Love to a Lapwing chang'd the Thracian King And fitted Progne with a Swallows wing And 't was a brothers love that did affright The Sun and made him for to hide his light Never should Scylla on the stage appear But that love made her clip her fathers hair And whoso reads Orestes frantick fears Of murthered Pyrrhas and Aegisthus heares What name I him did the Chimaera tame Whose treacheous hostess sought his life in vain What of Hermione or the Arcadian Maid Phoebe whose course the Latmian lover staid Or what of Danae by Jove a mother grown And Hercules got in two nights joyn'd in one To these adde Yo le Pyrrhus and that Boy Sweet Hylas with Paris fire-brand unto Troy And should I here recite loves tragick flames My book would scarce contain their very names Thus tragedies to wanton laughter bend And many shameful words in them they blend Some blameless have Achilles acts defac'd And by soft measures have his deeds disgrac'd Though Aristides his own faults compil'd Yet Aristides was not straight exil'd Eubius did write an impure history And does describe unwholsom venery Nor he that Sybarin luxuries composed Nor he that his own sinful acts disclosed These in the libraries by some bounteous hand To publick use do there devoted stand By strangers pens I need not seek defence Our own books with such liberty dispence For though grave Ennius of wars tumults writ Whose artless works do shew an able wit The cause of fire Lucretius doth explain And shews how three causes did this world frame Wanton Catullus yet his Muse did task To praise his Mistress whom he then did mask Under the name of Lesbia and so strove In verse to publish his own wanton love And with like licence Calvus too assaies For to set forth his pleasure divers waies Why should I mention Memnons wanton vein Who to each filthy act doth give a name And Cinna striving by his verse to please Cornificus may well be rank'd with these And he that did commend to after fame His love disguised by Metellus name And he that sailed for the fleece of gold His secret thefts of love doth oft unfold Hortensius too and Servius writ as bad who 'd think my fault so great examples had Sisenna Aristides works translates And oft in wanton jests expatiates For praising Lycoris none doth Gallus blame If that his tounge in wine he could contain Tibullus writes that womens oathes are wind Who can with outward shews their husbands blind Teaching them how their keepers to beguile While he himself is consen'd by that wise That he would take occasion for to try Her ring that he might touch her hand thereby By private tokens he would talk sometime And on the table draw a wanton sign Teaching what oyles that blewness shall expel Which by much kissing on their lips doth dwell And unto husbands do strict rules commend If they be honest wives will not offend And when the dog doth barke to know before That 't is their Lover that stands at the door And many notes of Love-thefts he doth leave And teacheth wives their husbands to deceive Yet is Tibullus read and famous grown And unto thee great Caesar he was known And though Propertiue did like precepts give Yet his clear fame doth still unstained live To these did I succeed for I 'le suppress Their names who live and faulty are no less I fear'd not where so many ships had past That my poor bark should shipwrackt be at last For some do shew the Art to play at dice Which was in former times esteem'd a vice And how to make the dice still higher run And so the little loosing Ace to shun Or how to cast and strike a Dye again To run that chance which any one shall name And how at Drafts a crowned King to make And play your man where none the same can take To know to chase and to retire and then In flying how to back your man again And some the game of three-stones likewise show Where he does win that brings them on a row Others in sundry games like pains do take Wherein we lose our time to win a stake And some of Tennis-play do also sing And do instruct us how by art to swim Here one the secrets of face-drugs discloses Another laws of crowned feasts composes And the best day he likewise doth assign And what Cups do become the sparkling wine And in December merry ryhmes ate sung By which the Winter doth sustain no wrong So I to write some merry verses meant Which straight were punisht with sad banishment Of all these former writers there was none Whose Muse did ruine him but I alone If I had jested in some Mimick vein Which wanton Sceanes of love doth still contain In which the Lover does come forth to wooe And wanton wives do cheat their husbands too Yet these Maids Matrons and old men delight And 'fore the Senate acted are by night Whose wanton language doth the ear prophane Making loose offers at those acts of shame When husbands are beguil'd by pretty waies They applaud the Poet and do give him bayes He gains by being punish'd for his crimes And makes the Praetor pay more for his lines And when great Caesar thou dost set forth playes The Poet 's pay'd