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.
Ovid, 43 B.C.-17 or 18 A.D., Saltonstall, Wye, fl. 1630-1640.
To the Envious.
ENvious man why d•st teare verses write
By Ovid, death can have no power on wit.
For after death there commeth greater fame,
And also while I liv'd I •ad a name.
While Marsus and strong lin'd 〈◊〉 are
Trosan Virgill, Pedo shining like a starre.
And C• us that gr•at •uno might offend,
While he did Hercules her Sonne commend.
And •everus that gave to 〈◊〉
Heroicke verse, with Numa full of subtilty.
And then Montanus whose vaine did suffice,
To write Heroickes, or else Elegies.
And by writing in both kindes didst obtaine,
Vnto thy selfe a twofold Fame, and Name.
He that makes Vlysses write to Penelope,
When he had wandred ten yeares on the Sea.
And He•iod that an imperfect worke writ,
Of dayes, and dy'd ere he could finish it.
Page [unnumbered] Largus, whose wit to him his name did yeeld,
Who brings Aeueu• into the French field.
Or 〈◊〉 us who of Troy d•th sing,
Which Hector did unto destruction bring:
Or 〈◊〉scus, who by his P•yllis did gaine
Much renowne and everlasting name.
And that Sea Poet, whose Verses such seeme,
As if the Sea gods had composed them.
He that of Lihy• and R•mes battailes writ,
And 〈◊〉 for a•l kind of writing •it.
He that Pe•s•us actions did p•rfo•me,
And Lupu• who writ of Iasons returne.
And he that Ho•ers Ph•acis did translate.
Rusus tha•Pindars vaine did imitate.
And Ture ••us who writ high I ragedies,
Me•ssus, who pend m•rry 〈◊〉.
Varus and 〈…〉 did write,
And Procu•us in smoother waies did 〈◊〉:
And Tityrus an ancient Shepheard writ,
And shewd what weapons were for Hunters sit.
And Fontanus of the Naiodes did sing,
Who by the Saty•es have beloved beene.
And Capella who his words did also joyne,
And set together in uncquall line.
And there are others whose names to rehearse
Would tedious be, the people •ath their verse.
And young men, who since that which they did write,
Was not publisht, I cannot them recite.
Cotta, I can't passe o'•e thee in silence,
The Light of the Muses, the Courts defence.
The Cotta's and Messalla's give to thee,
By •ny descent, a double Nobility.
And though I say't, my Muse once had a name,
And it was read amongst these men of Fame.
Page [unnumbered] Then Envy cease in exile to wound me,
Rake not my ashes abroad cruelly.
I have lost all, onely my life is left,
To make me know of what I am berest.
Why dost delight to thrust thy sword through him?
That can't be wounded more then he hath been.