University of Virginia Library

[The firste booke.]

Ouid to his booke

The first Elegia.

My litle booke (I blame the not) to statelye towne shall go.
O cruell chaunce, that where thou go, thy maister may not so.
Go now thy way: yet sute thy selfe, in sad and simple geare,
Such exiles weede as tyme requyre, I will that thou do weare.
No vastie Uiolet shall thou vse, nor robe of Purple hue,
Those costlye coulours be vnfit, our carefull cause to rue.
Wyth ruddie redde dye not thy face, nor sappe of Cedar tree,
Such outward hue see that thou haue, as cause assines to thee.
Frounce not thy feareful face I saye, nor haplesse head do stroke,
But roughe and rugde so shewe in sight, that pittye may prouoke,
Those subtill sleights be much more meete, for volumes voyde of payne,
But thou of my vnfrendlye fate a myrror must remayne.
Be not a basht thy ruthfull blots, to set and shewe in sight,
That of my teares men may them iudge, to haue beene made a right.
Depart thy waye and in my name, salute those blessed bowers,
When as thy fearefull foote shall fall, in Cæsars statelye towers.
If anye be (as some there are) amongst the rurall route,
Forgetlesse frends shall aske for mee, or oughte shall seeme to doute.
Saye that I liue: which as I do, by force of heauenlye might,
So do confesse my troubled state, wherein thou sees me plight.
If further speach shall thee prouoke, or other skill they craue,
I charge thee then to take good heede: no wastful wordes to haue.
My faultye facts if anye shall, reproue perhappes to thee,
Or doolefull deedes in publike place condempned chaunce to bee.
Spend thou no speach, nor do not care, tho threatning browes they bende,
A rightful cause it hindreth oft, with wordes if we defende.
Some shall thou finde that will bewayle, me thus in exile sent,
And reading thee wyth tricklinge teares, my carefull case lament.
And in their muttringe mindes will wishe (lest wicked men may heare)
That Cæsars yre once set asyde, from paynes I may be cleare.
To such therefore as well do wishe, to vs that payne do proue,
To mightye Ioue wee pray likewyse, like sorrowes to remoue.
All thinges thus stalde in quiet state, and Cæsars grace once wonne,
Doth wishe my lothsome life to ende, where life I first begonne.
A worke vnworthye of my witte, of thee some men will iudge,
And doing that I thee requyre, at thee likewyse shall grudge.
Yet ought a Iudge as well to time, as matter haue regarde,
Which if he haue (as I do hope) thou safely shalbe harde.
For pleasaunt verses do proceede, from quiet resting brayne,
But soden sorrowes mee assaultes, with hugye heapes of payne.
A time of trouble voyde it craues, a perfit verse to make,
But mee: the Seas, the wrestlinge windes, the winter wild doth shake.
A minde more free from feare it askes, in deadly doubt I stande,
Lest that my life wyth sword be rest, by force of ennemyes hande.
Yet some there are that marueile will, and rightfull iudges bee,
When they this meane and simple verse, with equall eyes shall see.
For though that Homer yet did liue, wyth sorrowes so be set,
His wonted wits through malyce mighte, I feare he should forget.
Yet shewe thy selfe (my selye booke) without regarde of fame,
Nor though per case thou dost desplease, let it not thee ashame.
Syth fortune so vnfrendlye is, to hope it were in vayne,
That thou hereby should purchase prayse, to make thereof thy gayne.
Whyle fortune smylde wyth smyrken cheere, of fame I had desyre,
And noted name on euerye syde, I sought for to acquyre.
A fayned verse lo now I make, and hate my hurtfull lore,
Let it suffice: sith that my wit, forsaketh me therefore.
Yet go thou on, and in my steede, the royall Rome to see,
God graunt that there as none of myne, they may accompt of thee,
And though thou there a stranger be, thincke not vnknowen to come,
But that amids the mightye towne, thou shalbe knowen to some.
Thy couller wil disclose thy craft, although thou were no name,
By deepe deseight or otherwyse, by skill to cloke the same.
In priuy wyse yet passe thou in, my verse may els offende,
