Ovid de Ponto Containing foure books of elegies. Written by him in Tomos, a citie of Pontus, in the foure last yeares of his life, and so dyed there in the seaventh yeare of his banishment from Rome. Translated by W.S.

ELEGIE. XI.

To Flaccus.

BAnished Ovid, sends thee Flaccus, health, If one can send, what he doth want himselfe: For languishing and bitter cares at le••gth Have worne my body and decay'd my strength. And yet I feele no paine▪ nor panting Feaver, My pulse doth beate as well as it did ever. But yet my taste is dull, I loath my meate, And at due times I have no list to ea••e. For if that Ga••imede should give to me Sweete ••ectar and Ambrosi••, which be ••anquets for Gods to feede on, and to drink▪ T••eir rell••sh could not please my tas••e I thinke; Though the•• are pleasant and most savoury, Yet in my stomacke the•• would heavy lye. This truth to every one I dare n••t w••ite. Least I should seem in misery to delight. As if such were my fortunes and my sta••e That I in wantonnesse delight could take. May he take such delight who ere ••e be Who feares least Caesars wrath should milder be. And that sleepe which doth a full body cherish, Doth not at all the empty body nourish. But as I wake my endlesse sorrowes wake, And from the place fresh cause of griefe doe take. So that my face by you could not be knowne, And ••ou would wonder how my colours gone. My slender limbes but little bl••od containe And than new waxe I am more pale and wan.

Excessive drinking wine doth not cause this, Water you know my common drinke here is, I am not pleasd with bankers, if I were, Amongst the Getes theres no such plenty here. And Venus pleasures doe not weaken me, Those desires vanish in adversity. The place, and water, causers of it be, And sorrow which is present still with me. You and your brother still my helpers were, Or else my mind could not her sorrowes beare. You are the Port to which my Barke doth drive, That helpe which som•• deny unto me give, Then helpe me still, for I shall neede helpe sure, While Caesars anger against me doth endure. Humbly beseech your gods his minde to bend That so his wrath may lessen though not end.