongst the rural rout,  
Forgetlesse friends shall ask for me, or aught shall seem to doubt.  
Say that I live: which as I do, by force of heavenly might,  
So do confess my troubled state, wherein thou sees me plight:  
If further speech shall thee provoke, or other skill they crave,  
I charge thee then to take good heed: no wasteful words to have.  
My faulty facts if any shall, reprove perhaps to thee,  
Or doleful deeds in public place condemned chance to be●.  
Spend thou no speech, nor do not care, though threatening brows they bend,  
A rightful cause it hindereth oft, with words if we defend.  
Some shalt thou find that will bewail, me thus in exile sent,  
And reading thee with trickling tears, my careful case lament.  
And in their muttering minds will wish (least wicked men may hear)  
That Caesar's ire once set a side, from pains I may be clear.  
To such therefore as well do wish, to us that pain do prove,  
To mighty jove we pray likewise, like sorrows to remove.  
All things thus staude in quiet state, and Caesar's grace once won,  
Doth wish my loathsome life to end, where life I first begun.  
A work unworthy of my wit, of thee some men will judge.  
And doing that I thee require, at thee likewise shall grudge.  
Yet ought a judge as well to time▪ as matte● have regard.  
Which if ye have (as I do hope) thou sasely shalt be hard.  
For pleasant berses do proceed, from quiet resting brain,  
But sudden sorrows me assaults, with hugy heaps of ●ayne.  
A time of trouble void it craves, a perfect verse to make,  
But me: the Seas, the wrestling winds, the winter wild doth shake▪  
A mind more free from fear it asks, in deadly doubt I stand,  
Lest that my life with sword be reft, by force of enemies hand.  
Yet some there are that maru●ile will, and rightful judges be,  
When they this mean and simple verse, with equal eyes shall see.  
For though that Homer yet did live, with sorrows so be set,  
His wont wits through malice might, I fear he should forget.  
Yet show thyself (my silly book) without regard of fame,  
Nor though percase thou dost displease, let it not thee ashame.  
Sith fortune so unfrendly is to hope it were in vain,  
That thou thereby should purchase praise to make thereof thy gain.  
While fortune smyld with smirking cheer of fame I had desire,  
And noted name on every side, I sought for to acquire  
A feigned verse lo now I make, and hate my hurtful lore,  
Let it suffice, sith that my wit forsaketh me therefore.  
Yet go thou one and in my steed the royal Rome to see  
God grant that there is none of mine, they may account of thee.  
And though thou there a stranger be, think not unknown to come  
But that amids the mighty town thou shalt be known to some.  
Thy colour will disclose thy craft, although thou wear no name,  
By deep deceit▪ or otherwise by skill to cloak the same.  
In privy wise yet pass thou in my verse may else offend,  
The wont grace it clearly wants, which I to verse did lend.  
To read as mine if any shall, unworthy therefore deem,  
And from his hands to cast away to the by hap shall seem,  
Tell then thy name: thou art not he of love that taught the lore,  
That wicked work hath felt the pains that it deserved before.  
Perhaps thou look'st I should thee bid the palace proud to climb,  
Where Cesar royal court doth keep with pleasant passed tyme.  
Those princely places and eke Gods, of pardon to I crane  
Sith from the stately tops of them this lightning lo we have.  
The time I may remember when those Gods more gentle wear,  
Such now therefore as hurtful be by proof of pain I fear.  
The silly Dove that once was nymd, with goshauk●s greedy nype,  
Doth dread the smallest glympes of her, to fly her grievous gripe.  
The wandering lamb that worewing wolf, had caught by courage bold,  
Escaping then his cruel chaps doth sleep in shepherds fold.  
Yea Phaeton would shun the skyee, if he again did rain,  
And hate the horses whom he loved for fear of former paint,  
Myself confess that have receyu'de of l●ue his lance a wound▪  
Do fear the force of flashing fire, by thunders threatening sound.  
Who so Caphatea seeks to shun in way from Grecian fleet,  
That he always from Ebo●ke Seas, to turn his stern is meet  
My ship that lately did escape, with sturdy storm a clap  
In that fame place doth hate to come, for fear of like mishap▪  
My book therefore beware and stand, with fearful mind in doubt.,  
And be content that thou be red in private place about.  
While Icarus with tender wings did climb the starry sky,  
In surging Seas he fell adown. which have their name thereby  
The Ower or the sails to use, herein to know is hard,  
But time and cause shall counsel thee, if thou thereto regard.  
An idle time if thou espy, when ceased is debate,  
And when all ire is pacified, and turned to friendly state.  
Some doubting thus with fearful face will thee perhaps present,  
So he with words thy way have made, then go where thou art sent.  
More happy hap god grant thou have, and far more lucky day,  
Then I have had, when thou come there, our sorrows to allay.  
For he alone can salve my sore: of whom the wound I have.  
And hurt and heal by self same skill, Achilles lately gave.  
Take heed while help herein thou seek, thereby no hurt arise,  
For fear doth far surmount our hope, thyself therefore advise.  
In minds to quiet bent, renew not wrath again,  
Lest thou unwares may kindle cools, to double former pain.  
Yet when unto my homely house, thou shalt return to me,  
And in thy crooked shrine be set, a place made meet for thee.  
Thy brethren there thou shalt behold, in order seemly set,  
One only father all they had, whom he by skill beget.  
The rest that therein sight do show by signs thou may decern,  
Whose names be set amids their brows, that thou thereof may learn.  
And also three in privy place, do lurk in darksome den,  
Of love the crafty skill they teach, as it is known to men.  
Those wicked wights thou shalt eschew, or if thou may proclaim,  
For such as fathers lately slew, by Telogonian name,  
These three I warn thee of, if thou (the father not disdain,  
Of love although the way they teach, to love yet thou refrain.  
And fifteen volumes more in verse, of changed bodies be●,  
Which at my funerals I had, and there bereft from me.  
Among the which transformed shapes, say thou that I do crave,  
That my misfortune may be set, with them a place to have.  
Unlikely to her former hests, her altering wondrous strange,  
For now she weeps the whilom smiled, as chance of time doth change  
More matter yet (if thou had asked) I had to tell beside,  
But that I fear it might be cause▪ to long that thou abide.  
For if nothing that comes to mind, from thee I should detain.  
A burden far more huge thou were, than bearers could sustain.  
Long is thy way therefore make haste, for we shall now abide,  
In furthest Coast of all the earth far from our country wide.   

¶ To the Gods. The Elegy second.  
O Gods of Seas & Sky, for what save (prayers may prevail)  
Do not destroy our shaken ships, in surging Seas to sail.  
Nor do you not to Caesar's wrath, with whole assent resort,  
For him whom one God doth oppress, an other may support.  
Though Vulcan stood adverse to Troy, Apollo sought relief,  
And Venus was to Trojans just, though Pallas wrought their grief.  
So Iu●o did Aeneas hate, who Turnus held full dear,  
Yet he through help of Venus' power, from harm was saved clear.  
The fierce Neptunus oft did seek, to short Ulysses' days.  
Yet from her eme Minerva did, his life preserve always.  
And though we far inferior be, in heavenly force and might,  
A fiendly God yet who forbids, an angry God to spite.  
But wasteful words (O wretch) I spend, no good thereby arise.  
Save that it makes the watery waves, to springe from speakers eyes.  
My painful speech and prayers priest, the Southrens wind hath rend.  
And suffers not that they do come, to Gods where they be sent.  
With one alonely cause therefore lest I be hurt, should deem  
Both ships and vows I know not where, to bear away they seem  
What boisterous billows now (O wretch) amids the waves we spy,  
As I forthwith should have been heu'de to touch the Azure sky.  
What vacant valleys be there set, in swallowing S●as so wrought,  
As presently thou looks I should, to dreary hell be brought.  
I took't about: save Seas and sky, nought subject was to sight,  
With swelling surges one, with clouds, the other threatened spite.  
Between them both with whisking sound, the whirling wynds do rend  
And foaming Seas to Wether God, do stand in doubt to bend,  
Now doth sir Eurus winds take force at rise of mourning bright,  
Now Zephyrus is priest at hand, to weight the darksome night.  
Now Boreas with parching Urye, from Northern Pole doth glide,  
Now Notus so with ●eare of flyet, doth put his ●orce aside.  
The Guide himself in doubtful muse, what he may fly doth crave,  
Astonished stays his wont skill from wrack the ship to save.  
We die therefore, no hope at all of life their doth remain.  
While thus I speak the bitter tears, my fearful face distayn.  
The floods my mind oppressed while thus, in vain we prayed alas,  
And by our careful mouth adown, the deadly drops do pass.  
My godly wife it only grieves, in exile I am sent,  
This one mishap alone she knows▪ for this she doth lament.  
In largest seas how I am cest, to her no fear doth seem,  
Nor tos● with winds she knoweth not, nor death so near doth deem.  
O happy yet I did her leave, and so myself auys●  
For else (poor wretch) my pain were more, then d●ath have suffered awise  
But though that I do perish quite, s●th she in life remain,  
I think thereby my days to length and half a life to gain.  
What flames alas with swift recourse, from scowling clouds do light  
What cruel crashing noise do sound, from axe in heaven on height,  
No lighter blows our ship do bear by surges weighty gush,  
Then lofty walls when they sust●yne, the cannon's cruel rush,  
This raging flood which hence do come, in force all floods surmount,  
Behind the ny●th before the le●enth, in sight we my account.  
For death I fear though this do sceme, a wretched death to be,  
Set wrack aside, a gift it is, a welcome guest to me,  
Somewhat it is for such as are, by sword or fa●e decayed,  
That dying so in mouldy earth, their liveless corpses be laid.  
Their faithful friends they may exhort, and gladsome grave obtain,  
And not in Seas to have been stroyd, and fishes ●ood be sla●ne.  
Admit I do deserve such death, alone I am not hear.  
Why should my gri●●e pr●cure these pains whose facts from ●●ults be clear  
O Saints above and g●ds so great, which rule ●he waters' all,  
Of either sort mor●●eker be, and threatening bro●●s let fall.  
So life which Caesar's gentle wrath, hath 〈◊〉 to pass alive,  
Herewith I ma● (if you let not) at pointed place arrive.  
If ●ny pain I ha●e deserved, have 〈◊〉 my death decreed?  
My fault at all no 〈◊〉 deseru●●, th● 〈◊〉 hi●selfe agreed.  
If Cesar would ●aue sent me do●ne to swim in Stygian l●ke,  
No help of you for that he needs nor pains therein should take.  
No such envy he doth pretend nor, longeth so for blood,  
Sith that he gave and may receive, when he so thinks it good.  
And you therefore we humbly pray, s●th ye no harm sustain,  
Indifferent minds herein to have, and not increase our pain.  
For though you woul● with wh●le assent, my wretched body save,  
Think you by that for dampened soul a help hereafter have?  
Though ●eas were call ●e, though winds were still, & you O God's content,  
Yet a a●exilde I should remain, by Caesar's own assent.  
I do not seek for greedy gain▪ by merchants crafty s●ill.  
Whereby I should occasion have the surging seas to till  
Nor Athens ●oe I look to see, where I have sought for sore,  
Nor Asia mighty towns to view, not seen to me before.  
Nor yet to Alexandria cost, I would conveyed be,  
That there I might O Nil●s rest, thy pleasures there to see.  
The winds I wish (who would believe) my ship in haste to drive.  
Unto S●rmatia famous land, that there it might aryue.  
As I am bound even so I would, to Pontus' haven attain,  
And leaving thus my country dear my slow success I plain.  
Nor know n●t in what coast to find, the town that Tomos hight  
And by my painful prayers so, I take my fearful flight.  
If me you love then do I crave your swelling floods to tame,  
And by your heavenly power permit our ships may sail the same.  
Or if you hate, compel me then to pointed place to fly,  
A part of pain I think it is, in strangers ground to die.  
Now hal● away you ●o●sterous winds, why do we here abide?  
And by Italia shore in sight w●at causeth us to ride?  
Sith Caesar hath decreed my flight, will you thereto deny.  
Wherefore permit my eyes may come, where Pontus they may spy.  
Thus hath he judged, thus I deserve, nor what he doth reprove,  
By right or law to ●end my fault, it may not me behove.  
If doleful deeds of mortal men, to Gods be not unknown,  
Then may you see not my offence, of wicked mind is grown.  
But if such ●●il they have, and I by error so distraught,  
My mind with ignorance and not, with wickedness was fraught.  
If any love to Caesar's house, we simple men do bear,  
His public hests it shall suffice, that we do dread and fear.  
If I have told of happy days, wherein that he did rain,  
To Caesar and Cesarians all, have 〈◊〉 my busy pain.  
If I such faithful mind have had, so grant (O Gods) relief,  
If not to drowned in Seas I wish and end my weary grief.  
But am I now deceived? or do the scowling clouds wax fair,  
Or do the billows break in sight? or calm to seas repair  
No chance but cause have called you here, your aid we pray to lend,  
Sith you no fraud or craft may blind, for help we do attend.   

