PVBL OVID. DE TRISTIBVS: OR MOVR NEFVLL ELEGIES, IN FIVE BOOKES: Composed in his Banish­ment, part at Sea, and part at TOMOS, a City of PONTƲS.

Translated into English Verse by Zachary Catlin. Mr. of Arts. Suffolke.

LONDON, Printed by T. Cotes, for Iohn Bellamie, and are to be sold at his shop, at the signe of the three golden Lyons in Corne­hill. 1639.

To the Courteous Reader.

GEntle Reader, I here present thee with a Translation. It is a Poem of melli­fluous Naso, and his last, and most dolefull, In the seventh yeare. Cantator Cye­nus fune [...]is ips [...] ­sui. composed after his banish­ment to Pontus, where he dyed. It is his Cy [...]ne [...] cantio, his swan-like song, his Benjamin, the sonne of his age, and his Benoni, the son of his sorrow. To commend the Authour, were to hold up a Taper to the Sunne, Alb [...] [...]alli [...] fili [...]s. for he is well knowne to have beene the Muses Favourite and white Sonne, whose sweete language, whither in mirth or mour­ning, smiles or teares, they ever happily contrived in­to most fluent and ravishing streines of naturall, ra­ther then arrificiall Poetry, and taught him still so aptly, lively, and feelingly to expresse his inward pas­sions, that hee ever triumphed in the heart of his Reader (if he were not a Cyclops or a Centaure) and commaunded from him a sympathy of sutable affecti­on. T [...]m deni [...] saxa, non exac­d [...]ti ruboetunt sarge [...]e vatis. So that me thinkes either Augustus Casar never read this Poem, or through selfe guiltinesse of some fault to which Ovid was conscious, (as Acteon to Di­ana's nakednesse) he was constrained to harden his heart against his charmes, like those deafe stones that killed Orpheus.

As for the paines of the Translatour, as they are ly­able to much exception, so are they not uncapable of some just Apologie.1 Some perhaps will thinke this taske too youthfull for my gravity and gray haires: Lib. 4. [...] whom I must remember, that the Poet himself when he compos'd it was above fifty, and that it is an hard matter to expell nature, Difficle on al­s [...] [...] and to casheere and abandon in age the laudable propenfities and studies of ones [Page]Youth. [...] l. 3. Old Entellas takes up the Bats and Bucklers, against young Dares. And aged Milo may assay how much he still retaineth of his former strength and vi­gour.2 Others will judge the Worke too light for my sacred profession. Thend. [...] Ge [...] [...] To whom I may oppose the bet­ter judgements, and frequent examples of learned and geave Divines, Doctors, Prelates, and Princes themselves, both of our owne and former times, who thought it no disparagement to be the followers of the Muses or rather, thought sacred Theology her selfe then best attended, when she had in her traine, not onely Arts and Scienres, [...]. Tongues, and Languages, and other secul [...]r and humane learning, but even those polite and elegant studies of Orators, and Poe­sie, the contempt and disdaine whereof was ever wont to be ascribed either to barbarous ignorance,3 or t [...]tricke sowrenesse and morosity of nature. Others will thinke my time and paines might have beene better spent some other way, which, as I will not de­ny, so I am not sorry for mine owne part, that with­out neglect of more serious matters, I am able to ten­der them so good an account of my succisive and vacant houres: for to the meere English Reader, loe [...]ere Ovid is turn'd his owne Countryman: to the raw Scholler, loe here Ovid speaking by an Interpre­ter; [...] To them that can swim without bladders, this translation will not onely bring delight, but if they please with the matter to observe the propriety of both the tongues, [...] it may Miscere utile dulci, bring them in delight and profit both.4 If any thinke the subject too sad for their merry humour, as being O­vids lamentatiō; let them remember that in the most solemne musicke, the harmony is most delightfull, and that there is some pleasure even in teares. Estquedam flere vol [...]ptas. [...] If Ovid sing his owne ship­wracke, if they will not [...]ondole him, they may yet beare with delight what he suffered with griefe, make some good use of his witty inventions, and expressi­ons, and learne of him to sing like Nightingales, when [Page]their owne darke night of sorrow shall come.5 If any wish my veine had beene more losty, Ne sutorul­tia ctepid am. he must know it was the part of me a Translatour, not to soare be­yond mine Authours straine, who was not here a stately Horoicall Maro, or a Tragicall Sophocles, but a quick-spirited and nimble witted Naso. Lastly, if any thinke I have undertaken a needlesse paines, in translating what was done before by another, and so write an Iliad after Homer. The truth is, Iliad a post Ho [...]m. Mr. Wye Sal­to [...]stall I had half done my worke before I came to see the other, but after that, (though I was sorry I should Actum agere) yet I thought better to perfit what I had begun then to desist and give over in the, midst, [...] hoping that the intelligent Reader upon aequall survey, will not thinke either my labour or his owne altogether fruit­lesse. Let this suffice for my Apology, Gentle Rea­der: and for thy selfe, read as many of few of these Elegies as thou pleasest, onely read with so much candour as thou wouldst be read, and if I deserve not the Bayes (who am indeed but an Arcadian sheepherd) yet (for my good will to the Muses) let me not be beaten with the stocke. Yet this I will boldly sav, that if thou read it through, and compare it punctually with the Authour, it may bring thee in some small returne, at least will keepe thy vacant houres from idlenesse, or worse employment, How­ever I rest

Thine to be used if thou please, Zachary Catlin, phil [...]sus.
‘Livor iners vitium mores non exit in altos, Carpere vel noli nostra, vel Ede tu [...].’

The Authour, of his Translation.

ERst Naso taug he my youth the Latian stile,
I teach him English now another while.
If English Naso want the Latine feature,
Say 'tis not he, but such another creature.
Yet scarce one Egge is liker to another,
'Tis Ovid sure, or else his younger Brother.

To his much honoured Friend, The Authour of this Translation.

NAso Poetarn̄ Dux opti [...]ous: ille juv [...]te
Te duce, quā subito est Anglicus Ovidius
Hoc opus Ovidii narrat de Tristibus: At ja [...]
Gratum opus ac laetum est hoc, Catelina, tuū.
Optima quā meruit Catelina Poeta, probatur
Versibus hisce suis, Ingenio & Gonio.
Guiliel. Spring Armig [...]r.

To his Reverend Friend the Authour of these Translations.

OVid weepes English now, nor doe we know
From whither eye, the learn [...]der teare doth flow.
The Roman or the Englsh: whither Rome,
Or your terse English more empearles his I ombe.
I'm sure, that when I read his last divorce
From his deare Wife; and of his living coarse,
Tost in it's watry co [...]in (where each wave,
Rung him his passing Bell, and dig'd his grave)
Translated so by you, as you had beene
His Muses Pilor, and had steer'd his pen:
I had lost Ovid, and in Extasie
Wept for your Exile, and thought you were he:
Or satisfi'd, in that your lively sense
Transported me to thinke him banisht hence
Vnholily by us: thence gan deplore,
Him as though exil'd to Bermudas shore,
(For such I fancy'd Scythia) and forgate
Still as I read, you did but personate.
But when I had compos'd my thoughts, I saw
As he among the Getes preserv'd the Law
Of Roman elegance in force, so now,
[...]ound his Emphaticke sweetenesse kept by you.
Who are his milder Casar, and have sent
Him to a calmer place of banishment.
R. P.

I dem in eundem.

Et Lwri, frontemque tuam Laurus tegat: Ardet
[...]am bat ut ima tuous dum mea Musa pedes.
V [...]l laudeat Hederae vappam Musam, Tibi Musa
Massica qua rutilat; non ego laudo, colo.
Robert Pa [...]ent.

To his worthily esteemed friend Mr. Zachary Catlin the Authour of this Translation.

PRayses pollute, the Comicke told me so,
Tell him from me, due praise is no mans foc,
No more then spurres to a mild-metled Horse,
For which he goes the better, not the worse.
Whilst worthlesse men do seeke this on their herse,
Thy worth doth claime it justly for thy verse,
Your front's already deckt with noble spring,
A silver pavement doth thy worth out ring,
What's left to me, if I must choose a part,
But this to praise the midst, thine honest heart.
Who knowes how seldome I bound speech do use.
Might sweare I honour Catlin and his Muse,
In chusing rather to expresse my shame,
Then to suppresse thy wit, thy worke, thy name.
Henry White, de Rougham.

In Pub. Ovid. NASONIS Elegi­as, eorumque interpretem Ovi­dianissimum ZA. CATELIN amicum fibi conjunctissimum.

Faelix ingenium secundlore
Aurâ, & Caesare mitiore dignum.
Quanto mergere rore guttularum
Heu [...]vultus Elegi solent legentis!
Quis non Caesareas gemit, fremitque
Tanti non potuisse vota vatis
Iras flexanimo liquare cantu?
Ast tu Sceptrip [...]tens negare Romam,
O [...]bem melliloquo nequis Poetae!
Dignum laude virum obrui malignis,
Obaitens Vetat ipsa Musa fatis.
Qud Sol auricomas agit quadrigas,
Atque orbem radiis beat coruso [...]s,
Si quas excoluit benigna Pollas
Terras artibus, hospitas ubique,
P [...]dunt laur [...]gero lares, & omne
Du [...]cipatria fit solum poetae.
Te n [...]nc altitonante Iberus ore
Cantat, Tentonicus flagransque Iacche,
Et qui mollisiuo placet palato
G [...]ilus, quique sapit modesta, magra
Parvo nomine proferens Britannus.
Quod Faelix Cateline sitque Faustum,
Tugest [...] patrid dedisse linguâ
Nasonem, aequi [...]aransmetris Britannis,
Sit gratus labor, otiumque fallat
Nostrum fallere quo tuum solebas.
O factum bene! mutuo lahores
Nasonis decoras, tuosque Naso.
Iacobus Warwell.

To the Ingenious Translatour, and the Censorious Reader.

SWeet Friend, know'st thou, that sloth and envy sit
Indges of life and death, on active wit?
Thou know'st it well, and scorn'st it too: else why
W [...]lt thou the tickle edge of censure try?
But try: these recreations will make plaine,
What nimble spirits move in thy aged braine.
Barke easily Criticke Reader: be content
That learnings idler time's not idly spent.
What thou mislik'st amend: so we shall see
By th' Authour much well done, little by thee.
Ia, Warwell.

The Argument of the fourth Elegie, in Lib. 4, Fol. 66.

ORestes Sonne of Agamemnon, and King of My­ [...]enae, slew his Mother Clytemnest [...]a, and [...] adulterer Aegystus, which two had mur [...] ­red his Father Agamemnon, Orestes was ve [...] with Furies, till hee had expiated his [...]me up [...] the Altar of Diana in Taurica by sacrifi [...]e Hee had Pylades so faithfull a friend, that when he should ha [...] beene slaine on that Altar, Pylades would have dye [...] for him, and both would be thought Orestes, so that Thoas the Tyrant doub [...]ed which was he, and pardone [...] Orestes desiring their Friendship. Ip [...]igenia was daughter of Agamemnon, Sister to Orestes. The Ora­cle said her blood must appease Diana's anger; D [...]am pittying her, sent a Dee [...]e in her stead for the sacrif [...]e, and sent her being a Ʋirgin to be her Priest in Tau [...], to sacrifice with humane blood. Orestes comming thi­ther, should have beene sacrificed, but that shee knew him by his talke with P [...]lades, He sto [...]e away his sister and Diana's Image, and went into Italy.

An Index of the severall fifty ELEGIES in these five Bookes.

The Elegies of the first Booke.
  • 1. TO his Booke. p. 2
  • 2. To the Gods to save him from the Tempest. p. 5
  • 3. Of his sad departure from Rome. p 8
  • 4. To a faithfull friend. p. 11
  • 5. To his wise, praysing her. p. 14
  • 6. To his Friends that weare his Image in a Ri [...]g. p. 15
  • 7. To a false and faithlesse friend. p 16
  • 8, That vulgar spirits follow fortune in friendship. p. 17
  • 9, He praises his Corinthian ship. p. 19
  • 10. To the Reader, that this first Booke was written in his Sea-voyage. p. 20
The second Booke.
  • One Entire learned Elegy, containing a complaint and sute to Augustus. from p. 22. to 37
The third Booke.
  • 1. The Booke to the Reader, complaining that it was unkindly used at Rome. p. 37
  • 2. Ovid complaines of his Exile, wishing for death. 39
  • [Page]3. To his Wife, complaining of sickenesse and [...] for buriall at Rome. p. 4 [...]
  • 4. To a Friend, advising him to shun the acquainta [...] of great men. p. 4 [...]
  • 5. He prayseth Carus a saithfull friend. p. 4 [...]
  • 6. He commends his estate to a faithfull friend. p. 4 [...]
  • 7. To Perilla a Ʋirgin Poet [...]sse [...] old companion. p. [...]
  • 8. He desires, once more to see on Country and friend p. 4 [...]
  • 9. Whence the C [...]ty Tomos tooke the name. p 4 [...]
  • 10. He describes the Country a [...]d people of Po [...]t [...] 50
  • 11. An invective against a malicu [...]as s [...]derer. p. 5 [...]
  • 12. The difference betweene Rome and Tomes for [...] and Exercises. p. 54
  • 13. Of his Birthday, wishing [...]t would returne no more. p 55
  • 14. To a learned friend, that he would defend his wri­tings. p. 56
The fourth Booke.
  • 1 He excus [...]s his bad Verses, written for Selace, [...] for Credit. p. 5 [...]
  • 2. Hee grieves that hee might not see the triumph [...] Ger [...]a [...]y. p. 6 [...]
  • 3. Hee w [...]oeth the s [...]arres that his wise may con [...] Loyall. p 6 [...]
  • 4. To a Friend described, but not named. p. 64
  • 5. To a friend, w [...]om be nameth not lest he should [...] [...]in harn [...]e. p 67
  • 6 That Time weak [...]eth all things except [...]griefe. ibid.
  • 7. He blames a [...]end for not writing unto [...] two yeares. p. 69
  • 8. [...] complai [...]es that he was banished [...]n his age. ibid.
  • 9. An Inve [...] [...]against an enemy, warning [...]m nett [...] injury him further. p. 71
  • 10 To Posterity, concerning his birth, education, and his whole li [...]e. p. 72
The Fifth Booke.
  • [Page 1]1. To his Friend, commending this fifth Booke to his care. p. 75
  • 2. To his Wife, that shee would petition Caesar for his milder banishment. p. 77
  • 3. To Caesar, suing to him for milder banishment, p. 78
  • 4. Hee sues to Bacchus, to incline Caesars mind to mercy. p. 79
  • 5. Hee praises his faithfull Friend, and bewailes his owne miseries. p. 81
  • 6. He solemniseth his Wives Birth-day. p. 82
  • 7. He perswades a Friend to constancy in friendship. p. 84
  • 8. He describes the attire and manners of the Getes. p. 85
  • 9. An Invective against a Backbiter. p. 87
  • 10. To a friend that would not be named. p. 88
  • 11. A complaint that hee had beene three yeares in Pontus. p. 89
  • 12. To his Wife, comforting her against one that cald her an Exiles wife. p. 90
  • 13. To a Friend, that wisht him to mitigate his griefe with Verses. p. 91
  • 14. He blames a true reall friend, because hee wrote not to him. p. 93
  • 15. To his Wife, comforting her, that she shall live ever in his writings. p. 94

PVBLII OVID. Nasonis de Tristibus. LIB. 1.


He speakes unto his Booke:Argu. sends it to Rome.
Teaching it what to doe when 'ts thither come.
GOe little Booke, without me visit Rome:
Woes me, thy Master must not thither come:
I spleene th [...]e not, yet see thou go undrest,
In Exiles habit, suiting t [...]es unblest.
Clad not thy selfe in Berries purple juyce,
For mournefull times that colour's not in use.
Red not thy Title, nor thy Paper cedar.
White hornes and forehead blacke, suite ill together.
With bri [...]tle Pumice polish not thy Brow,
But goe uncom'd and jagg'd, thou car'st not how.
Let happy Bookes with such tooles trim their beauty,
My Fortune to remember, tis thy duty.
Nor blush at blots and blurres: who them espies
Will judge them happ'ned from my weeping eyes.
Goe Booke, from me those welcome places greet,
Ile touch them (as I may) with Paper feet.
If any one (sure all have not forgot me)
If any one (I say) enquire about me.
Say that I live, that I am well deny,
Yet that I live is Caesars legacy:
If more they question, peace, and bid them reade,
And see thou blab not more then shall be need.
The Reader warn'd, straigt calls my fault to mind,
And all mens censures will me guilty finde.
But though reproached, doe not thou defend thee,
Thy cause once bad excusing will not mend thee.
Some, thou shalt find, will sigh that I am
And at my Verses cannot teares forbeare.
Wishing in's heart (least some Informer know)
That Caesar would relent and ease my woe.
[Page 3]Who ere he be, from ill I wish him free,
That would appease the Gods to wretched me.
Oh! let his wish take place, that Caesars ire
Being forgot, I may at hoem expire.
When thou hast done mine arrands some will blame thee,
And say, thou art a dull booke fit to shame me.Object.
Who right will judge, must things with times com­pare,
And time considered, Booke thou needst not care.Ans.
Verses proceede from mindes at quiet rest,
My times are cloudy, and with ills opprest.
Verses the writers private leisure aske,
Seas, winds and tempests hold me to my taske.
Verses are free from feare: poore I, each houre,
Looke when a sword should my best blood outpoure.
So that an equall judge will this my verse
Take in good part, and muse it is so Terse.
Give me great Homer, wrap him in like woe,
And all his wits will a woollgathering goe.
And therefore Booke, stand not upon thy Fame
If Readers slight thee, count it little shame.
To thee and me coy Fortune's not so kinde,
That upon credit thou shouldst set thy minde.
W [...]ilst I was happy, I for titles stood,
And fer my credit made my verses good;
But now I botch for th'nonce, and deadly hate
That Wit and Art, which causd my banisht state.
Goe thou for me that mayst, and view the Citty,
Wert thou anothers, thou shouldst finde more pitty.
And though thou com'st a stranger into Towne,
Yet never thinke that thou canst walke unknowne.
For say thou want a name, and wouldst conceale thee
As though not mine, thy colour will reveale thee.
Yet enter closely lest my name doe harme thee.
The worlds applause, not now, as erst doth arme me.
If any thinke, tis dangerous to read thee,Object. 2
Cause thou art mine, and as a Serpent dread thee:Ans.
Say, view my title, I am not
Thr [...] Books of Love.
Loves Master,
That worke hath justly cost me this disaster.
Perhaps thou look'st, if I will bid thee clime
[Page 4]The staires of Casars pallace most sublime.
But let those places and the gods there spare me,
For frō those Towers this thunderbolt did scare me.
I know indeed mild Deities dwell there,
But yet those gods that harmed me, still I feare.
The Dove once wounded with the Hawkes sharpe naile
At the least noyse of flickring wing doth quaile.1
The Lambe once bitten by her Wolvish foe,
Farre from the fold dare never after goe.2
Were Phaeton now alive, he would avoid
Heav'ns Carre and Horses wherein once he joy'd.
So I once stricken, feare Ioves dreadfull dart,
And when he thunders, thinke that I shall smart.
The Greeke ships shattred at Caphareus hill.
Doe steere their course farre from Euboia still.
Ev'n so my boate once weath [...] beaten sore.
The place of danger dares approach no more.
Therefore beware, and fearing to be shent,
So meane Pleb [...]ians read thee, rest content.
Whilst Icarus with weake wings too high doth soare
He gave the name to the Icarian shore.
Yet whether best thy Ores or Savles to use
I know not: Time and place must teach thee chuse,
If thou sind Caesar in a pleasant humour,
Seest all things mild, his anger lost her tumour;
If any one will h [...]t thee drawing backe,
And speake a good word for thee be not slacke,
But in good time more happ [...] then thy Master,
Draw neere and pray him ease my sad disaster.
For he that made it must redresse my wound
Achilles-like, or I shall ne're be sound.
But ware thou hurt not, whilst thou meanst me good,
(For stronger feares then hopes appale my blood.
Take heed lest thou his calmed Anger more,
And thou a second cause of danger prove.
But when unto my dwelling thou art come
And to thy closet, that same little roome,
There shalt thou see in ranked order set
Thy brethren all, whom the same braine did get.
[Page 5]Most of them Titles on their outsides beare,
And names upon their open fore heads we are.
Three in a corner thou shalt lurking spy.
Three Book [...] of Love.
and these as all men know, teach venery,
Shun these, or if thine heart will serve thee, rather
Call them unnaturall murd'rers of their Father.
These slew their owne Fa­thers unawares.
Like Aedipus that Laus kild in fray,
Or Telegon that did Vlysses slay.
Love none of these three Bookes in any wise,
Though Love they teach, if thou thy Father prize.
15. Bookes or Metamorphosis
also be of chang'd shapes fifteene bookes,
Verses which Phoebus from my funerals tooke,
Tell them (I charge thee) that mong bodies chang'd
My fortunes visage may be fitly rang'd.
For suddenly shees turn'd from what she was,
Ioyfull of late, but now at weeping passe.
If more in charge thou aske, I more would say,
But that I feare to cause thy longer stay.
And should thou carry with thee all my mind,
Thy bearer would an heavy burden finde
Make haste; thy journi's long: poore I am hurl'd
To a farre Country in another world.


