Ouids Tristia containinge fiue bookes of mournfull elegies which hee sweetly composed in the midst of his aduersitie, while hee liu'd in Tomos a cittie of Pontus where hee dyed after seauen yeares banishment from Rome. Translated into English by. W.S.

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Nor shame those blots which on thy face appeares; For some may thinke they were made with my teares, Goe booke, salute the Citie in my name, For on thy feete I will goe backe againe; And if by chance among the common crew, Some mindefull of me aske thee, how I doe? Returne this answer, tell them that I live, And that my god this life doth freely give. But if they more doe seeke, then silent be, And speake not that should not be read in thee. Then the angrie reader will repeate my fault, While by the people I am guilty thought. Defend me not though they my fault repeat, An ill cause by defence is made more great. Some thou shalt finde will sigh, 'cause I am gone, And reade these verses with wet cheekes alone. Who often wishes, Caesar would but please, Some lighter punishment might his wrath appease. And I doe pray he may n'ere wretched be, That wishes Caesar thus should pitty me. But may his wishes come to passe, that I At last may in my native countrey dye. But booke, I know, thou shalt receive much blame, And be thought inferior unto Ovids vaine: Yet every judge the time and matter weighes; The time considered, thou deservest praise. Smooth verses from a quiet minde doe flow: My times are overcast with suddaine woe. Verses require much leasure and sweet ease: But I am tost by winds, and angry Seas. Verses were never made in feare, while I Doe looke each minute by the sword to dye. So that an equall judge may well approve These lines of mine, and reade them with much love.

Had Homer beene distress'd so many wayes, It would his sharpe discerning wit amaze▪ Then booke be carelesse of all idle fame; For to displease thy Reader, is no shame, Since fortune hath not so kind to me beene, That thou theit idle praise shouldst so esteeme: When I was happy, I did covet fame, And had a great desire to get a name. But now both verse and study I doe hate, Since they have brought me to this banisht state. Yet goe my booke, thee in my place I assigne, And would to God I could not call thee mine. Though as a stranger thou dost come to Rome, Thou canst not to the people come unknowne: Hadst thou no title, yet thy sable hew, If thou deny me, will thy author shew. Yet enter secretly, least some doe disdaine My verse, which is not now esteem'd by fame. And if by chance some when they heare me nam'd▪ Doe cast thee by out of their scornefull hand, Tell them that I doe teach no rules of love, That worke was long since punisht from above. Perhaps thou dost imagine thou art sent, To Caesars Court, which is not my intent: Aspire not thou unto those seates divine, From whence the Thunder did on me decline. Though once the Gods more favourable were, Yet now their just deserved wrath I feare. The fearefull Dove once strucke, still after springs, When she doth heare the Haukes large spreading wings▪ And from the fold the Lambe dare never stray••••▪ That from the Woolfe hath gotten once away. Nor would young Phaethon desire 〈◊〉〈◊〉 His fathers steeds, if he were now 〈◊〉〈◊〉

Since on my face the angry waves doe breake. And now the southerne winds so cruell are, They will not let the Gods even heare my prayer, But coupling mischeefes, with their rufling gales, They take away my prayers, and drive our sailes; The waves like mountaines now are rowled on, Which even seeme to touch the starrie throane. And by and by deepe valleys doe appeare, As if that hell it selfe dissolved were. Nothing but ayre and water can I see, And both of them doe seeme to threaten me; Whiles divers winds their forces doe display, The sea is doubtfull which he should obey. For now the winde comes from the purple East, And so againe it bloweth from the West. Then Boreas flies out from the Northerne Waine, While Southerne winds doe beate him backe againe. Our Pilat knew not whether he should steare, Art failes him, lost in his amazed feare. Perish we must, all hope of life is past, And while I speake the angry billowes slasht Into my face, and with their waves did fill My mouth while I continued praying still. I know my wife at home doth now lament, And grieve to thinke upon my banishment: Yet knowes shee not how I am tossed here, And little thinkes the that I am so neare Vnto my death, and were she heere with me, My griefe for her a second death would be. Now though I dye, yet while that she is safe, I shall survive in her my other halfe: But now quick lightning breaketh through the Cloud, And following Thunder roareth out aloud. And now the waves upon the ship doe boate,