¶ He departeth from Rome, remembreth the tears of his Wife, and friends. Elegy. 3.  
WHen I the pensive picture see, of dark and dreary night,  
And in my mind behold the town, from whence I took my flight.  
Or time record, when I did leave▪ my friends and dear allies,  
Then do the doleful drops descend, from my sad weeping eyes.  
The day drew on I should departed, as Caesar willed before,  
And flee a far to parts extreme, and shun Italia shore.  
No time or perfect space I had, nor mind for prayer priest,  
And drowsiness by long delay, had crept in careful breast.  
No men there were to weight on me, no care I had to reed,  
No garments meet for mine estate, nor wealth to serve my need,  
I was astoyn'de: as he that feels the force of lightning flame,  
Who thinks he were of life bereft, and yet enjoys the same,  
But when this cloud of mind was gone, by sorrow set aside,  
And that my senses did return, in former health to bide,  
At last my sorry friends I spoke, when I away did pass,  
Which of a number that I had, but one or two there was.  
My loving wife all weeping thus, me weeping did sustain,  
Till that by her unworthy cheeks, a shower of tears did rain,  
My daughter dear was far away, in coast of Libya land,  
And of my fate no word she knew, nor cause could understand.  
A yelling and a crying noise did sound on every side,  
No secret form of funeral, within my house did bide.  
The man the Wife, the blameless babe, my doleful death do ●ue,  
In every corner of my house, a stream of tears there give.  
If we doubt not our matters small, by greater things make plain,  
As Troy when it was ta'en, so we in like estate remain.  
Now whisted was the voice of men, of dogs and every wight,  
And Cynthia led the horses then, that ruled the darckesome night.  
I looking up, did cast mine eyes, the Senate house to see,  
Which next our careful cot in vain, was built in good degree.  
And said (O Gods) that here do rest, and nearest neighbours be,  
O stately Temples whom mine eyes, henceforth shall never see.  
And you O heavenly ghosts I leave, in lofty Rome to dwell.  
For ever here I take my leave, and bid you all farewell.  
But though that after g●euous wounds, my shield to late I have,  
Yet do vouchsafe my fearful flight, from hurtful hate to save.  
And say unto this heavenly man: by error I did fall,  
Lest wickedness ●ay else be thought to have been mixed withal,  
〈◊〉 that which you do all perceive, let him perceive the same,  
That Gods once pe●sde, I may be sure, to have no wretches name.  
These painful prayers have I made the mighty Gods, unto  
My wife with more while sobbing sighs, her words have letted so.  
Before the doors with hairs he spread, she prostrate ●o did lie,  
And with her mouth the 〈…〉, that builded are thereby.  
Full many helpless words she spoke to adverse houses than,  
Which nought at all for me preu●●ld, that was condemned man.  
The hasting night now drew away, nor longer space would grant  
Wherewith the star●es did turn one axe, the darksome night to daunt  
What might I do as loath I was to leave my country dear,  
So was the pointed night now come, and almost passed clear.  
How oft cried I to such as then, my long delay controlled.  
Why force you me? why hast ●ou so? whence go we now? behold  
How often have I feigned like w●se, a certain hour to have,  
Which for my journey were more fit, and me from danger save.  
The threshold thrice I ki●t, an●●hryse I was called back I trow,  
M● mind was dull and made no haste, my feet in flight were slow.  
O●t t●mes I said farewell, and yet, for which I speak and plain,  
〈◊〉 then as parting I returned to kiss my friends again.  
Oft times the same precepts I gave, and being yet beguiled.  
I liked back and cast mine 〈◊〉, to see my silly child.  
In fine: what hast, to Sci●hea now it is that we are sent,  
And Rome we leave, yet both delays, be done of just intent.  
My wife although she live I loose, I yet do live likewise  
W●th house and members sweet thereof, which I cannot despise.  
My faithful fellows eke whom I▪ as brethren did esteem,  
Whose fastened faith as true to me, O Thesean mates I deem.  
Them there in arms I did embrace, which never more I might,  
Each hour a grateful gain I thought, that given me was that night.  
N● more delay I made but left my talk imperant there,  
All things that I should then have said, in mind recorded near.  
W●yle we our sorry speech did spend, and while we weped thus,  
The day star 'gan appear on sky, a heavy star to us.  
Wherewith a pain I felt, as though my members have forlorn,  
And from my body every part, did see u● to have been torn.  
I plainde as Pri●m whilom did, when he the treason knew,  
And saw his foes from horse to slip. ●hen trojan mates they slew.  
A common cry did th●n arise, my 〈…〉 c●ri●g 〈◊〉,  
Their careful breasts of cl●●●ing b●●e, 〈◊〉 hea●y h●●ds they struck.  
D●p●rting then: to shoulders fast, my 〈…〉 clea●●e afraid,  
And with my tears her words ●hee mixed, a●d thus eu●● t●en sh● said.  
Thou shalt not go together us, to flee they sh●ll constrain,  
I follow thee, of exiles wife, ●n exile will remain.  
The way is made for me, and I, the farthest land will see,  
And to your passing ships I shall, a slender burden be.  
Caesar's wrath commandeth you our country ●●are to flee,  
B●t love, this godly zealous lou●, shall Caesar g●●● to me.  
Li●e helpless things she did assay, as oft ●hee did before,  
And scant her weary hands she 〈◊〉, her pro●●● to restore.  
A coming forth as one that were, deprived of rightful gra●e,  
A nasty skin, & hanging ●eare, a coming ●outh I have.  
Some say that she with sorrows great, a● end of darksome night.  
A●ids the house i● frantic mood, did cast her self in sight.  
And that at length ●h●e rose again, her hairs in dust arrayed.  
And members cold from ground ●hee hea●de, as one right sore afraid▪  
Sometimes herself, sometimes her house, she doth bewail withiel,  
And to her husband absent then, full o●t by name she call.  
No less she weeped there then if, her woeful eyes should spy.  
M● daughter or myself made m●●te, on burning co●les to lie.  
Such care she had her death to have, and leave her living sense,  
Yet none it were respecting mine, though ●hee so passed hence.  
But now God grant that she do live, ●●th fates do so decree,  
That by her helping hand I may, the more relieved be.  
Boote● now which keeps the bear, of Erymanthus wood,  
In Ocean Sea is dived low, whose star doth stir the flood▪  
Yet sail we not in Ionian Seas, for that we so do crave,  
But are compelled by present fear, more boldness there to have.  
Lo now (O wretch) the Seas wax black, the boisterous winds do beat,  
And sands that from the depth ●e drawn, do burn with ●owly heat.  
Our ships with waves no less than hills, is ●ossed to and fro,  
Our painted Gods with billows bet, their quiet state forego.  
The slender s●des do cry and sound, with stress the cables crack,  
The ship itself with our ill hap, a fearful groaning make.  
The master by his pale aspect, bewrays his secret fer●,  
And overcome pursues the wippe, by ●●il rules not the s●ere.  
Like as the fearful rider doth let slip the horses reane.  
Who yieldeth to his careless will and a●t forgett●h clea●e.  
Even so not where he would, but where the forcing water drive,  
The sail I see he lets at large, in washing waves to dive.  
That if sir Acolus, had not sent his changed winds abroad,  
I surely had or this been blown, to place that was forbade.  
For far from Liria coast to then, on left side fast at hand,  
The interdicted place we saw, and spied Italia land.  
But let the foaming se●s (we pray (forbidden shore to seek.  
That they with me the Gods obey, and show themselu●s more meek.  
While speaking thus we prayed and feared to have been drive aback▪  
Wi●h wondrous force of sturdy waves our ship sides lo did crack.  
O mighty Gods of ma●ble seas let not your tree arise,  
That jove himself with me be wroth, we creve it may suffice.  
And do you not my weary mind with cruel death constrayn,  
If he that death hath suffered once, cannot ●e●ar● ageyn.   

To his constant friend. Elegy. 4.  
O Friend whom first among my mates as chief in mind I deem,  
O thou that dost my heavy fate, even as thine ownee●●eeme,  
That first relieved me I mean, amazed where I lay▪  
And boldest were with willing mouth comforting words to say.  
Which gently gave me counsel then, to live and len●●h my days,  
When love of death in careful breast, had crept by sundry ways.  
Thou know'st to whom I speak although thy name in signs I set,  
Thy duty and thy friendly care, no whit I do forget.  
In deepest depth of mind these things I printed haveful plain,  
A debtor still of thine, I shall for evermore remain.  
With wandering winds this spirit of mine, shall pass away and flee,  
And lasting bones with flaming fire, shall quite consumed be.  
Before that these thy good deserts shall scape my careful mind.  
Or else this godly love with ●ime, from thence a ●ay seal find.  
Let mighty Gods now favour thee, that help thou need none crave,  
And fortune far unlike to mine, God grant that thou may have▪  
Yet if the ship had safely sailed and friendly ●●ndes had blown.  
This love and faithful friendship then, perhaps had not been known.  
Peritheus did not account, Duke Theseu● for his friend,  
Till that for him to Stygian lake alive he did descend.  
O rests so thy furies fearceful pe●●●te trials be,  
With how true heart that Pylades, was linked in love to thee.  
If ●hat the stout Euryalus, with Butis had not fought,  
Thy noble fame O Nisus then, had not been blown about.  
Like as the fine and perfect gold, in flaming fire is tried,  
Even so the love of friendship is in troublous time descried,  
While fortune lust to smile and give, her helping hand withal,  
And things to grounded wealth they have, that may thereto befall.  
But when her threatening brows she bend, they shrink away and flee,  
Where hugy heaps but lately were, not one now left we see.  
This skilful red I learned by ills, in other that did grow,  
But now even of mine own mishaps, by proof the same I know.  
Scant two or three my frende● you are, that of my ●uth remain,  
The rest as fortunes and not mine, I do account them plain,  
You ●ew therefore do help our pain, that rest we may achieve,  
And that by you our shaken ships, in safer shore aryue.  
With feigned fear be not afraid, a thing both fond and vain,  
Lest God misliking that your love, offended do remain.  
For Caesar oft in enemies doth, his faithful friendship praise,  
And that which in his own, in foes, he doth approve always.  
My cause yet better is, I have, no adverse armour worn,  
My folly is the cause that I my country have forlorn.  
With waking minds our heavy haps, do you bewail, and pray,  
That Caesar's raging wrath the more, thereby may have delay,  
Who so my cares doth seek to know, in number them to have,  
A thing more hard than may be done, he seems thereby to crave,  
So many ills ●o have I borne, as stars in Azure sky,  
And little grains of flying dust, on parched ground do lie.  
And many more of greater weight, we forced were to bear,  
Which though they chanced of credit yet, in them some doubt there were.  
Some part whereof as doth behove, with me must die away,  
And by my mean would God were none, that might the same bewray,  
A piercing speech although I had, a firm and flinty breast,  
And greater store of mouths thereto, wherein more tongues did rest,  
Yet all in words I do not know how I might comprehend,  
The thing exceeding further then, my wits may well extend.  
My troubles great (O Poets lernde) for Duke Ulysses' wright,  
Yet I more 〈◊〉 than he hath borne, for truth you may endight.  
In compass small he many years, was tossed up and down,  
Between the Grecians noble land, and Troyans' famous town.  
But we the widest S●as have met, and wandered every ways,  
To Geta crickes have driven been, and eke Sarmatia Bays,  
A faithful hand Ulysses had, with mates both true and just,  
But me my fellows fled in whom, I chief put my trust.  
In merry mood as victor then, he went his land to see,  
But I as victored do departed, and exile hence to flee.  
In Greece ne yet Ithaca ground, nor Samia do I dwell,  
From whence to be no pain it is, but may be suffered well.  
But Rome which from the mountains seven, we there behold in sight,  
The empire large and Gods thereof▪ lo thence I take my flight.  
A body strong Ulysses had, that labour could sustain,  
A small and slender corpses I have, with weak and tender brain.  
To cruel wars and Marshal deeds hath he been used always,  
In quiet study have I dwelled, and lived all my days.  
The greatest God oppresseth me, to whom no God resort,  
But Pallas him assisted still, and did his cause support.  
Neptunus' ire the God of Seas, have grieved him right sore,  
But me Amighty jove oppress, whose wrath revengeth more.  
The greatest part of his now be, for fables counted plain,  
Of our mishaps no part at all for losing do remain.  
In fine, even as he did desire, at pointed place a●yue,  
Which long he wished, right so he did, at length attain alive.  
But I my country dear do think now never more to see.  
Unless the ire of angry Gods, appeased hap to be.   

To his wife Elegy. 5.  
CAllimachus did not so burn, with love to Lyda lent,  
Nor yet so sore Phila●es had, his heart on Ba●tis ben●,  
As the (O mate most true) my breast within I deeply grave,  
Which worthy art a better not, but happier husband have,  
I falling fast by thee do hold, as by a booteful beam,  
Thy gi●t it is, that I have scaped, apart of troubles stream.  
Thou art the cause I am no prey, to such as seek to see,  
The letters brought that might declare, the woeful wrack of me.  
Like as the wolf that blood desires, when hunger hard doth prick,  
Of silly sheep that be unkept, the flesh full fain would ●ick,  
Or as the greedy Gripe upon, the careful corpses doth stare,  
When on the ground he sees it lie and left unburned bear.  
So 〈…〉 I ●now not who, 〈…〉 hap did mistrust.  
Upon 〈…〉 let's not his hands had laid ●niust.  
But I 〈…〉 did withstand, by force of hendes full true,  
To whom no ●han●e we render may, as to their deeds is due.  
In careful c●se a witness true, thy deeds therefore doth praise,  
If witness do perchance prevail, in these our doleful days.  
In virtuous life Andromacha, thy name doth not distain,  
Nor Laodamia who did leave, her life with husband slain.  
If Homer thou hadst happed upon, thy fame should far exceed.  
Above the chaste Penelopeis', of whom in him we read.  
But if these manners meek the Gods, did give thee all untaught▪  
And in the day of blissful birth, of nature thou them caught.  
Or else the matron most to praise, on whom thou waightest long,  
A mirror did thee make to be, all honest wives among.  
And to herself with custom long, hath caused thee like to seem,  
By greater things of matters small, we doubt not for to deem.  
Full woe I am my verse hath not, more force in such a case,  
And that my tongue doth not suffice, thy faithful facts to blaze.  
For look what lively strents of mind, afore in me there sprung,  
Is quenched quite and fallen away, with sorrows sore ●nd long:  
The chief among the Ladies of, great fame tho● mightest sit,  
And of all men be looked upon, for virtue, and for wit.  
And so what power my pen may have, when verse I do endite,  
From time to time thou shalt aye live, in verse that I can write.   

¶ To his friends that ware his Image ingraude. Elegy. 6.  
What friend thou be that Image have, in form made like to me,  
No Garlands gay with ivy wrought, about his head let be.  
These happy signs most comely be, that pleasant Poets were,  
My troublous time is far unfit the Laurel crown to bear.  
And thou that bears about of me, in ring the picture priest,  
Fayne that these things were never spoke, although thou knows them best.  
The countenance dear of me, that am in exile sent, behold,  
The likeness of my louring looks, which thou hast graude in gold.  
Whereon when thou shalt cast thine eyes, than haply thou may say,  
How far from us is Naso now, our fellow sent away.  
Thy love I well allow but yet, my verses print more plain  
My form: which as they be, I ●id, to read do not dis●ayne.  
My verse I say that doth declare, how men strange shapes did shade,  
Unhappy work whose master fled, and left vnperf●● made.  
The same with heavy hand full sad in flaming fire I thrust,  
With much more of my grievous goods, when needs depart I must.  
And as they say that Thestias, did burn with fatal fi●●,  
Her son: and sister kineder was, than mother would with ire.  
So I my books my bowels dear, which no desert did s●ow,  
To die away with ●ee did then, in fleshing fl●m●● bestow.  
Which either was because my muse, as hurtful I did hate,  
Or else for that my verse was rude and not in perfect state.  
Which as they be not quite extinct, but partly yet appear  
In volumes more than one I think, that when they written were.  
So now I wish them still remain, none y●le sloth that be,  
The r●●der to delight but may, remember him of me.  
But y●t no man with patient cares, to read them can abide,  
Except he know that uncorrect, from me the s●me did slide.  
That work was plucked away when half, he had his labour scant,  
The trimming trick that last should come, my wrttinge clearly want.  
For painted praise thy pardon crave, thy praise shall well suffice,  
If thou th●t chance to read● this book, my work do not despise,  
And here also six verses have, which if thou think it best,  
In foremost front of that my book, see that thou let them rest.  
What ●an thou be these volumes touch, of father now bereft.  
And leastwise grant within your house a place for them be left.  
And that thou should more favour them, of him they were not sent,  
In public pre●se: but as it were the masters hearse of ren●e.  
If that unlearned verse therefore, shall then show forth my crime,  
The master would have mended it, if he had longer ●yme,   

