Absence

Augustus, frowning, gave command,
And Ovid left his native land;
From Julia as an exile sent,
He long with barb'rous Goths was pent.
So fortune frown'd on me and I was driven,
From friends, from home, from Jane and happy
Devon!
And Jane sore grieved when from me torn away; —
I loved her sorrow, though I wish'd her — GAY!