that did the plot first raise Which thou beholdest and hast set out to view Whereby thou dost thy gracious mildness shew And with those eyes which make the world to fear Thou saw'st the Scenes of love that acted were If Mimicks may write in a wanton strain Why should my verse such punishment obtain Are they by licence of the stage protected Which makes the Mimicks bawdy jests affected My poems too have made the people rise To help attention with their greedy eyes Though in your house the lively pictures stand Of Noblemen drawn by the painters hand Yet have you wanton tables hanging by Which shew the divers shapes of venery Though you have Ajax picture full of ire And fierce Medea with her eyes like fire Yet Venus seems to dry her moystned hairs As if from sea she newly did repair Let others of wars bloudy tumults write And of thy acts which learned pens invite Nature hath scanted me and doth restrain To meaner subjects this my humble vein Yet Virgil who is read with much delight Doth of the acts of brave Aeneas write And no part is with greater favour read Then where he brings him to Queen Dido's bed Yet in his youth he did commend fair Phillis And sports himself in praising Amarillis And though I formerly in that same vein Offended yet I now do bear the blame I had writ verses when before thee I Amongst the other horse-men passed by And now my age doth even bear the blame Of those things which my younger years did frame My faulty books are now reveng'd at last And I am punish'd for a fault that 's past Yet all my works are not so light and vain
OVIDS 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. Veniam pro laude peto LONDON Printed by Andrew Clark T. Cecill sculp The Explantion of the Frontispiece AUgustus Caesar in the front doth stand Who banish'd Ovid to the Pontick land One side shews Rome the other doth present The Ship which carried him to banishment A happy Pyramid ' its self doth raise Built on those Books from whence he got his praise The sable Pyramid doth likewise show That his ruine from the Art of Love did grow Bâ—neath poor Ovid rests his weary head Upon his Coffin when all hope was fled And thereupon his wreath of Bayes doth lye To shew he did in Pontus banish'd dye But yet his Muse new life to him doth give And by his lines sweet Ovid still doth live Vade Liber mundo Dominus fuit exuâ—… inde Disce pati á Domino fer mala vade Liber 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 PONTVS Where he died after Seven Years Banishment from ROME Translated into English by W. S. Veniam pro laude peto The fourth Edition Corrected LONDON Printed by Andrew Clark and are to be sold by Thomas Williams at the Golden Ball in Hosier-Lane 1672. TO THE Honourable and worthy of Honour by Desert Sr. Kenelme Digby K t. SIR YOur generous mind framed by nature to vertue and vertuous actions is so well known to Souldiers and Scholars that as Mars gives you Bayes so the Muses do give you Books Quis ergo generosus Ad virtutem bene à natura coÌ„positus Sen. l. 5. p. 44. The consideration whereof hath emboldned me though a stranger to offer to your protection this translation of Ovids Elegys who I think was even rocked in his cradle by the Muses and fed with sugar and Heliconian water which made him have so sweet a vein of Poetry So that the name of Ovid is a sufficient commendation for any work of his if my English can but like the Eccho send back the soft Musick of his lines And indeed if he write best of love that hath been in love and that there is a certain 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 or efficacy in his words that feels the affection I doubt not but my own sorrow hath learn'd me how to translate Ovids sorrow For I confess I was never in Fortunes books and therefore am not much indebted to her neither do I care for her frowns but I am grieved for one who is my brother in mis-fortune who is exul in Patria being enforced to let that skill and experience which he hath gotten abroad in Marine affairs and which hath been approved of both by the English and Dutch Nations in several long voyages lie dead in him for want of employment which is the life of practical knowledge And though he must be compelled by his present fates to accept of the imployment of foraign Nations yet if a way might be opened unto him he is more willing as he is bound by duty to serve his native King and Country which desire of his I know your generous disposition cannot but cherish and approve of my love towards him This book Ovid sent to the City of Rome a appears by die first verse Parve nec invideo c. and I am now to send it forth into a City abounding with Criticks and therefore it desires your worthy patronage and defence for which if Ovid lived he would make his fluent Muse express his thankfulness But I for any favour which you shall shew unto this translation must acknowledge my self bound unto your vertue which I wish may shine forth in prosperous actions until your fame be equal to Caesars who banished