To his friend that br●ke his promise Elegy. 7.  
THe fresh floods shall from S●●s retire, again their● springs unto  
So shall the Sun with horses ●urnde, his course r●uok● also.  
The ●arth shall ●ke the bright star bear, and air t●e plough seal cleave,  
The ●ater shal● bring forth the flames, and fl●e shall water give  
All things sh●l now by nature's law, in order strange proceed,  
No parcel of this wandering world, his way aright shall lead,  
All things seal come to pass which I, devyed afore cold be,  
For nothing is so strange to hear, bu● we may hope to see  
It s●all be so I guess because, of him I am reject,  
Whose help I hoped now that should, my woeful cause protect.  
O faithless 〈◊〉 how came so great forgetfulness of me  
Why w●re thou then so sore, afraid, my careful corpse to see?  
That o●ce again thou might not look, nor comfort me oppressed,  
Nor yet hard heart, my funerals pursue among the rest:  
The sacred name of friendship fair, that all men do adore,  
Under thy foot thou le●●●st lie, as thing of little store.  
And t●ough thou did ●o tear●s set ●all, ●or this ●y sorry plight,  
Yet f●r from heart some words to say, with ●ay●ed grief thou might.  
At lea●t wise that to strangers did then bid we well to far,  
With people's voice and public speech agree that good will bare,  
And then thy face with mourning f●et, no more in sight t'appear,  
W●yle yet thou mightst to look upon the la●t day I was there.  
To take and give with talk alike, o●t farewell in such case,  
W●ich once we might and then ●o more, w●yle world endures embrace,  
As others more which with no league of friendship I h●d bound,  
Who then declar● their grief of mind, with ●rick●yng tears o● groū●  
W●ere else should I to thee be knit, with 〈◊〉 in common ●ed,  
With causes eke of great effect, and ●●at 〈◊〉 long time bred.  
Why else knew thou so many boards, and ca●ne● ac●es of mine,  
And I so ma●y matters said, and p●easant pranks of thine.  
What if alone at royal Rome our friendship had been knit,  
But thou so oft in every place, was called a fellow fit.  
With wistsome winds of seas in vain, have all these taken flight  
Or else all things in Lethe lake, are drou●d with darksome night.  
I think in town thou were not borne, that Rome of Quirite hight▪  
A town alas wherein to come, I may not woeful wight.  
But in the rocks which here do lie, on left side of the sea,  
In crooked crags of Sarmatis, in land of Scythia.  
That in thy heart be heaped high, of flyne the stony veins  
And eke ● Iron the seeds so hard, within thy breast remains.  
The nurse also which gave thee sucks through tender mouth to passe●  
With fruitful tears when thou wert young, untamed ●iger was.  
For else thou would not l●sse regard the heavy hap I bear,  
Then strangers ill: nor guilty yet, of rigour rough appear.  
But since the same my fatal fall and sorrows do increase,  
That friendship should in his first time, from duty doing cease.  
Now cause I may forget thy fault, and then I shall again,  
With self same tongue thy kindness praise that I do now complain▪   

To his friend that the common people followeth fortune. Elegy 8.  
ALl void of grief God grant thou may, last end of life attain  
Which as a friend to read this work, of mine dost not disdain.  
And here I wish my prayers might, prevail for thy behove,  
Which for myself the cruel gods, to mercy could not move.  
In number thick thy ●rendes will come, while hap hangs on thy side,  
If stormy clouds of time appear, alone thou shalt abide,  
Behold how Doves to house resort, in whitely colours clad,  
In beastly bower of sluttish coat, no bird abideth glad.  
The painful Pismeere never comes, in barn left void and bare,  
No friend repairs where goods before, be clean consumed with care.  
When Sun doth shine the shadow shows, of them that walk abroad,  
When it lieth hid in cloud he list, no longer make abode,  
The unconstant sort of people so, do follow fortunes light,  
Which quenched once with hovering shower, they strait do take their flight  
And would to God thou might perceive, that falsely this do sound,  
But I must needs confess them true, by fortune that I found.  
While we did stand in perfect state our house desyrde no fame,  
But yet was known, and had resort, as did suffice the same.  
But when it first began to s●ake, th●y s●ared sore the fall,  
And w●ly backs to flying turned, to save themselves withal.  
No marvel though they fear the flash, of lightning ●ruell flame,  
By fire of which all things is wont, consume that near it came.  
But Caesar yet among his foes, that friend doth well allow,  
Which doth not shrink but tarry still, when fortune bends her brow.  
●o wont use ●e hath to fume (no man is more modest)  
If he which loved to lover 〈◊〉, in troub●lous time is priest.  
The fame doth tel● how Thoas king, on Pylades did rue,  
When as by m●te of Grecian Land, Orestes once he knew.  
Pat●●●lus perfect faith which was, with great Achilles' kni●,  
Was wont full oft with worthy praise, in Hector● mouth to sit.  
They say because that Theseus, with friend of his did pass.  
Among the Prince's black of Hell, their God full sor●y was.  
We believe O Turnus that thy cheeks with tears were wet.  
When thou heard of Eurialu●, and Nysus fayth●● so set.  
In wretches eke there is a love, in foes which we approve,  
O heavy hap so few there be which with my words I move,  
Such is the state and chance of me, and of my matters all,  
That nothing ought my tears to stop▪ from sorry race to fall.   

¶ He rejoiceth that his friend profited in learning. Elegy. 9  
ALthough my heart for private chance, with sadness so be fraught,  
It ●ighter lies when I hear of, the knowledge thou hast caught,  
I saw (most dear) that here thou should within this port arrive.  
Afore this way the wrestling winds, thy ship began to drive.  
If ●anners mild with virtue mixed, or life devoid of blame,  
Be had in price no man that lives, deserves a better name.  
Or if by art of cunning known, that any do ascend,  
There comes ●o cause which th●n cannot, with pleasant words defe●d  
With these in mind I moved thus, to thee then straight can say,  
A greater stage (O friend) remains, thy vert●e to display.  
No spleen of Sheep, of Lightning flame, no flash on left side seen,  
No chir●ing song or flight of foul, a s●gne whereof hath been.  
By reason's rule I did divine, and judge of that should come,  
All these in mind I gassed right, and of them knowledge ●ome.  
In heart therefore I joyful am, for thee they proou●d true,  
Also for me, to whom thy wit, was known as did ensue.  
But would to God that mine had line, full low in darkness hid,  
For need requires my studious style, of lovely ●ight to rid.  
And a● the science sad and grave, with piked speech a●d fine,  
Doth profit thee: so am I hurt, with lore unlike to thine.  
But yet my life thou knowst right well, how that far from this art,  
Is masters manners distant all, repugn in every part,  
Thou knowest of old this verse was writ, by me when I was young,  
And it was though not to praise, in jest and playing song.  
Like as no crafty colour can, in their defence have might,  
So I suppose my verse may not, excused be with right.  
Eu●n as thou can, do th●m excuse, and friends cause not forsake,  
And with such steps as thou hast gone, thy way right for●h do take.   

¶ He praiseth his ship he found at Corinthia. Elegy. 10.  
A Ship I have (and God so g●aunt) g●uern'de by Pallas might,  
Whose ha●py name no helm thereof, depainted is in sight.  
I● sails therein we need to use, with slender wind she sails,  
Or if the ower: her way she takes, and easy force prevails.  
Her fellows all ●ith speedy course, to p●sse is not content,  
But doth put back by sundry skills, all ships that forward bend.  
The flowing flood she lightly bears, and sells the t●ssing seas,  
No cruel w●ues she yields unto but sails away with ●ase.  
With her I came acquainted ●irst, even a● Corinthia ground,  
Whom since a guide and trusty mate, in fearful slight I found.  
Through sundry straits and wicked winds out way she did pr●cure,  
Yet was by force of Palla● power, fr●m danger saved sure.  
And now the gates of vas●y Seas, we ●ray that she may 〈◊〉,  
In Geta streams so long time sought, we may at length ar●iue.  
Which when she had conuey'de me ●hus, to Hellispontus port,  
In narrow tracked away full long, she s●ul●ely did resort.  
On left side th●n our course we tourn'de, from Astors' famous town,  
And to their coasts (o Imbria) th●re, ●rom thence we came a down.  
So forth 〈◊〉 gentle winds when we, Zerinthia did attain,  
In Samoth●acia there our ship, all weary ●id remain,  
From hence the reach is short, if thou, S●antira seeks to view,  
So far the happy ship she did, her master still pursue.  
Then on Bist●nian fields to go, on f●●te it did me● please,  
My ship forthwith forsaking there, the Hellespontian Seas.  
Unto Dardania then which hears, the Author's 〈◊〉, we bend,  
And thee (o Lampsace) we do seek, w●om rural Gods defend.  
W●ere as the Sea doth Seston par, from Abydena town,  
Even where as Helles whilom fell, in narrow Seas adown.  
From thence to Cizicon which on▪ Propontis shore do stand,  
Cizi●o● the noble work, of Thessalonians hand.  
Whereas Byzantia holdeth in, the seas on either side,  
This is the place of double Seas, that keeps the gate so wide.  
And here I ●ray that we may scape, by force of Southrens wind,  
That from Cyaneas Rocks in haste, she straight a way may find,  
And so to Enyochus bays, and thence by Polleo fall,  
And carried thus to cut her way▪ by Anchilaus his wall.  
Thence unto Messembros port, and to Opeson bowers,  
May haply pass (o Bacchus) by, of thee the named towers.  
Now to Alchathoes we go, which of the waves be sprung,  
Who flying ●orth (men say) did build, herein their houses strong.  
From which unto Myletus town, it faulfely may arrive,  
Whereto the fierce and heavy wrath, of angry Gods do drive.  
W●ich if we may attain unto, a lamb there shallbe slain,  
Mynerua to: for greater gift, our goods do not sustain.  
And you dame Helen's brothers twain, to whom this Isle do bend,  
Your double power to both our ships, we pray that you do lend.  
The one unto Symplegades, prepares her way to make,  
The other through Bys●on●a, her journey thence do take.  
'Cause you that since we divers plaits, of purpose go unto,  
Tha● she may have, and so may this, their wished winds also.   

¶ How that he made his first book in his journey. Elegy. 11.  
Within this book what letter be, that thou perhaps shall reed,  
In troublous time, of careful way, the same was made in deed.  
For either Adria saw we there, in cold December's day,  
How weeping verse amids the Seas, to write I did assay.  
Or else with double Seas in course, I Istmos ouerc●me,  
And other ships thereby in flight, our fellows so became.  
When Cy●lades amazed were and marvel much did take  
How I among the roaring ●●ouds, these verses yet cold make:  
And now myself do wonder sore, that in such ●aging waves,  
Of mind and Seas my very wits, themselves from danger s●ues.  
For be ●t maze with care hereof, or madness we it call,  
This study doth repel from mind my thoughts and sorrows all.  
Oft times in doubtful mind ●o tossed, by stormy kinds I was,  
Oft times with Sterops star the Sea, through threatening waves I pass  
Arthophilax, that keeps the bear, doth da●kd the day at ●awne,  
And south wind with the waters fierce, the Hiada● hath drawn.  
Oft times some part thereof did pass into my s●ip aright,  
Yet trembling I this woeful verse, with fearesul hand do wright.  
Now with the Northern winds the ropes con●ented are to crack.  
And like to hills the Hollow Seas a lofty surging make.  
The master with his hands cast up, doth pray with fearful heart,  
Beholding then the heavenly stars forgetful of his art,  
On every side we only saw of Death the picture plain,  
Which I in mind did fear and yet so fearing wish again.  
God grant I m●y to port arrive, I fear the same right sore,  
In water far less danger is, then ●n that cursed shore.  
Of subtle snares of m●n and floods, we stand in drea●y dread,  
The sword and Sea my wretched mind with double terror f●ede.  
The one doth hope with guiltless blond a prey of me to make,  
The other of my woeful death, t●e fame ●ould gladly take.  
On left side dwelleth a people rude, whose minds be bend to spoil,  
In blameless blood, and slaughter fierce, and ●ruel wars they bo●le,  
And while the washing wa●●r● are, with wi●●er 〈◊〉 wrought,  
Our mind●s to greater ●o●le (than Seas) by heavy ●ap be brought.  
Wherefore thou ought more pardon here (O gentle Reader) have.  
If these appear, as sure it is much less than 〈◊〉 do crave.  
My Gardens now we want wherein, I wont w●s to wright,  
The used beds my body lacks to rest the w●●ry night.  
Wit● bitter winter days I am, in wicked waters thrown,  
My papers pa●e, with surges soused, the grisly S●as hau● known,  
The winter angry is t●at I, these verses dare indight,  
And dreadful threatenings casteth there my purpose so to spite.  
Of man let winter victor be, in self ●ame case I pray,  
That I may cease my simple verse, and he his raging stay.   
FINIS.   

Here beginneth the second BOOK.  