He supplicates the Gods that they would deigne,Argu.
To yeeld him safe from ship wrackes imminent paine
YE gods of Sea and heav'n (what's left but Prayer)
The shattered Limbes of my weake barke repaire
O doe not you subscribe to Caesars anger.
When one God harmes, another rids from danger.
Gainst Troy lame Vulcan stood, for Troy Apollo:
Faire Venus aids them, Pallas hates them hollow.
[...]o Aeneas spleen'd, and Turnus friended,
By Venus, yet Aeneas was desended.
Oft raging Neptune would Vlysses kill,
As oft Minerva crost her Vncles will.
And may not now, (though I fall short of those)
Some God assist me, though one God oppose?
But bootlesse Prayers, poore wretch in vaine I sprinckle,
Even whilst I speake the waters me bedrinkle,
And Southwinds raging so my prayers confound,
[Page 6]The gods I aime at cannot heare the sound.
The selfe same wind thus bringing double
Or harm [...].
scar [...]s
Driving I know not whether, sayles, and Prayers.
Ay me, poore wretch, what watry Mountaines rise!
You'd thinke their lofty tops would touch the skies.
Streight lovvly vallies stoope (when Sea doth sunder)
You'd thinke their bottomes reacht to hell or under.
Where ere I look, there's nought but sky and water,
This swelewth waves, & that wth stormes doth clatter,
The winds betweene them roa [...]e with hideous noise,
And waves demurre
Which wind
which hath the mafter-voyce.
For now blowes Eurus from the purple East,
Now rises Zephyrus from
E [...]ing.
the setting West.
Now rages Boreas from the Northerne Beare,
Now Notus warres with him from Southern spheart
The Pilot doubtfull what to shun or chuse,
Ambiguous mischiefes make his Art to muse.
Dead men we are: all hope of safeties gone.
Even whilst I speake, the waves orewhelme my mone.
They'le drowne my soule, and while my mouth doth pray,
Thereby the deadly water finds a way,
My loving wife,
Q [...]ly.
nought save mine exile wayles,
She neither grieves nor knowes my other a [...]les.
She little thinkes Ime tost on vastest maine.
Hurried with winds; still ready to be slaine.
Twas well I did not suffer her to goe,
Then had I borne a double deadly blow:
Now, though I perish, yet (since she is safe)
I shall outlive my death at least one halfe.
Woes me, what flashing lights from heaven do spring
What [...]rackes of thunder from the skies doe ring?
And on our shippe the floting billowes falles
Like Canon bullets on besieged walles;
Each following wave the former still exceede,
As if it were a renth of greatest Meeds.
I feare not death, but yet this kinde is hatefull,
Bate me but shipwracke, death shall be most grateful.
Whether on's faire death or o'th sword one dye,
Some comfort tis upon firme land to lye.
[Page 7]To make ones will, and looke to be interred,
To speake to his friends.
And not in fishes bowels to lye buried.
Yet say such death I merit, why should those
Innocent soules ith'shippe my fate inclose?
Ye Gods above, and you that rule the Seas,
Both stint your threates, which joyntly me disease.
And since mild Caesa's wrath mylife hath granted
Let me transport it to the place commanded.
For, if for mine offence my life you grudge me,
It did not death deserve, if Caesar judge me,
And had he ment to send me to my grave,
He needed not in this your helpe to crave:
My life's at his command, and when he will,
He that hath sparde my blood may freely spill.
But you whose powers my crime hath not offended,
O rest content and let my woes be ended.
And yet though all of you a wretch would save,
I'm past all hope, and safety cannot have.
Say you would spare, and winds should serve my wil,
And Sea grow calme, I am an Exile still.
I doe not plow the Seas and watry maine,
Hoping by traficke to make endlesse gaine:
I'm not for learned
[...]e was a [...] ­dent there.
Athens, at of yore,
Nor Asian Townes I never saw before.
Nor yet for
A mart Tow [...] in [...] ­ [...]ypt.
Alexandria am I bound,
To view her dainties in swift Nilus found.
My suite is small, yet strange, I crave a gale
To the
A barbarous rude place.
S [...]matian land to drive my sayle.
I'm bound to touch on Pontus cruell shore,
Yet that my flight from home
My Country.
is slow, deplore.
And make my way to Exile by my pray'rs,
A City of Pontu [...] to which Ovid was banisht.
Tomos soated under uncouth starres.
If then you love me gods, these tempests lay,
And let your Powers for my ship make way,
Or if you hate me, to that land me hye,
Tis plague enough in such a coast to dye.
What make I here? fierce windes dispatch my flight.
Why stayes thus long
Auso [...] in my sight?
Casar would have me gone; oh! doe not hold me,
[Page 8]But let the barbarous Pon [...]cke land behold me.
It is his will, my merit: for 'twere small reason
I should defend what he doth fault as treason.
Yet if the gods all
Ham [...].
mortals actions view,
My fault was crimelesse, and you know 'tis true.
This if you know, how 'twas my meere
To see some­thing at Court
Mine harmelesse mind contriv'd no wicked trap,
But I though meane, that
[...] sam.
Family favour'd still,
Obeying what I knew Augustus will.
Did blesle these times when such a Prince did live,
And oft for him and his did incense give.
If thus I meant, O gods then doe you spare me
If not, let now some swelling wave orebeare me.
But doe I dreame? or gin the clouds to vanish?
And doth the calmed Sea her anger banish?
Sure 'tis no chance, but you to whom I pray'd.
Knowing all
Heart have [...]ne.
secrets send me present aid.


He tels how he from Rome did fare well take.Argu.
And's wife and Friends great lamentation make.
WHen I recall to mind that dolefull night,
When I from Rome did take my finall flight,
That night wherein I left what ever's deare,
Then from mine eye there slides a mournsull teare.
For now the day by Caesar set, drew night,
That I must
bid adiew to Italy.
I had no mind nor time, things to prepare,
My heart was duld and overset with care.
I could not thinke of getting men or mates,
Or cloathes or Coine to fit my banisht state.
Like one with thunder strooke, so was I crazed,
That lives, and knowes it not, he's so amazed.
When griefe had once this cloud of mind removed.
And at the length my senses stronger proved,
Ready to goe, I tooke my last adieu
Of mourning f [...]iends, earst many, now but few.
My loving wise, me weeping did embrace
A showre of teares still povvring downe her face.
[Page 9]M [...] D [...]ghter was farre of, on
In A [...]ri [...]ke.
Libian shore
And could not my unheard of fate deplore.
Looke where you would, there sounded plaints and grones
It seem'd a dolefull show of funerall mones.
Men, women, children too, my funer [...]ll kept,
In every corner of the house they wept.
If great examples may be like a toy,
Such, when 'twas taken, was the face of Troy,
The voyce of dogs and men now silent were,
The lofty Moone her nightly Carre did steere,
I viewing her, and the great Capitoll
Fa [...] Temple.
Adjoyning to my house alas in vaine,
Thus laid, ye Gods that in this Temple dwell,
Ovids ptayer.
And thou faire Church which I must bid farewell,
And all ye gods of Rome, from whom I part,
I still adore you from a zealous heart.
And though a
Am past re­medy.
buckler after wounds I take
Disburden yet my flight from odious hate.
Oh tell that
heav'nly man, what me beguiled,
Left a meere errour for a crime be stiled,
"That what you know, my judge the same may see,
"Who once appeas'd I might most happy be.
With this short Prayer, I did the gods adore,
His Wise.
My wife, each period sobbing, prayed more,
For loe before her houshold gods dejected,
Shee kist the sacred fires, her haire neglected,
And powred out to them fnll many a prayer,
That could not ease her wofull husbands care.
But now the posting night for bad delay,
And on her Pole the Beare was turn'd away.
Neete day.
What should I doe? my Countries love retaines me,
And Times last bound, this night to flee constraines
"How oft one hast [...]ning, why dee urge said I,
"Ah thinke both whither, and from whence you flye me.
And oft I fained, that by such an houre
I wou [...]d be ready to
Go [...]t oth [...] doo [...].
obey their power.
Thrice to the doore I went, and thrice drew backe,
My foote, even like my mind was very slacke.
Oft taking leave, I freshly fell a tall [...]ing,
[Page]And oft I kist, as one that had beene walking.
Charging the same things oft, my selfe forget,
Whilst on my pledges deare mine eyes were set.
"Then would I say what haste to Scythia vile,
"From happy Rome? good now let's stay a while.
"I and my wife both living, must part ever,
"From house, and faithfull houshold I must sever,
"And friends in whom as Brethren I delighted.
"Oh my deare hearts with Thesean faith united,
"Ile hugge you while I may, henceforth I feare
"I shall no more: Ile gaine these minutes cleare.
Forthwith, I breake abruptly from my talke,
And what came next to minde my tongue doth walk.
Thus while I speake and weepe, the
morning star
Is gotten up,
A [...]othed.
unwelcome Lucifer,
For now I part, even as my limbes were torne,
And joynt form joynt were quite asunder
Bo [...].
Grieving like Priamus when that trecherous steed,
Against his hopes hatcht that revengefull
Of armed Greekes.
And now my friends doe shreike and sob outright,
And with their hands their naked bosomes smite.
My wife fast holding on my arme now going.
These dolefull words mixt with my teares out flow­ing
"Thou shalt not part, weele both go hence or neither,
"Sure man and wife shall bannisht be together:
"In Pontus land there's roome for mine abode,
"And to thy ship Ile adde but little lode.
"Thee Caesars wrath bids from thy Country flee,
"Me duty:
[...]dnesse [...].
duty shall my Caesar be.
Thus she assaid, as she had ost before,
And reason hardly mov'd her to give ore.
Then forth I goe, like one to's grave outborne,
My haire downe hanging, nasty and sorlorne.
But then she waxing mad with griefe, they say,
Grew blind, and falling, in a found she lay,
Till comming to her selfe, she did upreare
Her limbs from th' earth, with her dust soyled haire.
Her selfe, and then her widdowed house deploring,
And oft her robbed husbands name imploring.
[Page]Grieving no lesse, then she had seene exspire
Me or her child, or burne on Funerall fire.
Withing to dye, by death to ease her care,
Though for my sake content her life to spare.
Oh may she live, to helpe her absent mate,
Sith thus to part it is our lucklesse fate.
B [...]tes or Arctophy­lax. Astorme.
keeper of the Beare's now steept ith'maine,
And with his starre doth the Sea waters staine.
Yet we against our wills in sunder cleave,
Th' Ionian Sea: but
Of Caesar [...] auger.
feare doth courage give.
Woes me, how blacke the Seas with Tempests grow,
And sands waxe hot fetcht from their channels low!
The waves as high as mountaines ore our ship,
Both Decke, and Sterne, and painted gods, doe skip.
The Cables cracke, the Pinetree
joynts rebound,
The very Keele doth to our woes resound.
The Pilot waxing pale doth feare bewray,
Yeilds to the storme, and lets the vessell stray,
And as a Rider, striving long in vaine,
With his stiffenecked Steed, yeelds up the reine,
So did our Pilot leave the ship to saile,
Not where he would, but as the winds prevaile,
So that if Aeolus cause them not to change,
We sure to some forbidden coast shall range.
For leaving on our left th' Illyrian lands,
Still in our gaze forbidden Italy stands.
Oh lets not still to coasts forbidden
But let the Sea, with me to Caesar
i. Stoope or yeeld.
Yet while I speake, and wishing feare a nay,
How fiercely on our ship the billowes play?
At least you
Sea Gode▪
Azure Gods some pitty show,
Let it suffice that
Ioves my cruell foe.
Save you a tyred soule from cruell death,
If a lost man may begge a lingring breath.


He writes unto a friend,Argu. who faithfull still
Continued, though his fortune proved ill.
DEare friend whom I must mention after none,
Who tookst to heart my fortune as thine owne:
If gentle Reader, thou shalt not dispise me.
And this Hexasticke take with thy good grace,
And on the Forefront of that volume place.
Who ever shall this Orphan writing finde,
Within your City give it harbour kind.
S [...]e verse [...] to [...] [...]et before the M [...]a [...]u.
The rather cause the Father did not vent it,
But from his sunerall friendly hands have rent it.
Had Fortun [...] giv [...]n him time to see it ended
The saults of this rude Poem had beene [...]ended.


He sharpely chides a friend who saithlesse proved,Argu
Now [...]n's assliction, when it least beboved.
RIvers shall backeward to their fountaines flow:
[...] with Horses turn'd, shall Eastward goe.
[...] shall beare, the Heav'ns shall Plowshare seele
[...] burne, and fire shall waters yeeld,
[...] shall crosse to natures order goe.
[...] world his wonted course shall know.
[...] impossible weele easie deeme,
[...] ab [...]rd, most probable esteeme.
[...] [...]ince one hath me deceived,
B [...] whom I hoped now t'have beene releived.
[...] couldst thou so soone forget thy friend?
Not da [...] one poore visit to him lend?
[...] looke or word of comfort send?
Not [...] hard hearted man,
mine herse attend?
[...] that sacred [...] of friendship slight
[...] and ba [...]e, and trample on't with spite?
What [...] beene to have visited thy friend,
[...] with griefe, and some kinde speeches lend?
And, if [...] [...]dst no teares for his distresse,
Ye [...] [...] words with fained griefe expresse?
At lest, [...] [...]gers did, [...]is farewell give
An [...] [...] with publicke note, he long might live.
span [...]
And now [...]ve view'd his drooping teerefull eyes,
[...] to be beheld in any wise?
And [...] kindly take and give
A fare, [...]lf, once for all while both doe live.
I [...] much they did with whom no league I had,
[Page 17]Who by their teares declar'd their hearts were sad.
But thou and I in strictest bonds were tyed,
of swee [...]e convers [...] and ancient Love beside.
My sports and serious matters thou didst know,
And unto me thy sports and cares didst show:
This was enough that we acquainted were,
At Rome and cald to merry meetings there.
But these are all disperst, into the wind.
Drownd in Let [...]ean waters out of minde.
I thinke thou nere wast bred in
gentie Rome,
(The City where my foote must never come)
But in the craggy Rockes of Pontus rather:
And some rough cliffe of Scythia was thy Father.
Hard veines of flint about thy heartstrings grow,
And in th [...] brest doth seede of Iron flow.
And she that
nursed first thy tender age,
Was sure some Tyger fierce of cruell rage.
Yet (like a strangers) hadst thou tane my woe,
Thou hadst not beene impleaded as a foe.
But seeing this is added to my losses,
None of the least, of all my fatall crosses.
That our first friendship once so well begun,
Through thy default wants its perfection,
Repai [...]e this breach of Love, that in the end,
(Thy fault forgot) I may thy faith commend.


This Elegy doth to his friend complaine,Argu.
That vulgar spirits follow F [...]rtunes trayne.
WHo ere thou art that readest as a friend
I wish thee happy fortune to thy end.
Oh that for thee my prayers might much prevaile,
Which for my selfe cannot one jot availe.
Thy fortune good, of friends thou shalt have plenty,
A seate [...].
If times prove cloudy, they'l be very dainty,
Behold how Doves to whited houses flye,Sim.
But unto sordid turrets none doth hye.
To empty garners Pismires never wend,Sim.
And broken states can seldome find a friend.
Who walkes ith' Sun, on him his shadow waites,Sim.
The Sun once clouded this doth vanish strait.
[Page 18]So fickle vulgars follow Fortunes light,
Which once oreclouded, they soone take their slight.
I wish thou never find these sayings true,
Though sad experience makes my bowels rue.
For while I stood my house had great resort
And was well knowne, though of no stately Port.
But when 'twas shaken once, all were afraid,
And hasting from the ruine no man staid.
Nor wonder I if men doe lightning feare,
Whose fires are wont to catch what ever's neare.
And yet a friend that firme in trouble proves,
Ev'n in an hated foe mild Caesar loves.
And never blames (so is his nature kind)
One that to's wofull friend beares constant mind.
Thoas the Tyrant Pylades commended,
That his Or [...]stes he had so befriended.
The constant friendship which Patroclus bare
To great Achilles, Hector judged rare.
They say th' infernall god lik't wondrous well,
That Theseus would attend his
friend to hell.
Turnus (tis like) his cheekes with teares bedewed,
When once he heard what friendship Nisus
To [...].
Sorrow craves pitty, which ev'n foes approve,
Woes me how few doe these my sayings move!
Yet is the state of my misfortune such,
That in compassion none can weepe too much.
However though my times are wondrous bad,
At thy preferment (friend) I am right glad
Which long agoe, me thought, I did foreknow,
While on thy barke a smaller gale did blow.
For if sweete manners and a spotlesse life
Have any worth, they are in none more rife.
Or if th' ingenuous Arts have any raysed;
Thy skill in pleading causes is much praised.
I noting this, did thus to thee presage,
Thy dowries, friend, will claime
A [...]g [...] of [...]
an ample stage.
Nor did sheepes veines or left-hand thunder sh [...]w it,
Nor tongues or wings of birds did cause me know it.
Reason my A [...]g [...]ry was, and happy gues [...]e
[Page 19]Made me divine it, and proclaime no lesse.
Which proving true, I joy my selfe and thee,
That thy rare wit could not concealed be.
As for mine owne, would it had lyen obscure,
In darkest night, then had I liv'd secure.
But as severer Arts have thee prefer'd,
Th'other unlike to them, have me interr'd.
And yet thou knew'st my life, and that my
My Bookes of Love.
Vpon the Authours manners plaid no part.
Thou knowst I made those pastimes being young,
Which if blameworthy, but f [...]r jests were sung.
And though tis true, my pen I then abused
Yet doe I thinke my faults may be excused.
Make then thy faire excuse, abet thy friend
So may good forture guide thee to the end.


The prayses of the Ship he doth display
Wh [...]ch be tooke up at the Corinthian Bay.Argu.
VNder M [...]ncrva's guard, my ship is blest,
And takes its title from her helmets crest.
If Sayles we use, it scuds with smallest winde,
Or if our Oa [...]es, 'twill never be be hind.
And not content her Comtades to outrunne,
She'le cote the ships that erst their course begun.
Assayling flouds and billowes she can beare,
Nor doth she leake, or searching waters feare.
At Corinth land of her I first had sight,
True guide and partner of my fearefull flight.
And still through Pallas favour safe abideth,
Although through rough and stormy Seas she rideth.
Oh may she safely shoote vast Pon [...] haven.
And enter Getticke barbours, which we
Or wish to go to Ovids vo [...]age described.
Me first unto the He [...]e [...]po [...]t she brought,
Where through the Streights a tedious course she
Then bending to the left where
Astori [...] [...]
Tr [...]y did stand,
We came to th' Harbour of the I [...]brian land.
Thence by Zerinthu [...] shore, with slowest pace.
Our weary ship did touch on
Th [...] [...]
Samot [...].
[Page 20]Hence to Stantirum one may quickly wend;
So far our ship her Master did attend.
But I on foote would through Bistonia travell,
And she now left the Hellesponticke gravell,
And to Dardania went of Dardan smiled,
And thence to Lampsac whereon
[...] O [...] [...] pasture
Pan hath smiled.
So to the Fret surnam'd from Helle drowned
Where Sestos from A [...]ydos is disjo [...]ned.
From thence [...]o
Cyzi [...]s (nigh Propontis placed)
Watch by th' Aemoni [...]n founders much is graced.
Then, where B [...]zantium joynes to Pontus jawes,
And makes the ample Portall of two Seas.
These let her conquer and with Southwinds borne
Passe the Cy [...]nean Island-creckes untorne.
Then by the Enochian bayes, and P [...]oebus towne,
Vnder Anchialus wals
may the ride sound.
Thence by Mesembriack Ports, passe she the Towers,
That take their name from Bacchas drunken powers.
And by the exiles at
Alcathoe bred,
Who here are said to rest their weary head.
Thence, at Miletis let her safe arrive,
Whether th'off [...]nd [...]d
god my course doth drive.
This if Min [...]rua grant, a Lambe shall dye,
My wealth a greater offring cannot bu [...].
And you
Tindarian brethren
here adored,
Your ayde for both our ships is now implored.
For, th'one through th' high Sympl [...]gades is bound,
And th'other ploweth the Bistonian sound.
Command (sith we to severall coasts doe wend)
Each ship have wind to serve her to her end.


