first six books he dedicated them to Germanicus purposing to proceed with the rest but death cutting off his dayes he left them neither corrected nor published and so through the carelesnesse of the times or ignorance of the Scythians among whom they were left they are perished Yet it was once reported they were all found which I would I could find not a report but a truth Some deny that this work was dedicated to young Germanicus but would have it to Tiberius Caesar which they prove chiefly from that verse in the Preface Tu quoque cum Druso praemia fratre feres This Drusus say they was brother to Tiberius and was he that dyed in his Germane warres But this title Germanicus was never known to be given to Tiberius neither doth Tranquillus mention it in the rehearsall of all his titles If any say that it hath been read in old moneys and monuments I answer that those inscriptions belonged not to Tiberius Caesar but to this Tiberius Germanicus our Poets patrone the sonne of Drusus who inherited his fathers title which he had gained in his Germane designes Beside it is plain that this Germanicus whom our Poet meaneth was grandchild to Augustus by adoption and not his sonne as lib. 1. Et tuus Augusto nomine dictus avus Then first Augustus was thy Grandsire's name So that this Germanicus was the sonne of Drusus Tiberius his brother and that Drusus whom he calleth Frater Germanici was Tiberius his sonne and Germanicus his first cousin our Poet taking liberty which is very frequent with Authours both prophane and divine to use one title of consanguinity for another To Augustus Grandchild therefore not to his Sonne was this Poeme dedicated Which Ovid might very well do because this Germanicus was exceedingly well beloved of all his souldiers and all the citizens of Rome for his many rare performances in the warres and beside was a man of singular learning and an excellent Poet. From this favour that this Prince mainteined among all men our Poet had hopes that he might one day come to the crown and then might favour him so far as to call him home or at least in the mean time might purchase his release Divers Poets before Ovid assayed this work Fasti as Ennius Livius Andronicus and others But Ovid a long time after diligently turning over all the ancient Calendars and Monuments of the Pontifies and other old Annals which perteined to religious rites and ceremonies and reducing the Romane yeare into a more exact order with an exquisite observation of the Cosmical Heliacal and Acronicall rising setting of all the fixed Constellations composed this memorable Poeme with much labour and study Thus have I from the testimony of surest Authours related the principall parts and passages of this worthy Poets life as also partly from his own hand-writing If any desireth to be further informed of him let him reade this following relation of his life penned by no other hand then his own which as perfectly as my faculty permitted I have presented in our native tongue Ovid to Posteritie Trist IV. Eleg. X. THat after-times may know of me each thing I was the man who tender Love did sing My countrey Sulmo fed with fresh springs all Miles ninety distant from the Romane wall Here was I born The very yeare to tell 'T was when by one sad fate two Consuls fell May that avail I was a Knight by bloud Not onely raised by my Fortunes good I was no first-born child for one sonne more My father had born just a yeare before Both he and I were born upon one day And at one time our natall gifts did pay It was the first day of the bloudy lists Presented at the great Quinquatrian feasts Our Parents then to have us train'd up well Put us to such as did in Arts excell My brother from his youth did bend his mind To Rhetorick and to the Law inclin'd But I a child the Thespian sweets did savour And more and more did winne the Muses favour Leave leave these fruitlesse Studies Sonne oft cry'd My father Homer but a poore man dy'd Mov'd at his words I left the dear delight Of Helicon and 'gan in prose to write Lo verses of their own accord came fit It was a verse whate'r I spake or writ Years growing on my brother dear and I Together took a Gown of Liberty Rich purple Robes with badges broad we wore Those studies follow'd which we us'd before My Brother now had pass'd his twenti'th yeare He dies in whom I lost my souls best share In youth to some preferment rais'd was I And took the office of Triumviri Both mind and bodie were unapt for labour And vex'd ambition I could never savour And still the Muses did intice me still To their calm sweets which e'r had my good will I dearly lov'd the Poets of the time Each Poet was a God in my esteem Oft did I heare sage