Book I

Book I, Epistle 1

Naso, now become an old inhabitant of the region of Tomi, sends thee this work from the Getic shores. If thou hast leisure, Brutus, receive with hospitality these little books, coming from afar, and put them in any place thou mayst please, so that it be some place. They dare not approach the public buildings, lest their author should have already closed the path against them in that direction. Ah! how often have I said, assuredly ye teach no bad precepts; go on your way; that spot is open for verses that are pure. And yet they go not; but, as thou seeest, they think it safer to lie concealed, in a private abode. Dost thou enquire where thou mayst place them, no one being offended?? That spot is vacant for thee, where the Arts of Love used to stand. Perhaps thou mayst ask, on this their sudden arrival, why they have come? Receive them, whatever the reason is, so that it is not Love. Thou wilt find; although its title is not redolent of woe, that this work is not less sorrowful than the one I produced before. They are similar in subject, but there is a difference in the title, and each letter shows to whom it is sent, the name no longer being concealed. You, my friends, do not desire this, but you are not able to prevent it; and the dutiful Muse approaches those who are unwilling to receive her. However that is, add these lines to my works. There is nothing to hinder the progeny of an exile from enjoying a life in the City, if they observe the laws. There is no reason for fear. The writings of even Antonius are read, and the learned Brutus publicly occupies the book-case. I am not so insane as to compare myself with names so great; but yet I never bore blood-stained arms against the Deities. In fine, not one of my books fails to do honour to Cæsar, although he wishes it not. Shouldst thou hesitate as to me; admit the panegyrics of the Divinities, and receive my poem, omitting my name. The branch of the peaceful olive has its influence in warfare; will it avail my books nothing, to mention the very Founder of Peace? When the neck of Æneas was placed beneath his parent, the flame itself is said to have made a way for the hero. This book bears the name of the descendant of Æneas; and shall not every path be open to it? The latter, too, is the Father of his country; the former was the father of./Eneas himself only. Who is there so rash, that he would compel him that shakes the tinkling sistrum of Pharos to depart from his threshold? When the piper is playing on the crooked horn, before the Mother of the Gods, who can refuse the brass pieces of trifling com? We know that no such thing as this is done by the order of Diana; yet the soothsayer has thence the means of making a livelihood. The heavenly influence of the Gods above acts upon our feelings; and it is no disgrace to be beguiled into such a belief. Behold! instead of the sistrum, and the pierced holes of the Phrygian boxwood, I bear the sacred names of the family of Iulus. I both prophecy, and I instruct; make way for him that bears the sacred things; not for myself, but for the great God, it is asked. But do not suppose that, either because I have deserved, or have experienced the anger of the Prince, he is unwilling that he should be worshipped by me. I have beheld one who confessed that he had offended the Divinity of Isis, clothed in linen, sitting before the altars of Isis; another, deprived of his sight for a fault like his, was crying, in the middle of the road, that he had deserved it. The inhabitants of heaven rejoice that such public declarations are made, that they may prove by testimony how great is the extent of their power. Often do they mitigate the punishment, and restore the sight that has been taken away, when they see that a man has truly repented of his error. Great, oh! great is my penitence (if credence can be given to any of the wretched); and I am agonized by my fault! Though my exile afflicts me, my error afflicts me still more; and to endure punishment is less grievous than to have been deserving of it. Even should the Gods, among whom Augustus himself is most conspicuous, show favour to me, the punishment, indeed, may be removed, but the fault will last for ever. Death, assuredly, will cause me to be no longer an exile, when it shall have come; but death will not, as well, make me not to have committed a sin. It is not, then, to be wondered at, if my mind, wasting away, melts like the water that trickles from the snow. It is consumed, like a ship infected with the hidden wood-worm; and as the wave of the salt sea hollows out the rocks; as the iron, when thrown by, is corroded by the scaly rust; as the book that has been shut up is gnawed by the bite of the moth; so does my heart feel the eternal remorse of its cares, to be everlastingly affected thereby. These stings will not leave my mind sooner than my life; and he that grieves, will cease to exist, before his grief will cease.

If the Gods above, in whose power all things are, believe me in this, perhaps I shall be deemed worthy of a little favour; and I shall be transferred to a spot, free from the Scythian bow. Of shameless face should I be, if I prayed for more than that.