To Augustus Caesar. Elegy 1  
WIth you what thing have I ado, my books my hopeless care●  
Sith that my ●its (o wretch) because that I of life despair.  
My verse condemned muses why? ●epete I now again?  
And it is not enough, th●t I have once thus saffred ●ayne?  
My verses ●o a mean have been, by heavy hap so grown  
That I (alas) on every side, to man and wife am known.  
By verses the doth Caesar note, me and my manners all,  
Through perverse art which now of late in deep disdain is fall▪  
My painful studies set aside, no faulkes of life remain,  
That guilty I imputed am, my verse hath caused plain.  
This we receive, as price of life, and labours great of mind,  
And now my painful pinching pains, in woeful wit I fy●de.  
If wise I were, I should of right, the learned sisters blame,  
As grievous goddesses to such as worship will the same.  
But madness now with fever fierce, are joined so in one,  
That mindful yet of former pain, my foot doth strike the stone.  
Like as the wounded soldier doth, resort the f●eld unto,  
Or as the wracked ship doth seek, on swelling seas to g●e.  
Perhaps li●e him, which once within, Teutrantus real●e did rain,  
The same which made this grievous wound, thereof may ease the pain,  
And angry muse which moved ire, the same likewise remove,  
For weeping verse do grace obtain, at mighty Gods above,  
The worthy dames of Italy, doth Caesar will to pr●y,  
To Ops which stately towers bear, and founding verse to say.  
The like to Phoebus eke what ●yme, ●ere played the plea●ant plays,  
Which never oftener could be seen, but once in one men's days.  
Lo these (O gracious Caesar now) as h●ppy mirrors have,  
And let my wits more m●lder wrath, of thee hereafter crave.  
The same is just I do confess, nor my deserts deny,  
Nor shame so far departed is from fearful face to fly.  
But if I had offended nought what could you then bestow?  
My let therefore occasion is whereof that mercy grow.  
So oftentimes as mortal men, in sinful faulte● be ●ound.  
If love s●ould strike he might in time lack shot wherewith to wound.  
But he when once with th●ndring noise, have threatened sore the land,  
With sprinkled drops the cloudy air, is cleared out of hand.  
A God, a guide, a father grave, of right he called have been,  
As mighty jove nothing so great, in Uasty world is seen.  
Sith thee also a father grave, and guide in earth thy name,  
Use then of Gods the maner● mild, thy power it is the same,  
The which full well thou do, nor no man with more equal hand,  
The rightful reanes could better hold, wherewith to rule the land.  
T●e P●rchian● proud thou did subdue, yet pardon oft bestow,  
Which they to thee in case alike, would not have given I know.  
Wi●h worldly wealth and honours high, advanced many Bee,  
Whose guilty hands did weapons wear, in field adverse to thee.  
The day also with moved ●re, thy wrath away did take,  
S● either part in sacred house, at once their offerings make.  
And as the soldier doth rejoice, who did thy foes oppress,  
So have the captives cause enough, to joy at such distress.  
My cause yet better is: I wear no weapon so untrue.  
Nor enemies guilty goods I do, with greedy lust ●urs●e.  
By seas, by land, by starry sky, lo here I make my vow.  
By thee also that present is, a God to whom I bow.  
That this good will (o most of might) have ever been in me,  
And as thine own with heart and soul, I sought always to be.  
I wished oft that here thou might, in earth have lived long.  
And one I was that prayed thus amids the mighty throng.  
And sacrifice for this I gave, and with mine own assent,  
When public prayers were pronounced, to help to this intent,  
My books my faulty facts also, what niede I have in mind,  
Wherein thy name a thousand times, in open place I find.  
Behold likewise my greater wor●es, unended as they be,  
W●ere th●t transformed bodies are in wondrous wise to se.  
There shalt thou find by flittering ●ame, thy name have had much praise,  
There shalt thou fond by pledges great of loving mind always.  
Thy glory yet no verse can well, augment in any wise,  
Sith nothing may thereto be put, whereby it might arise.  
Of jove the fa●e doth far exc●ede, yet doth it him delight,  
Whe● as the same in sta●●ly verse, we seemly do endight.  
If that by Giants bloody wars of mention ought be hard,  
At pr●●se thereof he doth rejoice, for truth we do regard.  
But th●e do others honour more and as it seemeth f●t.  
Thy princely praise and royal fame▪ do praise with riper wit.  
And as with shedding guiltless blood, of bulls a hundredth slain▪  
Of God with smallest ensence given, so grace we do obtain.  
O wicked wight, O tyrant fierce, O cruel cursed foe,  
That did my pleasant fancies make to the disclosed so.  
To verses which in books discryb●, to thee thine honour due,  
From reader ought in judgement just, more favour to ensue,  
But if thou hap offended be▪ who then dare be my friend?  
No scant unto myself I should, my faithful friendship lend.  
When as ● house decayed is, and se●led on the side,  
Then all the mas●y wa●ght thereof, to yielding parts do slide.  
Or elswhereas by fortune's force, a shincke therein is weighed.  
With praise thereof in tract of ●ime, the same is soon decayed.  
The great envy of men so we, by hurtful verse do find,  
And people be (as me it is) to Caesar's side inclined.  
When as my life and manners yet, were more aloud I know,  
And by the horse the same I judge, which then thou did bestow▪  
The which although it profits nought, nor honest praise I have,  
Yet from the name of cruel crime, myself I wish ●o save.  
No cause to me committed was, of guilty men amiss  
For judges t●n times ten to look, upon whose office is,  
And private plaints without offence, as judge I did decree  
With v●ryght mind the same I gave, it will confessed be  
And that (O wretch) if latest deeds had not offended more,  
Even by thine own assent, I should not once be sau'te before.  
The latest acts do me destroy, my ship which safely sailed,  
In depthy and swallowing waves, through sturdy storm is failed.  
No little part of whelming waves, oppresseth me alone,  
But all the flock of flowing floods, and Ocean seas in one.  
Why saw I ought? mine eyes why have, I guilty caused to be?  
W●y is m● fault unwitting I, now ●nowi●g see well to me?  
The ●●eck't Diana Actaeon saw, unwares as he did pass,  
To hunger bounds a present pray, no whit the less he was  
For mighty gods do punish those, by chance that do offend,  
Nor pa●●on aught wh●re pours be hurt, to such mishaps do lend,  
So in that day wherein I was with error thus beguiled,  
Our little ●ous● decayed i●, with fault yet undefyld.  
And little thought yet of good fame, even in my father's days,  
Nor unto none in●●riour now, for honours noble praise,  
Not ●or t●e wealth nor want thereof, it can so well be known,  
For neither 〈◊〉 because whereof, our knighely name is grown.  
And be 〈◊〉 by our birth or rend our house be little named,  
My wits and painful studi●● caused abroad it hath been feigned.  
Which though percase I seem to use, as young and wanton,  
Yet by that mean through world so wide, my famous name do ●lye.  
O● Naso eke the name is known▪ amidst the learned throng,  
Who ●are of him the same records, no abject men among.  
This house therefore to muses great, in great decay is fall,  
By one offence and careful crime, yet not accounted final.  
But so decayed as rise it may, if that the raging ire,  
Of grieved Caesar waxeth ripe, to wont use retire.  
Whose gracious mercy is so great, in judgement of our pain,  
That not so much ●s we did fear, we have received plain  
Our life is given and not my death, his gentle wrath doth crave,  
With used power (O noble Prince) we pray therefore to save.  
I have also with thine assent, my father's livings all,  
As though my life thou did account, ● gift that were to small.  
My doleful deeds hast not condemned, by Senate's close assent,  
Nor by decree of them oppressed, in wretched exile sent.  
With threatening words rebuking vice (as best a Prince beseem)  
Offences all thou dost revenge ●nd mercy so esteem.  
And those decrees which were pronounced in stern and a●per wise▪  
Yet in the name of lighter fault thou willed it should suffice.  
Thus as discharged and sent away, no exiles name I have,  
My happy days depriving so, and life thereby to save.  
No pain or grief so grievous is, no trouble such of mind.  
As to displease so great a Prince his vengeance there to fond.  
But Gods which whilom moved were, sometimes appeased be,  
And scowling clouds once driu●n aside, a day full fair we see.  
The Elm which lately blasted was, deprived of his green,  
The clustered vines eftsoons to bear, full oftentimes is seen.  
And though thou do forbid to hope, we hope assuredly.  
This one thing yet m●y come to pass, though thou thereto deny  
My hope increase (O gentle Prince) when thee I do behold,  
And eke decrease when I respect my faults so manifold.  
The roaring rage of swelling seas, is not alike alway,  
●or furies fierce doth ever last▪ in tossing streams to stay.  
But sometimes be more calm and clear, and cease their used toil,  
To make us think the force were lost, of billows boisterous broil  
So do my fears both▪ rise and fall, sometime in doubt remain,  
In hope and dread of thy good will, to pass or prove my pain.  
For love of Gods therefore which give, the● long and happy days,  
(If they of noble Romans do esteem thy name and praise)  
For country eke which thou do keep, as guide and father dear,  
Whereof myself a part I was, and thence now passed clear.  
To thee the stately town so shall, with honours due resound,  
Who dost for wit and famous facts, in wondrous wife ●bound.  
So Livia with thee remain, and live in wedded life,  
Which were but even for thee alone a far unworthy wife.  
If she were not, a s●●gle life, should best beseem for thee,  
For none there lives to whom thou might ● wedded husband be.  
Of thee so shall ● son in health, and thou in health to rain,  
Which may in thy more elder ●ge, an old man here remain.  
And bring to pass that happy stars, through those thy noble deeds▪  
W●th nephews young shall still abide, that thee in realm succeeds.  
So victory which used is, thy noble castles to,  
Shall still be priest at hand always, to customed ensigns go.  
S●e shall with wont wings still fly, with guide of Laui● land,  
On happy head a Laurel green, shall set with seemly hand  
By whom thou famous war● do keep, in parson also fight,  
To whom good luck by thee is given, with Gods of maru'lous might.  
And thus i● mighty town art s●ene, as present half to bide,  
And half away in further parts, the bloody wars to guide.  
A victor great from foes subdued, he shall return to thee,  
With crowned horse and triumphs brave, advanced shall he be,  
B●t spare we pray thy lightning fierce and cruel shot up lay,  
Whereof (O wretch) we have alas, to long now made assay,  
Thou art our country father dear, not mindles of this name,  
We pray thee spare and grant us hope, in time to have no blame.  
To come again I do not crave, yet well believe we may,  
That mighty Gods more harder suits, have not denied alway.  
A gentler kind of exiles life, and nearer place bestow,  
Then of my pains the greatest part would be allayed I know▪  
The furthest land I do approve, and cast among my f●es,  
Nor no man from his country that, so far an exile goes.  
In Haven of sevenfold I stars Sea, alone here am I sent,  
With frosty axe of arcady, in cruel care am penned.  
The jazegies, the Colcho● eke, and all th● Getan rout.  
With Me●e●ius whom Danube stream may scant from h●nce keep out.  
And though that divers be driven forth, for much more great offence,  
Yet none to place more f●r than I, is sent away from thence.  
B●yond this land no thing there is, save cold and enemies fell,  
W●th waters thin of whelming sea. with frosty ice congel.  
On left side here Euxinians join, to part of Roman land,  
And next the Basterns and the Sawromes keep wit● cruel hand.  
This is the land that latest came to rule of Roman law,  
And scantly any part thereof, thine ●mpire near do draw.  
Wherefore I humbly pray that we, be set in saulter soil,  
Lest else with loss of counrey dear, we live in endless toil.  
So need we not the nations f●●re, whom I star scant divide,  
Nor as thy subjects there be t●ne, with cruel foes to bide.  
For no ●an borne of Latian blood can bear those barbarous bands,  
But that the● will a burden be unto Caesarians hands  
Two faults there are that have me slain, error and my verse.  
All other ●aultes I think it good that I do not rehearse.  
Thy grievous wounds (O Caesar) now renew I do not mean,  
And that thou hau● bewailed t●em once, to much I do esteem.  
Another part of crime remains, a grievous fault for me,  
A ●eacher of adultery foul, I charged am to be,  
Some things the Gods may well deceive, then for to know is hard,  
Of them for many be so mean, that thou dost not regard.  
For while as jove beholds the heavens, and mighty Gods also,  
The smaller thing from lofty skies, cannot respect unto.  
So many matters they escape, in viewing world so wide,  
That l●sse affairs of mean●r weight, f●om heavenly ●inde do slide.  
That is while thou a Prince be set, in Empire large ●o rain,▪  
May not intend fond verse to read, and greater things disdain.  
The wa●ghty w●●ght of Roman name, do not so ●ighty move,  
No● pray●e thereof on back to bear, so 〈◊〉 thee ●ehoue.  
As thou with Godly power may ma●ke, our fond and foolish toys,  
Wi●h open eyes here to discuss, our idle earthly joys.  
Sometimes Germania doth rebel, sometimes Illerians ●●yle,  
Rh●tia and the Th●a●ian land, with ci●ill wa●●es 〈◊〉.  
S●met●●● Armenius craveth peace and Parthus 〈◊〉 ●elde.  
With fearful bands restoring ●ft the ensigns won ●n ●●elde,  
Ge●mania eke through infant young, a young man t●ee do take,  
And Caesar doth f●ll cruel whore's, for mig●●● Caesar make.  
In fine, of all th●ne empire huge (which ne●er was 〈◊〉 large)  
No pa●● 〈◊〉 all abated is, but still ●en aynes in charge.  
The City great and sure def●nc●, of custodes a●d of law,  
D●th ●ike the sore? wh●le thē●ho● s●ekes, 〈…〉 more ●ere to draw  
The quiet state ●hou can not use, w●ich thou hast ●ald in land,  
For troublous wars with nations great, thou daily takes i● hand.  
Wherefore among such causes grave, I marvel much and muse,  
That thou our w●nted follies would, with earnest eyes peruse.  
But if thou had (as I do wish) ●●re idle there have been,  
Then in mine art no ●ault at all, perhaps thou shoul● ha●e seen.  
The w●ich I do confess was not, devised with severe head,  
Nor matter meet that might deserve of such a prince be read.  
Yet be they not to laws offence, nor guilty of such blames,  
But to instruct the youthful rout, of noble Roman dames.  
N●r needest not my books to doubt, for in one of those three,  
These verses ●ower which next approach, ●e set therein to see.  
Stand you aloof you vestal tape●, of shamefastness the signs,  
give place likewise ye purfled Paul's, that half on feet declines  
Of lawf●ll lot and skill allowed, we only do resoonde,  
For in our simple verse there shall, no subt●●l crime be found.  
Lo ●o we not all sober dames, from this our art expels  
Whom stole and tape forbiddeth plain with lovely love to mell?  
B●t matrons may more arts ●●uent, although they be untaught▪  
Whereby to make the chastest minds, with wickedness be fraught.  
No books therefore let matrons read, s●th all things be so strange,  
That they be turned from virtuous use, to filthy vice to change.  
Who lo doth care all things to turn to wrong and wor●er part,  
To vices vile his manners change, through will of workers heart.  
For take in hand the C●ronicke books, than those nothing more grave  
How Ilia fair a babe brought forth, to read there shalt thou have.  
Or if thou ●oke on Maro's works, there shalt thou see in s●ght,  
How Venus' fair a mother was unto the Trojan Knight.  
Yea further yet if ●ll things may, likewise accounted be.  
No kind of verse but may the mind, corrupt also we see.  
As guilty yet not every book, we may therefore disp●se▪  
For of each thing that help proceeds, doth harm als● arise.  
Then ●re what thing more needful to? yet who so looks in land,  
The houses high to burn and spoil, the fire he t●kes in hand.  
So P●●s●ck sometimes greatly hurls, sometimes do●● heal right well,  
Of herbs that hurtful be or not, by skilful ●ore to tell  
The thief and ware wa●fayr●ng man, by side a sword they have.  
The one to ro● the s●mple wight, the other himself to save.  
And Rhetoric have long time been taught, to plead for righteousness,  
Yet faulty folks it oft defends, and innocents ●ppresse  
Even so who shall my verses read, with equal upright mind,  
Shall well persuade himself enough, 〈◊〉 hurt in them to find.  
And who so thinks he sin conceives, or vices here of have,  
But erreth much, and writings my, to much he doth deprave.  
In sacred plays (I do confess) ●e certain wanton 〈◊〉,  
The stages thereof do remove, whereon the player's sli●.  
What causes also have been given, of sin and great mischance  
In marshal fields and places great where fighters do advance?  
L●t Ci●cus 〈◊〉 b● set aside, the use thereof not good,  
The maidens chaste thereon at plays, by men unknown they stood.  
While men do room in self-same path, where lovers do resort,  
Why then be porches set at large where all men may disport.  
What place then temples is more l●rge? yet is their cause of ●inne,  
I● wicked minds that so delights, by hap be set therein.  
For set in sacred house of jove perchance it may be seen,  