The wonted grace it clearely wantes, which I to verse did lende.
To reade as myne if any shal, vnworthy therefore deeme,
And from his hands to cast away, to thee by happe shall seeme.
Tell then thy name: thou arte not hee, of loue that taught the lore,
That wicked worke hath felt the paynes, that it deserude. before.
Perhappes thou loke I should the bid, the Pallace proude to clyme,
Where Cæsar royal Court doth keepe, wyth pleasant passed tyme.
Those Princely places and eke Gods, of pardon too I craue,
Syth from the statelye tops of them, this lightening lo we haue.
The time I may remember when, those Gods more gentle were,
Such therefore as hurtfull be, by profe of payne I feare.
The seely doue that once was nymde, wyth Gossehaukes greedy nipe,
Doth dread the smallest glympes of her, to flye her greuous gripe.
The wandring lambe that worowing wolfe, had caught by courage bould,
Escapinge then his cruell chaps, doth sleepe in shepeheards foulde.
Ye Phaeton would shonne the skyes, if he againe did raine,
And hate the horses whom she loude, for feare of former paine.
My selfe confesse that haue receiude, of Ioue his launce a wound,
Do feare the force of flaching fyre, by thonders threatning sounde.
Who so Capharia seekes to shon, in way from Gretian fleete,
That he alwayes from Eboike Seas, to turne his sterne is meete.
My shippe that lately did escape, wyth sturdye storme a clappe,
In that same place doth hate to come, for feare of like mishappe.
My booke therefore beware and stande, wyth feareful minde in doubt,
And be content that thou be redde, in priuate place about.
While Icarus wyth tender winges did clyme the starrye skye,
In surging Seas he fell adowne, which haue their name thereby.
The Oweier or the sayles to vse, herein to know is hard,
But time and cause shall counsaile thee, if thou thereto regard.
An idle time if thou espye, when ceased is debate,
And when all ire is pacifyed, and turnde to frendlye state.
Some doubting thus wyth fearefull face, wil thee perhappes present,
So he wyth words thy way haue made, then go where thou art sent.
More happye happe God graunt thou haue, and far more luckye day,
Then I haue had: when thou come there, our sorrowes to allay.
For he alone can salue my sore, of whom the wounde I haue,
And hurt and heale by selfe same skill, Achilles latelye gaue.
Take heede while helpe herein thou seeke, thereby no hurt aryse,
For feare doth farre surmount our hope, thy selfe therefore aduise.
In mindes to quiet bent, renewe not wrath againe,
Lest thou vnwares may kindle coles, to double former payne.
Yet when vnto my homely house, thou shalt returne to mee,
And in thy croked shryne be set, a place made meete for thee.
Thy brethren there thou shalt behould, in order seemelye set,
One onelye father all they had, whom he by skill beget.
The rest that there in sight do shewe, by synes thou may descerne,
Whose names be set amids their browes, that thou thereof may learne.
And three also in priuye place, do lurcke in darckesome den,
Of loue the craftye skil they teache, as it is knowen to men.
Those wicked wights thou shal eschew, or if thou may, proclame,
For such as fathers lately slewe, by Telogonian name.
These three I warne the of, if thou (the father not disdaine,
Of loue although the waye they teache, to loue yet thou refraine.
And fifetene volumes more in verse, of chaunged bodyes bee,
Which at my funeralles I had, and there bereft from mee.
Amonge the which transformed shapes, saye thou that I do craue,
That my misfortune may be set, with them a place to haue.
Unlikely to her former hests, her altringe wondrous straunge,
For now she weepes that whilom smylde, as chaunce of time doth chaunge.
More matter yet (if thou had askte) I had to tel beside,
But that I feare it might be cause, to long that thou abide.
For if nothinge that comes to minde, from thee I should detaine,
A burden farre more huge thou were, then bearers coulde sustaine.
Longe is thy waye therefore make hast, for we shall nowe abyde,
In furthest coast of all the earth, farre from our countrye wyde.