Like bullets, and as one wave doth retreate, Another comes that doth exceede the rest, And thus their furie is by turnes exprest. I feare not death, yet I doe greeve that I Should here by shipwracke in this manner dye. Happy is he whom sicknesse doth invade, Whose body in the solid earth is laid: And having made his will, in his grave may rest, Nor shall the fishes on his body feast. And yet suppose my death deserved be, Shall all the rest be punisht here for me? O yee greene gods who doe the sea command, Take off from us your heavy threatning hand. And let me beare this wretched life of mine, Vnto that place which Caesar did assigne. If you desire with death to punish me, My fault was jug'd not worthy death to be: Had Caesar meant to take my life away, He neede not use your helpe who all doth sway. For if that he doe please my blood to spill, My life is but a tenure at his will. But you whom I did never yet offend, Have pitty on me, and to mercy bend: For though you save me in this great distresse, Yet you shall see my ruine ne're the lesse. And if the winds and seas did favour me, I should no lesse a banisht man still be. I am not greedy, riches to obtaine, Nor doe I plough the sea in hope of gaine. I goe not to Athens, where I once have beene Or Asian townes which I have never seene, Nor unto Alexandria doe I goe, To see how Nilus seaven streames doe flow: I wish a gentle wind, which may so stand,

It was the deepest silence of the night, And Luna in her chariot shined bright: When looking on the Cappitols high frame, Which joyned was unto our house in vaine: You gods (quoth I) whom these faire seats enfold, And temples which I ne're shall more behold: And all yee gods of Rome whom I must leave, These my last tenderd prayers to you receive; Though wounded I the buckler use too late, Le•• exile ease me of the peoples hate. Tell Caesar though I sinn'd by ignorance, There was no wickednesse in my offence. And as you know so let him know the same, That so his wrath may be appeas'd againe. With larger prayers my wife did then beseech The gods, untill that sobs cut off her speech. Then falling downe with flowing haire long spred, Shee kist the harth whereon the fire lay dead; And to our Penates pourd forth many a word, Which for her husband now no helpe afford, Now growing night did haste delay againe, And Arctos now had turnd about her Waine, And loath was I to leave my countrey sight, Yet this for exile was my sentenc'd night. If any urgd my haste I would reply, Alasse consider whither, whence I fly. And then my selfe with flattory would beguile: And thinke no houre did limit my exile. Thrice went I forth, and thrice returning finde, Slow paces were indulgent to my minde; Oft having bid farewell, I spake againe, And many parting kisses gave in vaine. Then looking backe upon my children deare, The 〈◊〉〈◊〉 repeated charge I gave them there.

Why make we hast? tis just to seeke delay, Since I am sent from Rome to Scythia. For I must leave my children, house and wife, Who while I live must leade a widdowes life. And you my loving friends that present be, And were like Theseus faithfull unto me: Let us imbrace, and use times little store, Perhaps I never shall imbrace you more. And then my words to action did give place, While I each friend did lovingly imbrace. But while I speake and teares bedew'd my eyes, The fatall morning starre began to rise. My heart was so divided therewithall, As if my limbes would from my body fall. So Priam griev'd when he too late did finde, The Grecian horse with armed men was linde. Then sorrow was in one lowde cry exprest: And every one began to knocke his breast; And now my wife her armes about me cast, And while I wept she spoke these words at last. Thou shalt not goe alone, for I will be Thy wife in banishment and follow thee: In the same ship with thee Ile goe aboard, And one land shall to us one life afford. Thee unto exile Caesars wrath commandes, Me love, which love to me for Caesars stands. This shee repeats which shee had spoke before, And could not be perswaded to give ore. Till at rhe last when I my haire had rent, Forth like some living funerall I went: And after (as I heard) when night grew on, Being mad with griefe, shee threw her selfe along Vpon the ground, while as her haire now lies, Soild in the dust: and when that shee did rise,

