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.

ELEGIE VIII.

He shews his friend that vulgar love, Is fortunes shadow, and doth move With it; then does congratulate His worth deserving better fate.

MAist thou live happy even till thou dye, Who readst this work here with a friendly eye,

And may my prayers unto the Gods nor fail For thee, which for my self did ne're prevail. While thou art fortunate thou shalt have friends, But in adversity their friendship ends. Thou see'st how Doves to new built houses come, While as the ruin'd Tower all birds do shun. The empty Barns no vermine ever haunt, And no friend comes to him that is in want. While the Sun shines, our shadows then will stay, But when o're-cast, it vanishes away. So do the people follow fortunes light, Which clouded once, they vanish out of sight. But may these truths to thee most false still seem, Which by my ill chance have confirmed been. A great resort of friends unto me came, While I kept up my well-known house and name, But when it fell, my ruine they did shun, And all at once to fly from me begun. Nor do I wonder if they thunder fear, That blasteth every thing it cometh near: Yet a friend constant in adversity, Caesar approves even in his enemy. Nor is he wont to be displeas'd to see, Those that have loved once, still friends should be. Even Troas when that he Orestes knew, Did praise that love which Pylades did shew. And that Patroclus was Achilles friend, Though in his foe brave Hector doth commend. When Theseus went down with his friend to Hell, Pluto was griev'd to see them love so well. And Turnus did with tears commiserate, Euryalus and Nisus dismal fate. Friendship is in an enemy approv'd; Yet how few with these words of mine are mov'd? For such my state of fortune now appears, I ought to keep no measure in my tears.

Yet though my own times are unfotunate, They are made more clear even by thy better fate, I saw dear friend, that this to thee would come, When a less wind did drive thy ship along. If spotlesse life deserve to be esteem'd. No man deserveth more to be esteem'd; If liberal Arts can any man advance, Thou mak'st each cause good by thy eloquence, And mov'd herewith I do to thee presage, A glorious Scene upon the worldly stage. Not thunder told me this, nor yet the sight Of sheeps entrails, nor birds voyce or flight. Reason did me this augury afford, When as I saw thy mind with vertue stor'd. And now do gratulate this my divination, In that thy venues have such publication. Would I had kept in darknesse out of sight My studies, which I wish had ne're known light: For as thy fame from eloquence doth grow, So from my verse, my ruine first did flow. Thou know'st my life, and how I did abstain From those same Arts of Love which I did frame. Thou know'st I writ it in my younger daies, In jesting manner, not to merit praise. Though I dare nothing urge in my defence, I think I may excuse my late offence. Excuse me then, nor e're forsake thy friend, But as thou hast begun, so also end.