Ouid's elegies three bookes. By C.M. Epigrames by I.D.
About this Item
- Title
- Ouid's elegies three bookes. By C.M. Epigrames by I.D.
- Author
- Ovid, 43 B.C.-17 or 18 A.D.
- Publication
- At Middlebourgh [i.e. London :: s.n.,
- after 1602]
- Rights/Permissions
-
To the extent possible under law, the Text Creation Partnership has waived all copyright and related or neighboring rights to this keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above, according to the terms of the CC0 1.0 Public Domain Dedication (http://creativecommons.org/publicdomain/zero/1.0/). This waiver does not extend to any page images or other supplementary files associated with this work, which may be protected by copyright or other license restrictions. Please go to http://www.textcreationpartnership.org/ for more information.
- Subject terms
- Latin poetry -- Translations into English -- Early works to 1800.
- Love poetry, Latin -- Early works to 1800.
- Link to this Item
-
http://name.umdl.umich.edu/A08622.0001.001
- Cite this Item
-
"Ouid's elegies three bookes. By C.M. Epigrames by I.D." In the digital collection Early English Books Online. https://name.umdl.umich.edu/A08622.0001.001. University of Michigan Library Digital Collections. Accessed June 13, 2024.
Pages
Page [unnumbered]
Had seene, my mother killing me, to day.
Why takest increasing grapes from Vine-trees full?
With cruell hand why doest greene Apples pull?
Fruites ripe will fall, let springing things increase,
Life is no ight price of a small surcease.
Why with hid irons are your bowels torne?
And why dire poyson giue you babes vnborne?
At Cholcis stain'd with childrens blood men raile,
And mother-murtherd•• Itis, thee bewaile.
Both vnkinde parents but for causes sad,
Their wedlocks pledges veng'd their husbands bad.
What Tereus, what Ias•••• you prouokes,
To plague your bodies with such harmefull strokes?
Armenian Tygers neuer did so ill,
Not dares the Lyone ••••••her young whelpes kill.
But tender Damsels doe it, though with paine,
Oft dyes she that her paunch-wrapt child hath slaine.
Shee dyes, and with loose haires, to graue is sent,
And who ere••see her, worthily lament.
But in the eyre let these words come to nought,
And my presages of no weight be thought.
Forgiue her gratious Gods this one delict,
And one the next fau•••• punishment inflict.