Here to the courteous Reader is diselosed,Argu.
That this First booke in's Ʋoyage was composed.
THis Booke, yea every Verse thou readest here,
Were made in travell, and the time of feare.
Some part I wrote on th' Adriaticke water.
When cold December made my teeth to chatter.
And part when I had
got my second ship,
And past the Isthmos that two Seas doth split.
[Page]That I amid Sea-roarings verses pheased,
I thinke the Aegaean Cyclades were amazed.
My selfe admire, how I my wits could find
Amid such tempests both of sea and mind.
Whether this
of Poetry.
study maze or madnesse be,
From other cares, I'm sure it set me free.
Oft by the showry
kids my minde was beaten,
And oft the
Steropes sta [...] foure quarte [...] of heave [...].
Pleiades made the Seas to threaten.
Now the Beares-keeper made the day light darke,
And th' Hyades causd the watry Southwinds sharke,
Oft part oth' Sea got in: yet still I draw,
With trembling band, these verses though but raw.
Ev'n now our cables stretcht wth northwinds cracks
And seas doe rise, like mountaines swelling backes,
The Pilot lifting up his hands to th'skies,
Forgetting quite his Art, for succour cries.
Where ere I looke, deaths Image doth dismay,
Which makes me doubting feare, and fearing pray.
Yet should I gaine the Port that would affray me,
For of the twaine, the Land doth more dismay me.
Dangers from Seas and men at once I beare,
Both sword and waters cause my double feare.
I feare, lest th'one should catch his bloody pray,
And th'other claime my last and fatall day.
On our left hand loe barbarous robbers dwell,
VVho save in blood and warres are never well.
And though the seas through winters stormes dowar
Yet are the others brests more raging farre,
The rather, gentle Reader, shouldst thou beare,
If thou beneath thy hope finde verses here.
They were not pend as erst, in gardens shade,
VVhere on my wonted
bed, my body laid.
But tost on winter Seas I'm rudely dasht,
And with salt waters are my papers washt.
Cold winter stormeth disdayning I should dare
To Scribble verses, whilst he threatneth feare.
Let winter conquer: yet, at once, I pray,
As I my Verse, let him his fury stay.
Here endeth the first Booke, conteining 744. Verses.

LIB. 2.


This Booke one single Elegie containes,
Whirein to great Augustus he complaines.Argu.
AVant from me my Books, unhappy care
Who for my wit, poore wretch, have paid full deare.
Why to my blamed Muse doe I returne me?
And touch againe the fire, which once did burne me?
'Twas Poetry made men and women long
To know me, and this fame hath done me wrong.
'Twas Verse made Caesar to suspect me still
And feare my manners, for this hatefull skill.
Bate me my study, and my crimes are bated,
My Verses I may thanke that I am
Heer's the reward my toyling life hath gained
That for my wit I smart and am disdained.
Had I beene wise, I had the Muses hated,
As powers that make their Worshipper be rated.
But now so mad is my Poeticke veine.
I dash my foote at the same rocke againe.
Like foyled Fencer, still the stage
re [...]nt [...]ing,
Or wracked ship on swelling Seas
still ventring.
Perhaps (as once befell
T [...]l [...]ph [...] whom Achilles [...] hurt and [...]aled.
Teuthra [...]i [...]s King)
One thing to me may wound and med'cin bring.
My Muse that stirr'd, may calme his kindled rage,
Verses incensed gods doe oft asswage.
Caesar himselfe th' Italian dames did charge,
To towred Ops their Verses to inlarge,
To Phoebus too, what time
he brought oth'stage
The Playes which come once onely in an age.
By these examples Caesar, I thee pray,
My wit the fury may in part allay.
Thine anger's just, Ile not my guilt deny,
My face hath not so farre lost modesty.
But had I never sin'd, what couldst thou yeeld?
My guilt affords thy mercy fairest field.
Should Iove as oft as men offend, let fall
His arrowes, he long since had spent them all,
But when with thunders he the world doth scare
[Page 23]He streight uncloudeth and makes cleare the aire.
Hence he is still the Gods both sire and King,
Nor can the world of Ioves coequall sing.
Now since Romes King and Father is thy name
As well as Ioves, for mercy be the same.
And so thou art; nere Prince of any Nation,
Caesars clemenc [...]
Did wield his Scepter with more moderation.
Oft hast thou spar'd the Parthians overcome,
Who conquering would have givē thee harder doom.
With wealth and honour thou dost some adorne,
Who 'gainst thy sacred head have weapons borne.
One day both war and peace in thee hath wrought,
And to the gods both parts have presents brought.
And as to quell their Foes, thy men were glad:
Even so thy conquer'd enemies were not sad.
My cause is better farre, being nere accused
Mine Armes against my Liege to have abused.
I sweare by Sea and Land, by heav'n above
By thee a present and conspicuous Iove.
heart hath favour'd thee as most Divine
And to my power I was wholly thine.
I pray'd that thou might'st late ascend the sky,
Still making one with one that thus did cry.
And for thine health, Incence devoutly spent
And to the Publicke votes my Prayers lent.
Those very Bookes which first procur'd me blame
In thousand places chaunt thy sacred name.
And read my greater worke, not yet compleate
Which doth of bodies wondrous changes treate,
Large prayses of thy name, there shalt thou finde,
And many pledges of my loyall minde.
Verses, 'tis true, make not thy glory greater,
To which nought can accrue, to make it better.
Yet love (whose fame surmounteth) takes delite
When we, in Verse his glorious Acts indite.
And when the Giants warres men do rehearse,
Tis like he joyeth in their praysing Verse.
Thy fame there are which chaunt with lofty straine
Whose larger quilles thy prayses high proclaime,
[Page 24]And yet the gods as kindly incense take,
As when the rich large
A [...] hee of [...]. Oxen.
Hecatombs doe make,
Ah! more then cruell was that foe to me,
Who first my wanton lines did read to thee.
Or else my Poems, which thine honour spread,
Might with more candid censure have beene read.
But thou once angry, who dare friendship show,
I almost to my selfe
was turned foe,
When once a crazed house begins to reele,
The weight oth' whole, the sliding parts doe feele.
And when by some mischance the wall doth rend,
The weight it selfe make all to ruine bend.
So when thou frownedst, men gan wrest my Bookes
To hatred, and with thee, to change their lookes.
And yet there was a time, thou didst approve
My life, and gav'st an horse in pledge of love.
And though poore honesty got me little gaine,
Or honour, yet she kept me from just blame.
Poore Clients causes were to me commended,
Which 'fore the
The Cent [...] [...].
hundred judges I defended.
And private matters I so fairely judged,
That ev'n the losing parties never grudged.
And had I not at last, poore wretch offended,
Even thou thy self wouldst stil have me commended.
This last undoes me: this one storme hath drownd
My barke, which had so long escaped sound.
Nor did some slender billow now distresse me,
But the whole Ocean did at once oppresse me.
Alas, why wast my lucklesse happe to see
A fault at unawares to ruine me!
Actaeon chanc't Diana naked spy,
by his hounds must poore Actaon dic,
Belike though fortune did offend, not he,
Even chan [...]e, against the gods must treason be.
What day that fatall errour me betraid,
A small, but yet a harmelesse house decayd.
Yet, not so small, but in my fathers dayes
For best nobility it bore the praise.
And, as not wealthy, so nor poort reputed,
[Page 25]But in the middle ranke of knight hood suited.
Yet, had mine house for meanes or bloud been smal,
My wit, I'm sure, hath made it known to all.
Which, though too youth fully I usd the same,
Yet through the world doth beare a glorious Name.
And even the learned sort have Naso knowne,
Still ranking him with men of great renowne.
Lot then, this house thus by the Muses graced,
By one great fault of mine is sore defaced.
Yet not so false, but it may soone recover,
If Caesars fury like a storme blow over.
Whose mercy in my punishment was such,
That of my feare it hath abated much.
For first, thy
sentence did my life forbeare
In boundlesse power, so dost thou mildnesse weare,
Nay more, (as if the gift of life were small)
Thou sparedst me nay goods to live withall.
Nor by decree oth' Senate was I sent,
Or some deputed judge to banishment.
But by thy Princely mouth, whom I offended,
I was in sharpe but royall sort condemned.
Adde, that thine Edict (though severe and sterne)
Yet gave my punishment a gentle terme,
I am not banisht, but confinde there by,
My heavy doome in gentle termes doth lye,
Indeed to one in's wits, no greater blow
Can hap, then make so great a man
ones foe.
Yet gods incenst, sometimes appeased are,
A cloudy morning cleares and proveth faire.
My selfe have seene an Elme with Grapes
O [...]loces.
Which erst with Lightnings had beene sore distrest,
I therefore still will hope, though thou say nay,
In this one matter I may disobey.
When I thy mildnesse vievv my hope is great,
Reflecting on my fault, it doth retreat.
And as the Sea with winds and tempests torne,Sim.
Are not with equall rage and fury borne,
But now the winds abate and silent stay,
[Page] [...] rage away.
So do my feares still varying ebbe and flow,
Now bid mo hope for grace, and now say no.
Which grace I begge, ev'n by the gods above
Who will prolong thy times, if Rome they love.
And by thy Country which thou rendrest blest,
Where late I was a part amongst the rest.
So mayst thou still the Cityes love inherit,
Which both thy minde and actions justly merit.
So may the Gods thy Livia long preserve,
Whom but thy selfe no Husband could deserve,
And but for her, thou still shouldst single be,
For none but Livia were a match for thee.
So may thy
Son be safe, and sonne and father
Governe this happy Empire long together.
And let thy
Cai [...] and [...] [...]o [...]s of [...] and [...]
nephewes (that are now a starre)
Count thine and Iuli [...] acts ith' kalender.
So may Ʋictoria to thy tents inured,
Still to thine ensigne fly by her secured.
And hovering o're the Duke with wings outspread,
Still decke with Lawrell crownes his shining head,
By whom thou wagest warre, and dost commend
Thy Gods and state as a most trusty Friend.
Thus whilst one halfe of thee at Rome doth raigne,
Thy other halfe abroad doth wars maintaine.
So may he come victorious home, and ride.
Through Rome in crowned chariot by thy side.
O spare, I pray, those deadly darts lay downe,
Which to my sorrow I too long have knowne.
O spare thou Pater Patriae, and let that name,
Cherish my hopes to gaine thy grace againe.
Nor doe I sue, my exile were repealed
Though greater sutes no doubt, the gods have sealed,
Grant me but milder exile neerer home,
And it shall much asswage my heavy doome,
Who now doe suffer ev'n the worst of woes
Living so farre from home 'mong cruell foes.
Posted to
Isters banke, (and none but I)
[Page]And [...]
Where hardly can Danubius waters deepe
[...] col­chi Meter. Getes.
savage nations from our borders keepe.
And though for greater faults some banisht lye,
Yet no man's posted farther off then I.
For theres beyond us nought but foes and cold,
And frozen Seas detained in Icy hold.
The Romane part of the
2 See.
Euxine here is nye,
And next to us the fell Sarmatians lye,
Here is the Romane Empires utmost bound,
This land is scarce the margin of thy ground.
This makes me crave a place of safer rest,
Lest with a double woe I be opprest,
Exil'd from home, and fearing to be made
Captive to them whom Ister scarce hath stayd.
Sith Law forbids a Roman should endure
Barbarian chaines, while Caesar lives secure.
But now? what are the crimes that me oppresse?
Ovids faul [...].
My verse and errour: This I must suppresse.1
I dare not open Caesars wound againe,
Whom, 'tis my griefe, that once I put to paine.
Th'other remaines,2 wherein I'm sore accused
That I my pen to teach uncleannesse used.
I see that heavenly brests may be deceived,
Ovids defence of the second.
And falshood in small matters be believed.
For as high Iove imploid in heavenly cares,
Wants leisure to attend on flight affaires:
So, whilst this lower world thou dost dispense,
Small matters may escape thy Royall sense.
Non [...].
For what? shouldst thou a Potentate finde leisure
To road my verses, of
[...]. Elegiacke verses. H [...]a­epent.
unequall measure?
The weight oth' Roman Empire's not so light,
Nor is the burden on thy necke so slight,
That thou shouldst bend thy powers to wanton rymes,
Or deigne to overlooke my foolish lines.
Now Hungary, then Illyria thou must tame.
R [...]tters and Thracians now rebell againe.
The Armenian cals for peace: the Parthians stand
With bended bowes, and ensignes in their hand.
[Page]Thy Prowesse, in thy
Sonne the Germans feele,
Young Caesar making Caesars Foes to reele.
And (though our Empire never was so wide)
Thy care permits no part thereof to slide.
Of citty and of Lawes thou takest care,
And framest our manners by thy patterne rare.
Thou givest the Nations rest, but takest none;
And with thy foes thy warres are never done.
Amid such masse of cares, how thou hadst time,
I wonder much, to reade my merry Rh [...]me.
Yet had thy mind (would God it had) been free,
Nought in my Art had then offended thee.
H [...] Bookes of Love.
'Tis true, 'twas not for graver judgements pena'd,
Nor for thy reading did we them intend:
And yet they nothing teach, that cresseth law,
But rather keepe the Romane
Dames in awe.
And that thou maist not doubt to whom I wrote,
l'th' first of those three Bookes these Verses note.
First booke of the Art of Love.
'Avant ye Matrons who chast vayles doe beare,
"And border'd gownes downe to the ankles weate,
"Of none but lawfull scapes of love I sing,
My verse allowes of no unlawfull thing.
Have I not banisht from my
Booke all such,
Whose veile and robe forbid all wanton touch?Object.
But yet some Matron may abuse mine Art,
And draw that is anothers to her part.
Then let her nothing read,Ans. 1 she may incline,
And turne to sinne what ever she doth find.
Read what she will (if shee be ill-dispos'd)
Her manners thence, will be to vice compos'd.
Let her the Annales take (though most severe)
How Ilia prov'd with child, she findeth there.
If she the Aeneads reade shee searcheth there,
How Venus did our Syre Aeneas beare.
In fitterplace, I'le shew, how every kind
Of writing may corrupt a vicious mind.
Yet may not Bookes be blam'd or cleane refused,
Nothing so usefull,Examples. 1 but may be abused.
Fire though most needfull, yet doe serve the turne
[Page]Of desperate boute fewes that houses burne.
[...]hysick which health doth bring, oft health destroies,2
[...]eaching what herbes are good, and what annoyes.
[...]oth honest men, and theeves themselves doe arme,3
[...]'one for defence, the other to doe harme.
The skill of pleading causes in distresse,4
[...] doth defend the wrong and right oppresse.
[...] so my verse, who reads with honest minde,
Doubtl [...]sse therein shall nothing hurtfull finde.
[...] who takes
hurt thereby, himselfe must shent,
Wresting m [...] words to that they never ment.
[...] But be it true: then seeing publicke playes,Ans. 2
[...]eeld seedes of vice, take Stages cleane away.
The field of Mars where sundry sports are used,
[...]s b [...] too many unto lust abused.
Downe with the Circus too: there danger bides,
And many a maid sits by a strangers side.
And why are
O pe [...] wall [...] port cas.
Galleries allow'd to walke,
Where with their lovers maids doe meet and talke,
Nay leave
the sacred Temples unfrequented,
Where wanton wits have trickes of love invented.
In loves owne house she standing, oft doth muse,
How Iove himselfe did many Maides abuse.
And while in Iuno's Temples they adore,
Thinks how the Goddesse doth her
Harlots [...]t Mot [...]es.
wrongs deplore.
And seeing Pallas, feares she went astray,
Because Er [...]chthon she did hide away.
Comming to Mars his
Tua nu­mina.
Temple o're the doore,
Shee Vulcan spies, and Venus Mars his whore.
Sitting in I s [...] house askes why and how.
[...] transformed to a Cow.
When Venus and Anchises she doth see,
She questions what may their relation be?
Of Ceres with Jasius? of the Moone,
And her perpetuall mate Endymion?
All these may serve a wanton mind to staine,
Yet all these Statues in their place remaine.
And my first page all honest hands removes
Farre from my Art
writ for meere Harlots loves.
If any one presume beyond the bownde,
The Pefest assignes, she straight is guilty found.
[Page 30]Nor ist a crime to read a wanton booke,Ans. 3
On more then they may doe, the chast may
Grave Matrons of severest brow survay,
Statues which various shapes of lust display.
And vestall Virgins naked
Of Ha [...]lots.
Pictures view
For which the cunning workemen never rue,
Yet why should I, that looser veine approve?
Or write a booke,Object. t'entice to wanton love?
It was my fault, 'tis plaine; I must confes [...]e,
Herein my wit and judgement did transgresse.Ans.
Why cl [...]ose I not to wri [...]e the Trojan warre?Object.
And after Homer fetch the Greekes from faire?
Why not the war of Thebes, whose sevenfold [...],
Were dyed wth brothers blood through mortal here?
Even wa [...]like Rome an ample field afforded,
I had well done, her acts to have recorded.
And Caesar wh [...]n thy merits so abounded
Some part thereof I ought to have resounded.
And as the Sunnes bright rayes all eyes invite;
So should thy deeds have drawne my Muse to write.
The blame is causelesse, for that spacious field,
Requires more stocke then my poore farme would yeeld Ans.
For though a cock-bote on the lake may enter
Yet may she not on the maine S [...]a adventure.
And though perhaps I finde my ssender veine
To to yes and lighter numbers may attaine,
Yet shouldst thou bid me write the Gyants warre,
That weighty worke, my strength would master [...],
It is for happyer wits to sound thy facts,
Whose losty straine can reach thy glorious acts.
This I attempted once, but streight recoyled.
I saw thy worth was by my scribling spoiled.
Then to my youth full verse did I reci [...]e,
And wrote of love, although with fained fre.
I did not meane it, yet my dest [...]ny drew me,
To show my wit, in that which overthrew me.
Woes me! why was I set to S [...]ftoole? or why
Did tempting Bookes bew [...]ch my curious eye?
This veine procur'd thy hate, through hard mistr [...]
[Page 31]Mr Art was penn'd to kindle lawlesse lust.
Yet I to Wives no stolne D [...]lights permitted,
How could I teach what I had nere committed?
And though some Amorous verses I did frame,
Yet so, as ill report nere toucht my name.
Nor is there any marryed man at all,
That can for me his child in question call,
Trust me, my verse and manners disagree,
My life is modest, though my Muse be free.
And of my Workes the greater part is feigned,
And takes such licence as my
life disdayned.
Nor doth ones booke the Authours mind display,Ans.
An honest muse to please mens cares will play.
Else Terence were a glutton: Accius fell:
And they, all Souldiers, that of battels tell.
Lastly, not I alone Love-songs have framed,
Though I alone am for Love-sonnets shamed.Ans.
What doth the Teian Lyricke-father sing.
But Venus Toyes, and Baochus revelings?
What taught the Lesbian Sappho but to love?
Yet did no censure him or her reprove.
Nor thou
The sun [...] [...]
Challimachus, whose Rhymes relate
Thine owne delights, didst ever purchase hate.
a Com [...]. [...].
Menanders plaies with love are fraugh [...],
And yet to boyes and girles Menander's taught.
What are the Iliads, but a shamelesse
Hele [...]
For whom her Lord and Lover fought in gore?
Which first begins with
The E [...]t­ter of Cory [...].
Briseis burning love,
For whom Achilles and the
Agamem [...]t
Generall strove.
Whats the Ody [...]ee, but contentious strife,
Of sundry suitors for Vlysses wife?
Yea Homer tels how Vulcans snare descryed
Venus with Mars in leud embraces tyed.
And but for Homer who should ever know
That two great
[...] Calypso.
Ladies lov'd Ʋlysses so.
Of writings, Tragedies are the gravest verse
Yet these of Cupids matters still reherse.
Traged [...]
Hippolytus was by's owne fierce
Ph [...]dia.
stepdame loved.
And by her
brother, Canace pregnant proved.
[Page 32]Who drove the Chariot but the winged boy,
husband bore her backe from Troy?
Tis love enrag'd their frenzy doth constraine,
When cruell mothers have their children slaine.
'Twas love that into birds
Frogue and P [...]emela.
two sisters turned,
With Tereus, whom incestuous passion burned.
Had not Thyestes wrongd his
[...] wife A [...]e.
brothers bed,
The Sunne had nere beene faign'd to hide his lead,
Nor ere had S [...]ylla climb'd the tragicke staire,
Had not her
To [...] Mino'
love cut off her
[...] Nisut
fathers haire.
Who reads
[...] frage­dies.
Electra or Orestes, spies
How Agamemnon by
The adulte. ter to Clytem.
Aegysthus d [...]s.
Why name I
Belleteph [...]n.
him that did Chimaera tame,
By his deceitfull
Schenob [...].
hosteffe almost slame?
Or why Hermione? or the
[...]imble maid?
Or Phoebus Nun, whose love a
Of Mycenae.
Captaine staid?
Or Danaus fifity daughters? Baochus mother?
Or Ioves
When he got Heren of Alemean.
two nights conjoyned each to other?
Or Pelias Son? or Theseus? or the Greekes,
Who first arriv'd at Troy with Grecian sleet?
Adde Dole Pirrhus mother, Hercules wife,
Hylas, and Paris who set all at strife.
But should I here pursue these Tragicke flames,
My booke would scarce containe their empty names.
Thus Tragedy to wanton laughters bends,
And many shamefull words
[...] fice [...] broadly.
obscenely spends.
The Author's free, who sterne Achilles frames,
Softning his martiall deeds with musicke straines.
Nor yet was Aristides ere exiled,
Though he his owne and
Of Maleton.
neighbours faults comp­led.
Nor looser Eubius an historian vile,
Who teaches how the fruite oth' wombe to spoyle.
Nor he that Sybaries of late composed;
Nor they that have their owne base lusts disclosed.
Nay these ith' publicke Libraries do stand
For common use, by Benefactours hand.
Nor doe I onely plead outlandish Authours,
Our Roman bookes of liberty are Fautors.
For as great Enquis doth of warres discourse,
[Page 33](Whose wit is great although his art be course)
Lucreti [...]
And Lucrece doth explaine with spirit of fire,
Three pria­ciples. Catullut.
three first causes to the world conspire.
So doth Catullus of his Mistresse sing,
And under Lesbias name, her prayses ring.
Not socontent, his muse doth nothing shame,
His owne and others whoredomes to proclame.
And no whit lesse is little Calvus bold,
In various kinds his loosenesse to unfold.
Ticidas. Memmius.
Of Ticidas and Memmius I might tali [...],
Whose tongues of fowlest matters loosly walke.
Ciona. Auser. Cornisicius. Cato.
And like to these, Cinna and Anser doe,
And Cornificius and Cato too.
And he that lately feign'd Perilla's name,
But as Metellus now doth owne the same.
He likewise that of Iasons voyage singes,
Could not conceale his owne ftolne wantonings.
Horre [...]sius [...] Servius.
Hortensius too, and Servius are as bad,
And who but feare, that such examples had?
Sisenna Aristides hath translated,
Sisen [...].
And in his story filthy jests related.
And Gallus too unblam'd, doth praise his wench.
Oallus. Lycvile.
Save that his tongue runs ore, on's taverne bench.
Tibullas writes. Hee'll trust no womans oath,
She'l gull her husband when she breakes her troth,
He traines them how their Keeper to beguile,
(Yet sweares himselfe is cosend by that wile)
And how soft touches of her hand to steale,
Making excuses to her Ring or Seale,
And how he talk't by privy markes sometimes,
And on the table drew his
circled fignes.
What supple oyle will that sam [...] blewnesse cure,
Which to their lips much kissing doth procure,
And how
Or she
he oft the wittoll hus band prayes.
To looke more strictly to hi [...] and his
He tels her how to know his drawing neere,
When the dog barkes, or she doth coughing bear [...].
Many such slippery trickes his writings teach
How women may their husbands over-reach.
[Page 34]Yet is Tibullus safe, nay read and knowne,
And since thou camst toth' Crown is famous grown.
Thou'lt finde the same Propertius wanton veine,
Yet doth no blame his reputation staine.
These I succeeded; for good manners will
I should suppresse their names are living still.
God knowes I little feard to suffer wracke,
Where all these ships had made a common tracke.
Others have publisht now the Art of dice,
Which in your fatl [...]ers dayes was held a vice.
And teach to make the Cockbones higher run,
And how the losing casts and blankes to shun [...]
And how to cog and strike the nimble Dye,
To run the chance that you may gaine thereby.
And how at Cheste,
a winning battell make,
And play your men where none may vantage take.
And how the painted Souldier walkes his Line,
But he is lost whom two oe's foes entwine.
And Low to chase, how to retire, and then
To backe and second still your man agen.
Others the childish game of three stones show,
Where he doth win that rankes them on a row,
Others at other games doe teach to play,
Whereby we spend our precious [...]oures away.
I his man the Art of Tennis play doth write,
Th'other of Tops, the third of swimming slight.
Here one the skill of painting faces Prints,
Th'other the lawes of Cookes and feasts invents.
A third, the best Potmetrall doth assigne,
And which doth best set forth the sparkling wine.
These are the sporting gaines of cold Decomber,
Which all men sus [...]ly write, an I remember.
These of my meny Verses were the cause,
But to my sweet meats I h [...]ve bitter sauce:
Of all these Writers, loe, I see not one,
Whose Muse bath broke his backe, b [...] mine alone:
If I had
[...] W [...]to [...]acts of Co [...]edy.
Mimicks p [...]u'd, of Scurrill stoine,
Which [...] Lust and Ribaldry containe,
Wherein the Adultrer bornes the Husbands head,
And crafty Wives abuse their Hu [...]bands bed,
Both young and ol [...], both Ma [...]ons, Men and Maids,
[Page 35]And many Senators would have soene them playd.
Yet there with brothe [...] words the eares are tainted,
And the eyes with shamefull objects are acquainted.
And when the Husband slily is deceived,
The Poet is with great applause received.
Yea ev'n the worse he writes, the more his gaines,
The Praeior dearest payes for loosest strames.
Looke over, Casar, thine accounts of Playes,
Ludi An­gustales.
For many such t [...]y free Exchequer paies.
These thou beholdest, and bringst to publicke view,
So dost thou Majesty and mildnesse shew.
Yea with those eyes, by which the world doth see,
Hast grac't these Scenicke
sleights, with merry glee.
If then these Mimickes leud men safely write,
Why might vot I my chaster verse indite?
Or i'st their stage which doth these baudes excuse?Object.
And warrants them to vent their Scurrill muse?
So have my Poems both beene danc't and sung Ans.
In Caesars presence, with applause and throng.
And as within thy palace there doe stand
The ancient Worthies wrought by cunning hand:
So there's a little Table hanging by,
Which various formes of venery doth descry.
And as there Ajax sits in ragefull guise,
And fierce Medea with her murdring eyes,
Ev'n so moist Venua dryes her dropping haire,
As naked from the Sea she doth repaire,
Others doe sing of Mars, and bloody skars,
And sound thy kindred, and thy valiant wars.
Me envious nature scants, and thought it fit
To measure me a weake and flender wit.
And yet thy Virgil, who wi [...]h happy skill,
Compos'd the AEneids, hath not thought it ill
To bring his
Ar [...] ed­runque. [...]
man at armes to Didoes bed,
And this of all his worke is ostnest read.
Nay in his youth, he sporting sung of Phyllis,
In pleasant Eclogues, and sweete Amarillis.
Besides, my fault is done, and past long since,
And now I sufter for an old offence.
[Page 36]My booke was written, when on horsebacke I
Before thee
[...] no­ [...]nten.
then Romes Censour passed by.
What I a yong man wrote,
And thought
free and secure,
For these, now I am old, I smart endure.
childish booke is now reveng'd too late,
I suffer for a fault that's out of date.
Nor thinke that all my workes are light and vaine,
Oft I have laboured in an higher straine.
The Roman Kalender and feasts I wrote,
Where every booke a severall month doth note,
That worke I sacred to thy Princely name,
Though fate forbids me to conclude the same.
I pend a regall Tragedy one while,
In lofty words which sute a Tragicke stile.
Meta [...]otpho­it [...]s.
Then wrote of changed shapes with great delight,
Which work perfection wants through fortunes spite
O would.
Would God thine anger would so farre abate,
As but to heare what I doe there relate.
How from the time the infant werld begun,
To Caesars dayes I have thy story spun.
There thou shalt see how thou hast given me miglt,
And with what favour I thy prayses write.
Nor vexe I any man with bitter gall,
My verses are not Satyre-tooth'd at all,
My geutle veine all brinish girds detests.
Nor would I any man with venome-jests,
Mongst all the throngs of People, none is found,
whom my
My [...].
Calliope, but my selfe doth wound.
There's not a [...]oman then, as I believe.
Rejoyces at my fall, but thousands grieve,
I thinke there's no man triumphs at my fall.
That doth my Candor to remembrance call,
Oh let these reasons then with many more,
The [...]
Thy mind asswage, thy mercy I implore
O thou thy Countries Father, care, and friend
On whom the publicke safety doth depend.
Nor i'st my suite, I may returne againe,
And yet thou maist at length repent my paine,
I onely safer place of exile crave,
That mine offence may equall censure have.
The end of the second Booke, containing 584, verses.