To the Gods.

The seconde Elegia.

O Gods of Seas and skye, for what saue (prayers may preuaile)
Do not destroye our shaken shippes, in surginge Seas to saile.
Nor do you not to Cæsars wrath, with hole assent resort,
For him whom one God doth oppresse, an other may support.
Thoughe Vulcane stoode aduerse to Troye, Apollo sought reliefe,
And Venus was to Troyans iust, though Pallas wrought their griefe.
So Iuno did Eneas hate, who Turnus helde full deare,
Yet he through helpe of Venus power, from harme was saued cleare.
The fearce Neptunus oft did seeke, to short Vlixes dayes,
Yet from her Eme Mynerua did, his life preserue alwayes.
And though we farre inferiour be, in heauenlye force and might,
A frendlye God yet who forbids, an angrye God to spight.
But wastfull wordes (O wretche) I spende, no good thereby aryse,
Saue that it makes the watrye waues, to springe from speakers eyes.
My painfull speache and prayers prest, the Southren winde hath rent,
And suffers not that they do come, to Gods where they be sent.
With one alonelye cause therefore lest I be hurt, should deeme
Both shippes and vowes I knowe not where, to beare awaye they seeme.
What boysterous billowes now (O wretche) amids the waues we spye,
As I forthwith should haue beene heude, to toutch the Assour skye.
What vacant vallies be there set, in swallowinge Seas so wrought,
As presentlye thou lokes I should, to drerye hell be brought.
I lokte about: saue Seas and skye, nought subiect was to sight,
With swellinge surges one, with cloudes, the other threatned spight.
Betweene them both with whisling sounde, the whyrling windes do rende,
And fominge seas to whether God, do stand in doubt to bende.
Now doth sir Eurus winds take force, at ryse of morning bright,
Nowe Zepherus is prest at hande, to waight the darckesome night.
Nowe Borias with perching drye, from Northren Poole do glide,
Now Notus lo wyth fearce afflickt, doth put his force aside.
The gyde himselfe in doubtfull muse, what he may flye do craue,
Astonyed stayes his wonted skil, from wracke the shippe to saue.
We dye therefore: no hope at al of life there doth remaine,
While thus I speake the bitter teares, my feareful face distaine.
The flouds my minde opprest while thus, in vaine we prayd alas,
And by our careful mouth adowne, the deadly droppes do pas.
My godlye wyfe it onlye greeues, in exile I am sent,
This one mishap alone she knowes, for this she doth lament.
In largest seas how I am cast, to her no feare do seeme,
Nor tost wyth windes she knoweth not, nor death so neare do deeme.
O happye yet I did her leaue, and so my selfe auise,
For els (O wretche) my payne were more, then death haue suffred twise.
But though that I do perishe quite, sith she in life remayne,
I thincke thereby my dayes to length, and halfe a life to gayne.
What flames (alas) with swift recourse, from skowling clouds do light?
What cruell crashing noyse do sounde, from axe in hauen on hight?
No lighter blowes our shippe do beare, by surges waightye gushe,
Then loftye walles when they susteine, the Cannons cruel rushe.
This raging floud which hence do come, in force all flouds surmount,
Behinde the nint before the leuent, in sight we may accompt.
Nor death I feare though this do seeme, a wretched death to bee,
Set wracke asyde, a gift it is, a welcome gest to mee.
Somewhat it is for such as are, by sword or fate decayde,
That dying so in mouldy earth, their liuelesse corps be layde.
Their faithful frends they may exhort, and gladsome graue obtaine,
And not in seas to haue beene stroyed, and fishes foode be slaine.
Admit I do deserue such death? alone I am not heare?
Why should my griefe procure these paines, whose facts frō faults be clere?
O Saintes aboue and Gods so great, which rule the waters all,
Of eyther sort more meeker bee, & threatning browes let fall.
So life which Cæsars gentle wrath, hath lent, to passe aliue,
Herewith I may (if you let not) at pointed place ariue.
If any payne I haue deserude, haue you my death decreed?
My fault at all no death deserues, the iudge himselfe agreed.
If Cæsar would haue sent mee downe, to swimme in Stigian lake,
No helpe of you for that he needes, nor paynes therein should take.
No such enuye he doth pretende, nor longeth so for bloud,
Syth that he gaue, and may receiue, when he so thincks it good.
And you therefore we humblye pray, sith ye no harme sustayne,
Indifferent mindes herein to haue, and not encrease our payne.
For though you would wyth whole assent, my wretched body saue,
Thincke you by that for dampned soule, a helpe hereafter haue?
Though seas were calme, though winds were still, & you O Gods cōtent,
Yet as exild I should remayne, by Cæsars owne assent.
I do not seeke for greedy gaine, by marchants craftye skill,
Whereby I should occasion haue, the surging seas to till.
Nor Athens lo I loke to see, where I haue sought for lore,
Nor Asia mighty townes to vewe, not seene to mee before.
Nor yet to Alexandria cost, I would conueyed bee,
That there I might (O Nilus) rest, thy pleasures there to see.
The winds I wishe (who would beleue) my shippe in hast to driue.
Unto Sarmatia famous land, that there it might ariue.
As I am bound euen so I would, to Pontus hauen attayne,
And leauing thus my countrye deare, my slowe successe I playne.
Nor know not in what coast to find, the towne that Tomos hight,
And by my painefull prayers so, I take my feareful flight.
If me you loue: then do I craue, your swellinge flouds to tame,
And by your heauenlye power permit, our shippes may saile the same.
Or if you hate: compell me then, to pointed place to flye,
A part of paine I thincke it is, in straungers ground to dye.
Now hale away you boisterous winds, why do we here abyde?
And by Italia shore in sight, what causeth vs to ryde?
Syth Cæsar hath decreed my flight, will you thereto denye?
Wherefore permit my eyes maye come, where Pontia they may spye.
Thus hath he iudgde, thus I deserue, nor what he doth reproue,
By right or law to fend my fault, it may not me behoue.
If doleful deedes of mortal men, to Gods be not vnknowne,
Than may you see not my offence, of wicked minde is growne.
But if such skill they haue, and I, by error so distraught,
My minde wyth ignoraunce and not, with wickednes was fraught.
If any loue to Cæsars house, we simple men do beare,
His publike hestes it shall suffice, that we do dread and feare.
If I haue told of happye dayes, wherein that he did raigne,
To Cæsar and Cæsarians all, haue done my busye payne.
If I such faythful minde haue had, so graunt (O Gods) reliefe,
If not: to drounde in Seas I wyshe, and ende my wearye griefe.
But am I now deceyued? or do the skowling clouds waxe fayre,
Or do the billowes breake in sight? or calme to seas repayre.
No chaunce but cause haue cald you here, your ayde we pray to lend,
Syth you no fraude or craft may blind, for helpe we do attend.

Hee departeth from Rome, remembreth the teares of his wyfe and frendes.

Eleg. 3.