Macer reade his Birds And Serpents and the help each Herb affords And oft Propertius my companion dear With amorous raptures did present my ear Heroick Ponticus Iambick Battus With pleasing strains did often recreate us And tunefull Horace oft my ear delighted With curious ditties on his harp recited Virgil I onely saw and hastie Fate Tibullus friendship did anticipate He followed Gallus and Propertius him I was the third man in the rank of time As I my Elders so my Juniours me Ador'd my Muse grew famous suddenly Thrice and no more had I shav'n off my beard When first my youthfull strains the people heard My Mistresse in Corinna mask'd did move My wits each village now could chaunt our love Much did I write but what I faulty knew Into the fault-correcting fires I threw And at my exile cast I into flame Vex'd with my Muses many a work of fame My tender heart oft pierced through with Love Each light occasion instantly did move But when I was from Cupids passions free My Muse was mute and wrote no Elegie A worthlesse lovelesse Wife to me but young Was match'd with whom I led my life not long My second wife though free from any crime Yet she continued but a little time My last with whom most of my dayes I spent Endur'd the blemish of my banishment One Daughter have I which once and again Made me a Grandsire but by husbands twain And now my Father full of silver-hairs His dayes concluded just at ninetie years As he 'd have mourn'd for me so did I mourn For him Next Sorrow was my Mothers urn Both happie sure and in good houres did die Whose death did come before my miscrie And happie I in that they both being dead No tears at all for my affliction shed Yet if ye Dead have ought beside a name If your light Ghosts escape the fatall flame Parentall Souls if you have heard of me In Styx if there my crimes related be Be you assur'd with whom I cannot lie My crime was Errour not
soon be eas'd 11. Thus did I crave My Wife more largely pray'd Each accent broke with sighs most deep Then falling prostrate with her hairs displaid Before the Houshold-Gods doth creep To kisse the hearth with quaking lip 12. There poures she forth before the sullen Powers A many pray'rs not prevalent For dolefull Husband But the hasty Howers Deny'd delay the night was spent And Arotos down the West was bent 13. What should I do The love of Countrey ty'd me But ah that night was set to be My utmost bound How oft when any ply'd me Cry'd I Alas why hast you see But whence or whither post you me 14. How oft did I a certain hower feigne Convenient for my way assign'd Thrice stept I o're the threshold thrice again Went back my very foot inclin'd To sloth in flattery of my mind 15. Oft Farewell given I fell to talk agen And oft I kiss'd as if just there I would depart my will repeat I then In self-mistakes my eyes each-where Fix'd on my souls engagements dear 16. Why should I hasten Scythia is said I The Countrey whither I am sent Rome must I leave and leave perpetually In both respects just argument Of our delayes though time be spent 17. My wife and I are both for ever parted Yet both alive my familie With each sweet part and all my friends true-hearted O dear-beloved Souls to me Knit in Thesean amitie 18. Let 's change embraces while we may and make The best advantage of the hower Perhaps it is for ever Thus I spake In halved words and in the power Of soul we clasp'd each friend of our 19. Thus while I talk and we lament lo now Bright Lucifer in th' East appear Sad starre to us Oh! I am rent as though My joynts all wrung in sunder were Torn part from part by rack severe 20. Such wo was Priam's when that treachery That fatall Horse did now confesse But then arose a lamentable cry And sobbing grones did souls oppresse And heavy hands smote heavier brests 21. Then my poore wife embracing me close to Pour'd forth these tear-mix'd words to me Oh! I cannot part from thee I will go I 'll go I say I 'll go with thee An exuls exil'd wife I 'll be 22. The way 's as free for me so is the land Small burden to the ship are we Thee Caesars anger doth O grief command To banishment affection me Affection shall my Caesar be 23. Thus did she strive as she had done before And scarce her hold of me forbears By best perswasions Forth I go adoore A walking herse with my soil'd hairs Confus'd and torn about my ears 24. O'rewhelm'd in grief she fell into a swound And head against the hard floore knocks Come to her self at length and from the ground Rais'd up with much ado her locks With dust bemoiled off she plucks 25. Now wails her case then blames with many mones The vexing Gods and oft doth cry My Husband Oh my Husband with such grones And sobs as if her child or I