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]
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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

ELEGIA. 14.

In amicam, quod abortivum ipsa fecerit.

VVHat helpes it Woman to be free from warre? Nor being arm'd fierce troups to follow farre? If without battle selfe-wrought wounds annoy them, And their owne priuie weapon'd hands destroy them. Who vnborne infants first to flay inuented, Deseru'd thereby with death to be tormented. Because thy belly should rough wrinckles lack, Wilt thou thy wombe-inclosed off-spring wrack? Had ancient Mothers this vile custome cherisht, All humane kinde by their default had perisht. On stones, our stocks originall should be hurld, Againe by some in this vnpeopled world. Who should haue Priams wealthy substance wonne, If watry Thetis had her childe fordone? In swelling wombe her twinnes had 〈◊〉〈◊〉 kilde? He had not beene that conquering Rome did build. Had Venus spoilde her bellies Troyane fruite, The earth of Caesars had beene destitute. Thou also that wert borne faire, had'st decayed, If such a worke thy mother had assayed. My selfe that better dye with louing may,

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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 eresee 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.
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