VVhen I the pensiue picture see, of darcke and drery night,
And in my minde behold the Towne, from whēce I toke my flight.
Or time record, when I did leaue, my frendes and dere alyes,
Then do the dolefull droppes discende, from my sad weeping eyes.
The day drue on I should depart, as Cæsar wild before,
And flee a farre to partes extreame, and shonne Italia shore.
No time or perfit space I had, nor minde for prayer prest,
And drowsines by long delay, had crept in carefull brest.
No men there were to waight on mee, no care I had to reede,
No garmentes meete for myne estate, nor wealth to serue my neede.
I was astoynde: as he that feels the force of lightning flame,
Who thincks he were of life bereft, and yet enioyes the same.
But when this cloude of minde was gone, by sorrowe set asyde,
And that my sences did returne, in former health to byde.
At last my sorye frendes I spake, when I away did pas,
Which of a nomber that I had, but one or two there was.
My louing wyfe all weeping thus me weeping did sustaine,
Till that by her vnworthy cheekes, a shoure of teares did raine.
My doughter deare was farre away, in coast of Libia land,
And of my fate no word she knew, nor cause could vnderstand.
A yelling and a cryinge noyse did sound on euery syde,
No secrete forme of funerall, wythin my house did byde.
The man the wyfe, the blamelesse babe, my dolefull death do rue,
In euery corner of my house, a streame of teares there grue.
If we doubt not our matters small, by greater thinges make plaine,
As Troy when it was tane, so we, in like estate remaine.
Now whisted was the voyce of men, of dogges and euery wight,
And Cynthea ledde the horses then, that ruld the darckesome night.
I loking vp, did cast mine eyes, the Senate house to see,
Which next our careful cot in vaine, was built in good degree.
And sayd (O Gods) that here do rest, and nearest neighbours bee,
O stately Temples whom mine eyes, henceforth shal neuer see.
And you O heauenlye goasts I leaue, in loftye Rome to dwell,
For euer here I take my leaue, and bid you al farewell.
But (though that after greuous wounds) my shield to late I haue,
Yet do vouchsafe my feareful flight, from hurtfull hate to saue.
And saye vnto this heauenly man: by error I did fall,
Lest wickednes may els be thought, to haue beene mixt with all.
And that which you do al perceiue, let him perceyue the same,
(That Gods once pleasd) I may be sure, to haue no wretches name.
These paineful prayers haue I made, the mighty Gods vnto,
My wyfe with more: while sobbing sithes her words haue letted so.
Before the doores with heares be spred, she prostrate so did lye,
And with her mouth the Alters kist, that builded are thereby.
Full manye helpelesse words she spake, to aduers houses than,
Which nought at all for me preuailde, that was condempned man.
The hasting night now drew away, nor longer space would graunt,
Wherewyth the starres did turne one axe, the darckesume night to daunt.
What might I do? as loth I was, to leaue my countrye deare,
So was the pointed night now come, and almost passed cleare.
How oft cryed I to such as then, my long delay contrould,
Why force you mee? why hast you so? whence go we now, behold.
How often haue I faind likewise, a certaine houre to haue,
Which for my iorney were more fit, and mee from daunger saue.
The threshold thrise I kist, and thrise I was cald backe I trow,
My minde was dull and made no hast, my feete in flight were slow.
Oft times I sayd farewel, and yet, for which I speake and plaine,
And then as parting I returnde, to kisse my frendes againe.
Oft times the same preceptes I gaue, and being yet begilde,
I looked backe and cast mine eyes, to see my selye childe.
In fine: what hast? to Sithia nowe, it is that we are sent,
And Rome we leaue yet both delayes, be done of iust intent.
My wyfe although she liue I loose, I yet do liue likewise,
Wyth house and members sweete thereof, which I cannot dispise.
My faythfull fellowes eke whom I, as brethren did esteeme,
Whose fastned fayth as true to mee (O Thesyan mates I deeme.
Them there in armes I did embrace, which neuer more I might,
Eche houre a gratefull gaine I thought, that geeuen mee was that night.
No more delay I made, but left my talke imperfit there,
All things that I should then haue sayd, in minde recorded nere.
While we our sorrye speach did spend, and while we weeped thus,
The day starre gan appeare on skye, a heuye starre to vs.
Wherewyth a pange I felt as though, my members haue forlorne,
And from my body euery part, did seeme to haue bene torne.
I playnd as Priam whilom did, when he the treason knewe,
And saw his foes from horse to slippe, when Troyan mates they slew.
A common crye did then aryse, my frendes a roring make,
Their careful brestes of clothing bare, with heauy hands they strake.
Departing then: to shoulders fast, my wyfe did cleaue afraid,
And wyth my teares her wordes she mixt, and thus euen then she said.
Thou shal not go: together vs, to flee they shal constrayne,
I follow thee of exiles wyfe, and exile wil remayne.
The waye is made for mee, and I, the furthest lande wil see,
And to your passing shippes I shal, a slender burden bee.
Cæsars wrath commaundeth you our countrye deare to flee,
But loue, this godlye loue, shal Cæsar geeue to mee.
Like helpelesse thinges she did assaye, as oft she did before,
And skant her weary hands she gaue, her profit to restore.
I comming forth as one that were, depriude of rightfull graue,
A nastye skinne, a hanging beare, a foming mouth I haue.
Some say that she wyth sorrowes great, at end of darckesome night,
Amids the house in frantike moode, did cast her selfe in sight.
And that at length she roose againe, her heares in dust arayde,
And members colde from ground she heud, as one right sore afrayde.
Sometimes her selfe, sometimes her house, shee doth bewayle wyth all,
And to her husband absent then, full oft by name she call.
No lesse she weeped there then if, her woful eyes should spye,
My doughter or my selfe made meete, on burning coles to lye.
Such care she had her death to haue, and leaue her liuing sence,
Yet none it were respecting mine, though she so passed hence.
But now God graunt that she do liue, sith fates do so decree,
That by her helping hand I may, the more releeued bee.
Bootes now which keepes the bere, of Eremanthus woode,
In Ocean sea is diued lowe, whose star doth stir the flood.
Yet sayle we not in Iouian seas, for that we so do craue,
But are compeld by present feare, more boldnes there to haue.
Lo nowe (O wretche) the seas waxe black, the boisterous windes do beate,
And sandes that from the depth be drawne, do burne with sowly heate.
Our shippes with waues no lesse then hilles, is tossed to and fro,
Our painted Gods with billowes bet, their quiet state forgo.
The slender sides do crye and sounde, with stresse the cables crake,
The ship it selfe with our ill happe, a fearefull groning make.
The maister by his pale aspecte, bewrayes his secrete fere,
And ouercomde pursues the shippe, by skil rules not the stere.
Like as the fearefull ryder doth, let slip the horses reane,
Who yeldeth to his carelesse will, and art forgetteth cleane.
Euen so not where he would, but where the forcing water driue,
The sayle I see he lettes at large, in washing waues to diue.
That if sir Eolus had not sente his chaunged windes abrode,
I surely had or this beene blowen, to place that was forbode.
For far from Leria coast lo then, on left syde fast at hand,
The interdicted place we saw, and spide Italia land.
But let the foming seas (we pray) forbidded those to seeke.
That they wyth me the Gods obey, and shew themselues more meeke,
While speaking thus we prayde and feard, to haue beene driue abacke,
With wondrous force of sturdy waue, our shippe sides lo did cracke.
O mightye Gods of barble seas, let not your ire aryse,
That Ioue himselfe wyth me be wrath, we craue it may suffyce.
And do you not my very mind, with cruell death constrayne,
If he that death haue suffred once, cannot depart agayne.