Had been just now in pile to frie. 26. Death she desir'd by death her soul to ease Yet for my sake she life did will O mayst thou live and since the Fates so please Still live sweet wife my ease and still My absent soul with comfort fill 27. The Boreal Bear-man into sea doth steep His joul and moils the waters there Yet doth our keel plow up th' Ionian Deep Not of our own minds but we are Compell'd to boldnesse out of fear 28. Oh me what winds arise how Sea and Heaven Both scoul the bottom-sands do boil Upon the top huge mountain billows driven Against both sides our vessel toil Our Gods continuall dashes soil 29. The hatches moil the beaten sail-ropes rore The very ship doth seem to grone At our harsh fate The doubtfull Mariner With terrour in his visage shown Gives up and lets his art alone 30. And as some weak-arm'd groom the conquer'd rain Resignes unto his stiff-neck'd horse Even so the Pilote through the toilsome main Works on his ship not his own course But every way the surges force 31. And had not Aeolus chang'd his blustring wind Upon the interdicted Land I had been forc'd for leaving farre behind Th' Illyrian coast on our left hand We saw close by th' Italian strand 32. O do not strive to pitch our vessel there Do ye obey that God with me While thus I cry'd betwixt desire and fear Of being driv'n back O what a Sea Doth smite the sides most furiously 33. Gods of the Sea spare ye this life of ours O do not ye him further grieve Whom Jove doth scourge nor to the Stygian Powers This weary soul of mine yet give If one already dead may live For his respect and honour he held all his life-time with those that were his coetaneans his own works well shew And for the fame and estimation he hath mainteined by his Poemes through all ages in many parts of the world let the reader but turn to M r Sandys his Collection of the Testimonies of divers learned and judicious Authours in the frontispice of his exquisite Translation of our Poets Metamorph. I will content my self with one onely added to his which is Angelus Politianus his Elegie upon his death wherein he manifesteth not onely his own honour and estimation of him but also the love respect and favour he wonne among the Barbarians with whom he lived as you may reade AH weladay Doth Naso lye in Getick ground Our Romane Muses Joy Entomb'd in barbarous bound That barbarous land That lyes by Isters frozen spring Presse that sweet Poets hand Whose pen soft Love did sing Art not asham'd O Rome to be farre more severe Then Barbarisme untam'd To thy own Sonne so dear Ho Muses say Was any friend in Scythian shore His sorrows to allay Or ease his pains so sore Was any nigh His languish'd joynts on bed to lay Or with some melody To passe the painfull day Was any there To feel his fainting pulses beat Or to administer Some wholesome drams or meat Or at his death What friend did close his dying eye Or suck up his last breath A work of piety None none there was Thou thou remorselesse cruel Rome Kept'st all his friends alas That none at him could come None none I say His Wife his little Sonnes and Daughter Were parted farre away And could not follow after No friends he had But Bessi and Coralli tawny And Gets in wild-skins clad With arms and shoulders brawny The Sarmats brow'd With horrour and with looks austere That drink their horses bloud His onely comfort were The Sarmats grim Whose wiry-harsh and dangling hairs Congeal'd with cold extreme Do crash about their ears And yet his fate The stern Coralli did deplore The Gets and Sarmats sate And beat their bosomes sore Wood-Nymphs and woods And mountains did bewail his fall And Isters swelling flouds Did bear a part withall Fame doth reherse That
vaunt thy love unto our Art And didst reward our Priests with wealth and fame Oft didst thou take thy pen to play thy part Among our Quire and with our sacred flame Inspir'd didst triumph in a Poets name 24. How then came all that heat and love so quail'd O'rewhelm'd and quench'd by one dire blast of ire Our Pow'r contemn'd which ever yet prevail'd With stoutest spirits O why did we inspire Thee with one spark that thus dost slight our Quire 25. Our force and virtue that have rais'd the dead Drawn down the Moon erected brazen Towers Tam'd Bears and Tigers mov'd the Rocks and staid The running Streams and charm'd the greatest Powers In Pluto 's cell mov'd not that heart of yours 26. Jove Juno Venus Janus Mars and all Ye Powers of heaven his pen your praises spake Why did ye let so true a servant fall Why did ye not for your own honours sake With draughts of Nectar him immortall make 27. And thou great Father of our sacred Quire Let me in Griefs prerogative be bold To plead with