LIB. 3.


Here to the Reader, doth the Booke complaine,Argu.
How being strange it met with much disdaine.
LOe I an Exiles booke doe trembling come,
Sent from my Master now to visit Rome:
And being tyred quite, by sea and land,
Reader, I crave safe harbour in thine hand.
Not feare lest I should worke thee any shame,
This paper doth
No verse of Love.
not one Love-verse containe.
Nor were it for my Masters fortune fit,
He should disguise it by a jesting wit.
Those wanton lines his greener youth did vent,
He now (alas, too late) doth sore repent.
See what I bring: heres nought but mourning lines
And verses suiting well my dismall times,
And that each other verse doth halting goe,
In peuta [...]etets
Shorr feet and journies length doe cause it so.
And that no trimming doth my leaves adorne,
It is because my Master's all for lorne.
And that my Letters are distain'd with blots,
Mine Authors teares have made these frequent spots.
If any words thou scarse dost understand.
Know they were written in a barbarousland.
Now tell me, gentle Readers, where to goe.
Some place of harbour to a stranger show.
Thus having closely spoke, with stammering tongue,
I scarce found one would say, come goe along.
God grant thee in thy Country happy life,
And much unlike my Masters voyd of strife.
Lead on before, He follow as I may,
Tyred with travaile, and a tedious way.
Then on he went, there's the Law Court quoth he,
Fota. Via sacta.
And this the holy streete, where now we be.
That's Vestaes Temple with her sacred fire:
In this small court old Nu [...]a did retire.
There on the right hand, stnads the Palace gate,
[...]orts [...]
There Romulus first did found the Romanstate,
Wondring at all, I goodly bus [...]dings spy,
Where glistring armes adorn'd the Porc [...]es high.
Doubtlesse quoth I, this is the house of Iove,
These Oken garlands my conjecture move.
[Page 38]Saith he, tis Caesars, both are true quoth I,
For Caesar shares with love in Majesty.
But why do Lawrell boughes these Porches shade?
The Tri [...]m­phant Lawtell. Civica coroua.
And circling garlands of the Lawrell made?
I'st cause this house deserves triumphant Rayer?
Or 'tis most deere unto the
Apollo god of learring and Pootry.
god of bayes?
Or cause it keepes and makes a joyfull feast?
Or doth it note the publicke peacefull rest?
Or that this royall house shall flourish ever,
Even as the Bay doth fresh and greene persever?
And loe the Motto ore the wreath engraved,
Showes how his subjects by his power are saved,
To all the rest (mild Caesar) adde one more,
Who lyes expulsed on the Geticke shore.
The cause of whose distresse, though justly due,
From no offence but from his errour grew.
VVoes me! this Princely Pallace makes me quake,
And every Letter through my feare doth shake.
See how the bloudlesse paper waxeth pale,
And how each other verses feete do faile.
O yet at length let me this pallace see:
To my deare Master reconciled be.
From thence to Phoebus Temple we repaire,
By the ascent of many a stately staire.
VVhere stand in statues made of sorraine stone,
The fifty daughters of on [...]
Sire alone.
And there lye open to the publicke view,
Learnings brave monuments both old and new.
Here I my brethren sought, excepting those,
VVhich brought their Father to these endlesse woes.
But whilst in vaine I sought a little space,
The keeper thrust me from that sacred place.
Thence to the Temple I repaire that's joynd
Close to the Theater, but cold welcome finde.
For from the common Libraries outward
Where learned Authors stand I am debard.
Our fathers fortune we his Sonnes inherit,
And suffer th' exise which himselfe did merit.
Casar pethaps when time allaies his mind,
[Page 39]Both unto us and him will prove more kind.
Subscribe ve Gods to this my earnest call,
But chief [...]ly Caes [...]r greatest God of all.
For to invoke the vulgar gods were vai [...]e.
Whose favour cannot fre [...] me from my paine.
Meane while fince publicke stations are deny'd me,
Let me within some private corner hide me.
And take me, me [...]ne Plebeians, in your hand,
being repulsed, doe confounded s [...]and.


Our Poet here his exile doth deplore,Argu.
Desiring Death would ope its Iron doore.
WAs it my dest'ny then the Scythes to see,
Whose Zenith is the Northerne Axletree:
And would not you sweete Muses, nor Apollo,
Helpe him who still your learned rites did follow:
Nor could my harmelesse verses me excuse:
And life more serious then my jesting muse.
But having suffered sore by sea and land,
I'm now expos'd to Pontus frozen strand.
Yea I, who still my selfe from cares withdrew,
Lov'd quiet case, hard labour never knew,
Do now endore the very worst of ill,
And neither travell nor rough Seas can kill.
Yea and my mind holds out, and still I find
My body gathers hardnesse from my mind.
Whilst I was sayling towards mine exile,
I did with verse my feares and cares beguile,
My labou [...]d
But to my journe yes end once being come,
The resting place of mine appointed doome,
I fell to teares which from mine eyes did slow,
L [...]ke waters running from the vernall snow.
Then Rome and house & friends came fresh to mind,
And all the comforts I had left behind.
VVoes me! that at the wofull gate oth' grave,
So oft I knocke yet can no entrance have!
O why have I so [...]st escap [...]t the sword?
And raging tempests will no death a [...]ord?
Ye gods, that prove too constant in your ire,
And in revenge with Casar still conspire,
I pray you hasten on my lingring sate,
And cause my grave to ope her closed gate.


Argu. He lets his wife his sicknesse understand,
And craveth buriall in his native land.
DEare Wife if thou cost all amazed stand,
My letter's written with a strangers hand,
Know I am sicke in utmost parts, and lye,
Exceeding doubtfull of recovery.
What comfort, think'st thou, can poore Ovid take,
Among these direfull Getes and Sauromates?
Whose nature doth not with this aire agree,
Nor doth their soyle or waters sute with me,
Mine house is poore, God knowes, my diet bad,
And for mine health no Physicke can be had.
No friend to comfort, or by night or day,
With good discourse to passe the houres away.
But lying sicke in solitary wise,
My musing thoughts on many things devise.
But thou, my dearest Wife, within my brest,
The chiefest place dost hold, above the rest.
For on thine absent name my tongue doth walke,
Of thee alone both night and day I talke.
Yea even when sicknesse doth distract my wits,
They say I talke of thee in raving fits.
Nay should I deadly faint, and sound so sore,
That scarce hot water could my speech restore.
Yet knowing thou wert come, I should revive:
Thy very presence would new vigour give,
But whilst I here in doubt of life doe lye,
Thou knowing nought, perhaps liv'st merrily.
No, no, I am resolv'd that thou deare wife,
I being absent lead'st a mourners life.
Yet, if my thread of life the fates have spun,
And that my terme of yeares
I [...] almost [...]
must shortly come.
Graunt me a dying man, O Gods, to have,
Within my native soyle a sorry grave.
Mine exile might till death have beene delaid,
Or sudden death my banishment have staid.
Oh happy death, while I did upright stand
Now must I perish in a forraigne land.
[Page 41]And must I thus farre off resigne my breath?
Where even the place addes sorrow to my death?
And languish thus on an unwonted bed
Where none shall mourne over my dying head?
Nor yet thy teares upon my face may fall
Which might my fleeting soule a while recall?
Nor may I make a will? nor with sad cryes,
Some friendly hand close up my dying eyes!
But without funerall teares or honoured grave,
Vild barbarous earth shall this my carcase have?
This, when thou hear'st, thou'lt be with griefe op­prest
And in great passion beate thy throbbing brest.
Stretching thine hands towards these parts in vaine,
Still calling on thy husbands empty name.
Yet spare to teare thy haire or cheekes for me.
Who am not now first tane away from thee.
Suppose me dead when I was bannisht first,
That was my first decease, and farre the worst,
Yea rather, if thou canst, Rejoyce deare heart,
That death will end at once my tedious smart
At least, beare up thine heart, this well thou maist,
Having beene so inur'd to evils past.
And would my soule might with my breath expire,
And no part might survive my funerall fire.
For if our spirits live when we are dead,
We hold the soule immortal
According to Pythagoras holy read,
My Roman soule with Geticke ghosts must wander.
And 'mong those cruell spirits live a stranger.
Yet let my bones be laid in some small urne,
That after I am dead I may returne.
Tis not forbidden, this, and though it were,
Her brothers corps the Theban bid interre.
Then in the Suburbs let them lye at rest,
With flowers and spices having first beene drest.
And grave these Verses plainely on my tombe,
That all may read them as they passe along.
Ovids Epitaph
I NASO, that erst wrote of wanton love,
Lve here interr'd, my wit my bane did prove.
Thou that hast beene in Love and possest by,
Pray still that Naso's bones may softly lye:
[Page 42]This is enough for that: my bookes will be.
Aly livelyer monument to posterity.
They harm'd me once, yet will they raise my name,
And gaine their Authour an enduring fame.
Present thou at my herse due funeral Ritet,
And let thy teares my garland all bedight,
For though the fire my corpes to ashes burne,
Yet will thy love be
gratefull to my urne.
I more would write but that my voyce is spent,
And tongue too dry to dictate what I ment,
Take then my dying farewell: live in health,
Which he that sends to thee, doth want himselfe.


He doth advise his friend, if he be wise,Argu.
The acquaintance of the mighty to despise.
MY ever loved friend, yet now best knowne,
Since my estate was sunke and overthrowne.
If thou wilt cred it thine experienc't friend,
Live private and from great ones thee defend.
Live to thyselfe, and glistring gallants shun,
From glistering Towers the cruell
thunders come.
For though the great have power to doe us good,
They'l sooner hurt then helpe us, as they should.
The naked Sayleyard dreads no winter stormes,Simil.
But largest sayles still meete with greatest harmes,
Thou seest how Corke doth on the water flow,Sim.
When heavy lead doth sinke the net below.
Had I forewarned been of this in time,
I had till now enjoy'd Romes happy clime.
For whilst I sayld with thee, with gentle gale,
Through quiet streames my Boate did safely sayle,
And he that Fal's by chance upon the plaine,Sim.
Falling but low may quickly Rise againe,Exam.
But poore Elpenor falling from on high,
His wailing ghost Vlysses did espy.
How wast that Daedalus wings did safely flye?
When Icarus in the Sea doth d [...]owned lye?Exam.
The Son did flie aloft, the Father low,
Whilst throgh the aire with borrowed wings they [...]
[Page 43]Trust me, the private life is most secure.
Let every man within his bounds indure,
Antomedon driver of Ach. Chariot.
Eumedes Sonne had not untimely dyed,
But that Achilles horses he would guide,
Merops had not his scorched Sonne lamented,
Pha would be Son to Phoebus not to Merops, and was burnt.
Phaethon had with Merops beene contented.
Beware, my friend how thou dost soare aloft,
Contract thy saile, and curbe thy aspiring thoughts,
Th'art worthy to enjoy a prosperous fate,
And well deserv'st an inoffensive state.
Which I to wish for thee, am ever bound,
Whose faith I have so firme and constant found.
For at my fall, I saw how thou didst mourne,
Even as thine owne and not anothers turne.
I saw thy teares which on my face did fall,
And dranke at once thy words and teares withall.
And for thine absent friend dost labour still,
To lighten somewhat his unbounded ill.
Live without envy: and obscurely spend
Thy quiet yeares: seeke out for equall friends.
And love thy Nasos name: that's all that's left,
Vnbannished: Pontus the rest hath reft.
A Land that lyes next to the Northern
A land that's frozen with congealing cold.
Beyond it Tanais and the Bosphor runne,
And a few places that are scarely knowne.
Past which unhabitable cold doth lye,
Woes me the end oth' world should be so nigh.
But Wife and Country deare are absent farre,
And whatsoever else beloved are.
All which, though to my sense they absent be,
Yet in my minde I doe them plainely see.
My house, the City and each severall place,
And all their actions stand before my face.
The Image of my wife, me thinkes I see.
Which doth increase and ease my misery.
Her absence causeth griefe, but then againe
It joves my heart she doth so
firme remaine.
And you my friends are fixed in my brest,
[Page 44]Whose names I wish might safely be exprest.
But wary feare my
Doth my de­sire or good will.
duty doth restraine,
I thinke your selves doe wish I should refraine.
Indeed time was, when you well pleased were,
That in my verse your names should still appeare.
But, (now I'm loth to give you cause of feare)
Ile greete you in my thought but names forbeare.
Nor shall my verse disclose my secret friends,
But let them.
So they will love me closely to the end.
Yet know, though I from you be far remote,
That you are never absent from my thought.
O strive I pray to ease my grievous paine,
And lend your hand to raise me once againe,
So may your fortune still continue blest,
Nor ever need to make the like request.