To his constant frende.

Eleg. 4.

O Frend whom first among my mates, as chiefe in minde I deeme,
O thou that dost my heauy fate, euen as thyne owne esteeme.
That first releaued me I meane, amazed where I laye,
And bouldest were wyth willing mouth, comforting woords to saye.
Which gently gaue me counsell then, to liue and length my dayes,
When loue of death in careful brest, had crept by sondry wayes.
Thou knowes to whom I speake although, the name in synes I set,
Thy dutye and thy frendlye care, no whit I do forget.
In deepest depth of minde, these thinges, I printed haue full plaine,
A detter still of thine I shal, for euer more remaine.
With wandring winds this sprite of mine, shal passe away and flee,
And lasting boones with flaminge fire, shal quite consumed bee.
Before that these thy good deserts, shal skape my carefull minde,
Or els this godly loue wyth time, from thence away shall finde.
Let mighty Gods now fauour thee, that helpe thou nede none craue,
And fortune farre vnlike to myne, God graunt that thou may haue.
Yet if the shippe had sauelye saild, and frendly winds had blowne,
This loue and faythfull frendship then, perhappes had not beene knowne.
Peritheus did not accompt, Duke Thesius for his frend,
Till that for him to Stigian lake, aliue he did discend.
Orestes so thy furyes fearre, ful perfit trials bee,
With how true hart that Pylades, was linckt in loue to thee.
If that the stout Euryalus, with Butils had not fought,
Thy noble fame (O Nysus) then, had not ben blowne abought.
Like as the fine and perfit gould, in flaming fyre is tryde,
Euen so the loue of frendship is, in troublous time discryde.
Whyle fortune lust to smyle and geue, her helping hand withall,
And things to grounded wealth they haue, that may thereto befall.
But when her thretning browes she bend, they shrincke awaye and flee,
Where hugye heapes but latelye were, not one now left we see.
This skilful rede I learnde by ils, in other that did grow,
But now euen of myne owne mishaps, by proofe the same I know.
Scant two or three my frendes you are, that of my rought remayne,
The rest as fortunes and not mine, I do accompt them playne.
You fewe therefore do helpe our payne, that rest we may achiue,
And that by you our shaken shippes, in safer shoore ariue.
With fayned feare be not afrayde, a thing both fonde and vayne,
Lest God mysliking that your loue, offended do remayne.
For Cæsar oft in ennemyes doth, his faythfull frendshippe prayse,
And that which in his owne, in foes, he doth approue alwayse.
My cause yet better is, I haue, no aduers armour worne,
My follye is the cause that I, my contrey haue forlorne.
With waking mindes our heauy haps, do you bewayle, and praye
That Cæsars raging wrath the more, thereby may haue delaye.
Who so my cares doth seeke to know, in nomber them to haue,
A thing more hard then may be done, he seemes thereby to craue.
So many ils lo haue I borne, as starres in Asyoure skye,
And litle graynes of flying dust, on parched ground do lye.
And many more of greater waight, we forced were to bere.
Which though they chanst, of credit yet, in them some doubt there were.
Some part whereof as doth behoue, with mee must dye awaye,
And by my meane would God were none, that might the same bewraye.
A persing speache although I had, a firme and flinty brest,
And greater store of mouthes thereto, where in more tongues did rest.
Yet al in words I do not know, how I might comprehend,
The thing exceeding further then, my wittes may well extend.
My troubles great (O Poets learnd) for Duke Vlisses wright,
Yet I more ils then he hath borne, for truth you may endight.
In compasse smal he many yeares, was tossed vp and downe,
Betweene the Gretians noble lande, and Troyans famous towne.
But we the wydest seas haue met, and wandred euery wayes,
To Geta crickes haue bene driuen, and eke Sermatia bayes.
A faythful hand Vlisses had, wyth mates both true and iust,
But me my fellowes fled in whom, I chiefely put my trust.
In merye moode as victor then, he went his land to see,
But I as victored do depart, and exile hence to flee.
In Greece ne yet Ithacia ground, nor Samia do I dwell,
From whence to be no payne it is, but may be suffered well.
But Rome which from the mountaynes seuen, we there behold in sight,
Thempyre large and Gods therof, lo thence I take my flight.
A body strong Vlisses had, that labor could sustayne,
A smal and slender corps I haue, wyth weeke and tender brayne.
To cruell warres and marshall deedes, hath he beene vsde alwayes,
In quiet studye haue I dwelt, and liued al my dayes.
The greatest God oppresseth mee, to whom no God resort,
But Pallas him assisted still, and did his cause support.
Neptunus ire the God of Seas, haue greued him right sore,
But me Almighty Ioue oppresse, whose wrath reuengeth more.
The greatest part of his now be, for fables counted playne,
Of our mishappes no part at all, for lesing do remayne.
In fine, euen as he did desire, at pointed place aryue,
Which long he wist: right so he did, at length attaine aliue.
But I my country deare do thincke, now neuer more to see,
Unlesse the ire of angrye Gods, appeased happe to bee.

To his wyfe.

Elegia. 5.