Book I, Epistle 2

Maximus, thou who fillest the measure of a name so great, and dost amplify thy descent by the nobleness of thy mind; that thou, especially mightst be born, although three hundred fell, yet one day did not carry off all the Fabii. Perhaps thou mayst ask, by whom this letter is sent; and thou mayst wish to be informed, who it is that is addressing thee. All me! what shall I do?? I fear, lest, when thou shalt read my name, thou mayst read the rest, unfavourably disposed and with alienated feelings. If any one shall see this; I will dare to confess that I have written to thee, and that I have lamented over my own woes. Let him see it, I will dare to confess that I have written to thee, and to publish the extent of my transgression. And, though I acknowledge that I deserve a greater punishment, I can scarcely have to endure a penalty more weighty.

I live in the midst of foes, and among dangers; as though, together with my country, peace had been torn away from me: These foes, that they may effect a twofold cause for death in the cruel wound, dip all their darts in the venom of the viper. Provided with these, the horseman surveys the fortifications, just like a wolf prowling round the sheep in their fold. Their light bow, when once stretched with the horse-hair cord, always remains with its string unrelaxed. The houses bristle as though palisaded with the arrows fixed there, and the gate, with its strong lock, is hardly able to keep out the warfare. Add too, the appearance of the place, gladdened with neither leaves nor trees; and the fact that one sluggish winter is ever joined to another. Here is a fourth winter, wearing me out, as I struggle against the cold, and the arrows, and my destiny. My tears are without an end, except when senselessness has checked them; and a torpor like death takes possession of my heart. Happy was Niobe, though she beheld the deaths of so many, when, changed into stone, she lost all sense of her misfortunes! Happy too, were ye, whose mouths, when calling on your brother, the poplar covered with its new-made bark! I am one, who can be turned into no wood; I am one, who in vain desire to become a stone. Even if Medusa herself were to come before my eyes, yet would even Medusa lose her power.

I live, so as never to be free from a feeling of sadness: and by length of time my punishment becomes more severe. So, the liver of Tityus, unconsumed and ever growing again, wastes not, that it may be devoured many times over. But, I suppose, when rest comes, and sleep, the universal remedy for care, the night passes, free from the usual woes. Visions the'n alarm me, that pourtray my real misfortunes, and my senses are ever awake to my sorrows. Either, I seem to be flying from the Sarmatian arrows, or to be placing my captive hands in the cruel fetters; or, when I am beguiled by the outline of a happier dream, I behold the lost home of my native land: and at one time, I am conversing at length with you, my friends, whom I esteemed, at another, with my dear wife. And thus, when a short-lived and imaginary pleasure has been experienced, this state of mine becomes worse, from the very recollection of happiness. Whether, therefore, the day looks upon wretched me, or whether the horses of the frosty night are urged on; my heart melts away with everlasting cares, just as new wax is wont to do on the application of fire. Often do I pray for death, often too, do I avert it by prayer, in order that the Sarmatian soil may not cover my bones. When it occurs to me how great is the clemency of Augustus, I trust that a share of repose may be granted to my shipwreck. When I see how obdurate is my destiny, I despair; and fleeting hope fails, overcome by great alarm. And yet I neither hope nor pray for any thing more, than that I may leave this country, even if changed for a worse. Either it is this, or nothing, that thy credit at Court may with propriety endeavour to obtain for me, without compromising thy moderation. Maximus, thou embodied eloquence of the Roman language, undertake the kind defence of a difficult case. 'Tis a bad one, I confess; but, thou being my defender, it shall become a good one. Only do utter soothing words, on account of my wretched exile; for Cæsar does not know, although a God knows every thing, in what state is this remote region. The weighty avocations of business occupy that Divinity: this care is too trifling for a heaven-born mind. He has no leisure to inquire in what region the people of Tomi are situate, a spot scarce known to the neighbouring Getæ; or what the Sauromatæ are doing, or what the savage Iazyges, and the Tauric land, beloved by the Goddess carried off by Orestes: or what other nations, when the Danube has frozen, pass on their swift horses over the hardened surface of the river. The greatest part of these men care not for thee, most beauteous Rome, and fear not the arms of the Ausonian soldiers. Their bows, their full quivers, and their horses, equal to the longest distances, give them courage; the fact too, that they have long learned to endure thirst and hunger; and that the enemy that follows will be deprived of water. The anger of the merciful Deity would not have sent me to that spot, if these things had been sufficiently known to him. It delights him not that I, or that any Roman, should be destroyed by the enemy; and me, to whom he himself has granted life, the least of all. He was unwilling, though he had the power, to injure me with the slightest nod; there is no need of any Getæ for the purpose of my death.