thee Thou didst at full inspire Thy darling Naso and hast him enroll'd Among thy most renowned Priests of old 28. Oft hast thou crowned with immortall Bayes His sacred brows he was thy favourite Nor that grand Chanter of Achilles praise Nor that high pen which sung Aeneas flight Nor that sweet Lyrick thee did more delight 29. Why didst not then with thine Ambrosia feed him Food which thou giv'st to thine unwearied steeds To large eternity why didst not breed him Then his pure fansie sown with heavenly seeds Had chanted more divine and humane deeds 30. Thou might'st at least have done the world that favour As to have begg'd a longer lease of life From Joves own hand O thou hadst been a saver Of thine own honour hadst thou stay'd the knife That bloudie weapon of the Sisters rise 31. Behold that halved orphane work a piece Almost the last that by his hand was penn'd That work alone deserv'd a longer lease Of life from thee See how he did intend Thy same and honour through the year to send 32. Had he accomplish'd that divine designe And reach'd to his Years end without that wrong From Fate and Caesar that had all been thine Then in thy chariot thou hadst danc'd along Thy Years twelve labours in a constant song 33. Now is thy race uneven One half the yeare Thou passest blank Methinks thy wheels are numb Those silenc'd Months No song doth calendar Thy Signes and dayes One side of heaven is dumb Such wrongs to us from Fates thwart actions come 34. Apollo duly to her plaint gave eare Her grief mov'd pitie and her words mov'd grief Much it affects him Naso 's death to heare That envious Fate so short had cropp'd his life He shakes his fire-locks and replies not brief Apollo 35. Sweet Clio Thy complaint is just and true And in thy sorrow I consent with thee The thought of Phaethon's fall doth not renew My passion so nor more distemper me Then Ovid's death and sad calamitie 36. And had I thought his fatall twist had been So near the end and that the Three consented Amid his songs to cut his thread so green I would have tri'd my skill to have prevented That stroke and got a longer lease indented 37. But well thou know'st my mind about is hurl'd Each week each day each minute of an houre In generall affairs of all the world In meting out of Time and keeping our Heaven's Complices in their due course and power 38. That I nor space nor respit have alwayes On each particular in this vast All To set my thoughts though men of worth and praise Are cropp'd by Fates who threads of Virtue gall And oft my friends besides my knowledge fall 39. Thus Maro Lucane by their spitefull hand Aâ—nâ—â—ares were banish'd from my light And that arch-Poet of the Fairie lond With diverse more Thus many a Favourite Have lost their heads out of their Prince's sight 40. When I per chance foresee the fatall day Of any Worthie how it me doth pain To bring it onward gladly would I stay And were it not Necessitie constrain I should my chariot oftentimes refrain 41. But Clio stay thy tears 'T is follie never To cease a grief for unrevers'd decrees 'T is wisdome when Necessitie doth sever Her actions and our will when what we please We cannot do to do what most may ease 42. Though Death hath silenc'd his facetious quill And robb'd him of his life us of our praise Yet doth his fame his nobler portion still Survive and flourish like our lasting Bayes And through the world his works his worth shall raise 43. As for his Poeme's losse it proves his gain 'T is greater honour to be much desir'd Then much enjoy'd For that which doth remain To be made up some Fansie well attir'd May be e'r long for that supply inspir'd 44. Thus in despite of Fate will we extend Our Servants lives and raise their dying head As for Augustus who did cause his end The world concludes it Ovid banished Th' unworthi'st act that e'r Augustus did Sic questa est Clio moestae gemuere Sorores ConcussÃtque comam scitus Apollo Lyrae OVIDS FESTIVALLS OR ROMANE CALENDAR The first Book or JANUARIE The Argument TH' old Romane yeare The severall sorts of dayes Discourse with Janus Th' Astrosophi's praise The feast Agonia Whence the Altar's fill'd With bloud of birds and beasts Why th' Asse is kill'd To lustfull Priap Queen Carmentis rite With her predictions Great Tyrinthius fight With fire-mouth'd Cacus The Augustian name Assum'd by Cesar In Carmentis fame More sacreds pay'd White Concord in white fane Mild Peace her altar And a pray'r for grain TImes with their causes to the Romane yeare Dispos'd of old Star's courses sing we here Germanick Cesar O accept our charge With smooth aspect and guide my feeble barge Be Patrone to this piece devote to thee Let not this gift though small rejected be Here