Calimachus did not so burne, wyth loue to Lyda lent,
Nor yet so sore Phylates had, his hart on Battis bent.
As the (O mate most true) my brest, wythin I deepely graue,
Which worthy art a better not, but happier husband haue.
I falling fast by the do hould, as by abootfull beame,
Thy gift it is, that I haue scapt, a part of troubles streame.
Thou art the cause, I am no may, to such as seeke to see,
The letters brought that might declare, the wofull wracke of mee,
Like as the wolfe that bloud desyres, when hunger hard do pricke,
Of seely sheepe that be vnkept, the flesh ful fayne would licke.
Or as the greedy Gripe vpon, the careful corps doth stare,
When on the grounde he sees it lye, and left vnburned bare.
So one there was I know not who, my hard hap did mistrust,
Uppon my goodes if thou lets not, his hands had layde vniust.
But him thy vertue did wythstand, by force of frends ful true,
To whom no thancke we render may, as to their deedes is due.
In carefull case a witnes true, thy deedes therefore doth prayse,
If witnes do perchaunce preuayle, in these our dolefull dayes.
In vertuous life Andromacha, thy name doth not distaine,
Nor Laodamia who did leaue, her life wyth husbande slaine.
If Homer thou had hapt vppon, thy fame should farre exceede,
Aboue the chast Penelopeis, of whom in him we reade.
But if these maners meeke the Gods, did geeue thee all vntaught,
And in the daye of blissefull byrth, of nature thou them caught.
Or els the matrone most to prayse, on whom thou waightest longe,
A myrror did thee make to be, all honest wyues amonge.
And to her selfe with custome longe, hath causde thee like to seeme,
By greater thinges of matters small, we doubt not for to deeme.
Full woo I am my verse hath not, more force in such a case,
And that my tongue doth not suffice, thy faythfull factes to blase.
For loke what liuelye strents of minde, afore in mee there spronge,
Is quenched quite and fallen away, wyth sorrowes sore and longe.
The cheefe amonge the Ladyes of, great fame thou mightest sit,
And of all men be lokt vppon, for vertue and for wit.
And so what power my penne maye haue, when verse I do indyte,
From time to time thou shalt aye liue, in verse that I can wryte.

To his frendes that ware his Image ingraude.

Elegia. 6.

VVhat frende thou be that Image haue, in forme made like to mee,
No Garlands gaye wyth Iuye wrought, about his head let be.
These happye synes most comlye be, that pleasaunt Poets were,
My troublous time is farre vnfitte, the Lawrell crowne to beare.
And thou that beares about of mee, in ringe the picture prest,
Fayne yt these thinges were neuer spoke, althoughe thou knowes them best.
The countenance deare of mee, that am, in exile sent beholde,
The likenes of my louring lookes, which thou hast graude in goulde.
Whereon when thou shalt cast thine eyes, then haplye thou may say,
Howe farre from vs is Naso now, our fellowe sent away.
Thy loue I well alowe but yet, my verses print more plaine
My forme: which as they be, I bid, to reade do not disdayne.
My verse I saye that doth declare, howe men straung shapes did shade,
Unhappye worke whose maister fled, and left vnperfit made.
The same wyth heauy hande full sadde, in flaming fyre I thrust,
With much more of my greuous goods, when needes depart I must
And as they say that Thestias, did burne with fatall fire,
Her sonne: and sister kinder was, then mother moude wyth ire:
So I my bookes my bowels deare, which no desert did show,
To dye away with mee did then, in flashing flames bestowe.
Which eyther was because my muse, as hurtfull I did hate,
Or els for that my verse was rude, and not in perfit state.
Which as they be not quite extinct, but partlye yet appere,
In volumes mo then one I thincke, that then they written were.
So now I wishe them still remayne, none idle slouth that bee,
The reader to delight but may, remember him of mee.
But yet no man with pacient cares, to read them can abide,
Except he know that vncorrect, from me the same did slide.
That worke was pluckt away when halfe, he had his labour skant,
The trimming tricke that last should come, my wrytinges clearely want.
For painted prayse thy pardon craue, thy prayse shall wel suffice,
If thou that chaunce to reade this booke, my worke do not despise.
And here also sixe verses haue, which if thou thincke it best,
In formest front of that my booke, see that thou let them rest.
What man thou be these volumes touch, of father now bereft,
At lest wyse graunt within your house, a place for them be left.
And that thou should more fauor them, of him they were not sent,
In publike prease: but as it were, the maisters herse of rent.
If that vnlearned verse therefore, shal shew forth any cryme,
The maister would haue mended it, if he had longer time.

To his frende that breake his promise.

Eleg. 7.