Of Nisus love who should the story know? For as the fire the yellow gold doth try, So love is proved by adversitie. While Fortune helpes us, and on us doth smile, They will attend upon our wealth that while: But if shee frowne, they fly, and scarce of any, Shall he be knowne that had of friends so many: This which before I from examples drew, In my owne fortune now is proved true. Since of my friends so few remaining be, The rest did love my fortune and not me. Then let those few aide me distrest the more, And bring my ship with safety to the shoare: And let not any feare to be my friend, Least that his love great Caesars might offend. For faithfulnesse in friendship he doth love: And in his enemies he doth it approve. My case is better, since that no attempt 'Gainst him, but folly wrought my banishment. Be watchfull then in my behalfe, and see, If that his anger may appeased be. If any wish I should my griefes reherse, They are to many too be shew'd in verse. My griefes are more than starrs within the skies, Or little mo••es which in the dust arise. For to my sorrowes none can credit give, Posterity will scarce the same beleeve. Besides those other griefes which ought to have, Within my secret thoughts a silent grave. Had I voice and brest could ne're be tyr'd, More mouthes and tongues than ever griefe desir'd: Yet could not I expresse the same in words, My griefe so large a theame to me affords. You learned Poets leave off now to write,

Vlysses troubles, and my woes recite. I sufferd more, he wanderd many yeeres, In comming home from Troy as it appeares. We sayld so farre to the Sarmatian shoare, Till we discoverd starres unknowne before. With him a faithfull troope of Grecians went, My friends forsooke me in my banishment. To bring him home his happy sayles were spred, While I even from my native countrey fled. Nor doe I saile frrm Ithaca, from whence, It would not greeve me to be banisht thence: But even from Rome which doth the gods enfold, And from seaven hills doth all the world behold. He had a body hardned to endure, To labour I my selfe did ne're inure, In the sterne warres great paines he daily tooke, But I was still devoted to my booke. One god opposing me, no god brought ayde, But him Bellona helpt the warlike Maide. And since that Neptune is than Iove farre lesse, Him Neptune, but great Iove doth me oppresse. Besides, some fictions doe his labours grace, Which in our griefes sad storie have no place. And lastly though at last, his home he found, And landed on the welcome long sought ground. But ne're shall I my native countrey see, Vntill the angry gods appeased be.

Vnto his wife whose faithfull love, And constancie he doth approve.

ELEGIE V.

APollo Lyde never lov'd so well, Nor did Philetas love so much excell 〈1+ pages missing〉〈1+ pages missing〉

Vnto the Reader put in mind of me. Yet they with patience can be read of none, That to the world are uncorrected showne, Snatcht from the forge before they could be fram'd, Deprived of my last life-giving hand. For praise I pardon crave, it shall suffice, If Reader thou do not my Verse despise. Yet in the front these verses placed bee, If with thy liking it at least agree: Who meetes this Orphan Volumne poore in worth, Within your City harborage afford To win more favour, not by him set forth, But ravisht from the funerall of his Lord: This therefore which presents its owne defect, At pleasure with a friendly hand correct.

To his unconstant friend, whose love He findes doth now unconstant prove, And like a Glow-worme seemes to shine, But yeelds no bea••e in hardest time.

ELEGIE VII.

LEt Rivers now flow backe unto their Spring, And let the Sunne from West his course begin: The earth shall now with shining starres be fill'd, The skies unto the furrowing plough shall yeeld. The water shall send forth a smoaking flame, The fire shall yeeld forth water backe againe. All things shall go against old natures force, And no part of the world shall keepe his course. This I presage because I am deceiv'd Of him whose love most faithfull I beleev'd.