Ovid. The servant of your Vertues W. SALTONSTAL To the Reader IT is now grown a common custome to seek thy good will by an Epistle and therein to move thy affection to be favourable to the present work wherein I need not bestow any great pains for this is a translation of Ovids last book which he writ in banishment and therefore if you would set before your eyes the present estate wherein he then lived it would exceedingly move your pitty towards him Imagine that you saw Ovid in the Land of Pontus where he whose company was so much desired was now banish'd from all company he that was once the Darling of the Muses now made the subject of misery he that drank choise wines now drinks spring water he that wore a wreath of Bayes now wears a wreath of Cypress and to conclude he that was once so famous was now as much unfortunate and all this was most unworthily inflicted on him for some offence committed against Caesar and also for writing that unhappy Book which he called the Art of Love for these two he accuses as the causers of his banishment during which time he writ this last Book entituling it his Tristium because it contained his sorrow And lastly consider that after he had written this book having divers times sought to be repealed from banishment and despairing of any mercy from Caesar he at last dyed in the seventh year of his Banishment from Rome the Muses together with Venus and a hundred little Cupids being mourners at his Funeral If therefore you ever loved the sweetness of Ovids veine or if the consideration of his sufferance in banishment his want his griefs his afflictions and lasty his death in a barbarous Land can move your pitty and compassion I doubt not but you will shew much love and affection to these Elegies even for Ovids sake whose compositions were so sweet and fluent that his verses did run like a smooth stream fed by the spring of the Muses so that he could hardly speak but in the manner of a verse for so he testifies of himself Quicquid conabor dicere versus erit Now for my self I have put these Elegies of Ovids into an English mourning habit with a frontispiece to give thee a clear view of Ovids misery and to make thy heart more apt to receive a deeper impression of his sorrow that seeing how unworthily he was dealt withal thou mayest both pitty Ovid and love this work of his which is all I desire Thine W. S. Angelus Politianus his Epigram 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
Samos as she went along Upon the other side there stands a Wood Thus farre my ship did bring me through the flood Through the Bistonians fields on foot 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 walls of Cyzicon she came Which the Maeonian people first did frame Thence to Constantinople was her way Whereas two Seas do meet within one bay Now may my other ship with a strong gale Pass by the moving Isles while she doth sail By the Thinnian bay while her course doth fall To come hard by Anchialus high wall Then to Messembria Odesson and the Tower Which is defended by God Bacchus power And to Megara which did first receive Alcathous who did his Country 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 stellifi'd I pray that you my ship may gently guide One ship to the Cyanean Isles is bound The other goes to the Bistonian ground And therefore grant the winde may fitly stand To bring them safely to a diverse land ELEGIE X. Unto the Reader here he showes That he this first Book did compose In his journey and so doth crave His pardon if some faults it have EAch letter that thou readest in this Book I did indite while I my journey took And while I writ the Sea did me enfold While I did tremble with December's cold Or when having past the Isthmus through the main We were enforced to take ship again I think it did amaze the Cyclades To see me writing verses on the Seas I wonder too that I with stormes of mind And waves opprest could such invention find For if that Poetry be nam'd a madness Yet it did ease my minde in mid'st of sadness Now by the stormy winds our ship was beaten Then Sterope did make the seas to threaten Arctophylax did cloud the day again And Southern windes did bring down showers of rain The Sea leak'd in a pace yet then I drew With trembling hand these verses here in view And now the winds did whistle in the shrowds The waves did seem to rise up to the clouds The Pilot lifting up his hands and heart Besought the Gods for help and left his Art Where e're I look deaths shape behold I may Which maketh me at once to fear and pray The Heavens sight would but encrease my fears The Land more fearful then the Sea appears The fear of cruel men my thoughts doth trouble The sword and seas do make my fears seem double For that would fain deprive me of my breath And this would have the glory of my death On the left hand a barbarous Nation stood Who do delight in slaughter warre and blood And while the waves do give the sea no rest The sea is not more troubled than my breast So that the Reader