The freshe flouds shal from Seas retyre, againe their springs vnto,
So shal the sonne wyth horses tournd, his course reuoke also.
The earth shal eke the bright starre beare, & ayre the plow shal cleue,
The water shal bringe forth the flames, and fyre shall water geue.
All things shal now by natures lawes, in order straunge proceade,
No part and of this wandring world, his way aright shall leade.
All thinges shal come to passe which I, denyed afore could bee.
For nothing is so straung to heare, but we may hope to see.
It shall be so I gesse because, of him I am reiecte,
Whose helpe I hoped now that should, my wofull cause protecte.
O faythlesse frende how came so great, forgetfulnes of mee,
Why were thou then so sore afrayd, my carefull corpes to see?
That once againe thou might not loke, nor comfort me opprest.
Nor yet (harde hart) my funerals, pursue among the rest.
The sacrede name of frendshippe fayre, that all men do adore,
Under thy foote thou lettest lye, as thing of litle store.
And though thou did no teares let fall, for this my sorrye plight,
Yet far from hart some words to say, with fayned griefe thou might.
At lest wyse that which straungers did, then did we wel to fare,
With peoples voyce and publike speache, agree that goodwill bare.
And then that face with morning fret, no more in sight tappere,
Whyle yet thou mightest to loke vpon, the last day I was there.
To take and geue wyth talke alike, our farewel in such case,
Which once we might and then no more, while world endures embrace.
As others mo which with no league, of frendshippe I had bound,
Who then declarde their griefe of minde, with trickling teares on ground.
Where els should I to the be knit, wyth life in common led,
With causes eke of great effect, and loue in long time bred.
Why els knewe thou so many bourds, and earnest actes of myne,
And I so manye matters said, and pleasaunt prancks of thyne.
What if alone at royall Rome, our frendship had beene knit,
But thou so oft in euerye place, was cald a fellow fit.
With winsome windes of seas in vayne, haue all these taken flight?
Or els all thinges in Leathe lake, are drounde wyth darcksome night.
I thincke in towne thou were not borne, that Rome of Quirine hight,
A towne alas wherein to come, I maye not woful wight.
But in the rockes which here do lye, on left syde of the Sea,
In croked cragges of Sarmatis, in lande of Sythia.
That in thy hart be heaped highe, of flint the stonye vaynes,
And eke of iron the seedes so hard, wythin thy brest remaynes.
The nourse also which gaue the sucke, through tender mouth to pas,
Wyth fruitful teates when thou wert yonge, vntamed Tyger was.
For els thou would not lesse regard, the heauye happe I beare,
Then straungers ill: nor giltye yet, of rygor rough appeare.
But synce the same my fatall fall, and sorrowes do encrease,
That frendship should in his first time, from dutye doing sease.
Now cause I may forget thy fault, and then I shal againe,
Wyth selfe same tongue thy kindnesse prayse, that I do now complayne.

To his frende that the common people followeth fortune.

Eleg. 8.

All voyde of griefe God graunt thou may, last ende of life attayne,
Which as a frend to reade this worke, of mine, dost not disdaine.
And here I wyshe my prayers might, preuayle for thy behoue,
Which for my selfe the cruell Gods, to mercye could not moue.
In nomber thicke thy frendes will come, while hap hanges on thy syde,
If stormye cloudes of time appeare, alone thou shalt abyde.
Behold how doues to house resort, in whitlye coullors cladde,
In beastly boure of sluttishe cotte, no byrd abydeth gladde.
The painefull pismeere neuer comes, in barne left voyde and bare,
No frend repayres where goodes before, be cleane consumde with care.
When Sonne doth shyne the shadowe shewes, of them that walke abrode,
When it lyeth hid in cloude he list, no longer make abode.
The vnconstant sort of people so, do follow fortunes light,
Which quenched once wt houering showre, they straight do take their flight.
And would to God thou might perceyue, that falselye this do sound,
But I must needes confesse them true, by fortune that I found.
While we did stande in perfect state, our house desyrde no fame,
But yet was knowen and had resort, as did suffice the same.
But when it first began to shake, they feared sore the fall,
And wilye backs to fleing turnd, to saue themselues withall.
No maruayle though they feare the flash, of lightning cruell flame,
By fyre of which all thinges is wont, consume that neare it came.
But Cæsar yet among his foes, that frende doth well allow,
Which doth not shrinke but tarye still, when fortune bendes her brow.
No wonted vse he hath to fume (no man is more modest)
If he which loude to louer still, in troubleous time is prest.
The fame doth tell how Thoas king, on Pylades did rew,
When as by mate of Gretian lande, Orestes once he knew.
Patroclus parfit fayth which was, with great Achilles knit,
Was wont full oft wyth worthy prayse, in Hectors mouth to sit.
They saye because that Thesius, wyth frende of his did pas,
Amonge the Princes blacke of hel, their God full sorrye was.
Wee may beleeue O Turnus that, thy cheekes wyth teares were wet,
When thou harde of Euralius, and Nysus faythes so set.
In wretches eke there is a loue, in foes which we approue,
O heauye hap so fewe there be, which wyth my wordes I moue.
Such is the state and chaunce of mee, and of my matters all,
That nothing ought my teares to stoppe, from sorye face to fall.

He reioyseth that his frende profited in learninge.

Eleg. 9.

Althoughe my hart for priuate chaunce, wyth sadnes so be fraught,
It lighter lyes when I hereof, the knowledge thou hadst caught.
I saw (most deare) that here thou should within this port ariue,
Afore this way the wrastling windes, thy ship began to driue.
If maners milde with vertue mixt, or life deuoyde of blame,
Be had in price no man that liues, deserues a better name.
Or if by art of conning knowen, that any do assend,
There comes no cause which thou cannot, with pleasant words defend.
With these in mind I moued thus, to the then streight can saye,
A greater stage (O frende) remaynes, thy vertue to displaye.
No spleene of sheepe, of lightning flame, no flashe on left side seene,
No chirting song nor sleight of foule, a syne whereof hath beene.
By reasons rule I did deuine, and iudge of that should come,
All these in minde I gessed right, and of them knowledge nome.
In hart therefore I ioyfull am, for the they proued true,
Also for me, to whom thy wit, was knowen as did ensue.
But would to God that myne had lyne, full low in darcknes hidde,
For neede requyres my studious stile, of louely lighte to ridde.
And as the science sad and graue, wyth pyked speache and fyne,
Doth profit thee: so am I hurt, wyth lore vnlike to thyne.
But yet my life thou knowes right well, how that far from this art,
Is masters maners distant all, repungne in euery part.
Thou knowest of old this verse was writ, by me when I was yonge,
And that it was though not to prayse, in iest and playing songe.
Like as no crafty couller can, in their defence haue might,
So I suppose my verse may not, excused be wyth right.
Euen as thou can do them excuse, and frends cause not forsake,
And wyth such steppes as thou hast goone, thy way right forth do take.

Hee prayseth his shippe he founde at Corinthia.