What number great of mothers made, by mighty jove have been.  
Or who shall in the Temples pray, of Lady juno true  
The Gods she there bewailing sees, and wanton Lemen view.  
So some will ask that Pallas see, as they her picture pas,  
How of her Eriththonius, by sin conceived was.  
And coming to the house shall see of Mar● the heavenly wight,  
Before the gates where Venus stands, fast by her worthy knight.  
In Isis' Church who chance, to sit w●●l haply a●●e in doubt,  
By Ionian and the Bosphore seas, why juno sent her out.  
For Venus there Anchises is, for Luna Latinus old,  
For Ceres ●ke doth jatius stand, on whom thou mayst behold.  
All these things therefore may corrupt, the wicked perverse mind,  
Y●t in their place full harmless stand, not wrested from their kind.  
Far from this art which w●itten was, for wanton dames behove,  
The foremost leaf of that same book, all modest hands remove.  
Who so therefore by hap offend, more th●n the livers chaste:  
With guilty men of fault forbade, shall he straight ways be pla●●?  
No heinous act the wanton verse, it is to lightly reed,  
For many things the chaste may see which be abhorred in deed.  
The matron's grave do oft behold, the bawdy harlot's love,  
How naked there themselves they make, dame Venus' pranks to prove.  
The Vestal eyes likewise they do, the S●rompets body see,  
Yet to themselves by sight thereof, no pains deserved be  
But why have I so much (alas) my muse to wanton made?  
Or what have caused my wicked book to lovely lore persuade?  
No thing save sin and open fault, of force I must confess,  
My wits and skill I do accuse, as cause of my distress.  
Why have I not the Trojan town, by Grecians whilom sacked,  
In Asper verse the same renu'de, and told that famous fact?  
Why spoke I not of Thebas slege, and wounded brethren twain▪  
And how the seven gates thereof, in sundry charge remain?  
And marshal Rome occasion gave, whereof I should endight,  
A godly work it were for me, my country facts to wright.  
In fine: while that by thy deserts, all things so much abounds,  
A cause I had (O Caesar) why thy praise I should resound.  
Even as the eyes delighted be, with beams of Phoebus' bright,  
So did thy facts my mind entice, to take thereof delight.  
As rightfully I am reprou'de, in barren field I t●l'de,  
That noble work is far more large, with greater plenty filled,  
For though the slender boat is bold, in smaller stream to play,  
Yet like disport it dareth not in surging seas assay.  
And doubting that for greater things, my mind is far unfit,  
In ditties small it may suffice, that I do show my wit.  
But if thou should command to tell, of G●aunts grievous wound●s,  
Which they through fire of jove did feel: the work my wit confounds▪  
A fruitful mind it doth require, of Caesar's acts to wright,  
Lest else perhaps with matter much, the work may want his right.  
Which though I durst have take in hand, yet dreading much among,  
Thy noble power I might abate, which were to great a wrong.  
To lighter work I therefore went, and youthful verse addressed,  
With ●ayned love a care I had▪ to feed my filly bre●st.  
Which loath I was full long to do, but fates did so ordain,  
And deep des●re my mind did move, to purchase grievous pain.  
Why have I learn'de? O wretch why have, my parents taught me lore▪  
On letters small why have I set, my woeful eyes before?  
For this I am of thee envied, by wanton art aright,  
Through which thou thinks the chasty heads, be trained to foul delight.  
But none whom wedlock's yoke doth bind, this craft have learned of me,  
For who so nothing knows himself, no teacher can he be,  
So have I made both pleasant Toys, and gentle facile verse,  
As yet ●n talk for by word lewd, no wight may ●e rehearse.  
Nor none who lives in wedded life, among the common wrought,  
That of himself a father false, through my default do dow.  
My manners mild repugnant are, to verse (believe you me)  
My life both chaste and shamefast is, though muse mor e pleasant Bee.  
And greatest part of those my works, inventions are untrue,  
For much more craft they do allow, than maker ever knew.  
Nor written books do not purport, th'aff●ctions of the mind,  
But honest will to pleasant mirth, to make the ca●es inclined.  
For Aceius t●en in cruel deeds, Terentius should delight,  
In banquets brave: and warriors be, of wars that do endight.  
In fine: tho●gh divers are with me, that tender l●ue have maid,  
Y●t I al●n● for it (O wretch) the pains alone have paid.  
Theia mus● of Le●yan old, hath she not taught the skill?  
With plenty great of Bacchus' dew, dame Venus' nest to fill?  
●hat ha●h dame Sappho Lesbian learn'de, but maidens fair to love,  
Yet Sa●pho still remaineth ●aul●e, and he no pa●nes do prove.  
What hath it thee (o Battis) hurt that reading of thy verse,  
T●y pleasant pranks thou did confess, and wanton joys rehearse.  
No fab●e ●ounde but tells of love, in great Menander's book,  
Yet is it red to virgins yongue, and Boys thereon do look.  
What shall you read in Ilias, but foul adulterous life?  
And fear afflict of lovers false, with toil and endless strife,  
Therein what is there set before, of Chresida the love?  
And of the maid from Captains caught, which anger great did move.  
What is Odys●ea else? but while Vl●s●e● was away▪  
How of his wise the love to get, what Wo●rs did ●ssay.  
What doth great Homer more report, but Mars to Venus bound,  
And that th●y were in filthy bed, and foul advoutry ●ound.  
By him have we not knowledge caught, ●ha● mound with loves 〈◊〉?  
One stranger caused two Goddesses, to burn in secret fire?  
Though Tragedies all writings do surmount, for matter grave,  
Yet even in them occasions great, of love always we have.  
For in Hippolytus the love▪ of Phaedra do we find,  
And eke how constant Canace loved, her bro●●er not unkind.  
What did not then king Pelop● white, when Cupid forcte his chair,  
With Phrygian horses fierce convey, Hippodamia fair?  
Provoked grie●e through loves desire, in sc●●● so m●ch it was,  
That mothers caused their cruel Bledes, through children's blood to pass,  
And love a king with Leman ●ayre, in 〈◊〉 foul●s did change,  
And made Sir Itis mother mourn, with sighs, & sobbing strange.  
If that Europa's brother vile, her love did not require,  
With Phoebus: then we h●d not read, how horses did retire.  
Nor Scylla should have so attayn'de, the Tr●g●cke style unto,  
Unless that love her Father forced, his fatal hearse forego.  
Whose life by hap Electran reads and made Orestes fit,  
Aegisthus faults nor Clytemnestras', sins, he can forgit.  
What need I speak of Victor that chimera did oppress?  
Who crafty gest did much annoy, to death almost distress.  
Who hath not spoke of Hermyone, and thee Chentyda told,  
Of Alcumene whom Mycenae Duke, in loving breast did fold.  
What Daneyes daughter in law, herself? what Bacchus' Dame?  
What Hermyona with her which caused, of one two Nights became▪  
Of Duke Admere, of Theseus eke, what should I here resound,  
Of Greeke whose ship did first arrive, on coast of Pgrygian ground.  
Let joels' come among the rest, with Deidamia fair,  
With Hylas to and Ganymede, who did to heaven repair.  
No time would serve the Traiecke sires, if I for them should look,  
Whose names alone could not be set, within this careful book.  
And Tragedies the laughters foul, provoke in sundry wise▪  
Yea shameless words full many a one, because of them arise.  
What hath it hindered him that did, the fierce Achilles abuse?  
For which his valiant deeds were lost, and force did him refuse.  
Aristides the filthy facts, of fond Myrmidons told,  
Yet from his town was not exiled, nor in such wise controlled.  
Nor Eubius a writer great, of histories unclean,  
How mothers might their seed● consume, by foul and filthy mean●.  
Nor he who wrote the books, which men, Sabatia have named,  
Nor they whose own adulterous deeds, to tell were not ashamed.  
All these with grave and ancient saws, of learned men be used,  
The facts apparent be yet not, to princes so refused.  
Nor I these foreign facts alone for my defence do find,  
But even in Roman books I read, the toys of wanton wind.  
As Ennius' grave who wont was, of mighty Mars to tell,  
Ennius though void of art, in wit he did excel.  
Lucretius eke the cause discussed, of fierce consuming flame,  
And triple work he did divine, of which proceed the same.  
So did Catullus wanton man, his lemans praise recite,  
Whose name in deed he changed have, and Lesbian therefore hight.  
Nor yet contented so but did, of Harlots more rehearse,  
With whom adultery vile he did, confess in open verse.  
Like lawless life did calvus lead, whose stature was but small,  
By sundry means disclosing then, his filthy doings all.  
What should I speak of Tynda●es style, and Memnus verse also,  
Who writing of unhonest acts, their names have put unto.  
And Cinna here a fellow is, and Anser light as he,  
And Cornificius wanton, work, and Cato's eke we see.  
And he who in Phasecian seas, that Argos whilom brought,  
His secret deeds could not keep in, which he before had wrought.  
Hortensial and Sulpitius facts, lascivious be likewise,  
And such grave men who followeth not, or doth their deeds despise.  
Sisenna did Mylesian books, reduce to Roman verse,  
No pains he proved yet, though filthy facts he did rehearse.  
Nor Gallu● though Lycoris feast he did oft times adore,  
Was blamed aught: but deemed drunk, with wine he bibd before.  
To women's oaths small trust to have, Tibullus whilom wou●d,  
Nor of themselves what they denied, no husband credit should.  
For keepers eke of virgins chaste, a fraud he did confess,  
And now (O wretch) through self fame art, is driven to deep distress.  
And as he would of signet fair, or jewels virtue find,  
By craft whereof his mistress hand, to touch he bears in mind.  
By privy points and crafty b●cks, to show their secret mind,  
He also taught: and subtle notes, in trenchers fair to find.  
And by the sap of certain herbs, how wrath is set a side,  
Whereas the same through mutual mouths by strents of teeth do glide,  
And eke how they should plenty great, of foolish husbands crave,  
Whereby the less they might offend, and less occasion have.  
At whom also the dogs, do bark, when men that way are gone,  
And secret hems he taught to know, when he did pass alone.  
Full many a crafty lore he learn'de, which women did receive,  
Even by, what art the wedded wives, their husbands might deceive.  
For these yet no rebuke he had, his works apparent be,  
And well alow'de, to thee our Prince, are not unknown we see.  
Propertius like precepts have given, which be apparent plain▪  
No check or frowninge look he did, for that although sustain.  
And many more I did succeed, who (sith they live in ●ame)  
I will not now in open verse, recite them by their name.  
I feared not (I do confess) among so great a sail,  
My only ship to perish quite, and none but she to fail.  
And other arts with trolling dice, lo divers written have.  
Through which no small offence is cast, upon your grandsire's grave.  
How that thou may by subtle mean, the greatest number throw,  
And dogged points may best eschew, through crafty art to know.  
In Tables play what marks avail, or hurtful are likewise,  
A skill they have to use the good, and lo●s●nge poyncts despise.  
And how the knight in, colours clad, doth rage in right sorts way,  
When middle man through enemies twain, assault is made a prey.  
And how they best may march abroad, or foreman make retire,  
For none alone from wa●de to pass, f●r fear of hurtful hire.  
A game also with little stone, so placed on table small,  
W●ere at he winn'th that mak'th all three, in one strait line to fall.  
And other Plays deui●ed be (nor all to ●ell I mean)  
Through which our time a thing most dear, is so consumed clean.  
And other tell'th the ●orme of Balls, and skill of Tennis plays,  
And some the Swimming art ●oth show, and some the top assays.  
The c●aft with colours black to slain, do divers take in hand  
Of banquet bowers and household laws, have others deeply skand.  
Of earth do others teach the use, whereof the cups do make,  
And which the wyn● preserves and which, will other liquor take.  
Such kind of sports in smoky mouth, of cold● D●c●mbers day,  
A●e used yet: nor maker none, for them the pains do pay.  
Through these exam●●●s lo I have no weeping verses maid,  
But weeping pains for pleasant sports, I have alas assayed.  
In fine: among these writers all, I can perceive not one,  
To whom his Muse have hurtful been, myself except alone.  
What if I should the filthy plays, of ●ayling jesters write,  
Wherein the faults of feigned love, be set always in sight,  
And where the vicious man comes ●orth, in garments fresh and brave.  
And wily wife her foolish mate, by sleight deceived have,  
Lo these: both maid, wife, and man, with s●ely children see,  
And oftentimes the senate whole, in parson present be,  
The which alone with shameless spe●che, do not defile the ear,  
But filthy facts before the eyes they have disclosed there.  
And when the lover by his craft the husband doth beguile,  
They clap their hands with wondrous joy, and great rejoicing smile.  
And that although less needful is: for Poet's greedy g●yne,  
The Petor will of forged plays, with charge the sight attain.  
Behold of Plays the great expense (O Caesar) and the charge,  
Which thou hast paid, thou s●alt perceive, the same have been ●ight large.  
Lo these thyself full o●t have seen, and showed to others plain,  
Thy majesty so lowly is, thy grace nothing disdain.  
The ●oyall eyes wherewith thou do, the total world behold,  
Th'adultery vile have gladly seen, which that in Scene is ●ol●e,  
Wherefore if lawful that it be, that jesters so may wright  
My ●eedes less pains deserve, they do more honest ac●es recite.  
But is that kind of writing sa●e, for Pulpits 〈◊〉 regard?  
And what the s●age have lawful made, from Insteps no● regard?  
So have the people danced oft, when song my poises been,  
With open eyes the s●me also, thy sel●e o●t times have seen.  
E●en as the ancient pictures made, by craft of workman's hand,  
With glistering gloze be set in s●ght, within your house to stand.  
I● them so be their ●●bles small, in private place I know,  
W●●ch sundry shapes and secret deeds, of Lady Venus' show.  
And as t●e 〈◊〉 Ajax sits, with threatening brows all bent,  
Or as the Barbarous mother's eye, to wicked act is l●nt,  
Even so the watery Ven●s sits, her dampish hairs to dry,  
A●d sometimes seems in mother s●as, away from s●ght to fly.  
And others be which cruel wars, with weapons sharp do tell,  
Yea so●e t●y graundst●rs deeds & some thine own do show right well.  
In narrow space the hateful wight, dame Nature hath me penned,  
No● to my wo●ull wailing w●ts, but slender force have lent.  
O happy yet for him it was Aeneados did wright,  
Who M●rian head● wi●h mighty men, and weapo●●●erce recite.  
No part of all which famous work, the readers do delight,  
So much: as that, where love was ●inckt again all honest right.  
Of Phyllis he likewise have told, and Amarylli● love,  
I● youthful years he sought his mind, with bucolics to move.  
And we who have by writing these, committed grievous sin,  
O●r sinful facts much elder be, though pains but now begin.  
I verses also made when thou offences have controlled,  
A knight by thee to pass oft times, I void of check was bold.  
Wherefore I young and wanting wit in that no danger thought,  
W●ich now to me in elder age, more hurtful care have brought.  
A new revenging pa●nes I feel for ancient written Art,  
The persecution differeth far from time of my defart.  
Y●t of my works ●ou may believe, more weighty burdens bear,  
For oftentimes more massy sails, my ship sustained there.  
Fo● books twice ●ix I written have, and Faster did them name,  
In number like of months were made, and ended in the sa●e.  
A●d that, that through my heavy fate, I did (O Caesar) make,  
Wherein I highly honoured th●e, wh●n I my way did take.  
Y●● Tragic still in royal verse we also did endight,  
Wherein no waight● words do want, that stately style should light.  
I● verse likewise ●e ●ould, although t●e works imperfect been,  
W●ere sundr● shapes transformed are, and changed bodies seen.  
B●t would to God thy wrath a w●ile, fro● mi●de thou would remove,  
And that of th●●e same part to read, thou wouldst m● behove.  
The work which at the worlds upryse his firs● beginning had,  
To thy ●ost famous ●aygne I brought, and wro●● (O Caesar ● glad.  
There shalt thou find what store o● wit, on me 〈…〉,  
And with what mind ●or thee and thine, to write I have assayed,  
I do no man with ●yting verse, or churlish check disda●ne,  
Nor no man's guilty ●actes there doth, within my works remain▪  
From subtle ●oyes I guilt●es am, that ten pre● be 〈◊〉 ga●l,  
Nor 〈◊〉 my verse no venom fell▪ w●th mirth is mixed at all.  
Among so many thousand men, with verses ●any a one,  
My learned muse have hindered no●e (●y s●l●e except alone)  
At my mishap I guess therefore, no Roman doth rejoice▪  
But much bewail our sundry woes, with one lamenting voice▪  
Nor no man would I think be sad, in this ●y ●or●y chance,  
If mercy me through guiltless life to greater ca●e advance.  
Lo th●se with many more I wish, may pierce thy heavenly breast,  
(O father dear) O sure de●ence, our countries' only ●est.  
To Italy I would not turn, unless in lo●ger space,  
Through greater pains of thee perhaps, we ●ay deserve more grac●▪  
Moore safer place for Exiles life, and gentler rest I crave,  
So shall my faults and careful crimes, their due deservings have.   
FINIS.   