holy rites pickt out of annals old May'st thou read ore and why each day 's enroll'd Here may you your domestick feasts adjoynd And here your father and grandfather find And how throughout the Calendar renown'd Thy brother Drusus fame with thine shall sound Some Caesars arms we Caesars altars sing What dayes were hallow'd by that sacred king The whiles the glory of thy house I chaunt Do thou but smile no fear our Muse shall daunt Your grace gives vigour to my verses poore Our fansie at your eye doth flag or soat The censure of so learn'd a majesty Our Muse doth fear more then Apollo's eye For we did tast those sweets your lips let fall When you did plead in causes criminall But when Apollo thee inspir'd O then What streams of learning glided from thy pen O Poet deigne a Poets rain to guide That so our yeare a sweeter course may slide WHen Romulus the times did first dispose Ten months to number out his
Goddesse Fornax came to whom the Boore Doth gladly pray his corn to dresse and cure Th' Archcurate then bids Fornacalia In form of words but makes no Holy-day And in the courts with marks for all mens view The pendent tables severall wards do shew But simpler folk who their own wards know not The day's last part devote the first forgot To Parents tombs now orisons they pay And on friends urns some little offrings lay Small things please Ghosts in Styx none greedy be Gods for great gifts accept true piety A tilesherd cover'd with a flowry crown Sufficeth with some salt and meal thrown down Loose violets corn steep'd in wine a while Leave these i' th' mid-way heap'd upon a tile More I forbid not yet thus pleas'd are they And on built piles pray'rs and words suited say These rites Aeneas piety's true mold Brought into just King Latine's land of old To fathers ghost he paid solemnities Of whom our Countrey learn'd this pious guise But while successours in long warres did blaze They quite neglected these Parentall dayes It cost them deare For that offense some tell Rome all on fire from piles of dead men fell Old fables bruit but I can scarce believe it At this did dead mens shapelesse ghosts much grieved Creep from their tombs and monefull howlings made About the streets and groves in nights dull shade Thenceforth to tombs were due solemnities Restor'd which ceas'd those ghostly prodigies These dayes young wives keep from your bed-desires The marriage-lamp a purer time requires And maids in your fond mothers eyes so fair And wedlock-ripe now lay you out no hair Hymen put out thy lamps in these black dayes The mournfull tombs have other lights to blaze Let all the temples of the Gods be shut Nor fire nor incense on their altars put For now the flitting souls of ancients dead Walk all about and feed on victuals spread But these sad rites no further may extend Then till this month eleven dayes hath to end The latter day which to the Ghosts they pay From bringing gifts is call'd Feralia Lo now a grandame sits with maidens young And worships Silence with no silent tongue First in a mousehole on the groundsil she Three spice-grains layes tane up with fingers three Then strings inchanted ty'd to lead doth hold While seven blew beans about her mouth are roll'd The head compact of mint and well bepitch'd She heats by th' fire with brazen needle stitch'd Then drops on wine the remnant in the cup She and her mates yet she the most drink up Departing then W' have ty'd the tongues of foes She cries then out in drunken garb she goes You ask it may be what this Muta is List what I tell an old mans tale I wis Jove deeply wounded in Juturna's love Endur'd much care not fit for mighty Jove She in the woods among the hasils lay And sometimes in her kindred-springs would play The Nymphs he summons that in Latium dwell And to the quire his counsel thus doth tell Your sister-Nymph refuses her own foe Her greatest good the greatest God to know Befriend us both for that which my great pleasure Will be shall prove your sister's peerlesse treasure When me she flies then stop her in a ring Upon the bank from leaping into spring To him the Nymphs of Ilia divine Agreed with all the quire of Tyberine One maid there was call'd Lara but of yore The former syllable was doubled o're A vice her nam'd Ofttimes cry'd Almon old Wench hold thy tongue but yet she could not hold To mate Juturna's spring she goes Avoid The banks sayes she and then Joves mind bewray'd Then goes to Juno pitying wives hard case Your Jove quoth she Juturna would embrace Jove much inrag'd the tongue she did imploy So ill takes from her then calls Mercury Convey that wench to hell hell fits the dumb Let her if Nymph a Nymph of Styx become His will 's fulfill'd they come into