Besides, he has found that I have done nothing why I should suff'er death; and he may be less hostile against me than he has been. He has done nothing, too, but what I myself have forced him to do; his anger has even been almost more moderate than my offence. May the Gods therefore, of whom he is the most merciful, grant that the genial earth may produce nothing greater than Cæsar; that long in his charge may be the public burden of the State; and that, descending, it may pass into the hands of that family. But, do thou, open thy lips in behalf of my tears before a judge so lenient, as even I have experienced him to be. Make no request that it may go well with me, but that my woes may continue in a place of safety; that my exile may be spent at a distance from a cruel enemy; and that the life which the favouring Deities have granted me, the disgusting Getan may not deprive me of, with his drawn sword. Lastly, that if I die, my bones may be laid in a more peaceful spot, and may not be covered with Scythian soil; that the hoof of the Bistonian horse may not crush my ashes half unburied (as, forsooth, befits an exile); and that if, after death, there is any perception, no Sarmatian ghost may alarm my shade. These things, Maximus, when heard, could affect the feelings of Cæsar; if first they could influence thine. Let thy voice, I entreat thee, which is wont to aid the trembling accused, soothe the ears of Augustus in my behalf: and do thou, with the wonted blandness of thy learned tongue, soften the heart of him who is to be reckoned equal with the Gods. Neither Theromedon, nor cruel Atreus, will have to be entreated by thee, nor he that made human beings food for his mares; but a Prince, slow to punish, quick to reward, and who grieves, as often as he is forced to be severe: one who ever conquers, that he may spare the conquered, and who has shut up civil warfare with everlasting locks. One who prevents many a crime by the dread of punishment, but few by punishment itself; and who hurls but few bolts, and those with a repugnant hand. Therefore, sent as my pleader before ears so lenient, do thou entreat that the place of my banishment may be nearer to my country. I am one, who held thee in esteem, and whom the festive table used to see among thy guests. I am he who led Hymenæus before thy marriage torches, and repeated verses worthy of a happy union; whose works, as I remember, thou wast wont to praise, with the exception of those that brought ruin on their master; and to whom, admiring them, thou wast wont sometimes to read thy writings. I am he, to whom a bride was given, from out of thy family. Martia esteems her, and from her earliest youth has always reckoned her, much beloved, in the number of her companions. Formerly, the maternal aunt of Cæsar had her among her own companions; if a person is to be esteemed according to their opinion, she is virtuous. Claudia, herself superior to her own character, would not have stood in need of the Divine aid, had they praised her. I, too, spent my former years without a stain: the last portion of my life must be omitted. But, to keep silence about myself, my wife is thy charge; without impeachment of thy honour, thou canst not treat her with neglect. To thy family she flies for aid: your altars does she embrace. Every one, properly, resorts to the Gods that have been worshipped by him: and, weeping, she entreats that, Cæsar once appeased by thy supplications, the tomb of her husband may be nearer to his country.

Book I, Epistle 3

My friend Naso, Rufinus, sends thee this salutation; if he, who is in misery, can be owned as the friend of any one. The consolation that has been lately given by thee to my disturbed spirit, has afforded both aid and hope, amid my woes. As Epithalamium, or nuptial song, on the occasion of the marriage of Maximus. The name of Hymenæus, the God of Marriage, is here used to signify the Epithalamium.