The third Book▪  

¶ The book to the Reader. Elegia. 1.  
IN Fearful wise an Exiles book am sent ●he town to see,  
Thy helping hand, to weary ●r●nd (● Reade●) ●end tho● me.  
Nor doubt thou not lest I be cause, perhaps to work 〈◊〉 s●a●e,  
No vers● in t●is dot● 〈◊〉 to lo●e, whereby to ●orce ●he sa●e.  
●or masters fortune hath ●en such, alas vn●a●●● wight,  
T●at 〈…〉 Ies●es or 〈…〉  
And that which ●e in 〈…〉  
To late (● woeful w●●ke) doth n●w, ●ith 〈…〉 defy.  
B●h●ld therefore what I do bring, 〈…〉 thought at all,  
Such 〈◊〉 ●eete in 〈…〉 as do●● to 〈…〉  
Ec●e other 〈…〉,  
The wea●y ●oote or ●eng●● of way, the cause 〈◊〉 of ●aue deen●.  
I am not stained in Cedar's say nor wrought with P●●nice bright,  
For shame it were to be more brave than master may with right.  
The letters sad whereof the blots, bereft of wont grace,  
The sorry tears that work hath hurt, which fe●l from Poet's face:  
If any word he wrested have, from light of latin sense,  
The barbarous land have for●t thereto, and cause proceeded thence,  
Then tell, if pain be none which way, (O R●ader) is most sure,  
A●d by what steps a strangers book, my passage may procure.  
While these I spoke with stamering tongue, and closely all a●one,  
My journey, so: that ●olde there was, among them a●l but one.  
God grant thou may, which N●so to hath been denied plain,  
That in thy country here mayst bide, and 〈◊〉 rest obtain.  
guide one I shall pursue, although by seas and land I sought,  
All typed long my weary feet, from furthest country brought.  
O●rying then and passing forth (quoth he) this is the g●te,  
Of Caesar's Court: and wa● the name, from Gods have grown but late  
This is the vestal place that keeps dame Pallas and the fire,  
This is the Palace small, whereto King Numa did aspire.  
From hence on left side look (quoth he) Satu●nus house do stand.  
Hear Romulus the lofty Rome to build did take in hand.  
And wondering much: forthwith in sight I glittering armour spied,  
And royal gates with heavenly bowers, in perfect view descried.  
Behold of jove the house (quoth he) which we may so divine,  
By royal Crown of Oaken tree, that high thereon do shine.  
His name once hard forthwith I said, we have divided well,  
O● mighty jove it i● the house, and he therein do dwell.  
But ●o, what cause the noble gates, be hid with Laurel green?  
Or why the tree with branches spread, hath made his beire unseen?  
For that this house of triumphs bran, deserves eternal fame?  
Or else because Apollo great, doth dearly love the same?  
Or that it sacred is? or else all things of it must need?  
Or else of peace the tokens plain, on total earth do spreede?  
For as the Laurel green do grow, and never fades away,  
So ●●●lesse honour here remains, which yields to no decay.  
The letters eke which written be, about the stately Crown,  
The ensigns be of his defence, the Citizens have foun●.  
One faithful man except alone who driven full far away,  
Doth lurk aloof in furthest land, oppressed in deep decay.  
Who though he do●h confess himself to have deserved pain,  
No wicked deed was cause thereof but error proved plain,  
At royal place and mighty man, O wretch for ●eare I shake,  
And doleful woeful letters small, through trembling dread do qu●ke.  
Thou dost behold to sickly hue, my paper pale do change,  
And dost regard each other foot, ●o ha●t with trembling strange.  
And at what time before the lorde● and rulers of the place,  
In sight thou shallbe set, I pray thee plead thy parent's case.  
From thence with slender pausing pace, to ●ofty steps was brought.  
And stately Temples built on high, of great Apollo sought.  
Even where on mighty p●●●ers plain, the nob●● picture stand.  
Be●ides and the cruel sire, with naked sword in hand.  
And where the ancient writers learned, with learned hand did write▪  
Which readers all may there behold, and there do stand in sight.  
My brethren there I looked for, save t●ose I could not ●●ide,  
W●o●e birth the father did repent, and so did wish in mind.  
And seeking there in vain above e, the k●per of the place,  
Did will me from those sacred staules, to pass with speedy pace.  
To temples next which joined were, in haste I did departed,  
From whence my feet were force to flee, for fear of further smart.  
Nor that which w●nted was always, the learned books to take,  
Would suffer me to touch the same, but clearly did forsake,  
The heavy fa●e of wretched syers', to offspring doth descend,  
And father's fearful flight to us, his children doth extend.  
Yet may it hap in time to come, through length of longer sp●●e,  
That we and he of Caesar may obtain more milder grace  
The Gods for this I pray, and yet (save Caesar none at all)  
That they with heavenly ears attend to this our humble call.  
And ●eyng that the public staules, to us denied dene,  
In private place it may be free, to lurk therein unseen.  
And you also ye simple hands (if it so lawful Bee)  
Our careful verse receive likewise with modest e●s to see,  
And was it then my desten●es, the Syrhean land to see?  
And in that land that underlieth, the Northern poa●e to be.  
Not to your poet sacred Nymphs, and learned cunning flock.  
Have succour showed: which boast yourself, of dame Dianais, stock▪  
Nor that devoid of very crime, I wrote did profit aught,  
A●● eke my muse more wanton far, than life I ever sought,  
But after perils many past, by seas and land with pain,  
I● Po●tus I'll dried up with cold, aye lasting I remain.  
And I that borne to q●ter re●t, avoiding busy broil,  
Full tender and impatient was of labours p●nching toil.  
Extremes I suffer now, nor me, the Seas depryu●e of port,  
Nor sundry ways cold yet destroy by which I made resort.  
But ills my mind resisted have, of which my body worn,  
Repairs his force and suffereth things, scant able to be borne.  
Yet while with winds and whelming waves, I doubtfully am tossed,  
My griping cares and heavy heart, with travail great is lost.  
But when my way was ended once, and journeing workegan rest,  
And I a land wherein to wail my grievous pain possessed.  
nought else but weep I would, nor from mine eyes a smaller shower,  
Did flow: then when the spring time warm, doth winter snow devour.  
My house and Rome remember I with want of wont place,  
And whatsoever thing of mine doth city least embrace.  
O heavy chance so oft alas, as I have knocked on gate,  
Of greedy grave, but yet no time could enter in thereat.  
W●y have I scaped so many sword, so oft with threatening dread?  
Why hath not sturdy storm o'erwhelmed this my unhappy head?  
O Gods whom I to wrathful, and in wrath to constant prove,  
Partakers of displeasurs which, one only god doth move.  
Hast on, provoke I humbly pray, the ligring longed fates,  
And let not death be able e●t to shut his gries●● Gates.   

To his wife Elegy. 3.  
IF maru●yle ought (my loving wife) thy m●n●e perhaps detain?  
Why others hand these letters wrote, my sickness caused plain.  
In parts extreme of furthest land, with ●euer sore oppressed,  
Of wont health I was almost with deadly doubted distressed.  
What mind thinks thou I had when as in region ●ude I lay,  
〈◊〉 the Sawromes and the Getes, was forced here to stray,  
The air thick could not be borne, nor waters used be,  
And land itself I know not how to nature disagree.  
No houses apt nor meat for such, whom sickness d●th agrieve,  
Nor none that could by Physics art my deep disease relieve.  
No ●r●nd that might my mind comfort, nor drive with words away,  
The lingering t●me to pass with speed, and grievous pains a●aye.  
All ●yred thus in furthest place and lands my biding have,  
And each thing clearly wanting there, my longing mind do crave.  
〈◊〉 t●o●gh nothing my wish did want (O w●fe thou art most dear)  
And of ●y br●st t●ou dost possess ●nd hold t●e place most ne●re.  
To t●ee alon● t●ough absent ●at●e▪ my vo●ce by ●ame doth call,  
No day but 〈◊〉 of t●ee I hea●e, nor found of aught ●t all,  
A●d though 〈◊〉 ●ymes occasion moves, to speak of other things,  
As mad my ●ongue thy name doth touch, and forth the same it brings.  
Yea though I sounded were and tongue, to mouth were fixed sure,  
And that no drop of pleasant wines, could ●ft the same recure.  
Yet hearing that my mistress dear, to presence should be brought,  
I ●ouse myself: for hope and cause of, strength thereby is wrought.  
W●yle I in doubt of life r●mayne, thou passest pleasant days,  
Unwitting clear of sorrows mine, percase thou none assays.  
Yet dost thou not I dare, affirm: (O thou m● dearest w●fe)  
I● sorrows sad me absent far, thou leads, thine only life.  
But when as Fate m● years fullf●●de, which it so ought of right,  
And when as life my corpses hath left, & death performed his spite.  
W●at joy should it be then (O Gods) to grant to my des●re,  
O● N●tyue ground to end my days and course therein entire.  
O would that either these my pains, might yet have had delay,  
Or else that hasting death had come, before I passed away,  
In health not long ago it might, my life have ta●e from me,  
But now an exile here to die, these pardons granted be.  
So far away shall we be forced, to die in Land unknown?  
Or shall the place enforce my fate, with greater sorrows grown?  
S●all not my corpse in wont deeds, consume with deadly wound?  
Or shall there none my death bewail when laid I am on ground?  
Shall not my mistress sorry tears, upon my face let fall?  
Nor shall the same with living sense, my time prolong at all?  
Shall not I make my due requests? nor at the latest cry?  
With Friendly hand shall she not shut, ●nd close my passing eye?  
But shall my head of funerals, bereft and noble grave?  
And here in greedy ground be put, and no lamenting have?  
Wilt not thou hearing this of me, with mind amazed stand?  
And faithful breast with weighty strokes, will strike with fearful hand  
And hytherwardes in vain although, thy woeful arms stretch out?  
And on thy wretched husbands name, to cry will nothing doubt?  
Yet spare thy cheeks (mine own sweet heart) & lovely looks to rend,  
This time not first that I from thee, was forced away to bend.  
W●en as my country dear I lost, think than I did away,  
The f●est and greatest death I do, esteem the same always.  
Now if thou can: which thou cannot, (my best beloved wife)  
Rejoice my death the end of woes, that so molested life.  
And would my soul with body might, consumed be in one,  
So then no part from flashing flames, escaped be alone.  
For if the spirit do not departed,, but flies aloft in skies,  
And that Pythagoras ancient sawe●, as false we not despise.  
My Romayne ●oule shall wander th●n, even with the Scythian Ghost,  
And ●ke among the ●urious spirits, shall ●yde always at Ost.  
Ye● cause that all my lifeless b●●n●s, b● put in one small pot,  
So shall I not although now dead, an exile be, I wots.  
For no man did forbid, that when, Thiocles whilom slain▪  
Antigones should bury him, though king denied it plain.  
And mix my bones with powder dry, of sweet Ammomus tree,  
And in the Subbu●●es of the town, let them reposed be.  
And lette●s great in Ma●ble grau'de, with seemly verse devise,  
Which on my Tomb t●e pos●ers by, may well discern with eyes,  

epitaph  
Here Naso now be●old I lie, that wrote of tender love,  
A Poet learned, whose wits were cause▪ the death did him remove  
And who so here a lover comes, say thus, if pain be none,  
God grant that Nasoes bones abide, in quiet rest ec●one.   
On Tomb these shall suffice: but ●et, my books shall l●nge● bide,  
As monuments of me, which that, no tract of time shall ●yde.  
And those which Author hurted have, 〈◊〉 hope I through the same,  
My time shall more prolonged be, with m●ch increase o● Fame.  
Yet on my Corpse the due deserts of Funerals bes●ow,  
And on the watery Garlands see, thy bitter tea●es do flow.  
And though the fire doth my Corpse, to ashes pale conu●rt,  
Yet shall the sorry sparks approve, thy godly loving heart.  
And now receive this l●st farewell, perhaps, that I shall ●●ke,  
The which although to thee I send, myself cannot partake.   

¶ To his friend, that he should eschew the company of great men. El●gia. 4.  
O Dear in deed always to me, but in this time distressed,  
Now trusty ●●yde s●nce ours estate, so sore hath lied oppressed,  
If ought thou 〈◊〉 thy friend believe, well t●ught by practise proof,  
Live to thyself, ●ro● haughty names, of ●ight, f●te thou aloof.  
Live to thyself, and for thy power, great nobleness eschew,  
Right noble is the Castle whence, this ●ruell lightning slew.  
For though in hands o● mighty men, to help alone it lies,  
They do not help, but rather hurt, in worsest wicked wise.  
The ship whose sail is stricken low, escapes the stormy blast,  
But slacky sail and broad extent, more fear than lesser taste.  
Thou see'st how Cork with little weight on top of water fleets,  
When heavy lead through poise▪ itself, and nets in bottom wee●es.  
If I myself these warnings with, had warned been or th●●,  
The town where right doth will me dwell, perhaps I should not mis.  
Whilst yet with thee I dwelled, and whilst the p●pe●●ng wind be put,  
This ●oate of mine, through calmy seas, her quiet way she cut.  
Who falleth on even g●oun● (as scant, the same doth ever chance.)  
So falls as when to earth it comes, may up again advance.  
But that poor soul Elpenor fell, a down from height of Hall.  
Whose mournful spirit his king unto, appeared after fall.  
What men● it then that Dedalus, his wings could flicker safe?  
And Icarus to larg●e seas, his name assigned gave.  
Forsooth because aloft this one▪ that other flew below,  
For both of them did others wings, their sides upon bestow.  
Believe me this wh● hidden well: hath lurked, he liveth well,  
And each man ought within his lot, to him appointed dwell.  
Eumenideses should not, ben● Child●es, if his foolish son,  
Had not so much ●es●red on, Achilles horse to run.  
And 〈…〉 Father still had been,  
His Son in fire his Daughters and in trees should not have seen.  
So thou likewise for ever fear, to lofty matters high,  
And draw together I thee pray, the sa●les of purpose ●igh.  
For ●hou well worthy art forthwith, unspurned foot to ●unne,  
Thy course of life: and have thy fate, more favourably spun.  
With gentle love that I should pray, for thee thou dost dese●●e,  
And faithful ●ayth that will from me, at no time e●er swer●e.  
With countenance like my careful case▪ I saw thee 〈◊〉 lament,  
As well it may believed be, my face did represent.  
I saw thy tears with trickling fall, upon my visage sad,  
Which all at once were pou●ed forth, wi●h trusty words ●hou had.  
Now thou also thy Friend removed, with diligence defends,  
And ●ls which scant may ●ased be, with mitigating mends.  
All void of Envy see thou live, without renown dispatch,  
Thy years in quiet and thyself, with equal Friendship ●atch.  
And love the name of Naso thine, which th●ng is yet alone,  
Unbanished remains t●e rest▪ in Scythia s●as be gone.  
In land which nearest joins to star, of E●yman●hus bear,  
I bide, where frost congealed hard, the ground with cold do tear.  
The Bospher stream and Tanais, with other lakes there be,  
In Scythia sea and names a few, of place scant known to me.  
And eke there is nothing save cold, which none can saulfely bide,  
Alas how near the furthest land, approacheth to my sydd.  
But far away my country is, and far my dearest wife,  
And what thing else besides these 〈◊〉, was pleasant in my life▪  
Even so these things be absent as, the same I cannot get,  
In body: but in mind they ma●, be all beholded yet.  
Before mine eyes my ●ouse and town, and form of places show.  
And every place together with, th●ir deeds I shortly know.  
Before mine eyes like as my wife, in present shape appears,  
My state she grievous presseth down, and up again she rears▪  
She absent grieves, but lighter makes, that lasting love she lends,  
A●d heavy charge upon her ●ayde, she constantly defends.  
S● you (O friend) full firmly stick, within my fixed heart▪  
Whom I desire to speak unto, by each man's name apart.  
B●t fainting fear that is beware, my duty du● doth let,  
A●d you I think unwilling would, within my verse be set.  
A●ore you would and did regard, it as thy love most kind,  
That in my vers● the Reader might, your names so placed fond.  
Which thing because is doubtful now, in secret breast each one,  
I shall talk with and will because, of quaking fear to none.  
Nor in my verse my hidden friends, betraying forth I will,  
Express: if any privily, have loved love he still.  
Know this although in Region f●rre, is now my resting place,  
With all my heart you inwardly, I evermore embrace.  
And by such means as each man may, relieve my ills I pray,  
Your faithful hand to friend outcast, in grief do not denay.  
So prosper fortune unto you, and happy still remain,  
As never in like lot the same, to ask ye may be fain.   