Our Poet here one Charus doth commend.Argu.
Who still had shew'd himselfe a stedfast friend.
THe use of friendship twixt us two was small,
Thou might'st affirme that it was none at all,
Hadst thou not lov'd me with a faithfull minde,
Then when my ship did sayle with prosperous wind
But at my fall when all men shund my wracke,
And many seeming friends did turne their backe,
Yet thou wast bold, to come even to my doore,
My thunderstrucken fortune to deplore.
Yea in our new acquaintance thou didst show,
More love, then many ancient friends would doe.
I saw thy lookes amaz'd and overthrowne,
Flowing with teares and paler then mine owne.
I saw thy teares at every word distill,
So that my mouth and cares both dranke their fill.
And while thy frendly armes my necke embraced,
Thy kisses with thy sobs were interlaced.
Yea thou upholdest still my absent name,
My Charus, this thou knowst must be thy name.
Some other pledges of thy Love there were,
Which I shall ever in remembrance beare,
The gods still make thee able to defend,
Although with more successe, thy other friends.
[Page 45]If thou enquirest (as I thinke thou dost)
[...]ow I poore wretch doe fare ith' Geticke coast.
[...]e sparke of hopelesse hope I still retaine
[...]h' offended powres may be appeas'd againe.
[...]ay be 'tis vaine, yet it may fall out true,
[...]nd that it may, performe what lies in you.
[...]ploy thy noble faculty of speech,
[...] show 'tis Reason which I do beseech.
[...] The greatest spirits the soone are appeased
[...]nd wrath in generous minds is soonest released,
[...] Lyon, when his prey doth p [...]ostrate lye,
[...]oth streight forbeare his suppliant enemy.
[...]ut wolves and beares and each ignoble brest,
[...]ith cruelty pursues the Dying beast.
[...]ho stouter then Achilles doth appeare?
Was he.
he was
melted with King Priam's teares.
[...]h' Emathian Captaines clemency is knowne,
[...]y Porus exequies and the funerall mone.
[...]nd not to mention humane rage growne mild,
[...]ven Inno's foe, her son in Law is stil'd.
[...]cannot then but hope for calmer time,
[...]ho [...]m in trouble for no heinous crime.
[...] did no treason plot 'gainst Caesars life,
[...]hereby to set the headlesse world at strife.
[...]or treason spake: or let my lavish tongue,
[...]mid my cups of dangerous matters run.
[...] suffer, 'cause I chanc't a fault to spy,
[...]o that my crime doth in mine eyefight lie.
[...] know I cannot wholly be defended,
[...]et plead 'twas chance, no ill was then intended.
[...]ine hope is then that Caesar will accord,
[...]ome easier place of exile to afford.
[...] that the morning starre which day renues,
With posting speed would bring such happy newes.


He writes this Elegy to a singular friend,Argu.
And doth to him, his wofull state commend.
OVr league of friendship, sure thou'lt not deny,
Or, if thou wouldst, it cannot hidden lye.
[...]or, whilst we might, no Citizen was to me
[Page 46]More deare then thou: and
I the like to th [...]e.
who but I with thee?
And this our friendship was so famous growne,
That more then we our selves, our love was knowne.
So that even he on whom thine hopes depend,
Tooke notice of thy candor to thy friend.
Thou from my knowledge nothing didst conceale,
But even thy greatest secrets didst reveale.
And I to thee alone, my secrets all,
Disclos'd, excepting that which caus'd my f [...]ll,
Which hadst thou knowne, then I had safe remained,
And by thy friendly counsell beene sustained.
But sure my fates that did to ruine hale me.
Did close up all the waie, that should availe me.
Whether, with care I might this ill have shnu'd [...]
Or that no wit can destiny overcome.
Yet thou who of my long acquaintance art,
And in my love dost hold the chiefest part.
Be mindfull still, I pray, and do thy best,
That I may be, at least in part release.
And Caesars anger being turn'd to grace,
Mine exile may be eas'd with change of place.
The rather, since I did no harme devise,
But a [...]l my fault from errour did arise.
Twere tedious and unsafe to show the chance,
Whereby mine eyes did on that mischiefe glance,
M [...] mind abhorreth on that time to muse.
At evety thought hereof my griefe renues.
And 'tis but fit those things which blush at Light.
Should l [...]e concealed in
Aeternall night.
This then is all I'le fay I was to blame,
Yet had I no reward whereat to aime.
So that if truth may have its proper name,
No crime but folly meerely caus'd my blame.
But if I lye, let me be banisht
So fat.
Where Pontus may for City suburbs
O [...] show.


He sends this Letter to Perillas hand,
With charge to tell har this his stoick command.Argu.
GOe sodden Letter as my faithfull hinde.
Salute Perilla and
impart my minde.
[Page 47]Thou'lt finde her sitting by her mothers side,
Or with her bookes and muses she doth bide.
What ere shees doing, knowing thou art there,
Sheele soone breake off, and aske thee, how I cheare.
Tell her, I live, yet wishing 'twere not so,
Since length of time doth nothing ease my woe,
That to my harmefull muse I turne afresh,
Contriving words into
elegracke verse.
Then aske her, saying, dost thou still apply
[...]ur commune studies, Greekish Poety?
For bounteous nature, as shee fram'd thee faire,
Gave thee chaste manners, and a wit most rare.
This to the Muses well, I first did traine
Least such a flowing streame should run in vaine.
This in my tender yeares I first espyde,
And father-like was both my friend and guide.
And then thou wast to me surpassing kinde.
Though time pephaps hath sithence chang'd my mind
If then
That spark­ling w [...]t.
those sparkes of wit in thee remaine,
Thera's none but Lesbia hath an higher straine.
Bdt since my fatall ruine I suspect.
Thou d [...]st thy wit and Poetry neglect.
For whilst we might, we read each others lines,
And I was judge and master oftentimes.
For to thy new-made verse I lent an eare,
Or made thee blush, wheu sloth made thee forbeare.
But now through feare perchance thoult verses shun,
Lest with thy Tutour, thou shouldst be undone.
Feate not Peailla, onely carefull prove,
Thy writings doe not teach the Art of Love.
But setting sloth and all excuse apart,
Returne wise Virgin to thy sacred Art,
That comely visage time will soone deface,
And aged wrinckles will thy braw disgrace.
And wasting age which creepes with silent pace,
Will seaze his talents on thy beauties grace.
And when they fay, thou once wast comely faire,
Thoult thinke with griefe, thy glasses lyars are.
Thou hast a good estate, ond worthy more,
[Page 48]But yet suppose thou hadst rich Craesus store.
Fortune, even when she list will give and take,
And of a Croesus, soone an Irus make.
What ever we enjoy, we mortall finde,
Except the rich endowments of the minde.
Loe I, that want my Country, house and thee,
Am stript of all that can be pluckt from me;
My wit and learned parts doe still retaine,
On these Augustus power could not distraine.
Yea should a bloudy sword
T [...].
my life deprive,
Yet after death my same shall still survive.
And while stout Rome lifts up her seav'n-hild head
Over the conquerd world, shall I be read.
Doe thou likewise outlive thy funerall fires,
Whose prosperous studies Ovid much desires.


Our Poet here doth much desire that he,
Argu. Might once againe his friends and Country see.
[...] that I [...]ould.
Now would faine Triptolemus Carre ascend,
Who first did seed unknowne to th'earth commend.
I would Medeas flying Dragons guide,
As when from Corinth Castle she did ride.
I now would wish for Perseus wings to flye,
Or those which Daedolus us'd to mount the skye.
That gliding through the ayre with flickering toyle,
I might eftsoones review my native soyle.
And my forsaken house once more behold,
And chiefly in mine armes my wife enfold.
But fondling why in vaine dost wish to see,
That which thou know'st can never never be?
Wilt thou needs wish? Augustus power adore,
And his incensed Deity implore.
He can both wings and flying Carre bestow,
At his release thou'l [...] homeward flying goe.
Should I for this so great a favour crave,
'Tis more I feare then modesty would have.
In time perchance, when's anger is allayd,
This humble suite to Caesar may be made.
Meane while Ile take it for an ample grace,
If I may be assign'd some other place.
[Page 49]For here nor heav'n nor earth, water or aire,
Agree with me: they all my health impaire.
Whether my inward griefes my spirits kill,
[...]r that this soyle and clymate
Sute me, or worke my.
cause my ill,
For since I came to Pontus, I waxe leane,
Distasting meat, and vext with nightly dreames.
My colour's waxen pale life Autumne leaves,
Which of their freshnesse winters cold bereaves.
My strength is gone, my bodies full of paine,
And still of some distemper I complaine,
[...] neither well in body nor in minde,
But s [...]ke in both, I double sorrow finde.
And full my fortune stands before mine eyes,
Of ghastly shapes, compos'd of miseries.
And when I view this People and the place,
And weigh my breeding with my present case.
I with for death, and of my
Iudge complaine,
That rid me not at once of life and paine.
But since his wrath was then to mildnesse bent,
Let him now grant me gentler banishment.


Here Ovid takes occasion to explaine,Argu.
Whence Tomos City first receiv'd the name.
EVen here, among these Townes of barbarous kind
(Who could beleive it) we Greeke Cities find.
[...]ther a Colony from
[...] City in Afla.
Mileton came,
And 'mongst these Getes, a Greekish City frame.
[...] long before 'twas built, this place retaines,
Still from
Mede as bro­ther.
Absyrtus death, the ancient
For in the
At gon a vis the first ship.
ship by Pallas counsell made,
(Which in th' untryed Seas first passage had)
Medea leud, while she her
Aeta King of Colchis.
Sire forsakes,
Vnto this shore, they say, her Oares betakes.
A watchman from an hill her Sire doth spy
O Medea or Iason you are y [...]sued.
Stranger (quoth he) the Colchians hither hye.
The Minyae are afraid, and dare not stay,
But streight their ropes unloose, and Anchors weigh.
Conscious Medea strikes her guilty brest,
With her most impious hand to mischiefe prest.
And though she were of most undanted spirit,
Yet waxed pale, through guilt of her
Betraying [...] Golden [...] I [...]so [...].
[Page 50]And when she spyed the approaching ship she said,
W'ate taken, if my Father be not
By so [...] ­ght.
And whilst in musing sort she doth devise,
By fatall chance, her Brother she espies.
Whom when she saw, now are we safe, quoth she,
My Brothers ruine shall my safety be.
Forthwith, whilst he, poore soule did nothing feare,
Her bloody sword his ha melesse brest doth teare.
And with his mangled limbs she strowes the ground,
That being disperst, they might be slowly found.
Yet. that [...]er Father might the slaughter know,
His hands and bloody head she sets to show.
With th [...]s new griefe to stay her wrathfull Father,
Whilst he Absrrtus scattered quarters gather.
Hence is this City styled by the name
Of Towos,
cutting, from this ancient fame,
That here Medea, to all ages wonder,
Her murdred Brothers limbs did cut in sunder.


The place and people where he doth abide,Argu.
Our Poet here doth mournefully describe.
IF any there remember Naso's name,
And still my memory doth in Rome remaine.
Know that I live within a barbarous clyme,
Subjected to the Beare, or Northerne signe.
The Getes and Sauromates our coast sur [...]ound,
Whose names, me thinkes, in verse doe rudely sound
Ith'Summer time,
Ister defends from warre,
For with his liquid streames we parted are.
But when sad Winter shewes his louring face,
And th' carth is whited o're with Icy glasse,
And Borcas broken loose doth scatter snow,
Then doth this climate wondrous dismall snow.
The Snow lies here, unthaw'd of Sunne or raine.
Which hardned by the wind doth long remaine.
Then new, still falling, ere the old be gone,
Here snow of two yeares old is often knowne,
And with that violence Boreas oft doth blow,
That Towres and Houses he doth overthrow.
With skins and mantles people fence the cold,
So as you scarcely can their face behold.
[...]e sickles ruffle on their rugged haire,
[Page 51]And with the frost their beards all whited are.
The frozen wines, retaine the Veffels shape,
Of which instead of drau hts they peices take.
And how their Rivers freeze, I neede not tell,
Nor how they dig their water from the Well.
Ister it selfe, which I like
The River bearing Ra [...]h of Paper.
Nilus deeme,
Whose many mouthes into the Ocean streame,
Hath its blew waters with the windes congeal'd,
And under th' Ice slides into th'Sea conceal'd?
Where ships did sayle, now men and women walke,
And horses hooves o're frozen waters stalke.
And Geticke Oxen draw their waggons over,
These new-made bridges which the waters cover,
You'l scarce beleev't, yet I your faith require,
Since by untruthes I can expect no hyre.
I've seene the very Seas with Ice congeal'd,
And slippery glaste their silent water seal'd.
Nor onely seene it, but have walkt thereon,
And many thousands there have dryshod gone.
Hadst thou Leander such a Sea obtain'd,
Then had not Hellespont with thy death been staynd.
He was drow­ned there in swimming to [...].
Our crooked Dolphins cannot take the aire,
The Ice forbids them upward to repaire.
And though the winds with blustring wings resound
Yet on the waters are no billowes found.
Our ships inclos'd in Ice like marble stood,
Nor can the Oares divide the stubborne flood.
I've seene the fishes sticke in Ice fast bound,
In part of whom some sparke of life were found.
But whether Bore [...] with his freezing force,
Had bound the Sea, or stopt the
Rivers course,
Forthwith, when frost had Isters streames made plain
The barbarous foes come riding in amaine.
And being skild in horseman-ship and bow,
They waste the Country wheresoere they goe.
The people flying nere defend their fields,
And so their wealth unguarded pillage yeelds.
The Country wealth is small, sheepe, Oxen, waine [...],
And such poore stuffe as in their shads remain [...].
The people, some are bound and captive led,
[Page 52]Homeward in vaine turning their searefull he [...]d.
Others with barbed Arrowes poysoned head,
Are cruelly dispatcht, and fall downe dead,
But what they cannot carry, that they stroy.
Making the sheds in siery flames to sry.
Yea even in times of peace we battaile feare,
And no man dares his grounds with plowshare eare.
The foe is ever seene, or feared here
And so the land lyes waste, through dail [...] feare.
No Vines are here covered with Viny shade,
Nor vessels swelling full of wines new made
Here growes no fruite: nor could A [...]ontius fiade
(To write his Love there in) one Apples rinde.
The fields are naked both of leafe and tree,
W [...]es me! a desart fraught with misery.
This is the place of all the worlds extent,
That is found out for Ovids banishment.


Here Ovid pens a tart invective Song.Argu.
Against a slandrous and backhiting tong.
LEud in in, who ere thou art, that dost contemne
My fall, and still my faules with spite condemne,
A Rocke thy Parent was, thy Nurse some beast,
For sure thou hast a rocky flinty brest,
What can thy Malice heape upon me more?
Or what is wanting to my sorrowes store?
On Pontus rude, unbarbarous shore I [...]e,
Vnder the Northerne beare, and boistrous skye.
I have no commerce with their language her,
But every place is fraught with anxious feare.
And, as a Deere surpriz'd by ravenous beares,
Or Lambe hemb'd in by wolves, extreamely feares,
Even so doe I, whom warlike bands inclose,
Encompast round about with bloody foes.
And say 'twere small to want my loving wise.
My Country too, and pledges of my life.
And grant I suffer'd onely Casars wrath,
What is not that alone continuall death?
Yet one there is, that still renewes my paines,
And 'gainst my manners copiously declaimes.
[Page 53]In facile causes every man can speake,
And bruised Reeds a feeble hand may breake.
'Tis strength must overthrow strong Castle-walles,
When tott'ring turrets with weake motion fall.
I am not what I was: it is my shade,
My tombe and ashes which thou dost invade.
'Twas Hector that did mannage martiall steele,
Not Hector that was drawne at horses heele.
What ere I was, I am not now the same:
Of me, the shadow onely doth remaine.
Spare then to vex a ghost with base despight,
Or raile upon a Spirit thou cruell wight,
Suppose my faults were true, nor did indeed,
From errour, but from wickednesse proceed.
Yet rest content since I endure enough,
Both in mine exile and the place thereof.
An Executioner would lament with teares,
My fortune, yet thou think'st I little beare.
Thou art more cruell then Busiris was,
he that first did frame the Bull of brasse,
Which he on
Phalati [...].
Sicilies Tyrant then bestow'd,
And in these words to him his cunning show'd.
The gift is rich, O King, the fashion more,
But yet the beauty is not halfe the store.
On's side a secret doore you may espy,
There put him in, whom you appoint to dye,
Then let him with soft burning scorched be,
No Bull will roare more naturally then he.
For which devise, I hope thou'lt thinke it fit,
That my reward shall Aequallize my wit.
Phalati [...].
King reply'd, since first thou hast invented,
This witty paine, thou first shalt be tormented.
Forthwith into the engine hewas throwne,
Where like a Bull he made a ruefull mone,
But why doe I outlandish Tyrants name,
Of thee, thou Roman Tyrant I complaine.
For if my blood will quench thy greedy thirst,
Who faine wouldst have me to endure the worst.
Know, I have suffered that by Sea and Land,
Would move thy teares, if thou didst understand.
[Page 54]Trust me, Vlysses nere was so distrest,
Him Neptune, me Ioves anger hath opprest.
Cease then to ransacke in my faults againe,
And from my bleeding wounds thy nayles refraine.
That tract of Time my faults at last may cover,
And these my smarting sores be skinned over.
Remember humane fortune which advances,
And then casts downe: & feare her doubtful chances.
And since (which I admire) thou hast such care,
Of my estate, still asking how I fare.
Thou need'st not feare, my
state is fraught with wo
From Caesars anger all misfortunes flow.
And to assure thee, that I nothing faine,
I wish thy selfe mightst undergoe my paine.


Here Tomos Spring with Romes he doth compare,Argu.
And shewes the difference of their sports and aire.
THe West winds now blow warme, the yeare is [...]un
Yet Winter
In Tomos.
here me thinkes, goes slowly on.
A [...]es makes [...].
Ramme which carryed Helle once astray,
Doth weigh in aequall poyse the night and day.
wanton Boyes and Girles sweete Violets get,
And other Country flowers that grow unset.
The Medowes now with various colours spring,
And warbling birds their untaught Sonnets sing.
The Swallow builds her little house or nest,
Vnder some Rafter for her younglings rest
And Ceres seed, which in the furrowes lay,
Her tender blade gins freshly to display.
Where Vines doe grow, their swelling buds appeare,
Alas, this Geticke soyle no Vine doth beare.
Where trees do grow, their buds & bloomes appeare,
Alas, this Geticke coast no Tree doth beare.
'Tis now with you vacation: the Law-courts
Resigne their wrangling brawles to playes & sports
Now borses run the race, now Fencers play,
And some with balles and toppes doe spend the day:
Now Wrastlers doe annoint their limbs with Oyle,
And bathe in water, to refresh their toyle.
The Stages flourish, loud applauses sound,
[Page 55]The threefold Courts and Theaters rebound,
O thrice and fouretimes happy man is he,
That may enjoy the City safe and free.
As for my selfe, I feele the melting Snow,
Which from the frozen Rivers gins to flow.
The Sea doth now unthaw, nor dare the swayn
Drive over Ister now his creaking wayne,
If any forraine ship shall here arrive,
(Which to our shores but rare occasions drive)
Thither Ile hast, and after salutation,
Enquire the Masters businesse, name and nation.
And 'tis a wonder, if he be not one,
That from some neighb'ring coast mightsafely come
For an Italian ship comes seldome hither,
Where is no harbour from tempestuous weather.
If yet his language Greeke or Latin be,
He shall be farre the welcomer to me.
Likewise the wind may bring from happy South
One from the Streights, and from Propontis mouth,
Who can informe me of the common fame,
And knowes all circumstances of the same.
I wish he may of Caesars Triumphs tell,
And of the vowes to Iove performed well.
And how rebellious Germany doth submit
Her conquer'd head under our Generalls feete.
VVho brings such newes, (which I had rather see)
Shall to my house forthwith invited be.
VVoes me! is Ovids house ith'Scythian strand?
And doth my prison for my dwelling stand?
Grant O ye gods, Caesar may make this place,
No more the house, but Inne of my disgrace,


Of his last birthday he doth here complaine,Argu.
And wisheth it migh; nere returne againe,
BEhold, in vaine my Birthday doth returne,
At the set time, alas, why was I borne?
Hard-hearted day, why dost thou still extend
My wofull veares? shouldst rather make an end.
If thou hadst care of me, or any shame,
Thou wouldst not trace me thus from Rome in vaine,
But rather where thou first didst give me breath,
[Page 56]Even there would have assaid to give me death.
Or when I left the City, thou might'st well
(As did my friends) have tane thy last farewell,
What makest thou at Pontus? art thou sent
By Caes [...]rs doome with me to banishment?
Or, dost expect thy wonted honours here?
That I white rayment for thy sake should weare.
Should flowty garlands girt the Altar round,
With solemne fires and smoking Incense crown'd?
And offring cakes that note a geniall day,
Should I for thy returne devoutly pray?
No, no, I doe not now such seasons see,
That I at thy returne should joyfull be.
A funerall Altar drest with Cypresse bough,
And burning piles of wood befit me now.
I list not fruitlesse Incense throw away,
Nor will my depth of sorrowes let me pray.
Yet if this day, I must some prayer frame,
I pra [...] that thou maist nere come here againe.
Whilst I ith' utmost part oth' world doe dwell
Mistermed Euxine, when 'tis rather hell.


