Ovid's Tristia, containing five books of mournful elegies which he sweetly composed in the midst of his adversity, while he liv'd in Tomos, a city of Pontus, where he died after seven years banishment from Rome / translated into English by W.S.

Angelus Politianus his Epi∣gram on the banishment and death of Ovid.

THe Roman Poet lies in the Euxine shore, And barbarous earth the Poet covers o're Him that did write of love, that land doth hide, Through which the Isters colder streams do glide. And were it not a shame to be (O Rome) More cruel then the Geles to such a son? Oh Muses while he sick in Scyshia lay, Who was there that his sickness could allay? Or keep his cold limbs in the bed by force, Or pass away the day with some discourse? Or that could feel his pulse when it did bear, Or apply to him warm things to cherish heat? Or close his eyes, even swimming round with death; And at his mouth receive his latest breath? There were none, for his ancient friend then were In thee O Rome, from Pontus distant far. His wife and Nephews were far off together, His Daughter went not with her banish'd Father. The Bessi and Coralli were in these parts, And the skin-wearing Getes with stony hearts. The Sarmate riding on his horse was there, To comfort him with looks that dreadful were. Yet when he was dead, the Bessi-wept, the Gete, And stout Sarmatians did their faces bear. Woods, mountains, beast, a mourning day did keep, And Isters pearly streams they say did weep.

Some say that frozen Pontus did begin To melt, with tears that Sea-Nimphs shed for him. Light Cupids with their mother Venus ran, And with torches set the funeral pile on flame: And while his body did consume and burn, They put his ashes in a closed Urn: And on his Tombe-stone these words graven were He that did teach the Art of Love lies here. Then Venus with her white hand did bedew His grave, whilst she sweet Nectar on him threw. The Muses brought their Poet many a verse, Which I am far unworthy to rehearse.