What made thy hollow thoughts so soone reject me, What didst thou feare when fortune did afflict me, That thou wouldst never comfort me at all, Or mourne at my living funerall? That name of friendship which should holy be, Is not esteem'd or reckoned of by thee. What had it beene to have seene a maim'd friend, And with the rest some words of comfort lend? And if no teares for me thou couldst have shed, With fained pittie mightst have something sed. Thou mightst have done as some who I ne're knew, And in the common voyce have bid adew: And lastly, while thou mightest, take the paine To see my face ne're to be seene againe. And mightst have then (which ne're shall more befall) Give and receive a farewell last of all. Which others did whom no strick•• league did binde, And made their teares the witnesse of their minde. For were not we in love joyn'd each to other, By length of time and living both together? My businesse and my sports were knowne to thee, And so were thy affaires well knowne to mee. Did not I know thee well at Rome of late, Whom I for mirth-sake did associate? Are these things vanisht into empty winde, Drown'd in the Lethe of a faithlesse minde? I do not thinke that thou wert borne at Rome▪ (Whither alasse I never more shall come.) But on some Rocke here in the Pontick land, Or Scythian Mountaines that so wildly stand: And veines of flint are every where disperst In slender branches through thy Iron brest. And su••e thy Nurse some cruell Tiger was Who gave thee sucke as shee along did passe: 〈1+ pages missing〉〈1+ pages missing〉

In that thy vertues have such publication. Would I had kept in darkenesse out of sight, My studies, which I wish had ne're knowne light: For as thy fame from eloquence doth grow, So from my Verse, my ruine first did flow. Thou knowst my life, and how I did abstaine From those same Arts of love which I did frame: Thou knowst I writ it in my younger dayes, In jesting manner, not to merrit praise. Though I dare nothing urge in my defence, I thinke I may excuse my late offence. Excuse me then, nor 'ere forsake thy friend, But as thou hast begun so also end.

Ovid here his ship doth praise, That carried him through many Seas.

ELEGIE IX.

YEllow Minerva doth my ship maintaine, Which of her painted Helmet beares the name, For with the least winde shee will nimbly sayle, And go with Oares when as the wind doth faile. She will out-saile her company outright, And fetch up any ship that is in sight. She can endure the waves which on her beate, Yet will she never open any leake. I boarded her in the Corinthian bay, From whence she stoutly brought me on my way, By Pallas helpe, by whom she was protected, Through many dangerous seas she was directed: And may she now cut through the Pontick strand, And bring me safely to the Getick Land.

Who when that she had carried me at last, Through the Ionian seas, when we had past Along those coasts, we stood to the left hand, And so we came unto the Imbrian land, Then, with a gentle winde she sailed on, And toucht at Samos as she went along. Vpon the other side there stands a wood, Thus farre my ship did bring me through the flood, Through the Bistonians fields on foote I went, And then from Hellespont her course she bent: For to Dardania she her course intended, And Lampsace which Priapus defended. So to the walles of Cyricon she came, Which the Maeonian people first did frame. Thence to Constantinople was her way, Where as two seas do meete within one bay. Now may my other ship with a strong gale, Passe by the moving Iles, while she doth sayle By the Thymian bay, while her course doth fall, To come hard by Anchiolus high wall. Then to Messembria, Odesson, and the Tower, Which is defended by god Bacchus power: And to Megara which did first receave. Alcathous, who did his Countrey leave. So to Miletus which is the place assign'd, To which by Caesars wrath I am confin'd. Where for an offering of a greater price, A Lambe to Pallas I will sacrifice. And you two brothers that are stellify'd, I pray that you my ship may gently guide: One ship to Cyanean Iles is bound, The other goes to the Bistouian ground: And therefore grant the winde may fitly stand, To bring them safely to a diverse land.