He writes this Elegy to a learned friend,Argu.
Praying him still his writings to defend.
THou sacred Patron of all learned men,
Thou constant friend unto my wit and pen,
What, dost thou slill my absent name upraise?
As thou didst erst renowne my happyer dayes?
Dost gather up my Bookes excepting those
Of Loves vaine Art, which wrought their Authors woes?
Doe so, thou lover of new Poets straines,
And still in Rome maintaine my dying name.
'Twas I,
but not my bookes, was banisht thence,
They did not merit ill by my offence.
Oft, is the Father banisht farre away,
When yet the children, in the City stay.
My bookes my children are, like
In Iupi [...] [...]
Pallas bred,
Without a mother, in their fathers head.
These I commend the rather to thy care,
Since of their father they bereaved are.
Th [...] Bookes Iove.
Three of my Sons their Parents fortune share.
[Page 57]Thou maist of all the rest take open care.
Of changed shapes I fifteene volumes left,
M [...]tamorpho.
Which from their Authors ashes [...] hoebus reft,
This worke I had to more perfection brought,
If For [...]une had not first my ruinewrought.
This now in peoples mouthes impollisht runs,
If ought of mine within their reading comes.
And let this
My Tristia. Hoc nesci [...] quid.
forry piece with's fellowes stand,
Which now I send thee from a forraigne Land.
This whoso reads, must time and place conceive,
Where these poore Poems their composure have.
H [...]e'l grant their pardon sure, that weighs their case,
A time of exile, and a barbarous place.
And wonder how my trembling hand could write
Such verse as this, in
spite of Fortunes spite.
Sorrowes have craz'd my wit, and marr'd my streine,
Which at the best, was but a slender veine.
Yet, as it was, through long disuse is dry.
And wanting exercise must needs withered lye.
In Pontus.
Here are no bookes to cheere my Muse to write,
In stead of bookes are bowes and weapons bright,
Heres none to whom I may my lines rehearse,
Whose understanding eare may mend my Verse.
Here is no private
Fit for study
walke, but murderous Getes,
Do shall assault our closed wals and gates.
Oft times I want a word, a place or name,
But here's not one that can
supply the same.
Yea often when I write (I must confesse)
I want fit
Tet [...]es.
words, my matter to expresse.
The Getticke language doth me so surround,
That I, me thinkes, could write their barbarous sound
And feare, beleive me, lest you here doe find,
That I in
Latin mixt w [...] Geticke;
mongrell speech expresse my minde.
However read, and pardon this my Muse,
Since my condition pleads her just excuse.
The end of the third Booke, containing 798. Verses.

LIB. 4.

ELEG. 1.

His Verse, if faulty, be doth here excuse,Argu.
Whi [...]h he for solace, not for fame did use,
WHat saults thou findest in these slender Rhimes,
Excuse them Reader, by their dismall times,
[Page 58]I sought not Fame, poore exile, but reliefe,
Lest still my mind should
[...]o [...]e [...]on.
ponder on her griefe.
For this, the Ditcher sings in fetters strong
To ease his painfull toyle with rusticke song.
And Watermen that haile with bended side
The slow becalmed boate 'gainst streame and tide:
So he that tuggeth at the painfull Oare
Doth with his tunes refresh his labours sore.
The weary shepheard resting on a rocke
Doth cheere with pipe and voyce his seely Flocke.
The Maid hir time and labour doth beguile
With singing to her distaffes spinning toyle.
Ev'n sad Achilles for his Briseis losse,
Is said with warbling Harpe to ease his crosse.
And when sweete Orphcus songs drew woods & stons
His Wife twise lost did cause his tunefull moanes.
Ev'n so my Muse, whil'st I to Pontus went,
Ev'n she alone, did cheere my banishment.
She neither treasons fear'd, nor souldiers hand,
Nor sea,1 nor wind, nor th'utmost barbarous land.
For she well knew what errour wrought my sall
And in my Fact there was no Crime at all.2
And now is kinder 'cause she harmd me erst
And was indited with me at the first.
I wish I ne're had toucht hirsacred Rites,
Which have procured me so much despight.
But now her sacred Furies so possesse me,
I fondly love the Muses which oppresle me.
Thus did Ʋlisses the new Lote-tree love,
Whose pleasant verdurs did unwholsome prove.
Thus Lovers feele their harmes; yet with delite
Still persevere to feed their appetite.
So I in bookes delight, which did confound me,
And Love the weapon which did deadly wound me.
Thus study may perchance some Fury
Yet hath this Fury
Very a [...]f [...]ll beaue.
much availed me.
It suffers not my mind her griefe to rue,
But for the present takes it from my view.
As drunken Bacchae feele not Bacchus wounds
Raving on Ida cliffes with howling sounds:
[Page 59] [...]o when my brest a sacred Fury warmes,
My raised spirit mounts 'bove
worldly harmes.
[...]t feeles no exile then, nor Ponticke shore,
Nor on the angry gods thinks any more;
And all m [...] sense of present woe is wasted,
As I had bowles of drowsie Lethe tasted.
Needs must I then those helpfull
The Muses.
pow'res adore
Which chang'd their Helicon for my Ponticke shore.
Tracing my steps (so did they kindly please)
On foot by land: By ship through watry seas.
Let these at lest, still kind to me abide,
Since th'other gods combine on Caesars side,
Still loading me with griefes in number mote,
Then are the Fish i'th' sea, or sands on shore.
Thou'lt sooner count spring-flowers or summer eares
Or Autumne-fruits, or winters snowy teares,
Then all the evils I suffered too ond fro,
As to the cruell Euxine shores I goe.
Yet being here I finde no change of state,
But am pursued by my wonted Fate.
Here still I finde my birthday-thred to runne,
Which of the blackest Fleece my dest'nies spu [...].
To passe the daily hazards of my life,
To omit.
What I endure is true yet past beliefe.
How grievous i'st for him with Getes to live,
To whom the Romans such applause did give?
How greivous to be
Closed or shut up.
mur'd in wall and gates,
Yet not to be secure in such a state.
I from my youth did cruell warre detest,
And never handled weapons save in jest;
Now in ago.
aged now a sword and
shield do beare,
And on my hoary head an Helmet weare.
And when the watchman sounds out an alarme,
All in a feare we straightway fall to Arme,
The bloody Foe, with poyson'd shafts and Bow,
About our wals on painted steed doth goe.
As greedy wolves do dragge those sheepe away
Into the woods, which from the folds do stray,
So doth the barbarous Foe surprize them straight,
Whom he shall chance to finde without the Gate,
[Page 60]Where st [...]eight their captive necks they do enchai [...]e
Or vvith empoison'd Arrowes they are slaine.
Loe here I dwell in this perplexed
Pla [...]
Woes me! my dest'nies run so slow a pace,
And yet in all these stirs, my exile Muse,
Her Verse and ancient Rites will not refuse,
Though here be none to whom I may recite,
That he may here the Latine I endite.
I to my selfe (
God knowes) both write and Read
And then to ju [...]ge my verses doe proceed.
Yet often say, for whom is all this paines?
Will Getes and Sauromates peruse my streines?
And while I write sad teares have often shed,
With which my papers have beene watered,
Yea when my minde renues old sores againe,
Whole showres of teares upon my bosome raine.
And when upon my fall my
[...]ghts [...]
passions runne.
How traiterous Fortune hath my state undone,
My furious hand enraged at my verse,
Oft makes them flame as on the funerall herse,
Since then of thousands, onely these remaine,
With favour gentle friend,
receive the same,
And thou for bidden Rome, accept
these Rhimes,
Though nothing better then my wofull times,


Here Ovid grieves he could not present see,Argu.
The triumph made for conquer'd Germany.
NOw the fierce Germane stoopes, and overcome,
C [...]n kneele to Caesar (as the world hath done.)
The stately Pallace is with garlands dig [...]t,
The smoke of crackling incense dims the light.
The milkewhite sacrifice with halbert slaine,
The earth with purple blood doth now distaine
The conquering Caesars,
in the temples now,
Pay to the friendly gods their promis'd vow,
The growing youth under Augustus name,
P [...]ay that his off spring may for ever reigne.
Great Livia with her daughters largely give
Their sacred gifts,
The Empresse.
because her Sonne doth live,
With them the Matrons and the Virgins pure,
Which keepe the sacred fires of Vesta sure.
[Page 61] [...]he People and the Senate joy at heart
[...]nd Knighthood too, (of whom I was a part)
[...]se publicke joyes are here to us unknowne,
[...]ly a s [...]ght report doth hither come.
[...]et may the people there enjoy the same
In the Page [...].
read the conquer'd townes & Captaines names
[...]nd see Low captive K [...]ngs in solemne show,
[...] the crowned
Or A [...]st [...]
Cha [...]ot chayned goe.
Va [...]se lookes, in some are (like their Fortun [...]) Lovv
Dthers still dread [...]ull though in-chained so.
[...] will enq [...]e their caus [...], affaires, and name,
And others
by conjecture Answers frame.
[...] that in purple shines vvith gallant grace,
Was Generall of the wa [...]re: He, next in place.
[...]s whose sad eyes are fixed on the ground,
Lookt brisker when in armes he marched round.
That fier man whose eyes still sparkle spite,
Gave counsell to the warre with all his might.
This man whose lockes his wofull face doe hide
D [...]d a [...]lye ambush for our men provide.
By him our Captives were at Altars slaine,
Although the gods such offrings did disdaine.
That Lake, those Rivers, and those Castles there
Were fil'd with blood of slaughterd Soldiers,
Here Drusus first obtain'd his Germane name,
[...] of his [...].
Worthy the noble Sire from whom he came.
Rhenes hornes were broken here, and here her flood,
Erst green with reedes, was dy'd with German bloud
Loe there with haire dispread, Germani [...] borne.
At conquering Drusus feete, doth sit and mourne,
To th' Roman axe, yeelding her stubborne necke,
To chaines her hands, which armes did lately decke.
Above all these, with thousands at thy side,
Great Caesar, thou in conquering chaire shalt ride.
And where thou goest, thy Subjects hands applaud,
Whilst all the wayes with fragrant flowers are strawd.
Thy Temples shall be crownd with Phoebus bayes,
Thine army sounding
To [...]
Io to thy praise.
So that thy Chariot horses by the way,
Being chaft with shonts and hoyse shall stop and stay.
[Page 62]Then in Ioves Temple shalt thou leave thy Bayes,
In token of his ayd, for future praise.
All this, though banisht thence, in mind I see,
And she enjoyes the place forbidden mee.
She doth through spacious lands with freedome st [...]
And through the ayre finds out the quickest way.
Into the midst of Rome she brings mine eye,
Where all this joyfull Triumph I descry.
Ev'n Caesars Ivory Chariot
I shall see.
she will shew,
And for the Time
In my d [...]ere Country b [...].
I shall my Country view.
Yet shall the happy people see the sight,
And vvith their joyfull Captaine take delight.
Poore I doe see't by bare im [...]gination,
And reape the fruit by other mens relation.
And being sent to so remote a Clime,
Scarce one will come to tell the truth in time.
But 'twill be old and sta [...]e er't come to me,
Yet whensoere it comes,
[...]oyfull be,
't shall welcome be.
And I that day will d'off my mourning weed,
The publique shall my private cause exceed.


Two heav'nly Constellations here he wooes.Argu.
That's wife h [...]r constant faith may never loose.
YOu great and lesser Beares, who
They set not in the Sea.
thirsty still
Conduct the Greeke, and Tyrian Sa [...]lors skill,
Who view all worldly things in your high motion
And never set beneath the westerne Ocean,
Nor doth your circling Orb ere touch the ground,
Althou [...]t the Azure sky you compasse round.
I pray, be hold those walls vvhich they report
Remus once overleapt vvith fatall sport.
There turne your shining count'nance on my Wife.
And tell me if she lead a constant life.
Woes me vvhy question I a case so cleare?
And let my hope give place to doubtfull feare?
Feare nothing, but beleive that all is vvell,
Have certaine faith, she doth in faith excell.
And vvhat the fixed starres can nere descry,
Tell thou thy selfe vvith voyce that cannot lye.
That, as thou car'st for her, so she againe
[Page 63]Thy name vvithin her heart doth still retaine.
Presenting still thy Count'nance to her mind,
And vvhile she lives though absent vvill be kind.
What, doth thy sleepe forsake thee in the night,
VVhen once thy mournfull thoughts on Ovid light?
Yea doth thy vvidovved bed renevv afresh
Thy cares? and cause thee thinke on my distresse?
Do nights seeme tedious through thine invvard burning
And do thy bones ev'n ake vvith often turning?
I make no doubt, but thus thou dost and more,
Thy love ev'n forcing signes of griefe in store,
And griev'st no lesse for me, then
A [...]omache
He [...]ors wife,
To see hir husband drawne devoid of life.
Yet doubt I what to
Theba [...].
[...] Pray.
nor can I tell
What passion in thy mind I wish should dwell.
Art sad? it is my griefe that I to thee
So good a [...].
Of such deserts, a cause of griefe should bee?
If not? I wish that thou thy selfe mayst beare,
Beseeming one that lost an hu [...]band deare.
Bewaile then gentle Wife, thine ovvne great losses
And live a mourners life for my great crosses.
Shed teares for me; for teares are some reliefe,
A [...].
And teares do ease and cary out our griefe.
And would my death, not life, thou mightst bemone,
And that.
I wish my death had left thee all alone.
Then I with thee a [...] home my life had ended,
Thy loving teares my deathbed had attended:
Thy fingers then had clos'd my dying eyes,
Which had beene fastned on my Country skyes.
And in my Grandsires Tombe my body dead
Had found its buriall, where it first was bred.
Then had I liv'd and dyed without all blame,
Nor had this punishment soyld my former fame.
Yet, woe is me, if thou beest much ashamed
When thou an Exiles wife art bluntly named.
Woe's me if thou dost blush, that thou art mine,
And to be known for Ovids dost decline.
O where's that time wherein thou tookest pride
That thou wert knowne, and termed Ovids Bride?
There was a time, that thou did [...] pleasure take
To be, and to be flyled Ovids Mate.
[Page 64]And in my Parts and Manners tookst Delight
Love adding value to them in thy sight.
Yea then, (so pretious was I in thine eyes)
All other men, thou didst for me dispile.
T [...]n blush not now, that thou my wise art named,
For are thou mayst be griev'd, but not a [...]hamed.
A bea [...] [...] the Cap­ [...]e inve [...]d [...] to belongs [...], and was [...] from [...] wall with [...] wil [...] [...]a [...]ne cast h [...] selfe into h [...]s [...] all she and was burned with him.
Capaneus was [...]aine on The [...] wall
[...] blusht not, fot her [...]ate a [...]all.
[...]gh Thact [...] with bolt of Iove,
Yet could not this [...] his [...]ind [...]s love.
Not did old Cadmus,
His daugh ter.
S [...]le deny
Though by hir p [...]oud request she chan [...]'d to die.
Let [...] no cranson [...] cheekes dist [...]e
I hough I be stricken with Ioves heav [...]nly f [...]ame,
But [...]a [...]her doe th [...] best still to desend me,
That for [...]lo [...] all Wife all m [...]y commend thee.
The way to glory through steep pat [...]s doth he,
[...]sentence. [...].
Slow then thy vertue in thy [...]iserie.
Had Troy beene happy, who had Hector knowne?
In mity wayes are vertues foote steps showne.
When Seas are calme then
The Pilot of the Argo.
Typhis Art's not seene:
Phoeb [...]s-skill the healthfull disesteeme.
So vertue in prosperity lies conceal'd,
In barder times 'tis proved and reveal'd.
Lo then my Fortune may advance thy name,
And gives thy vertue scope to raise thy Fame.
Vse well th'occasion of these woefull da [...]es,
Which make an open passage for thy prayse.


This Elegy is to a Friend directed,Argu.
Who being unnamed, is by signes detected.
O Thou that art of ancient Nobles borne
And yet thy manners do thy Stock adorne,
Within whose brest thy Fathers Candour shines
Which thou with Norves of wisedome dest combine.
In whom thy Fathers eloquent tonguo doth dwell,
Who mongst our Roman Pleaders
bare the bell:
Thus unaw [...]es I have by Signes beweayd thee,
Pardon thy praises due which have betrayd thee:
'Tis not my fault but thine owne worth pr [...]claimes thee.
[Page 65]Seeme what thou Art, and none can justly blame me.
Nor shall my kinde officious verse, I trust,
Harme thee at all under a Prince so just.
For he himselfe (so mild a Prince is he)
Will often in my verse recorded be.
Nor can he well forbid it, though he wou'd.
Caesar [...]a publicke and a generall good.
Nay Iove resignes his powers to Poets wits,
And to each common pen his prayse permits.
By these two gods I doe thy cause maintaine,
The one beleev'd the other seene to reigne,
Yet if it be a fault, tis wholly mine,
T [...]is Letter was my act, and none of thine.
Nor gin I now to wrong thee with my talke,
In happy times our tongues did often walke.
And lest thou feare my friendship cost thee deafe,
'Tis meete thy
Authou [...]
Father should thee envy beare.
For well thou know'st, if thou confesse the truth,
Thy Father I observed from my youth.
Thou well remembrest, he approv'd my wit,
Farre above that, my selfe did value it.
And often did my Poetry rehearse.
Ennobling by his prayse my simple verse.
Thou art not now deceiv'd, to shew me favour,
For long before I did deceive thy
Authori t [...].
But, trust me, here's no fraud: for, save the last,
Thou maist defend my life and actions past.
Nor wilt thou call my last offence a crime,
That know'st the Series of this dismall time!
'Twas feare or errour ruin'd mine estate,
But doe not urge me once to mention what.
O teare not open my scar [...]e-closed wound,
Which hardly rest and quiet can make sound.
For though I grant that I am justly shent,
Yet was there in my faul [...] no leud intent.
This Caesar knowes, and spar'd my guiltlesse bloud,
And neit her seaz'd nor gave away my goods.
And, if he live, my flight per haps will end,
When length of time his fury [...] amen [...]:
Meane while, if this bold sut [...] be no [...] repcoved,
[Page 66]I pray that I from hence may be removed,
I wish to have a place of more repose
Ncercr my Country, farther from my Foes.
And would some faithfull friend move this request
Perhaps 'twere done, so mild is Caesars brest.
The frozen
[...] to [...].
Euxine shores now me surround
Which th' Ancients stiled well the
Axen bound.
Our Seas are ever tost with boystrous wind,
Nor can a forraine ship safe harbour finde.
The lands about us live by blood and spoyle,
Thus Sea and Land alike bring feare and toyle.
Those which in shedding humane blood delight,
Vnder our starres enjoy the common light.
Tauricke Diana's Altar neere us stands,
Distained oft with blood of forraine lands.
This Country once, they say King Thoas had,
And th [...].
Without the rivalship of good or bad.
Iphigenia exchanged for a Deere
hir goddesse bloody offerings there.
Orestes driv'n by's Furies came
(Whom naturall or unnaturall yoo may name)
And his friend Pylades,
unto wonder kinde,
Who vvere two bodies yet but one in mind.
These two fast bound, are to this Altar set,
Which bloody stood before the
twoleav'd gate.
Fach for himselfe no jot of terror had,
Yet for each others death were wondrou [...] sad.
With hir drawne knife the Priest stood ready now
With barbrous ribbande on her Graecian brow.
But by their Parley, she hir
brother knowes,
And streight in stead of killing, kindnesle showes.
And joyfull did from thence to Rome translate
Hir goddesse which those cruell Rites did hate.
To this far-Northern Region I am nigh
From which both gods and men do joyntly fly.
Mans blood is offered mere my Country land,
If Ponsus may for Ovids Country stand.
Oh that Orestes winds might drive me hence;
And Caesar's wrath appeas'd for mine offonce!