To his Friend. Elegia. 5.  
OUr use of Friendship hath been such, that thou with little shame,  
Through small acquaintance grown before, might well have cloaked the same.  
In former bands of friendship's law, unless thou hadst been tied,  
W●en that my ship on safer stream, with happy wind did slide.  
But when I ●ell, each man for fear, did shun my deep decay,  
And wont friends their wily backs, from me they turned away.  
Yet were thou bold my blasted bo●nes, with flash of jove his fire,  
To touch, and to my heavy house, with willing mind retire.  
That thou but lately knowneper●ourme, my elder mates refraind  
Of whom s●ant two or three that now to me poor wretch remained.  
The sorry looks myself I saw, and gave to them regard,  
The face with tears like mine embrued, and paleness welfare maid▪  
Thy doleful drops I bear in mind, and woeful words eachone,  
In mouth the tears, in cares thy words, full deeply now be gone.  
My naked neck with heavy arms thou friendly didst embrace.  
With sighing sobs did kisses heap upon my fearful face.  
Yea absent now (O friend) I ●m by force of the protected,  
Thou knowest the friend thy name enclud●s, which may not be detected.  
And many tokens more I marked. of thy uncloaked love.  
Which in my breast I keep full close, and shall not thence remove.  
God grant thou may in quiet state thy friends defend always,  
Whom ●ow in better case thou helps of pains to have allay.  
Y●t if that any shall inquire (as like they will do soon)  
What life I lead in this mean space by fortune all fordone.  
Say that some little hope I have, that Gods will grant more grace,  
From which do not withdraw thine aid if thou dost come in place.  
And whether it, I wrongful crave, or that I do deserve,  
In what thou may help thou thereto, and do not lightly swerver.  
And look what skill in cunning speech, thou learned haste before  
Hereon see that thou dost bestow to help my cause ●he more.  
How much a man more noble is, so much more free from ire,  
In valiant heart is soonest quenched the rage of furious fire.  
It doth suffice the Lion fierce to see his enemy yield,  
And not to s●re the couching foe, that prostrate lies in field.  
Yet doth the Wolf and Bear despoil the yielding prey in place,  
And eke each other bruttsh beast ●hat springs of ruder race.  
For what then great Achilles was had in more renowned fam●?  
And he at Troy old Priam's tears, did not behold for shame.  
Or Alexander's mercies great, full sure records we have.  
By noble Pharos which doth stand depainted on his grave.  
I know the rage of noble minds to mercy lightly go,  
For juno son in law he is, that was her mortal foe,  
In fine of grace no signs I see, that drives me to distrust,  
For that my fault no death deserves, of l●wes that be so just.  
I have no● sought Augustus' life, with treason vile to slay,  
Of total earth t●e only head to whom all men obey.  
I n●ught have said, for babbling tongue, have spoken aught an ●s●e.  
If I therefore offended have the wine the c●user is.  
M● guiltless sight my pain have wrought, which I therefore do blame,  
F●om loo●ing eyes my grief doth grow, even thus proceeds the same.  
Yet can I not my sundry crimes, defend against all right,  
B●t part of them is error plain, and void of wilful spite.  
T●is hope therefore remaineth yet, in time to get such grace,  
S● shall my pa●nes procure relief, by force of changed place.  
〈◊〉 to me by shining star, which shows before the Son,  
〈…〉 ●ed with horse let's go, this message might be done.   

¶ To his most familiar friend. Elegia. 9  
OU● league of Love (O dearest friend) in firmest friendship knit▪  
T●ou will not, nor if haply would, thou can dissemble it.  
To me so long as lawful was, none other stood more dear,  
N●r a●y was i● all the town with me conjoined so near.  
This love among the People thick, so openly was blowe●,  
That almost more than thou or I, the same appeared known.  
And kindness thine of gentle heart, unto thy friend aye priest,  
The man had thoroughly tried whom, thou, dost love above the rest.  
Nothing thou couldst so covert keep, but I of counsel was,  
And sundry secrets bear in breast, in common not to pass.  
Thou only wert the man from whom, no privity I hide,  
(That one except alas) which me all utterly undid.  
W●ich hadst thou witted thy fellow should in safeguard thee have served.  
A●d should (O friend) though thy advise, from saul●ty never swerved,  
But me my destinies dire did draw, unto this passing pain.  
They surely shut each way to me, that profit could contain.  
And whether I this mischief might, in being ware avoid,  
Or else the ways which dest●●es will, by no means be destroyed,  
Yet thou to us that fixed art, with long acquaintance fast,  
well-near are greatest part I want, of all my pleasures past.  
Remember now if favour can, thy power ought increase,  
To prove what it for me may do, we pray thee never cease.  
T●at Godhead once offended would, his anger somewhat fray,  
That place appointed changed eft, might partly ease my pain.  
That if with sinful wickedness, my breast do not abound,  
And error be beginner of, my chief accusing found.  
M● mind as his most hurtful wound, doth fear that filthy time,  
Thy graefe again reneweth eke, remembering of the crime.  
And whatsoever able is, me with such shame to spite,  
I● should behove it hidden were in darksome closed night,  
Nought else therefore declare I will, save only st●'de I have,  
But in such sin, no rich reward, nor other gain to crave.  
And this my fault men rightly may, and ought my folly name,  
If very names and true to things, they aptly seek to frame.  
W●ich i● they be not even so, then look the furthest cost,  
For my abode, let this land be, my subburbes uttermost.   

¶ To his daughter. Elegy. 7.  
YOu written letters now prepare, the Heralds of my m●nde,  
To see Pe●hilla how she fares, with haste I have ass●ngde.  
You ●hall her ●inde, full sadly set, fast by her mother swee●e,  
Or else among her books alone, an● learned muses me●te.  
But when she knows that tho● ar● come▪ (all st●●yes set aside)  
What thing I do▪ she w●●l demand, and in what state I abide.  
Then shalt thou say I live, although not so as live I w●uld  
Nor ●rac● of ti●e 〈◊〉 brought relieve, as hope hath hop● it should▪  
To muses ye● (though hurt they ha●●) again I do re●●re,  
And vers●s eke of wrested words, to make I have desire.  
But tell me now? to studies old, dost thou thy mind apply?  
To learned verse thy father like, wilt thou thyself affy?  
For n●●ure with the friendly fates, hath given thee manners chaste,  
And sundry gifts but rarely seen▪ with wit good store thou hast.  
To Pegase ●●●asaunt springs, myself, of purpose brought the first,  
Lest that th● vain of facund speech, might per●she else for thirst.  
In chastest years I noted well the aptness of thy brain,  
And as thy father did thee guide, the way to learning plain.  
Even than I say (but love perhaps, with time is driven away)  
A passing love to thee I had, which hardly could decay.  
Wherefore if self same sparks of wit, in thee do still remain,  
But only Sapphoes' learned works, shall thine in skill disdain.  
And now I fear lest my mishaps, might thee percase appall,  
Or through the same some dolenes may within thy breast befall.  
While time did serve thy verse to me, and mine to thee I red,  
And now as judge I was, and now, as tutor I thee led.  
Or else sometimes w●th verses made, thine ●ares I did approve,  
Or f●nding fault: in blushing cheeks, thy blood sometimes did move.  
Like me perchance, for that my book●s, have hindered me ●o sore,  
For fear of like mischance thou will, thy studies le●ue therefore.  
Nay fear thou not Perhilla dear, this doubting dread remove,  
So that no man of that thy verse, nor woman leanne to ●oue.  
〈◊〉 s●outh therefore always aside (O thou most learned dame.)  
●o s●c●ed ●ore and Author's 〈◊〉. let it not thee ashame.  
T●y savour fresh with beauty fraught, s●all fade in longer space,  
And ●r●ck●ed age shall then app●ere, upon thine e●der face,  
〈…〉 ●ld upon t●y shape, hath done her force and might,  
Who s●ill ●raw●s nea●e with st●l●hy steps, to work thy grievous spite.  
I● will thee grieve w●en some s●all say, this wight s●e hath been fair,  
And looking in the wont glass, for sorrow shalt despair.  
T●ou ●ast o● wealth a meetly ●inde y●d dost ●eserue much more.  
〈◊〉 thy n●b●e wit likewise with like abundant s●ore.  
F●r 〈…〉 b●th give and take, a●d change each man's estate,  
And 〈◊〉 no●●e is become, that C●aesus was but ●ate.  
〈…〉 more words? all morta●l goods, be lightly spent & gone,  
〈…〉 which in the br●st b● hid, and mind except alone.  
Lo while of ●ou●e and country both, and thee I was bereft,  
And o● ec●e 〈◊〉 thing deprived, and naught at all was left.  
〈…〉 m●●es they ●eft, although I did enjoy t●em s●ill,  
〈…〉 ●o ●ight could Ca sar serve, whereby to work his will.  
Ec●e ●an by ●orce of cruel sword my 〈◊〉 may soon deprive,  
Y●t s●a●l my ●ame though I be dead, remain always alive.  
〈◊〉 ●artial Rome from mountain's seven the conquered world behold,  
〈◊〉 l●a●●ed work ● shall still be read▪ and fame for aye be told.  
A●● thou also t●at happier use, o● studies dost enjoy,  
In wh●t thou way, fl●e h●sting death, wh●ch earthly ly●e destroy.   

● He desireth to see his friends and country. elegy. 8.  
NOne would I wish I might ascend, on Triptolemus cart,  
Who fir●● wi●h s●edes on earth to sow, have ●●ug●t the skilful art.  
N●w would I ●awe the m●nst●●s fell, the which Medea sad,  
T●en flying fr●m t●e lofty to●er, of thee ●orinthus had.  
N●w wo●ld I 〈…〉 on ●ig●, and fights father's take,  
〈◊〉 ●hich thou Perseus 〈…〉, or Dedalus didst make.  
〈…〉 these 〈…〉 subtle sky,  
In 〈…〉 by m●anet● 〈…〉, my 〈◊〉 ground es●y.  
My ●or●y ●●use and 〈…〉 fri●●d●s should 〈◊〉 to sight appear,  
〈…〉 I account mos● dear.  
〈…〉 wor●s, t●ou fond t●ese do crave?  
〈◊〉 never thou befor● 〈…〉 ●fter h●●e.  
But if 〈…〉 〈◊〉 t●●m bestow,  
Who is the mighty God in deed, thy 〈◊〉 by 〈◊〉 ●o know.  
He may to thee these speedy wing●s, and wheeled chariots send,  
That with the flying fowls thou ma●, in thy return contend.  
If these I ask (nor greater g●●tes) may none required be,  
So shall my prayers seem more large, than reason grants to me.  
In time to come perhaps, although, and anger all removed,  
When careful mind required then, to mercy be behou'de.  
T●e whil'●t thi● smaller 〈◊〉 s●●te. I crave with humble ●art,  
That from this land else w●ere I may, by licence fre● departed.  
The air foul and water could, m● nature ●●ill doth hate,  
And land itself my body binds i● deep ●iseased state.  
For either doth my troubled m●nde, the ●ody sore molest,  
Or else the country breeds the grie●e, wherewith it is distressed.  
So soon as I ●o Po●tus ca●e, with drea●es I was ag●●eued,  
My flesh from bones it fl●d forthwith, which mea●e hath not relieved▪  
And look what colour pale and wan, upon the leaves ●o show,  
When winter fro●t beginneth fir●t, and Boreas blast● to blow.  
Such old an● withered ceared hue, my members do partake,  
Nor cause of love complaining grief, my painful mind forsake.  
Nor in more found estate my mind, than body do remain,  
But ●oth at once diseased be, with fits of sickness pain,  
Before my eyes me thinks I see, an I●age sta●d in sight,  
Which represents my sickly shape, and mind with care affright,  
Such love of death my breast assaults, my s●lfe by force to kill,  
Sith Caesar seeketh not with sword, on m●e to wo●ke hi● w●ll.  
And sith not force but gentle hate, thus long hath wrought our grief●▪  
Through changed place God grant we may of him obtain 〈◊〉.   

¶ Why ●omos was so called. Elegy. 9  
LO here some Grecian Cities be, (who would believe the same?)  
And yet among ●he Na●●ons ru●e, are kn●we● b● Barbarous name▪  
And to Myletus hither sent, the dweller● way did ●ak●,  
On Geta ground at last t●ey stayed, and 〈…〉.  
Yea this tow●e eke thy fame mo●e ol●e, and ●lder 〈◊〉 known,  
And of Absirtu● cruel death, a prop●r 〈◊〉 is g●ow●e.  
The sailing ship through curious ca●●, of martial Palla● wrought,  
At first these struggling streams ass●●de, before time never sought.  
The wicked wight Medea here, from ●ather flying fa●t,  
Her rowing owers upon this coast, (men say) the fir●t time cast.  
T●e gazing stranger standing by, respecting ●eas by low,  
Descrying ships aloof, quoth he, (you Colchean ●ayles I know)  
While shipmen there for dread did quake, and up the cables cast,  
A●d while the Anchor up to wayghe, there fearful hands made haste.  
The guilty girl with cruel kuffe, did strike of Colchean breast,  
Who●e hardy hand great hurt hath wrought, and unto more is priest.  
An● though within this maidens mind, high courage did remain,  
Much perfect paleness yet thereto, in face appeared plaint.  
When ha●ing ships with speedy pace to draw more ●eare she spied,  
By craft we must my father flee, (we are betrayed) she cried.  
W●yle she for counsel paused then, and looked round about,  
In sight at last her brother saw, amids her deepest doubt.  
Whom when she spied, forthwith she said▪ I dare us well assure.  
My brothers' death the cause shallbe, our safety to procure.  
He all unwares and dreading nought, her cankered cruel spite,  
Into his s●de her bloody sword she thrust with raging might.  
Her blade plucked back from gored side, she rend with ruthful wound,  
And members ●inste in pieces small, she cast about the ground.  
And that her father might this know, on rock whereby she passed,  
H●s woeful hands and bloody head, with sleight she fixed fast.  
W●th wailing new her aged sire, for this did make delay,  
And sobbing sore the flesh took up, she safely scaped away.  
Hereof this town is Tomos hight, for that upon this soil,  
The sister did her brother's corpse, in sundry parts despoil.   