the hero, the son of Pœas, through the skill of Machaon experienced the aid of medicine in the cure of his wound; so I, prostrate in mind, and wounded with a cruel blow, began, at thy exhortation, to take courage. And when now failing, I revived at thy words, as the pulse is wont to return on wine being administered. But yet thy eloquence did not put forth powers so great, that my heart was entirely healed by thy words. However much thou mayst subtract from the floods of my cares; that which will remain, will be no less than that which is removed. In length of time, perhaps, the scar will be covered over; wounds, while yet raw, shudder at the application of the hand. It is not always within the physician's power, that the invalid should recover: sometimes disease is more powerful than the experience of art. Thou seeest, how blood discharged from the tender lungs leads by a sure path to the Stygian streams. Should even he of Epidaurus himself apply the sacred herbs, by no skill of his will he heal the wounds of the heart. The medical art is at a loss how to remove the swelling gout, and gives no aid in cases of hydrophobia. Grief, too, is sometimes curable by no skill; or, even if it is, by length of time must it be alleviated. After thy advice had strengthened my prostrate spirit, and the armour of thy mind had been assumed by me, again did longing for my country, more powerful than all reasoning, destroy the work which thy writings had formed. Whether thou wouldst have it called affectionate or womanish: I confess that the heart of wretched me is but tender. The wisdom of him of Ithaca is undoubted; and yet he longed to be able to behold the smoke of his paternal hearths. The land of our birth impels us, influenced by an extraordinary attraction, and allows us not to be forgetful of it. What is there better than Rome? What is there more intolerable than the Scythian frosts? Yet, hither does the barbarian flee from that City. Although the daughter of Pandion is safe, when shut in a cage; yet she struggles to regain her woods. The oxen seek their wonted pastures, the lions their wonted caves, and their fierceness hinders them not from doing so. And yet thou believest that the torments of exile can be removed from my heart by thy consolations. Make yourselves to be not so worthy to be loved by me, that it may be a lighter misfortune to be deprived of such.

But, I suppose, now that I am driven from the land of my birth, it has still fallen to my lot to be in a place fit for man. I lie here, deserted, amid the sands of a far distant region, where the hidden earth supports eternal snows. Here the land produces neither the pome, nor the sweet grape; willows flourish not on the bank, nor oaks on the mountain. And praise not the sea any more than the land: the ocean, deprived of the heat of the sun is ever unsettled through the raging of the winds. Whichever way you look, plains extend without a cultivator; and vast fields, to which there is no one to lay claim. A foe is at hand, to be dreaded, both on the right side and the left; and either direction brings its alarms through fear of our neighbours. One side is to be made to feel the Bistonian lances; the other, the javelins hurled by the Sarmatian hand. Come now, and recount to me the examples of men of ancient times, who have endured misfortunes with fortitude. Admire, too, the firmness of the magnanimous Rutilius, who accepted not the liberty of returning, that was granted him. Smyrna received that heroic man, not Pontus, and the land of an enemy; Smyrna, not less desirable than hardly any other place. The Cynic of Sinope did not grieve that he was far from his country; for he chose, land of Attica, thy abodes. The son of Neocles, who crushed the Persian arms in warfare, experienced his first banishment in the city of Argos. Aristides, when driven from his country, fled to Lacedaemon; between the two, it is a matter of doubt which was preferable. Patroclus, when a youth, being guilty of homicide, left Opus, and arrived in the land of Thessaly, as the guest of Achilles. Jason, under whose guidance the sacred bark sped onwards to the Colchian waves, went as an exile, from Hæmonia, to the spring of Pirene. Cadmus, the son of Agenor, left the walls of Sidon, that he might found his city on a preferable site. Tydeus came to Adrastus, expelled from Calydon; and the land pleasing to Venus received Teucer. Why shall I make mention of the forefathers of the Roman race, among whom Tybur was the remotest spot for the exile? Should I detail, all of them, to no one, in all ages, has a place been assigned so far from his country as this, or more dreadful than it. Therefore, the more readily should thy wisdom find a pardon for me in my sorrow, who profit but so little by thy exhortations. And yet I do not deny, that if my wound-s were capable of closing, they could close under thy advice. But I fear lest thou shouldst strive in vain to save me, and lest, weak and past all recovery, I can derive no benefit from the application of thy aid. And I say this, not because I have any greater foresight, but because I am better known to myself than to my physician. But, though so it is, thy good wishes have come as a great boon to me, and are gratefully accepted.