Ʋnto his Friend he doth his mind reveale,Argu.
Whose name for feare of harme he doth conceale.
OH thou the chiefest of my loved mates,
The onely refuge of my crackt estate.
Whose conference did my dying spirit revive,
As o [...]le infus'd doth keepe the Lampe alive.
Not fearing when my ship was thunder-broken
A friendly port of refuge to set open.
With whose revenues my wants had beene supply'de,
It Casar had my Fathers goods deny'de.
But whilst I muse upon my troubles then,
Thy name well-neere had slipt out of my pen;
Yet this thou knowst, and, toucht with love of fame
Dost wish that I might boldly tell thy name.
Truly, wer't safe, I would thy titles give,
And praise such Faith as few men will believe?
'Tis onely feare my gratefull Verse doth charme,
Lest my untimely prayse should do thee harme.
This thou mayst do ev'n glory in thy brest,
That thou wert kind, and I still mindfull rest.
Go forward then to lend thine
To tow my [...]ote, till &c.
helping hand
Till (Caesar pleas'd) the wind shall prosperous stand.
Beare up my sinking head, which none can save,
But he that
Pl [...]ag'd, [...]
drowned it in the Styg [...]an wave.
And which is rare, be constant to the end,
To doe the office of a faithfull friend.
So may thy Fortune ever well proceede,
Tha [...] helping others, thou mayst never neede.
A vo [...].
So may thy wives sweet vertues [...]quall thine,
And seldome discord to your Chamber climbe;
So maist thou still be loved of thy brother,
As Castor Pollux loves, and he the other.
So may thy Sonne be like thee in his prime,
And by his manners all men know him thine.
So may thy Daughter prosp'rously be wed,
And with a Grandfirs name soone crowne thine [...].


He [...], that time which all things doth ass [...]ge
And weakens him, [...] sorr [...]es rage.Argu.
IN time the Oxe endures the toilf [...]ll plow,
And to the crooked yoke his necke doth [...],
In time the Steed to th' bridle doth submit▪
And gently takes in's mouth the cur [...]ing b [...].
[Page 68]In time the Africke Lyons milder grow,
Nor to their keepers former fiercenesse show.
In time the Indian
monster's overcome,
And servant-like obeyes his Masters doome.
Time makes the grapes so swell within the skin,
They scarce containe the liquor that's within.
Time brings the seed to a ripe care at last,
And makes the Apple of a mellow taste.
wastes the plowshare which the Land doth eare
Yea time the Flints and Adamante doth weare,
The fiercest wrath it cooleth by degrees,
Abateth griefe, and mourners hearts doth ease,
Yea every thing can silent time impaire,
Except the burden of my growing care.
Twice since my exile hath the Corne been t [...]resht,
And Grapes have twice with naked seete been prest:
Yet all this time my minde no patience gaines,
But still her wonted griefe afresh retaines,
Thus oft the Oxen shun their wonted yoke,
And Horses shun the bit, though often broke.
Yea now my paine is greater then before,
And though the same, yet older pincheth more.
Me thinkes I now my crosses better know,
And by this knowledge they
much greater
And 'twere the better if my strength were fresh,
And I were not
Vorne out.
consum'd with long distresse.
The Wrastler entring fresh into the round,
Exceedeth one long tyred on the ground.Simil.
Th' unwounded Fencer in his shining armes,1
Excelleth him whose blood bewrayes his harmes.2
The newbuilt ship strong stormes can hardly bend,3
When every blast the crazy Barke doth rend:
Even so did I my gricfes with patience beare,
Till they with length of time increased were
But now I faint, and certainely presume,
These sorrowes will ere long my life consume.
For through my slender skin my Bones appeare,
Nor are my strength and colour as they were,
And yet my mind is in farre worser plight.
[Page 69]Her sorrowes ever standing 'fore her sight,
Shee sees not Rome, her friends are absent here.
And thou my loving wife of all most deare.
Onely a rout of Scythes and Getes here be,
So what I have and want, both trouble me.
One hope there is, which yeelds me some reliefe,
That death, ere long will end my wofull griefe.


A namelesse friend is here by Ovid shent,Argu.
Who had not all this time one Letter sent.
TWice hath the Sunne cold Winter overcome,
And twice through Pisces his careere hath run,
And yet alas in all this tedious time,
Thou hast not sent me one officious line.
Couldst thou this Love forbeare, when those have wrote
With whom I had but smal acquaintance got?
When any Letters Seale I did unlose,
Why did I hope it should thy name disclose?
Yet doubtlesse many a Letter thou hast sent,
Although it came not hit her as 'twas ment.
Ile first beleeve there was a
Gorgons head,
With snakes instead of haires about it spread,
And Scillaes dogs, and strange Chimeraes frame.
Made of a Snake, a Lyon, and a Flame.
Fourefooted Centaures horse and man in one,
Three headed Cerberus, and Gerion.
Sphinx and the Harpyes, men of Serpent-race,
And Giges
an Handred.
hands, or
Halse a [...] halfe a bull.
Minotaurus face:
All these shall sooner sincke into my minde,
Then this, that thou art chang'd and prov'd unkind.
For loe betvveene us, many mountaines high,
And Fields and Floods, and severall Seas doe lye,
Yea thousand lets thy Letters may prevent,
From comming to my hands, though kindly sent,
Write then so oft till thou hast conquer'd all,
That I no more to these excuses fall.


Here Ovid hath a sad complaint compil'd.Argu.
That he's constraind, being old, to live exil'd.
WIth Swanlike plumes, my Temples now are dite,
And age hath chang'd my
Sable haires to white
[Page] [...] For whom I wept, as he for me would mourne,
And shortly after came my mothers turne.
Both of them happy that in season dyed,
Before my wofull exile did betide,
And happy I, that whilst my Parents live,
Gave them no cause at all for me to grieve.
Yet if the dead doe more then names retaine,
And their thin soules survive their funerall flame.
Deere Parents ghosts, if any slight report,
Of mine offences sound ith' Stygian court,
Take from your Son this certaine truth withall,
That errour and not malice caus'd my fall.
Let this suffice the dead, I now retyre
To you kind friends, who of my life enquire.
I now was turned gray, my better yeares,
Gave place to age, which brought on mingled haires
And since my birth, ten prizes have renown'd
The running horse with Pisa Olive crown'd.
When Caesars anger bids me packe away,
To Tomos on the left of th' Euxine Sea.
Nor need I tell th'occasion of my fall,
Which is too well already knowne of all.
Nor [...]et of trecherous friends, or servants slights,
And many a crosse as grievous as my flight.
heart still scornd to yeeld, and in distresse,
Vnconquerable strength she did expresse.
And I forgetting former ease and feare
Was forc't in age unwonted armes to beare,
Yea and more dangers both by Sea and Land,
Then are the starres which twixt the Poles doe stand
Yet when I long had beene with wandrings tost,
At length I did attaine the Geticke coast.
Where, though the noyse of wars about me rage,
Yet with my verse doe I my griefe asswage.
And having none to heare my mournfull stile,
Yet I therewith the tedious houres beguile,
[Page] [...] My guide from Ister leading me along,
And seating me in midst of Helicon.
And mountest up on high my living name,
Though few till after death obtaine the same.
Nor yet hath envy, which doth still repine
At present things, gnaw'd any worke of mine.
But fame hath still advanc't my Muses head,
Though learned Poets this our age hath bred,
And though I prize their worth beyond mine owne,
Yet for their aequall, through the world am knowne.
I [...] Poets then can future things foresee,
I shall not
whole to earth converted be.
Yet, be't desert or favour gives me fame,
I thanke thee (gentle Reader) for the same.
The end of the fourth Booke, Containing 680. Verses.

LIB. 5.

ELEG. 1.

This Elegie he writeth to his friend.
And to his care doth this Fist Booke commend.
THis Booke arrived from the Geticke shore,
My studious friend, adde to the former foure.
Which sorteth so unto the Poets times,
That thou shalt find no pleasure in my Rhymes.
My Verses, like my fortune, mournefull be,
The writing with the
Sab [...].
matter doth agree.
In happier state, I wrote a pleasant veine,
But now repent me of that youthfull straine.
And being ruin'd, doe my fall proclaime.
And of my selfe these sad disconrses frame.
And as the Swan on swift Caystert shore,
In fainting notes her funerals doth deplore,
So I expos'd on Geticke coasts to
Doe here prepare my last sad obsequy.
Who ere in wanton verse doth take delight.
I warne him not to read what here I write.
Gallu [...] and sweete Propertiu [...] sute his veine,
And other Poets more of honoured name.
[Page]And wi [...]h my friends would still remember me.
If any muse I thus of sorrow sing,
Let him ascribe it to my sufferings.Que, 1
I doe not here compose by wit or Art;
The matter of it selfe doth wit impart.
My verse the twentieth part cannot containe,
He's happy that can
utter all his paine.
Number the trees ith' wood or Tibers sand,
What speeres of grasse in Mars his medow stand,
So many are the miseries I endure,
Of which my stadious muse is th'onely cure.
But when will Naso end his weeping Rhymes?Que. 2
Even when his fortune yeelds him better times.
Tis she which fountaines of complaint affords,
These are not mine, but my misfortunes words.
My wife and Country let a friend restore,
Ile be as merry as ere I was before.
Let Caesars anger bate, and milder grow,
Shalt see my verse with pleasant humour flow,
Yet as before, it shall not jest againe,
Though once it sported in a lighter straine.
Ile sing to Caesars liking, if he please
Mine exile of these savage Getes to ease,
Till then, what can my Papers doe but mourne?
This pipe doth well befit my funerall urne.Que. 3
But, thou wilt say, twere better much to smother
Thy sorrowes, and in silence passe them over.
Thou dost forbid a torturd wretch to grone,
Or one that's deepely wounded once to mone.
Whom cruell Phakaris vext with scorching paine,Examp. 1
He suffred, yet with Bullish voyce to plaine.
Aebilles did not Priams weeping blame,2
Yet thou more cruell wouldst my teares restraine.
When Niobes children great Diana slew,3
She let her yet with teares her cheekes bedew.
[Page] [...]e bo [...]ling heart with doubled griefe to [...]we [...].
[...]en pardon, reader, or my bookes refraine,
[...]at which is my comfort prove [...]ay paine,
[...]ough I am well assurd my harmelesse song,
[...]cept their Authour, will do no man wrong.
[...]te bad, I grant: who bids thee read them then?
[...] who forbids thee lay them downe agen?
[...]t read them on, as fram'd ith' Geticke strand,
[...]ey cannot be more barbarous then their Land.
[...]e with her Poets must not me compare,
[...]hough mong the Getes my wit was somewhat rare,
[...]doe not catch at great applause and fame,
[...] wits most quickning spurre, a sasting name.
[...] onely seeke to free my minde from care,
[...]ch still breake in, where they
unwelcome are.Que. 4
For this I vvrote: But why dost send them over?
[...]hus as I may, your prefence to recover.


He wils his Wife to Caesar to addresse,
Her sute for ease of this his great distresse,
WHen Letters come from Pontus art thou pale?
And doth thy trembling hand in th'opening faile?
[...]eare not, for I am well, yea now at length.
My body erst
but weakely gathers strength.
[...]ither the use of labour makes it hard,
[...]r else all time for sicknesse is debarr'd.
Yet is my minde as crazy as before,
And my afflictions still affect me
The wounds which Time I hop't would close againe
[...]s if new made, afresh renue my paine.
[...]ome smaller crosses length of time may ease,
Seate [...].
[...] greater mischiefes doe with time encrease.
The wound which from the poyson'd Arrow bred,
Poore Polystetes ten whole twelvemonths sed.Exam. 1
Yea [...] till deeth had nere beene sound,2
[...]e that hurt him had not [...]u [...]'d his wound,
[Page 78]And O that hee, which wrought my sore disease
Since I have done no crime, would grant me ease,
And from my sea of sorrow would abate,
Sated with part of this my dolorous fate,
Abote he much, yet there will much remaine,
And even th'one part will seeme sufficient paine,
As garden Roses, or the shels oth' shore,
Or graines which sleepy Poppy sheds in store,
As beasts ith' woods,Sim. or fith in waters gliding,
Or winged birds that through the ayre are shding:
So numerous are my griefes, which would I tell,
I might summe up the drops oth' Sea as well.
My perils to passe ore, by Sea and Land,
How, oft my life was sought by bloody hands,
In a remote and barbarous land I lye,
Which is environ'd by the enemy.
From whence (hadst thou due care) I had been freed
No question, having done no bloody deed.
That god, on whom the Romane state doth lye,
Sh [...] w [...] mercy oft to th' conquerd enemy.
Goe then preserre thy sute, thou maist be bold,
The world a
milder spirit doth not bold.
Woes me! what shall I doe, if thou wit [...]draw
Thy neeke from Wedlocke yoke and friendships law?
What shall I hope? who shall my ship sustaine?
Without an Anchor tost [...]th' watty maine?
He even to Casar as mine Altar runne,
The Altar doth no humble sutor shun.


To Caesar here our Poet makes his sate,Argu.
His place of wofull exile to commute.
TO th' absent powers an absent suppliant speakes,
If I [...] man my minde to Iove may breake,
Thou Empire-swayer, in whose preservation,
The gods expresse their care oth' Roman nation.
The [...]lor [...], and th' Example of thy land,
Great as the world ore which thou dost command.
So maist thou live earths joy, and heavens desire,
And slowly to the promis'd starres aspire;
I pray thee Spare me, and abate my paine,
And of thy thunder take some part againe.
[Page 79]Thy wrath indeed was milde, my life was sparde,
Ius civilitie.
Nor of a Citizens Right was I debar'd.
Nor were my goods bestow'd on others than,
Nor did thine edict stile me
Relegatus [...]od ex [...].
All this I feard, as I had well deserved,
But by thy mercy I was better served.
Awarded onely to the Ponticke land,
To plow with wandring ship the Scythian
I sent away to th' Euxine shore doe flye,
Which neerethe froxen Arcticke Pole doth lye.
Yet am I not so vext with freezing sky,
Or th' Ice which ever on the ridges lye,
Or that these bruites no Latin understand,
But speake in Geticke-Gre [...]ke, through all the Land,
As that a bordring Warre doth us inclose,
In slender walls scarce fencing of our foes.
W'ave sometimes peace, yet never are secure,
But either warres we feare, or warres endure.
So I remove from hence, Charybdis make
My speedy passage to the Stygian Lake.
Or else in sulphrous Aetna let me fry,
Or in the
Ionian Sea.
gulfe of Leucas drovvned lye.
My sute is easy that no griefe refuse,
But pray I may a safer mischiefe chuse.


He sues to Bacchus here,Argu. that he would please
To move Augustus for his speedy ease.
BAccbus, this is the day, when Poets use
To honour thee (I tak't) with cheerefull muse.
With garlands sweete, their Temples they surround,
And midst thy bowles of wine thy prayses sound.
Mong these, while Fortune sufferd, I was one,
A welcome part of thy devotion,
Who now remaine ith' cold Sarmatian land,
Which nigh the Getes, unto the Beare doth stand.
And I who erst from labour did retire,
To softer studies and the Muses quire,
Now far from home, with Geticke swords a [...] vext.
Having beene sore by sea and land perplext.
Whether these ills Ioves wreth or chance send downe.
Or [...]a [...] the dest [...]ies as my birth did frowne.
[Page 80]Yet thou thy Poet still shouldst have sustaind,
By whom the sacred Ivy is maintaind,
But what those fatall sisters once agree,
It secmes no god can change their firme decree.
Thy merits Bacchus did thy place obtaine
In heaven, and made thy passage thorow paine.
Thou left'st thy native Country, and from home
To snowy
A River twi [...]t Macedon and Thrace.
Strimon, and fierce Getes didst come
To Persia too, and spacious Ganges brinke,
And all those streames, which swarthy Indians drink.
It seemes those powres which fatall threds doe draw,
To thee
O [...]e of Se­ [...]le, once of Lover Hugh.
twise borne, twise sung this fatall law.
So crabbed Fortune still hath followed me,
If to a god I may resembled be.
And cast me headlong with his deadly fall,
Ca [...]ancus in­v [...]nt our of [...] laddate
Whom Iove for pride, did hurle from Theban wall.
Yet when thou heard'st how I was thunderstrooke,
Thy heart, no doubt with
Hi [...] mother Semile was stainn by Thunder, lying with Iupiter.
Son-like pitty shooke.
And looking ore thy Poets too, mightst say,
One of my servants is not here to day.
Good Bacchus helpe: so may thy fruitefull Vine,
Burden her Elme with Gropes of precious wine,
So may the Bacchae with young Satyres-fry,
Attend thine hests with their confused cry.
So ma
There two hate [...] drunken­cesse.
Licurgus bones be sorely prest,
M [...]d [...] Crowne, [...] a [...] of stars.
Pe [...]theus Ghost from torment never rest,
So may thy 7 Wives faire crowne shine ever bright,
Excelling all her neighbouring starres in light.
Come hither Bacchus, helpe my wofull state,
Remembring I was one of thine of late.
To gentle mildne sle Coesars heart incline,
For sure you gods in sweete commerce combine.
And you my Fellow-Poets friendly crue
For me, amid your cups this Prayer renue.
And some of you, when Nasots name he heares,
Set downe your bowle, mixed with friendly teares,
And looking round about on's fellowes, say,
VVheres he was one oth' Quorum th'other day?
Thus [...]oe, if ever I deserv'd your love,
[Page 81]And did with candour all your lines approve.
And giving th' ancient Poets honour due,
Yet thinke them fully equald by the new.
At least, retaine amongst you Naso's name,
So thill Apollo still your verses frame.


This Elegy doth the Authours woes expresse,Argu.
And pratse a Friena for's kindnesse [...]'s distresse.
I'll Naso's letter come from th' Euxine strand,
Ty [...]d out with travaile both by Sea and land.
He weeping said goe thou and visit Rome,
Whose fate is better then thy Masters doome.
And weeping wrote me, and the seale here set,
Not with his mouth but with his cheekes did wet.
If any aske me, wherefore he repines.
He bids me point him to the sunne that shines.
Discernes no leaves ith' wood, no grasse ith' field,
And thinkes full Rivers do no waters yeeld,
Wonders, at Hectors death why Priam mones,
Wounded with a poysoned Ar­row.
Philoctetes stung with poyson grones.
I wish the Gods had sent him such a state,
He had no cause to blame his cruell fate.
And yet he beares his crosse with patience fit,
And doth not like a Colt refuse the bit.
Hoping that Caesars wrath will end in time,
As being conscious of no heinons crime.
Of Caesars mildnesse he doth mention make,
And in himselfe he doth example take.
For, [...] olding life, and lands and freemans name,
To Caesars gift he doth ascribe the same.
Yet thee his friend, beleeve me, he doth beare
Still next his heart, of all his friends most deare.
Thee his Patroclus, thee his Theseus cals,
His Pylades and Euryalus withall.
Nor more doth long to see his Country dears,
And th'other Iewels that he wanteth heere;
Then thy deere eyes, to him farre sweeter still,
Then combes which Atticke Bees from flowres distil
And oft that fatall houre to mind doth call,
Greeving that death did not prevent his falls
[Page 82]And, when his ruine other men did shun
And baulkt the threshold of a man undone,
He tels how thou with few remainedst true,
If two or three be fitly cald a few.
For (though amazed) yet he well perceiv'd,
Thou at his fall even as himselfe was griev'd.
Th [...] count'nance, words, & grones he's wont to shew,
And how thy teares his bosome did bedew:
And didst no helpe deny, no comfort scant,
Although thy selfe didst then much comfort want.
All which he vowes, whether he live or dye,
He will retaine in gratefull memory.
Yea, by's owne head and thine he's wont to sweare,
I say by thine, which he doth prize as deare:
Heele full requitall make of all thy paines
Not suffring thee to plow the sands in vaine.
Onely defend him still, at my request
Not his, who fully knowes thy constant brest.


He doth his wives Birth day solemnize here,Argu.
Wishing her after fortunes faire and cleare.
MY Wives wisht birthday honour doth expect,
Let not mine hands her holy rites neglect.
Loe thus in utmost cost Vlysses placed,
His Wives birthday, long since with feasting graced.
And let my tongue her former plaints forbeare,
Which hath, I doubt, forgot to speake with cheare,
And let it not offend, if I shall weare
White Robes unlike my fortune once a yeare.
And let an Altar of greene turfe be made,
Whose flaming fires the woven garlands shade.
And bring some incense, boy, to feede the flame,
And wine, which powr'd therein will hisse againe.
I wish,
[...] of [...].
most welcome day, thou maist prove kind,
To her thats absent, and unlike to mine.
If any danger hover o're her head,
Of my bad fortune let her now be rid.
And let her ship, late bruis'd with grievous storme,
Henceforth make happy voyage safe from harme.
[Page 83]Let her her Country, Daughter, house retaine,
Let it suffice that these from me are tane.
And though she be unfortunate in me,
Yet let her other life unclouded be.
Still let her live, and love her absent mate,
And not till many yeares resigne to fate,
I'de adde mine owne to hers, but for my feares,
My fates contagion should corrupt her yeares.
[...]othing is sure to man: who would have gest,
Among the Getes I should have kept this feast?
But loe the swelling wind to Rome-ward drives
The smoke, which from our Incense doth arise.
It seemes the vapours which the fire doth raise
Have sense, as others doe to shun my cause,
When common sacrifice those
Eteocles and Poly [...]ices.
brothers twaine
Did make, yet after by each other slaine,
Into two parts the dusky flames did flow,
As if the brethren had commanded so.
Once I did thinke this tale a fable vaine,
And that
A Poet Son of Batt [...].
Call [...]machus did meerely faigne.
Now I beleeve it, seeing smoke did bend
So wisely from the North, and Rome-ward wend.
This is the day, which had it never beene.
I wretched man no festivall had seene.
This day those vertues brought, which match the fame
The daugh­ters of [...]on, and Icarius.
Hectors wife, or chaste Penelopes name,
With her, faith, goodnesse, chastity were bred,
Yet pour'd this day no joy upon her head.
But labours cares, an ill-besuting fate,
And just complaints of an halfe-widowed state.
Indeed in hardest state is goodnesse tride,
Shee's prais'd which doth in crosses constant bide.
Had not Vlysses seene such dismall dayes,
Then had Penelope lost her glorious praise.
Had valiant Capaneus won the Theban Towne,
Evadne then had never had renowne,
Of Pelias daughters why admire we
Alcestis wi [...]e of Admetus King of Thes­saly, he being sicke, sent to the Oracle. ād received answer that he must dye presently unlesse so [...]e friend would dye for him, this all refused and [...]he volun­tarily dyed for him.
Her husbands woes ennobled her alone.
[Page 84] Laodameia too obscure had layne,
Had not her Lord at Troy beene foremost slaine.
So had thy kindnesse, wife, beene sti [...] unknowne,
If on my sayles the windes had furely blowne.
Yet ye, O gods, and Caesar who shalt be,
At Nestors yeares an heav'nly Deity,
O spare, I pray, though not my guilty head,
Yet her who hath no sorrow merited.