ought to pardon these Few lines of mine if that they do not please I writ them not within my garden Arbour Or while my bed my weary limbs did harbour But on our ship the angry waves did beat And the blew water did my paper wet Winter grew angry for to see me write While he in threatning stormes did shew his might I yield to him and may his stormy weather Here with my verse be ended both together LIB 2. Unto Caesar he excuses Himself and condemns his Muses And many Poets doth recite Who in their times did loosely write Yet in that age were never sent Though like in fault to banishment WHat have I to do with you my unhappy book On whom as on my ruine I must look Why do I returne unto my Muse again Is' t not enough one punishment to obtain It was my verse that first did overthrow me And made both men and women wish to know me It was my verse did make great Caesar deem My life to be such as my verse did seem Amongst my chiefest faults I must rehearse My love of study and my looser verse In which while I my fruitless labour spent I gained nothing but sad banishment Those learned Sisters I should therefore hate Who their adorers still do ruinate Yet such my madnesse is that folly armes me To strike my foot against that stone that harmes me Even as some beaten Fencer after tries To reâ—gain honour by a second Prize Or as some torne ship that newly came To shore yet after stands to sea again Perhaps as Telephus was healed by a sword So that which hurt me shall like help afford And that my verse his mov'd wrath may appease Since verses have great power the Gods to please Caesar hath bidden each Italian Dame To sing some verses to great Opis name And unto Phoebus when he set forth plaies To him once seen within an age of daies So may my verse great Caesars now obtain By examples to appease thy wrath again Just is thy wrath which I will ne're deny Such shameful words from my mouth do not flie And this offence makes me for pardon crie Since faults are objects of thy clemencie Jove would be soon disarm'd if he should send His thunder-bolts as oft as men offend Now though his thunders make the world to fear It breaks the clouds and makes the aire more clear Whom therefore father of the Gods we name Than Jove none greater doth the world contain Thou Pater Patriae too art call'd then be Like to those Gods in name and clemencie And so thou art for no more moderate hand Could hold the reines of Empire and command Thy enemie once overcome in field Thou pardon'st which he victor would not yield And some thou did'st with honours dignifie That have attempted ' gainst thy majestie Thy warres on one day did begin and cease While both sides brought their offerings unto peace That as the Victor in the vanquisht Foe The vanquisht in the victor gloried so My case is better since I ne're did joyne With those who did in arms ' gainst thee combine By Sea by Earth and Stygian Gods I swear And by thy self whose God-like power I fear My thoughts though wanting means to be exprest As faithful were as those who most profest For I did joyne my frequent prayers with them That thou might'st here long wear thy Diadem And for thy safety made a poor expence To please the Gods with offered Frankincense Besides those faulty books of mine contain In many places thy most sacred name And if thou would'st that worke of mine peruse Of changed shapes snatcht from my banisht Muse In it thy name still mention'd thou shalt finde And many things which shew my humble minde For though my hapless Muse cannot aspire To raise thy fame and glory any higher Jove's pleas'd when we his glorious acts rehearse And make him be the subject of our verse And when we do the Giants
with you within my brest Nor shall your fears by my Verse be increast Nor shall my Verse disclose a secret friend Love secretly and love me to the end And know though we by absence are dis joyn'd Yet you are alwaies present in my mind Then strive to case those griefs which I sustain And lend your hand to help me up again So may your fortune prosperous remain And never have just cause to ask the same ELEGIE V. By a feigned name he doth commend One Carus that had been his Friend And then doth mitigate his fault Since error him to ruine brought MYuse of friendship with thee was but small And if thou wilt thou may'st say none at all But that thy love most faithful I did find When as my ship sail'd with a gentle wind When once I fell then all did shun my wrack And all my friends on me did turn their back Yet thou when I was strucken with Joves flame Didst visit me and to my house then came And in thy fresh acquaintance thou didst show More love than all my ancient friends would do I saw thy amazed count'nance at that time Thy face bedew'd with tears more pale than mine And seeing tears fall at each word my ears Did drink thy words my mouth did drink thy tears Thou didst imbrace my neck and then betwixt Some loving kisses with thy sighs were mixt Now absent thou defendest me again Thou know'st that Carus is a feigned