University of Virginia Library

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.