He wooes his friend that he would not withdraw
His kindnesse,Argu. but abide in friendships Law,
DOst thou the Quondam hope of mine affaires,
The Refuge and the Port of all my cares,
Dost thou likewise forsake thy ancient friend?
Dost thou so soone thy Pious office end?
I am a burden: true, but why at first,
Didst take it up to lay it downe at th' worst?
Palinurus leave thy ship ith' storme?
Flee not, but show thy skill in times forlorne.
Ith 'fight
Automedon neere left his charge,
Nor yet Achilles chariot run at large.
Podalirius, his Greeke Patients still
Once undertaken, followed with his skill.
Better neere harbour, then thrust out thy guest,
Then let me on mine Altar firmely rest.
At first, thou onely didst maintaine thy friend.
But now with me thy Iudgement must defend,
At lest if I have done no trespasse since,
To make t [...]ee change thy faith by mine offence.
First let my breath out of my br [...]st repayre,
Which I but hardly draw in Scythian aire,
Ere my default should thy displeasure move,
Or I should seeme unworthy of thy love.
I am not so through cruell fates declin'd,
That [...]riefe should breed a frenzy in my minde;
But say it had: oft, in his franticke fie,
Flerce words at Pylades did Orestes spit,
Nor I'st unlike but that he strooke his friend,
Who yet remaind officious to the end.
Mer [...] the wretched with the rich agree,
[Page 85]Both must be pleas'd, and both must humour'd be,
We give blind men the way, as well as those,
Whose mases awe us and their purple clothes.
Then spare my fortune, though thou spare not me;
Who am no subject fit to anger thee.
Chuse out but part of that which I sustaine,
Tis more then all of which thou canst complaine;
Number the reedes which in the marshes stand,
Or Bees which feede on Hyb [...]as flowry land.
Or count the Pismires which in toyling swarmes,
Doe ligge the graine into their earthly barnes,
Such troupes of sorrowes me environ round,
That far above my plaints, my woes abound.
Whom they content not: let him heape on more,
Waterith' Seas, or Sands upon the shore.
The untimely [...]
Thy groundlesse fury then, my friend appease
Desert me not in midst of stormy Seas.


Our Poet here his wofull plight repeates,Argu.
And showes the attire and manners of the Getes.
THis Letter Reader, comes from Scythian clime,
Where Isters streames with th'Ocean waves cō ­bine.
If thou a life of health dost now retaine,
I shall an happy man in part remaine.
I know my deare, thou askest how I fare,
Which thou maist gather, though I silent were.
I am, in briefe and summe, a wretched wight,
As he must be, whom Caesar shall despight.
Besides, I know thou wouldst, that I should tell,
The manner of these T [...]mites where I dwell.
The Greekes with Getes are mixed here in store,
Yet of fierce Getes, this coast containeth more.
Whole troupes of Getes and rude Sarmatians goe,
Tracing our rodes with horses to and fro.
And theres not one but bow, and bowcase weares,
And arrowes blew with gall of Vipers beares.
Rough speech, and lookes that threaten death they have
Their heads and beards these shack-haires never shave
[Page 86]Their hands are ready still to stab and wound
With knives, which ever by their sides are bound.
With these he lives that wrote Loves tender glee,
These, these thy Poet still doth heare and see.
And yet, with these O may he never dye,
But let his ghost this loathed Region flye!
Whereas thou writest of applauses rung
In the full Theaters, to my verses sung.
Thon know'st, I never pend to stages Lawes,
Not was my Muse ambitious of applause.
Yet am I pleased, that I still retaine
In fresh remembrance a poore exiles name.
My Muse and verses though I oft forsweare,
When I consider what for them I beare;
Yet having curst them, cannot give them o're,
But love the weapons dyed in my gore.
The Greekish ship torne ith' Euboian maine,
Yet neere Caphareus
rocke dares saile againe.
Yet wish I not for praise or late renowne:
Who had beene safer, had I nere beene knowne:
But with my studies doe beguile my griefe,
And yeeld my carefull minde some short reliefe.
How else should I alone my time employ?
Or other cure of sorrow here enjoy?
For loe the place is most unpleasant ground,
In all the world a vilder is not found.
As for the men, they scarce deserve the name,
More ferity then wolves they doe retaine.
They feare no lawes, but right gives place to might,
The stronger sword hath still the better right.
They fence the cold with skins, and mantles wide,
And with long locks their dreadful count'nance hide
In some of them a smacke of Greeke is sound.
Though much corrupted by the Geticke sound.
Yet there's not one of all this savage throng,
That can expresse a word ith' Latine tongue.
Pardon ye Muses, I (even forc't erewhile)
A Roman Poet speake their Geticke stile.
I blush to say't, [...]et through disuse doe finde.
[Page 87]That Latine words come
slowly to my minde.
And doubtlesse, barbarous words these Poems shame
For which you must the place not Poet blame.
Yet lest I quite should lose th' Ausonian tongue,
And in my Country speech prove wholly dumbe,
I with my selfe discourse in words disused.
Vnder the Muses standard long refused.
Thus doe I passe my houres, and so a while
Of fretting thoughts my pensive minde beguile.
Seeking by Poetry to forget my griefe,
And well apaid, if thus I finde reliefe.


Argu. Here Ovid doth a tart invective write,
Gainst one that had provok't him with despite.
THough I be falne, I am not under thee,
Then whom there's nothing can more abject be.
What makes thee stomacke thus, vild wretch? or why
Dost thou insult o're humane misery?
Can not my miseries make thee mild and tame
To me, when Tygers would condole the same?
Nor fear'st thou Fortunes power, which tickle stands
Vpon a ball? nor yet her proud commands?
Yet will just Nemesis take revenge for me,
Since thou dost trample on calamity.
I saw a ship, and passengers all lost,
And said, loe never was the sea more just.
And some that grudg'd the poore their broken meat,
Themselves are faine to begge before they cate.
Thus sickle fortune roves with wandring pace,
Se [...]tence.
And never constant bides in any place.
Shees merry now, but mourning by and by,
In nothing constant but inconstancy.
I once did flourish, but did quickely fade.
My blasing flame was but of stubble made.
Yet lest thy cruell joy should be entire,
I have some hope to quench this heav'nly ire,
Since both I meant no harme, and though for shame
I blush, yet doth not envy fret my name:
Besides the massie world from East to west,
[Page 88]Holds not then Caesars a more tender brest.
For though he scorne to stoope to hostile strength,
Yet humble pray'rs will melt his heart at length.
And like the Gods. whose number heele encrease,
Heele grant me many a boone, besides release.
Count all the dayes ith' yeare, both foule and fair,
And thou shalt finde that these most frequent are.
Lest then thou chance to over joy my paine,
Suppose I may be yet restor'd againe.
Suppose, when Caesars wrath shall milder be,
My face ith' City thou with griefe maist see,
And I thee banisht for some fowler crime:
To this my twofold wish, let heaven incline.


He showes the reason why he doth not nam [...],
His worthy friend for seare he purchase blame.Argu.
WOuldst thou permit thy name within my verse,
How often there would I the same reherse?
Thee onely would I sing, and all my layes,
In every Page should sound thy worthy praise.
My debt to thee should through the City spread,
If I poore Exile, be ith' City read.
This age, and after times should know thy love.
If these my slender rhymes shall lasting prove.
Yea learned Readers should thy prayses ring,
A Poet sav'd might well such honour bring.
That now I breath, is first great Caesars fee,
And next to him, the thankes are due to thee,
He gave me life, thou dost his gift maintaine,
And causest me that
grace to entertaine.
When at my fall, the most men were dismaid,
And others would be thought to be afraid,
And on my shipwracke gazed from the land;
Yet to me floting reacht no helping hand,
Thou onely didst from present death recall me,
And mak'st me live to know what did befall me.
Let all the gods, with Caesar thee befriend,
What can I wish thee better to thy end?
[Page 89]Wouldst thou give leave, all this, my painefull skill.
Should publish to the world in accents shrill.
My Muse even now (though chargd to hold her peace)
From publishing thy name can scarcely cease.
But as the dogge, when the Deeres sent is found,
Contends to breake the Lease wherein he's bound.
And as the Coursers hoofe and head doth beate,
The Lists and Barres till they be open set,
So my Thalia, with thy Lawes inclos'd,
To name thee, though forbidden is dispos'd.
Yet lest this friendly office doe thee harme,
Feare not, my blabbing tongue thy law shall charme,
Yet not my thoughts, Ile still remember thee,
And (which thou barrest not) will gratefull be.
Yea whilst I live (which may it be but short)
My soule shall from thy service never start.


Argu. Ovid complaines he hath in Pontus spent,
Three yeares already since his banishment.
THrice hath the cold congealed Isters streame,
Thrice bound the Euxine, since I hither came.
The time, me thinkes, since I did Rome enjoy,
Doth seeme as long as was the siege of Troy,
The months you'd thinke did rather stand then goe,
The yeare doth passe and pace away so slow.
The Solstice shortens not the tedious night,
Nor Winter breviate the loathed light.
The naturall course of things is chang'd to me,
Which with my cares me thinkes enlarged be.
Or else the times their wonted courses run,
And only tedious seeme to me alone,
Whom Pontus holdeth Euxine falsly stilde,
[...] Hospitable
Being indeed the land of Scythia wilde.
Where bordring nations threaten warres amaine,
Accounting spoyle the onely honest gaine.
Where nothing's safe abroad: our hil's entrencht
With slender wals, and its owne native strength.
O [...] soes, ere we perceive, like Birds of pray,
Flocke to our spoiles, and drive them quite away.
[Page 90]We often gather up within our wall
Their darts which in our closed streetes doe fall.
Few here dare plow the ground, who ever eares
With one hand plowes, ith' other weapons beares.
The Sheepheard armed pipes on's Oaten reed,
Instead of wolves, the sheepe doe warriours dread.
Our Castle scarce defends from foes without,
We feare within a mixed barbarous rout.
For here nixt savages and Graecians
Our houses most what are by them possest.
Whom though you feare not, you must needs detest,
With skinnes and shagged haire to see them drest.
Ev'n those which from the Greekish line descend,
With Persian mantles doe the cold defend:
And with the neighbouring Getes in speech cōmerce
So that I doe by signes with them converse.
And no man understands m [...] language here,
But at my Latine tongue these rustickes jeere,
And raile upon me Scotfree to my face,
Objecting oft mine exile in disgrace.
And take in evill part, when many times
I strive to answer them by nods and signes,
Swords here determine what is wrongfull right,
And oft ith' Court they fall to bloody fight.
O cruell Lachesis, to draw so farre.
My thread of life, which had so ill a starie.
I waile my want of friends and Country deare,
And that I live with Scythian people here.
As two great evills: the first I did deserve,
Yet might a place of lesse disquiet serve.
What say I soole? who then deserved death,
When I did first incurre great Caesars wrath.


Argu. He cheeres his Wife 'gainst one who had revilde he [...]
And in disdaine an Exiles wife had stilde her.
THy Letter doth complaine, that one, in strife
Misterm'd thee by the name of Exiles wife,
I griev'd, not that my fortune ill doth heare,
[Page 91]Who am inur'd with patience wrongs to beare,
But that I'm cause of shame deare wife, to thee,
And feare thou blushest at my low degree.
Hold out to beare: thou suffredst more that day,
When Caesars anger sent me first away.
Yet was he wide, that me exiled thought,
A gentler Censure did attend my fault.
My greatest Crosse was Caesar to offend,
Oh that I first had met my fatall end.
Indeed my ship is shattred, but not drownd,
It beares up still, though't have no haven found.
He seaz'd not on my life, wealth, Cities-right,
Although for my offence he justly might.
F [...]t.
cause no wickednesse in me was found,
He onely banisht me my native ground.
And as to others, more then I can count,
So Caesars mercy did to me surmount.
And stilde me not an exile, but proscrib'd.
My judge, himselfe my cause can best decide.
Therefore my verses, to my slender power,
Shall chaunt thy prayses, Caesar, every houre,
Ile pray the gods to shut their heav'nly gate,
A while, and thou maist hold thy royall state,
So pra [...]es the people, yet my prayer shall run
Like a small Brooke into th'vast Ocean.
But thou, who cal'st me exile, spare to presse,
With lying titles this my hard distresse.


Argu. He answers here his friend, that wisht him write,
Verses in's Exile for a small delite.
THou writ'st that I should passe my mournfull time
With study, lest my minde with rust decline.
Tis hard my friend to doe, for Verses aske,
A quiet mind, being a cheerefull taske.
But my hard Fortune's driven with adverse wind,
So that a worse can hardly be assign'd.
Thou bidst King Priam at's sons funerals sport,
And childlesse Niobe keepe a dancing Court.
[Page 92]What, seeme I fit for study, or for mone,
Who to the utmost Getes am sent alone?
Had I a mind with matchlesse strength sustain'd,
Anyti [...]ens.
Soorates whom Anytu [...] defam'd,
Yet such a weight would sinke my wits at length,
Ioves anger farre exceedeth humane strength.
That aged man whom Phoebus styled wise,
Could not have wrote in such a wofull guise.
For say I could forget my home and fall,
And have no fe [...]ling of my griefe at all,
Yet feare it selfe this quiet taske would let,
Who am with sondry cruell foes beset.
Adde that my wit is dull'd, or rusted o're,
And growne much weaker then it was before.
The [...]ertile field, ift be not duely tild,
Will nought but grasse,Sim. with thornes and thistles yeeld:
The resty Horse, runs slowly, and arrives,
Hindmost of those,Sim. which for the mastery strive.
The Boate that long stands dry, it is no wonder,
If it in time grow seare,Sim. and cleave in sunder.
Well then may I despaire (though weake before)
To reach that straine of verse I had of yore.
Continuall troubles make my Genius fade,
Much of my former vigour is decayde.
Yet oft my Table bookes I take in hand,
Wooing my words in lawfull feete to stand:
Yet can no verses make, or such as these
Which sute the Authours time, and states disease.
Lastly tis glory which the minde doth raise,
And eloquent straines doe flow from love of praise
With fames bright lustre was I mov'd of yore,
So long as prosperous winds my sayles outbore.
Now 'tis not so with me, to seeke for glory.
I rather wish that none should know my story.
Because my verse at first had good successe,
Wouldst have me still my former labours presse?
Ye sisters nine (Ile speake it with your leave)
Twas you that did of Italy me bereave.
And as in's Bull the
Authour first did smart,
[Page]So am I justly punisht for my
Of Love.
T [...]cre meete, that I should verses quite forbeare,
And after shipwracke the rough Ocean feare.
But say I would resume my harmefull Muse,
Here are no tooles to serve a Poets use.
Here's not a booke, nor one to lend an eare.
Or that can understand me when they heare.
[...]hpl [...]e is full of rude and bruitish no [...]se,
Each place is full of Geticke fearefull voyce,
And I the Latine tongue have much forgot,
And fall to speake the rude [...]armat [...]ke note.
And [...]et (to say the truth) cannot refaine.
But now and then my Muse a verse will frame,
I [...]nte, and what I write with fire consume,
And all my study ends in flame and fume.
Not can I make a verse, nor doe desire,
And therefore cast my labours in the fire.
So that to you, none of my fancies came,
But what by chance or stealth escap't the flame.
Even so, I wish my Art it selfe had burn'd,
Which to such sorrow hath her Authour turn [...]d


Here O vid kindly chides a reall friend,
Because he did no loving Letters send.Argu.
FRom Pontus land, thine Ovid sends thee health.
If one can send what he doth want himselfe.
My sickly body griefe of mind doth taint,
Lest any part in me should torment want.
A stitch my payned side doth daily hold,
Which I have got by VVinters deadly cold.
Yet am I well in part if thou beest so,
Whose shoulders did support mine overthrow.
Thou nav'st me many pledges of thy love,
And the true Patron of my life didst prove;
And yet in seldome writing dost offend.
VVith-holding words, not deeds from me thy friend
Mend this I pray thee, which if thou correct,
There shall be found in thee no one defect.
[Page 94]I'de blame thee more, but that thy Letters sent,
Perhaps miscarried, 'gainst thy true intent.
Let my complaint, O gods be rash and hot,
And let me fasly feare, I was forgot,
I have my wish: for sure I shall not find,
That thou hast ever chang'd thy constant mind.
First shall cold Pontus land gray Wormewood want,
And sweetest Tyme shall be in Hyb [...]a scant;
Ere thou to thinke upon thy fr [...]end grow slacke,
My Dest'nies are not spun of threds so blacke.
Yet to prevent the least suspitions searre,
L [...]st thou shouldst seem, w [...]at th'art not, pray beware
And as we wont our time to posse away,
In friendly talke tyring the tedious day,
Let Letters now our words transport along;
And pen and paper make supply of tongue.
But lest I seeme distrustfull of my friend,
Let me in these few lines my caution end.
And (that thy fates from mine may distant dwell)
I adde our letters common close, farewell.


Here Ovid to his Wise, this comfort gives,
That she for ever in his Poems lives.Argu.
WHat monuments in my Book [...]s, thou seest [...]d are wife,
I leave of thee far dearer then my life.
For though hard Fortune presse the Authour sore,
Yet shall my workes renowne thee more and more.
Whilst I am read, the world shall read thy fame,
Thou shalt not all consume in funerall flame.
And though thou seemst unhappy by my fate,
Yet many Wives will wish even thine estate,
Will call thee happy, yea and will envy,
Their bear'st a part in Ovids misery.
Could I give thousands, I could give no more,
The rich mans ghost must leave his wealthy store.
I give thee this, thy name shall ever live,
Then which, what greater dowry could I give?
And, vvhen thou art alone my states defender,
This make thine honour neither light nor slender,
[Page 95]And that my tongue still chaunts thy praise aloud,
Thy husbands witnesse
Well mav.
ought to make thee proud.
Which lest it should be rash, persist to th'end,
And still thy husband and thy faith defend.
For while I stood upright, thou didst maintaine
Thy goodnesse free from any crime or s [...]ame.
Not i [...] it lessened by this fall of mine,
Here may thy V [...]rtue much the brighter shine.
'Tis easie to be good, when all things prove,
Fit to invite a wife to d [...]teout love Sent. 1
But in a thundring tempest not to flye,
This is true wedlock [...]love and piety.2
Ra [...]e vertue 'tis, which Fortune doth not gurde,
But Fortune fleeing, yet doth firme abide,
If there b [...] any such which vertue prize,
Even for itselfe, and scornes adversities,
Recount the times, she never was conceal'd,
But of the world admir'd and famous held,
Thou seest how chaste Pene [...]ope retaines,
Through tract of time, a never dying name.
Alcest [...] Ad­metus wife [...]v­ed to save him alive.
Admetus wife, and Hectors, Poets same,
She was but­ned with her husband.
Hiphias, that despis'd the funerall flame.
Laodame [...]a's praise doth still resound,
Whose lord did first set foore on Trojan ground.
Thou need'st not dye for me: by faithfull love
At easie rate thou mayst renowned prove:
Nor by this counsell, thinke thy selfe accus'd,
Though Oares doe good, yet are not sayles refus'd.Sim.
Who warnes thee to persist, commends thy fact,
And by his Counsell doth approve the act.
Ovid de seipso.
What unto Maro high Heroickes owe,
To me soft Elegies are indebted so.
The fifth Booke containeth 750. Verses.
The five Bookes containe 3556, Verses. The Arguments, 100. Verses.

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