Elegia. 10.

A shippe I haue (and God so graunt) gouernde by Pallas might,
Whose happye name on helme thereof, depainted is in sight.
If sayles therein we neede to vse, wyth slender winde she sayles,
Or if the owyer: her wan she takes, and easye force preuayles.
Her fellowes all wyth speedy course, to passe is not content,
But doth put backe by sondry skilles, all shippes that forward bent.
The flowing flouds she lightlye bears, and fels the tossing seas,
No cruell waues she yeldes vnto, but sayles away with ease.
With her I came acquainted first, euen at Corinthia ground,
Whom since a gide and trusty mate, in fearefull flight I found.
Through sondry streights and wicked winds, our way she did procure,
Yet was by force of Pallas power, from daunger saued sure.
And now the gates of vastye Seas, we pray that she may cliue,
In Geta streames so longe tyme sought, we may at length ariue.
Which when she had conueyde me thus, to Hellespontia port,
In narrow trackt away ful longe, she safely did resort.
On left syde then our course we tournde, from Astors famous towne,
And to their coastes (O Imbria) there, from thence we came a downe.
So forth wyth gentle winds when wee, Zerinthia did attaine,
In Samothracia there our ship, al weary did remaine,
From hence the reache is short, if thou, Stantira seekes to vewe,
So farre the happye shippe she did, her maister still pursue.
Then on Bistonian fieldes to go, on foote it did me please,
My shippe forthwith forsaking there, the Hellespontian seas.
Unto Dardanea then which bears, the Authors name, we bend,
And thee (O Lampsace) we do seeke, whom rurall Gods defend.
Where as the sea doth Seston part, from Abydena towne,
Euen whereas helles whilom fell, in narrow seas adowne.
From thence to Cizicon which on, Propontis shore do stand,
Cizicon the noble worke, of Thessallonians hand.
Whereas Byzantia holdeth in, the seas on eyther syde,
This is the place of double seas, that keepes the gate so wyde.
And here I pray that we may scape, by force of Southren winde,
That from Syaneaies rockes in hast, she streight away may finde.
And so to Enyochus bayes, and thence by Polleo fall,
And caryed thus to cut her way, by Anchilaus his wall.
Thence vnto Messembros port, and to Opeson bowres
May happly passe (O Bacchus) by, of the the named towres.
Nowe vnto Alchachoes we go, which of the walles be sprong,
Who fleing forth (men say) did build, herein their houses strong.
From which vnto Myletus towne, it safelye may ariue,
Whereto the fearce and heauy wrath, of angrye Gods do driue.
Which if we may attayne vnto, a lambe there shalbe slaine,
Mynerua to: for greater gift, our goods do not sustaine.
And you dame Hellens brethren twayne, to whom this Ile do bend,
Your double power to both our shippes, we pray that you do lend.
The one vnto Simplegades, prepares her way to make,
The other through Bistonia, her iorney thence do take.
Cause you that since we diuers plats, of purpose go vnto,
That she may haue, and so may this, their wyshed winds also.

Howe that he made his first booke in his iourneye.

Eleg. 11.

VVithin this booke what letter be, that thou perhappes shal reede,
In troublous time, of careful way, the same was made in deede.
For eyther Adtia sawe we there, in could Decembers day.
How weeping verse amids the seas, to write I did assay.
Or els with double seas in course, I Istmos ouercame,
And other shippes thereby in flight, our fellowes so became.
When Cycladas amazed were, and marueile much did take,
How I among the roring flouds. these verses yet could make.
And now my selfe do wonder sore, that in such raging waues,
Of minde and seas: my very wits, them selues from daunger saues.
For be it maze with care hereof, or madnes we it call,
This studye doth repell from minde, my thought and sorrowes all.
Oft times in doubtfule minde so tost, by stormy kindes I was:
Oft times with Sterops star the Sea, through threatning waues I pas.
Arthophilax that keepes the bere, doth darke the day at dawne,
And South wind with the waters fearce, the Hiadas haue drawne.
Oft times some part thereof did passe, into my shippe aright,
Yet trembling I this woful verse, with feareful hand do wright.
Now with the Northren windes the ropes, contented are to crake,
And like to hilles the hollow Seas, a lofty surging make.
The maister wyth his hands cast vp, doth pray wyth fearefull hart,
Beholding then the heauenly starres, forgetful of his art.
On euerye syde we onlye sawe, of death the picture plaine,
Which I in minde did feare and yet, so fearing wisht againe.
God graunt I may to port ariue, I feare the fame right sore,
In water far lesse daunger is, then on that cursed shore.
Of subtill snares of men and flouds, we stand in dreary dreede,
The sword and sea my wretched minde, with double terror feede.
The one doth hope with giltlesse bloud, a pray of me to make,
The other of my woofull death, the fame would gladly take.
On left syde dwelles a people rude, whose minds be bent to spoyle,
In blamelesse bloud, and slaughter sears, and cruel warres they boyle.
And while the washing waters are, with winter flouds so wrought,
Our mindes to greater toyle (then seas) by heauy happe be brought.
Wherefore thou ought more pardon here (O gentle Reader) haue,
If these appeare (as sure it is) much lesse then hope do craue.
My Gardens now we want wherein, I wonted was to wright,
The vsed beds my body lacks, to rest the wearye night.
With bitter winters day I am, in wicked watters throwne,
My papers pale with surges soust, the grislye seas haue knowne.
The winter angry is that I, these verses dare endight,
And dreadfull threatninges casteth there, my purpose so to spight.
Of man let winter victor be, in selfe same case I pray,
That I may cease my simple verse, and he his raging stay.