a grove Her keeper now with her doth fall in love Who forces her For words with looks she prayes And with dumb tongue to plead in vain assayes Conceiv'd she brings two Lares forth who guard Our streets and houses ever watch and ward Next day deare kinsmen do Charistia call Now have we meetings in our houses all For 't is meet time from friends laid in their urn On living kin our eye forthwith to turn And next those many whom black death hath slain To count all ranks that of our bloud remain Come loving kinsmen all but spitefull brothers Keep off from hence with all inhumane mothers Who grieve at fathers or at mothers lives The step-mother that with her step-child strives Tantalian brothers and Medea vile And she that scorch'd the farmers seed i' th' soil Tereus and Progne and mute Philomel And all that friends for gain do basely sell Kind kindred spice to Gods ally'd now give This day meek Concord most of all doth thrive As symptomes of your love together feast And range your dishes neatly sawc'd and drest And when at night you go to sleep all stand To make a vow with lustier bowls in hand And mount this prayer all drinking off the Health Heavens prosper us and Cesar Romes chief wealth That night now past the God that doth divide Mens land possessions is solemnifi'd God Terminus whether a Stone or Block Thou wert a God too with the ancient stock Two severall lords on severall parts thee crown And lay two garlands with two off'rings down An altar's rais'd the Countrey-wife doth come With fire brought in some broken pan from home Th' old man cuts wood and piles it up on high And sticks in boughs about the ground thereby Then kindles up the fire with tinder sear His young sonne stands and holds the basket there Then when three grains he into fire doth fling His little daughter honycombs doth bring The rest hold wine Each on the fire is laid The white-clad croud with joyfull voice applaud This God is sprinkled with a young lamb slain A sow-pig offer'd he will not complain The homely neighbours feast with chear they bring And Terminus thy sacred praises sing Thou lands and cities and large realms dost bound Without thee suitfull would be every ground From avarice and all ambition free Each tenement thou keepest faithfully Hadst thou assign'd but that Thyrean plain Three hundred men had not yerwhile bin slain Nor heaps of arms had crush'd O tryad brave Oh what a floud of bloud his land he gave And when the royall Capitol was rais'd All Gods to Jove gave way and were displac'd But Terminus sayes fame being seated there Would not remove but in Joves house hath share And now lest ought but heaven he view right over His head the roof is fram'd without a cover Since Terminus be thou by no means light But keep the station where thou once art pight And let no landlords tricks nor suits thee move Lest thou preferre a man before great Jove And
Dishonestie Enough for them To you now I retire My friends who th' actions of my life enquire The Summer-tropick of my years now gone Declining Age with hoarie hairs came on Now since my birth ten times the Horse-courser That won the race Pisaean wreaths did wear When ah offended Caesar doth command My dolefull exile to the Tomites land The cause of this too much to most reveal'd Must be for ever by my self conceal'd Nor friends nor servants wrongs will I here vent I 've suffered crosses next to banishment To which my mind did scorn to yield and still By its own strength did stand invincible And sans regard of self or calm life led With artlesse arm the warres I followed As many troubles have surcharg'd this soul As there be starres 'twixt North and Southern Pole Long being toss'd about at length I met The surly Sarmat and the bow-arm'd Get. Here though I 'm startled with the noise of arms My Muse with her best skill my sorrows charms And though no eare can relish here one rhythme Yet so I passe and so delude the time For life therefore and power against my toils For passing of the tedious houres somewhiles Thanks Muse to thee Thou art my sole relief My ease my physick in my wasting grief Thou me my Guide and dear Companion Dost raise from Ister into Helicon Thou giv'st me while I live a name sublime The rarest gift that scorns both Tombe and Time No black Detraction to this day hath bit With fangs of envie any work I writ And though our age so many Poets high Hath bred my fansie Fame did ne'r envy I others honour'd others honoured Me with the best and through the world I 'm read If then we Poets can the truth divine Come death whenever Dust I am not thine Whether by favour or desert I be Thus fam'd kind Reader thanks I give to thee Sic cecinit Naso de se CLIO's complaint for the