Book I, Epistle 4

My declining years are now besprinkled with grey hairs; and the wrinkle of old age now seams my countenance; now vigour and strength are growing languid in my exhausted frame; and those amusements which delighted me when a a youth, delight me no longer. If you were to behold me on a sudden, you would not recognize me, so great has been the decline of my age. I confess that length of years causes this; but there is, too, another cause; anxiety of mind, and eternal care. For, were any one to distribute my woes through a length of years, (believe me,) I should be older than Nestor of Pylos. You see how, in the rugged fields, hard work weakens the strong bodies of the oxen; and what is stronger than an ox? The soil which has never been accustomed to rest in the repose of the fallow, wearied with continually producing, grows old. If a horse shall be always engaging in the contests of the Circus, without the intermission of any of the races, he will die. Although a ship be strong, she will go to pieces at sea, if she is never dry, and free from the action of the flowing water. An endless series of troubles wears me away, too, and, before my time, forces me to be an old man. Repose gives nourishment to the body; the mind, too, is refreshed by it: on the other hand, immoderate care consumes them both. See, what fame the son of Eson will gain from latest posterity, because he came to these regions. But his labours were both lighter, and less than mine; if only, illustrious names do not smother the truth. He set out for Pontus, being sent by Pelias, who was hardly to be dreaded within the limits of Thessaly. The wrath of Cæsar has caused my afflictions; him, at whom both sides of the earth tremble, from the rising of the sun to its setting. Hæmonia is nearer to the baleful Pontus than Rome is, and he travelled a less distance than I did. He had for his companions, the chief men of the Grecian land; whereas, all deserted me on my banishment. I ploughed the vast ocean on a frail bit of timber; the ship that bore the son of son was strong. Tiphys, too, was not my pilot, and the son of Agenor did not instruct me what course to follow, and what to avoid. Royal Juno, with Pallas, protected him; no Divinities have defended my person The furtive arts of Cupid aided him; arts, which I wish that Love had not learned from me. He returned home; I shall die in these lands, if the heavy wrath of the offended God shall be lasting. My burden, most faithful wife, is a harder one than that which the son of Æson bore. You, too, whom I left shll young at my departure from the City, I can believe to have grown old under my calamities. Oh, grant it, ye Gods, that I may be enabled to see you, even if such, and to give the joyous kiss on each cheek in its turn; and to embrace your emaciated body in my arms, and to say, twas anxiety, on my account, that caused this thinness; and, weeping, to recount in person my sorrows to you in tears, and thus enjoy a conversation that I had never hoped for; and to offer the due frankincense, with grateful hand, to the Cæsars, and to the wife that is worthy of a Cæsar, Deities in real truth! Oh that the mother of Memnon, that Prince being softened, would with her rosy lips, speedily call forth that day.

