Ovid's heroical epistles Englished by W.S.

[illustration]

The Argument of the eleventh Epistle.

MAcareus and Canace, the son and daughter of Aeolus, King of the winds, did love one another, & thinking to colour over their incestuous fault with natural affection. Canace brought forth a son, and sending it out of the Court to be nu••st abroad, the unhappy infant ••ryed, and so discovered it self to his Grandfather, who incensed with his childrens wickedness, commanded the innocent infant to

be cast forth unto Dogges•• and by one of his guard sent a sword to Canace, as a silent remembrance of her desert, wherewith she killed her self, Yet before her death, she declares by this Epistle to Ma∣careus, who was fled into the Temple of Apollo, her own misfortune: entreating him to gather up the childes bones, and lay them with hers in the same Urne or funeral Pitcher.

CANACE to MACAREUS.

IF blotted Letters may be understood, Receive this Letter blotted with my blood. My right hand holds a pen, my left a sword, My p••per lyes before me on the boord. Thus Canace doth to her brother write, This posture yields my father much delight: Who I do wish would a spectator be, As he is Author of my Tragedy. Who fiercer then winds blowing from the East, With dry cheeks would behold my wounded breast. For since to rule the winds he hath commission, He's of his subjects cruel disposition. Over the Northern, and South winds he reignes; The wings of th' East and West winds he restrains. And yet although the winds he doth command, His sudden anger he cannot withstand. The Kingdom of the winds he can restrain, "But over his own vices cannot raign. For what although my Ancestors have been Unto the gods and Iupiter akin? Now in my fearful hand I hold a sword, That fatal gift, which must my death afford. O Macar••us, would that I had dy'd, Before we were in close embraces ty'd. More then a sister ought▪ I did affect thee, More then a brother ought thou didst respect me.

For I did feel, how Cupid with his dart (Of whom I oft had heard) did wound my heart. My colour straightway did wax green and pale, My stomack to my meat began to fail. I could not sleep, the night did seem a year, I often sigh'd, when no body did hear. Yet why I sighed, I no cause could shew; I lov'd, and yet what love was did not know. My old Nurse found out how my pulse did move, And she first told me that I was in love: But when I blushed with a down-cast look, Which silent signes she for confession took. But now the burthen of my swelling womb Grew heavy, being to full ripeness come. What herbs and medicines did not she, and I Use, to enforce abortive delivery, Conceal'd from thee? Yet Art could not prevail, The quickned child grew strong, our Art did fail. And now nine Moons were fully gone and past, The tenth in her bright Chariot made great hast. I know not whence my sudden gripes did grow: Nor what pains belong'd to childbirth did know: I cry'd out, but my Nurse my words did stay, And stopt my mouth, as I there crying lay. What shall I do? gripes force me to complain; But my Nurse, and fear of crying-out restrain. So that I did suppress my groans, and cryes, And drunk the tears that flow'd down from my eyes. While thus Lucina did deny her aid, Fearing my fault in death should be betray'd. Thou by my side most lovingly didst lye, Tearing thy hair to see my misery; And with kind words thy sister thou didst cherish, Praying that two might not at one time perish.

And thou didst put me still in hope of life, Saying dear sister thou shalt be my wife. These words reviv'd me, when I was half dead, So that I presently was brought to bed. Thou didst rejoyce, but fear did me afright, To hide it from my father Aeolus sight. The careful Nurse the new born childe did hide In Olive boughs, with swadling vine leaves ty'd: And so a solemn sacrifice did fain; The people and my father believ'd the same. Being near the gate, the child that straight did cry, To his grandfather was betray'd thereby; Aeolus tearing forth the child, discries Their cunning and pretended sacrifice. As the sea trembles when light winds do blow, Or as an Aspen leaf shakes to and fro, Even so my pale and trembling limbs did make The bed whereon I lay begin to shake. He comes to me, my fault he doth proclaim, And he could scarce from striking me contain. I could do nothing else but blush, and weep, My tongue ty'd up with fear did silent keep. He commanded my s••n should be straightway Cast forth, and made to beasts and birds a prey. And then it cry'd, so that you would have thought, His crying had his Grandfather besought To pity him: what grief it was to me, Dear brother, you may guess, when I did see, When •• saw my ch••lde ca••ried to the Wood, To feed the mountain Wolves, that live by blood. When thus my child unto the woods was sent, My father out of my bed-chamber went. Then I did beat my tender breast at last, And tore my cheeks, his sentence being past.

When straightway one of my Fathers Guard came in, And with a sad look did this message bring; Aeolus sends this sword, and doth desire Thee use it, as thy merit doth require. His will (quoth I) be done, I'le use his sword, My Fathers gift shall my sad death afford. O Father, shall this sword the portion be, And dowry which you mean to give to me? O Hymen put out thy deceived light, And nimbly now betake thy self to fight: Ye Furies bring your smoaky Torches all, To light the wood at my sad funeral. O sisters, may you far more happ'ly marry Than I, that by my own fault did miscarry. Yet what could be my new-born babes offence, Which might his Grandfather so much incense? Of death, alas, he could not worthy be: For my offence, he's punished for me. O Son! thou breed'st thy mother much annoy, No sooner bred, but beasts do thee destroy. O Son the pledge of my unhappy love, One day thy day of birth and death doth prove. I had not time t'imbalme thee with my tears, Nor in thy funeral fire to throw thy hairs; To give thee one cold kiss I had no power, For the wild greedy beasts did thee devoure. But I sweet child, will straightway die with thee, I will not long a childless Parent be. And thou, O brother, since it is in vain For me to hope to see thee once again; Gather the small remainder, which the wild And salvage beast have left of thy young child. And with his mothers bones, let them have room, Within one ••••ne, or in one narrow Tomb.

Weep at my funeral; who can reprove thee, For shewing love to her that once did love thee? And here at last I do entreat thee still, To perform thy unhappy sisters will; For I will kill my self without delay, And so my fathers hard command obey.