¶ With what Nations he liveth. Elegy. 10.  
IF any there remember yet, me Naso sent away,  
And in the City void of me, my name remaining stay.  
Know he in mids of Barbary▪ unblisfull man I brea●h.  
Where fixed stars do never stoop, to subject Seas beneath.  
The Sauromat● a Nat●ons fierce, the Bessians, and the Geres,  
Whic● names unworthy are my wit adjoining have their seats.  
Y●● whi●e the weather dureth warm, is Ister our defence,  
He wyt● his liquid wa●●rs we●te, repelles the battles hence.  
But when th'unpleasant winter comes, puts out his ugly face,  
And all the land be sprinkled whi●e, to marble frost give place.  
While Boreas blows and while the snow, lieth cast from Northern pole  
Then is it plain these people are, oppressed with plane● cool.  
The snow d●th lie, which lying can no Sun or showers though,  
Tha● fryzing blast indurate makes, to shining Crystal grow.  
And on the f●●st unmelted yet an other falls as ●ast.  
In divers places wont and twice twelve months wholly last.  
So hideous force hath violent wind from Northward hither se●t,  
The lofty Tower● it equal lays, with ground and houses rend,  
With Mantles made of hairy skins, expel thy fervent could,  
And only of their bodies all, their faces open hold:  
Their bushes oft with Icy drop●, do make ● tinkelinge din,  
Their beards with frost be bright embrued, all ho●ry at their chin.  
The cleared wines in form stand up, like shards of chivered tile,  
Nor dr●ughts they drink but gladly will, with goblets thrust b●gull●.  
What should I tell how rivers all, with could congealed stand?  
And how the brittle waters be, c●st up with digging hand?  
The s●me no straighter than the stream, of Nilus bearing reed,  
Which parted into sundry gulfs, in U●sty Seas do spreede.  
This Ister ●ies with parching blasts, his bluish liquor deep,  
And forth in secret silent waves, to Sea in covert creep.  
Now may men saul●ely walk on foot, where ships late passage h●d.  
With could concreate on waters knock, the hooved horses sad.  
And by such bridges newly built, on under sliding stream,  
Sarmatia Oxen uncouth W●ynes draw for●h w●●h stretched te●ms.  
Forsooth I shall scant be beleeu'de, but if rew●rd of lie,  
Be any ther● no witness aught that faith to ratify.  
The Largie fr●at with frost we s●w, st●nd still ●nd never flow,  
And slippery shell did under keep, unmoved surges low●.  
Nor so contented to have seen, the hardened seas we trod,  
When upmost waves beneath my fleet, not weetinge them abode.  
If such a on● sometime had b●ne, to the Leander kind,  
In narrow Seas no fault thy death, or cause of crime could find.  
Then neither can the Dolphin fis●e, in springing air attain,  
Whom forcing fast aloft to skip, doth wint●● hard restrain.  
And though Sir Bor●as blustering hurl, with winged wind displayed,  
No surging billow boulteth up, from swallow surely stayed.  
The pitched pups enclosed stick, in Marble as it were,  
No struglinge Oa●es through frozen flood, their course are abl● sh●r●.  
We s●we the fishes fastened fast, long clung in yses clive:  
Yet part of them even then also, perceived w●s to live:  
If either raging wind therefore, his sour s●ew● at large▪  
In fryzing on the fleeting flood, or else on Neptune's charge.  
A none on Ister made full even, with northern perie dry,  
A barbarous fo● on hasting horse, doth riding hither high.  
A skilful foe in cours●ing● steeds, and flying shaft a far,  
Who doth the ground that nearest lies, destroying always far.  
With flying fast some haply scape, while fields unfended rest,  
Such richesse as unkept remain, by robbers be possessed.  
The cattle and the creeking carts, small country richesses are:  
And what so ever other store, the dwellers poor prepare.  
Some captive ta'en are led with arms, hard bound behind at back,  
With countenance tourn'de to land in vain, & houses which they l●cke.  
Some st●●ken down full piteously, with hooked shafts do dread,  
For drinching poison driven is, into the arrows head.  
Look what they can not c●ry forth, nor drive, they quite destroy,  
This hostile band with wasting fire, will coats unguilty noy.  
Even then also when peace is priest, they quake in fearing fight,  
Nor any man with coulter keen, to plough the ground delight.  
This place the enemy ever seeth, or fear'th the same unseen,  
The land untiled with baggage rough, over grown hath long time been.  
No pleasant Grape is hidden here in branch of viney tree,  
No warm new wine the hollough trough, to overflow we see.  
No a●les round this Regions bear'th, nor here Acontius sped,  
Of any had: to w●●ght the verse, his loved mistress red.  
In naked ●i●ld ye should behold, no tree ne bushes spread,  
(O places fa●●e unfit alas) for happy men to tread.  
And though the world be stretched out, in compass wondrous wide,  
For me this Land appointed is, my punishment to bide.   

¶ He inveigheth against the evil speaker. elegy. 11.  
WHo so thou art that wickedly, at my mishaps rejoice,  
And me as guilty dost accuse, & eke condemn with voice.  
On hard a d flinty rock was borne: with milk there fostered long,  
Of savage beasts, the heart more hard than is the flint so strong.  
What greater mischief wouldst thou wish? thy wicked ire content,  
Or else what further ills could cause, thy poyson●d tongue relent?  
In barbarous Land I liu, and Pontus' Isle hath me possessed,  
The Arcadian Bear hath me also, and Boreas wind distressed.  
What Nations strange no talk I have, nor use of language found,  
Each place thereto on every side, with doleful dread abound.  
And as the flying Hart once caught, do shun the bloody bear,  
Or as the silly tainted lamb, the mountain Wolves do fear,  
So I on every side beset, with men of martial Land,  
Do likewise, dread, for plain I spy, my enemies hard at hand.  
And though in deed the pain were small, my loving wife to w●nt,  
Or else my Babes and Country sweet, a grief were deemed scant.  
Nor any o●her ill at all, but only Caesar's wrath,  
Dost thou not think that Ca●sars ire, t●ough of vengeance hath?  
Yet some there are th●t haply may my greener wounds 〈◊〉 worse,  
And can with facund mouth also, and pleasant speaking course.  
Of matters plain to make a proo, each man a skill may show,  
But what doth need in weakened things▪ such puissant force to show?  
A Glory great it is to race, the tower and lofty wall,  
But other things of lesser force, all headlong down do fa●●.  
I am not he I was: why dost thou spurn my shadow vain?  
Of Ashes dead on stone consumed, why dost thou make again?  
When Hector fought: he Hector was, but drawn among his fone,  
With force of great Achilles' horse, than Hector was he none.  
And I myself as now not he: whom thou hast known full plain,  
Only now of him thou see'st, the shadow to remain.  
(Why dost thou beast) with bitter words, mine Image thus constrain,  
I pray thee spare from restless spirit, these torments to refrain.  
And think my faults to have been true wherewith thou chargest me,  
And think the same been wicked all, and folly none to be.  
And let me payn●s enough abide, to fill thy envious breast,  
And let me still an Exile live, in place exiled oppressed.  
My heavy fate should mo●e thy heart, on pities plaints to feed,  
And yet from thee as bloody judge, these judgements do proceed.  
Thou art more cruel far than was Busirides the king,  
Or else then he that fretting fire, to bras●n Bull did bring,  
Who (as men say this Bull did give, the cruel tyrant to,  
Of Sycill Land: who with his words, did praise the same also.  
The use of this (O king quod he) in price doth fa●re surmount,  
The outward form: for of the shape, make thou the least account.  
On right sid● lo thou open see'st, a place to stand in sight,  
Wherein put such as slay thou will, to satisfy thy spite.  
And that once done with sokinge coals, the closed man consume,  
Who like a Bull shall roar right out, with ●orce of fretting ●●me.  
For which my work a guerdon dew, that I likewise may have,  
Some just reward of thee (O Pr●nce) my painful wits do crave.  
His tal● thus don●: the king stepped ●orth, thou worker of this pain,  
Shall first (quoth he) approve the same, and shell therein be slain.  
Incontinent as he had taught, with fire ●ee saw him burn'de,  
Who cruelly his manly voice to beastly blearinge turned.  
But why speak I of Sycill facts, these Scythian Getes among?  
To thee O wretch my plaint I send, that for my blood dost long.  
And that thou may with guilty blood, aslake thy longed thrust,  
At these my woes with hungry heart, rejoice with greedy lust.  
On Seas and Land I flying fast, such grievous pains approve,  
As hearing them to pytious tears, thyself percase might move.  
If that Ulysses' toils were set (believe me mine withal,)  
Neptunus ire to jove his ●rath, might be accounted small.  
Do not therefore (who so thou art) my grief again renew,  
Nor do not eft in grievous wounds, thy cruel hands imbrue.  
And let the fame of former facts, forgetfulness obt●yne,  
So shall of ●hose mine elder hurts one only scar remain.  
Thou knowest full well the doubtful facts, do hurt or help at will,  
Then fear● thyself thy lot unknown, which may thee save or spill.  
And ●●th th●● now is come, which I did think could not have been.  
Why hast thou mind of my mishaps, thine own forgetting clean.  
Yet need thou not to fear: our chance most grievous is of all,  
For that where Caesar's wrath is set all ills thereto befall.  
And that thyself may know, that I, unfeignedly do move,  
These playn●s: I would to God thyself, might even the same approve.   

¶ He desireth a gentler place of exile. Elegy. 12.  
THe Western winds 'gan slake the cold, and year away to pass,  
And Scythian winter slacker seemed, than wont winter was.  
And when the Ram on waters thin, that Helles rashly brought,  
The lightsome day with darkened night, in equal length had wrought.  
The children small and gladsome girls, in country fields up grown,  
The Violets sweet at this time reap, where seeds have not been sowe●▪  
The fer●●le f●eldes do flourish now, with flowers of sundry hew,  
And babbling birds with tongue untaught, do chant with n●tes so new.  
The Sallow eke a mother vile her cruel deeds to hide,  
Her nest by beams she maketh close, and builds by houses side.  
The growing Grain in ploughed fields, with Furrows laid unseen,  
With slender spyere through tender earth apeer'th, with joyful green.  
The Uines also (whereas they be) their buds from branches low  
Do now brings out: in Scythia for, no Uynes at all do grow.  
And whereas lofty woods be set, the Bows do spread from tree,  
(For near to coast of Geta Land, no Trees discerned be)  
Lo there this is the vacant time, for sport and pleasant plays,  
And talking tongues in judgement hauls, do cease for certain days.  
On hynne●ghing horse with armour light, they bravely now disport:  
And some to Ball, and some to Top, with merry mind resort.  
The lusty youth anointed long with thine and sliding Oil,  
Their weary limbs with water w●she, and rest from former toil.  
Now triumphs are: with sounding voy●●, the Looker's on do cry,  
From three fold stage the factions three, their favouring words let fly.  
O four times blest, and blessed more the number can make plaint:  
That mayest the City free enjoy, and in the same remain.  
But I the snow with Sun consumed O wretch do here approve,  
And frozen Sea the ice whereof no force might thence remove.  
No ice the same doth now congeal, as wont it was to do●,  
Nor herdsmen way by Ister make, to Sauromathia go.  
Yet if by hap that any Ship, arrive within this coast,  
Or any stranger hap to be, in Pontus' Haven at host.  
In ha●● I seek the shipmen out (and saluinge them before)  
What ship or whence she comes I ask, or from what happy ●hore.  
Then they (unless it marvel be) from some near joining Land,  
Do answer make: from Nations far, to sail few tak'th in h●nd.  
And seldom from Italia Seas do any passage take,  
Nor in these ports from Haven so wide, no ship his biding make.  
But if that any come that speak, the Latin or the Greek,  
●ee●s for that more welcome much, such language I do seek.  
It lawful is from mouth of Sea, and from Proponti● long,  
That men may sail with Northern wind, these Scythian seas among.  
Who so he be may haply make, some whispering rumour low,  
Whereby a part occasion geu'th, more fame thereof to grow.  
Then do I pray him make discourse of Caesar's triumphs brave,  
And eke what vows that duty driu'th, the Latian jove to have.  
Or else i● that Germania land, which still rebell'th in field,  
With careful mind at Captains feet, all prostrate now do yeld●.  
Who doth (which would myself had seen) of these things haply tell,  
I pray him use as welcome guest, the house wherein I dwell.  
But well away is Nasoes house, now set on Scythia ground?  
Or shall to help my pain withal, a place therefore be found?  
God grant that Caesar may command, not this my house to be,  
But rather for the time a place, wherein to chastise me.   

¶ To his birth day. Elegy. 13.  
MY n●t all day (though more than need'th) ●o here behold I see,  
But yet on Earth to have been borne, what doth leprosy me?  
And why dost thou O careful day, in wr●●ched years appear?  
Which might before this exiled time, my life dispatched clear.  
I● any care fo● me thou cast, or shame had the possessed  
Beyond my native ground pursued, why ●ast thou me distressed?  
For in what place an infant first, thou knew at nutall day,  
In self same land me thinks thou should, have wrought my last decay.  
And should have left me quite when as my fellows me forsook,  
And there have wished me well to far, with sad lamenting look.  
What dost thou bear in Pontu● land? doth Caesar will thee go  
In quaking ice to wracks his ire, hath he thee charged so?  
And in despite of customs old, and honourable guise?  
To see my back with garments w●ite, be clad Italian wise?  
Or shall the smoking Altars fume, with flowering Garlands bound?  
Or else the grains of Incense sweet, from flaching flames resound?  
Or Sacrifice shall I for thee and offring● due present?  
Or shall our vows to mighty Gods be given wy●h whole assent?  
I am not so disposed now: nor time is offret fit,  
That I thy coming can rejoice, and sorrows quite forgit.  
An aulder framed for funerals, all decked with Cipres tree,  
And flaming fires for death prepared, is much more meet for me,  
A Sacrifice to heavenly Gods no care I have to give,  
For vows help not amids such ills, I faithfully believe.  
But if a live I ought of them, with painful prayers crave,  
I wish that in this land of thee no ●ight ma● after have.   

¶ T● his f●●end to def●nd his Book. ●l●gie. 14.  
O Holy Poet prelate hig●, which learned men defends,  
What dost thou now to woeful wit, that friendly help extends?  
As thou were wont in better plight always to secure me,  
And now also lest quit I should, depart dost thou foresee?  
Dost thou preserve my verses all▪ and in thy keeping sa●e,  
My woeful arts except alone, which Author hurted have?  
Yea do thou so of Poets new, that careful will remain,  
And if thou may my hapless name in City still retain.  
Myself enforced away to flee, my books yet nothing so,  
Nor cau●● by them committed is, to taste of masters wo.  
The exiled father doth oft times, to furthest Nations flee,  
Hi● children though in town● to bide, as lawful is you s●e.  
My verse my Offspring so I call, begot of mother none,  
But like as P●llas whilom was, of jove his brain alone.  
To thee I them commit and sy●h, their Sire is wanted sore,  
To thee that dost protect the Babes, the burden is the more.  
And three I have that my mishap, in case alike do prove,  
The rest in open sight preserve, thou need not them remove.  
And books thrice flu● of shape transformed, which likewise I have left,  
Which at their masters funeral, with force were all bereft.  
That work might well if that in me my life so long had last,  
From heavy hand amended more with greater fame have passed.  
But now all uncorrupted quite in people's mouth doth fall,  
If that in people's daily speech, my name be told at all.  
And to my books I know not how, which hap into thy hand.  
Add this: although now lately sent, from unacquainted land.  
That who then reads in reading them, will presuppose before,  
What time and restless place I had, appointed me therefore▪  
To writings mine more pardon far, a righteous judge will show,  
If that them made in exiled time, and barbarous land he know.  
In such mishaps he marvel will, how verses I could write,  
Or how my careful hand set forth, the words I did indite.  
My sundry woes my wits have broke, of which long time before,  
The fountain dry and slender vain, appeared evermore.  
Yet (as it was) with want of use, is now consumed away,  
And with long thirst to dryness driven, sustered more decay.  
No store of books to feed my wit, in Scythia coast be found,  
But in their place the shooting bows and arrows do resound.  
No learned mates for conference, do live within this land,  
That hath the skill my verse to read, or ears to understand.  
No space is here to roam aside, that watch on wall which goes,  
And gate upshut keepers of the Getes, our deadly dreaded foes.  
inquiry oft I make of words, of place or of some name,  
Nor any man is present here, by whom I certain ame.  
Not seldom I enforce to speak, to shameful to confess,  
My wont words will fail me then, which I forgetting cease.  
With Thracian talk and Geta rude, my ears be stopped quite,  
Me seemeth now I able am, in Getian wise to write,  
Believe me least with Latin they be mixed sore I dread,  
And lest my writing while thou view, the Pontus words do read.  
And to my book such as it is, in reading pardon give,  
And eke excused have the same, by lot of lie e I live.   
FINIS.