Ovid's heroical epistles Englished by W.S.

TO THE VERTUOUS LADIES, AND GENTLEWOMEN OF GREAT BRITAIN.

OF all the Poets, that in verse did raign As Monarchs, none could equal Ovid's strain, Especially in the affairs of Love, Ovid the Master of that Art did prove: His fancies were so pleasing and so sweet, That Love did wish no other winding sheet, If he had mortal been, for he would die To live again in his sweet Poesie. When he intended to inflame the mind, Or shew how Lovers proved too unkind, As in these Epistles, where Ladies bemoan Themselves, when their unkind lovers were gone; He doth so mournfully express their passion, In such a loving, and a lively fashion,

That reading them grief will not let you speak, Untill imprison'd tears from your eyes break; Such passions in his Letters do appear, That every word will make you drop a tear. But you fair Gentlewomen of this Isle, He would have you to glance one gentle smile On his Epistles, stil'd Heroical, Because by Lords and Ladies written all. You know that Love is the Hearts pleasant tamer, Whose motto is this, Omnia vincit Amor; For he can with his lighted Torch enflame Assoon the Lord and Lady, as the Swain. If then you hope to be happy in Love, If other sorrows may your pity move, If you the complaints of fair Ladies tender, Which English doth for your contentment render Unto your view, let these Epistles here, Enjoy your beauteous favour, shining clear On Ovid, belov'd by th' Emperours daughter, For which by Caesar he was banisht after; Yet this his comfort was in Banishment, His Love, and Lines, did yield your sex content. Let English Gentlewomen as kind appear To Ovid, as the Roman Ladies were.

So wisheth, Wye Saltonstall.