death of OVID. Clio. 1. AH with what tears shall I enlarge my grief In what sad accents shall I sigh and grone How vent my sorrows knowing no relief Nor craving ought but onely to be known To all that all may share with me in mone 2. Let not Rome onely and the Latine train Lament and mourn but all the world beside Sweet Naso 's Death whose most ingenious brain The world with peerlesse treasures beautifi'd And more had done had he not timelesse dy'd 3. Ah! how I still remember to my wo In what a happy vein he walk'd along How readily his fansie quick did flow In numbers even and raptures sound and strong Which presently made up some learned Song 4. Whose melodie would make the Hills to ring The Wood-Gods wonder and the Fauns admire The Dryads Naiads them would often sing And every Nymph to heare them did desire Which won the favour of each beauteous Quire 5. His very youth was ripe in Poesie For all assayes he was our witty Page Ofttimes Apollo when he chanc'd to eye His lines would say O thou of youthfull age A Boy in years but in our gifts a Sage 6. Those amorous raptures which in sport be writ When Venus servant he did march yerwhile In Cupids files what quintessence of wit Do they demonstrate in what curious style His verses flow not fowl'd with vulgar soil 7. But now the vigour of his wit at full Like candid Cynthia in diameter With her bright Brother when our Thespian pool He in full draughts drew in O then how clear His fansie stream'd what learning flourish'd there 8. That Poeme of Transformed shapes can shew A piece of all applauded and desir'd Which whoso reads his pithy Muse may view In beautifull variety attir'd The quaint contexture of that work 's admir'd 9. And when his buskin'd Muse in garb most grave And voice majestick stalk'd on crouded Scene No Sophoclean strains more height could have Nor weight support How oft have they between Each Act with generall shouts applauded been 10. At length inspired with a heat divine That worthy work he writ with happy pen Of Months with courses of each constant Signe And Phoebus toils Where fitly now and then He chaunts the praises of his countrey-men 11. When in the middle of his fair carier The cruel Parcae clipt O grief O gall His precious twist when he scarce half his Yeare Had finished By which did thousands fall Short of their praises of a jewel all 12. O cruel Sisters Why did you not spare And draw to Nestor's length his sacred twine Or to as large a twisted clue as were The lasting Sibylls 'T was as pure and fine And if with you that values as Divine 13. No work you wanted for your direfull knives Their thirst to satiate Charon 's boat doth grone With constant crowds Ten thousand vulgar lives You might have shar'd off and let his alone Ten thousand lives might satisfie for one 14. Why did not I in time solicite Fate Back'd with my Sisters and had Pray'rs been able Or Gifts to conquer beg a longer date We would have chang'd her nature ne'r so stable Before w' had done and made her exorable 15. But thou dire Caesar most to be upbraided Thy tyrannie did cut him off in 's prime By unjust banishment His spirits faded With blasting griefs which ware out all his time And chill distempers of the Getick clime 16. O well it hapned in the midst of ill Of half thy praise his death despoiled thee And what was giv'n thee by his faithfull quill The world by this thy unjust act shall see Was not thy merit but his loyaltie 17. Thy thundring blow his dazled fansie smit That in a trance long time she lay for slain At length reviv'd O admirable Wit And even beyond my thought amid his pain And misery his Muse did sing again 18. The crime was thine and not his own How then Couldst thou exile him to the furthest end Of all the world 'mong monsters fierce not men To wast his dayes and him O horrid rend From Wife from Children Countrey dear and Friend 19. His eyes beheld too much Too bold was he Into the secrets of a King to pry 'T is true alas he saw too much of thee Wert thou asham'd that he thy crime did spy That crime then banish more deservedly 20. O horrid never call him home again Never afford a milder region Were those sweet expiations all in vain His oratorious Muse his pleading mone That mov'd not thee would move a marble-stone 21. Thy heart was Scythian barbarous thy deed Just like that place where he was forc'd to be Thy name Augustus well with thee agreed 'T was given in flattery but by this all see Thou wert Augustus in thy cruelty 22. Surpassing farre the barbarisme of Gets Coralli Bessi with their snarled hairs For lo his Muse their rigour mitigates And that which could not pierce thy rockyears Did win their favour and provoke their tears 23. Oft didst thou