name And many tokens of thy love appear Which I in memory will ever bare The gods still make thee able to defend Thy friends unto a far more happy end To know how I do live if thou require As it is likely that thou dost desire I have some hope which do not take from me That those offended powers will pleased be Which being vain or if it may befal Do thou allow my hope though it be small Bestow thy eloquence upon that theam To shew it may fall out as I do mean The greatest men are placable in wrath A generous mind a gentle anger hath When Beasts unto a Lion prostrate lye He ends the combate with his enemy But Wolves and Bears their yielding foes do kill And the inferiour beasts are cruel still Who like Achilles yet even he appears To be much mov'd with Dardanus sad tears Emathion's clemency is best declar'd Even by those funeral rites which he prepar'd And that I may not mans calm'd anger show Even Juno's Son in law was once her foe Lastly I needs must hope since at this time I am not punisht for a hainous crime I did not plot against great Caesar's life To ruine him by sowing civil strife I never yet did rail against the time Or spake against him in my cups of wine But am punisht for beholding of a fault Which I through ignorance beheld unsought Yet all my fault I cannot well defend Though in part thereof I did not ill intend So that I hope that he will pleased be To grant in easier banishment to me I wish the morning star that brings the day Would bring this news and quickly post away ELEGIE VI. His friends fidelity he doth praise And to excuse himself assaies Desiring if he have any grace At Rome to use it in his case OUr league of friendship thou wilt not conceal Or if thou wouldst it would it self reveal For while we might none was more dear to me And I do know I was belov'd of thee And this our love was to the people known So that our Love more than our selves was known The candor of thy mind is easily seen Of him who for thy friend thou dost esteem Thou nothing from my knowledge didst conceal And I my secrets did to thee reveal For all my heart and secrets thou didst know Excepting that which wrought my overthrow Which hadst thou known thou wouldst have councell'd me So well that I should never banisht be But 't was my fate drew on my punishment And crossed me in any good intent Yet whether that I might this evil shun Our reason cannot fortune overcome Yet thou to me my old acquaintance art And of my love thou holdst the greatest part Be mindful then and if thou gracious be At Court then try what thou canst do for me That Caesar being unto mildness bent May change the place of my sad banishment Even as I did no wickedness devise Since that my fault from errour did arise It would be tedious not safe to unfold By what chance these eyes did that act behold Such shameful deeds as do the ear affright Should be concealed in eternal night I must confess therefore my former fault Yet no reward by my offence I sought And for my fault I may my folly blame If to my fault thou wilt give a true name If this be false then further banish me These places like unto Romes Suburbs be ELEGIE VII The Letter here he doth command To flye unto Perhilla's hand And sheweth that the Muses give Immortal same which still shall live GO thou my Letter being writ so fast And to salute Perhilla make thou haste To sit hard by her mother she still uses Or else to be amongst her Books and Muses What ere she does when she knows thou art come She 'l ask thee how I do that am undone Tell her I live but wish I did not so Since length of time can never case my woe Yet to my Muse I now returned am Making my words to Verse to flow again And ask her why she doth her wind apply To common studies not sweet Poesy Since Nature first did make thee chaste and fair Giving thee wit with other things most rare I first to thee the Muses spring did show Lest that sweet water should at waste still flow For in thy Virgin years thy wit I spy'd And was as 't were thy father and thy guide Then if those fires still in thy breast do dwell There 's none but Lesbia that can thee excell But I do fear that since I am orethrown That now thy breast is dull and heavy grown For while we might we both did read our lines I was thy Judge and Master oftentimes And to thy Verses I an car would lend And make thee blush when thou didst make an end Yet now perhaps it may be thou dost shun All books because my ruine thence did come Fear not Perhilla but all fear remove So that thy writings do not teach to love Then learned Maid no cause of sloath still frame But to thy sacred art return again That comely face will soon be spoild with years While aged wrinekles in thy brow appears Old age will lay hold on thy outward grace Which cometh on still with a silent pace To have been fair it will a grief then be And thou wilt think thy glass doth flatter thee Thy wealth is smal though thou deservest more But yet suppose thou hadst of wealth great score Yet fortune when she lists doth give and take