Book I, Epistle 5

Naso once not the last among thy friends, entreats thee, Maximus, to read his words. In these, cease to look for my former ability, that thou mayst not seem to be ignorant of my exile. Thou seeest how ease enervates the slothful body; how water contracts a taint, if it is not stirred. If ever I had any facility in composing verses, it now fails me, and has been diminished by listless sloth. These words too, which ye read, (if you will believe me, Maximus), I write, put together with difficulty, and with a reluctant hand. It delights me not to give the bent of my mind to such pursuits, and the Muse, though invited, comes not among the savage Getæ. Yet, as thou seeest, I struggle to compose a hue; but it is not less harsh than is my destiny. When I read it over again, I am ashamed that I wrote it: because I see many things that are deserving to be erased, even in the opinion of myself who have composed them. And yet I correct them not: this were a greater labour than to write them, and the mind that is sick, is able to endure no hardship. Should I, forsooth, begin to use polished language with more attention, and should I repeat every word according to rule? I Does Fortune torment me too little, unless the Nile is in confluence with the Hebrus, and unless Athos adds his leaves to the Alps? We must make allowance for the mind that bears the wound of sorrow; let the oxen withdraw their galled necks from the burden. But I suppose, forsooth, profit is the result, the justest stimulant of labour; and the earth returns the seed sown with bounteous interest. Up to this moment (even should you review my whole career), no work of mine has been of any advantage to me, and I only wish no one of them had done me an injury. Dost thou, then, wonder why I write? I wonder as well; and I often ask myself, what I shall get by it. Does the multitude say truly, that poets are insane; and am I the greatest illustration of this saying? I, who, when I have been so often deceived in a barren soil, persist in sowing my seed in unproductive ground. In truth, each one is attached to his own pursuit; and it is pleasant to spend our time in one's usual occupations. The wounded gladiator curses the combat, and yet the same man, forgetful of his former wound, resumes arms. The shipwrecked person says that he will have nothing to do with the waves of the sea; soon he is plying the oars, in the water, in which but just now, he was swimming. So am I constantly following a useless pursuit; and I seek again those Goddesses, to whom I wish I had not devoted myself. What am I to do in preference? I am not one to indulge in listless sloth: time unemployed is considered death by me. I take no pleasure in wearing myself out till dawn, with excess of wine; and alluring games of hazard do not occupy my shaking hands. When I have devoted the hours to sleep which the body demands, after I am awake, how shall I dispose of the long hours? Forgetting the manners of my country, shall I learn to stretch the Sarmatian bow; and shall I be allured by the peculiar art of this place? My strength too forbids me to follow this pursuit; and my mind is stronger than my thin body. When you have well considered what I am to do; there is nothing more useful than these pursuits, which have no utility. From them I gain forgetfulness of my calamity; if my field yields this for its harvest, it is enough. Glory stimulates you, ye poets; keep your attention fixed on the Pierian choirs, that your poems, when recited, may meet with approval. It is enough for me to compose anything that occurs without an effort: and no necessity exists for extreme labour. Why should I polish my lines with anxious care? Ought I to fear, lest the Getan should not approve of them? Perhaps I may be acting rashly, in so doing, but I boast that the Danube possesses no genius superior to my own. It is -enough, if in this land, where I must live, I attain to being a poet among the savage Getæ. Of what use is it to reach distant regions by my fame? Let that place, which Fortune has given, be Rome for me. With this for her theatre, is my Muse content. This have I deserved; this have the great Gods willed. Besides, I do not think that there is any way hence to that spot for my works, a spot, at which Boreas arrives with flagging wing. We are in quite a different climate; and the Bear, which is afar from the City of Quirinus, looks down on the hairy Getæ close at hand. Through so great a tract of land, so many seas, I could hardly believe that any exponent of my pursuits could make its way. Suppose mij works to be read, and, what is surprising, suppose they give pleasure: assuredly that thing will avail the author nothing. Of what use is it to thee, if thou art praised when situate in the hot Syene, or where the Indian waves surround Taprobane? Do you wish to go further? If the far distant Constellations of the Pleiades please thee, what benefit dost thou derive from that? But I do not reach there, with my homely writings: with their master, his glory has fled from the City. And ye, to whom I have been dead, from the time when my fame was entombed, I suppose you have kept a rigid silence upon my death up to the present moment.

Book I, Epistle 6

And was not thy heart sad, when first thou heardst of my calamities? (for then a distant land withheld thee). Although, Græcinus, thou shouldst hide it, and hesitate to confess it, if I know thee well, I am sure thou wast sad. Unamiable insensibility does not befit those manners of thine, nor is it less at variance with thy pursuits. By the liberal arts, to which thou payest the greatest attention, the heart is made tender, and harshness is dispelled; and there is no one who embraces them with more sincerity than thyself, so far as duty and the avocations of war permit.

Assuredly, at the first moment that I could be sensible of what I was (for, in my stupor, for a long time I had no understanding), I felt that this, too, was a part of my destiny, that thou, my friend, who couldst have been a great protection to me, shouldst be at a distance. With thee, the solace of a dejected spirit was wanting; and a great part, as well, of my mind and of my faculties. But now, grant me this aid from afar, which alone remains, and cheer my heart by thy converse: a heart (if thou wouldst put any trust in a friend that speaks no untruth), that ought rather to be called unwise, than wicked. It is neither a slight matter, nor a safe one, to write what was the cause of my offence: my wounds will not endure handling. Do not inquire, how they have come to be inflicted on me; if thou wishest the wounds to close, disturb them not. Whatever it is, though not a crime, yet it must be called a fault; or is it that every fault, committed against the great Gods, is a crime? Some hope then, Græcinus, is still left to my spirit, of a mitigation of my punishment. Hope was the only Goddess, that, when the Deities fled from the wicked earth, alone remained on the soil so hateful to the Gods. She causes even the miner, bound with the fetter, to live on, and to expect that his legs will be liberated from the iron. She causes the shipwrecked sailor to extend his arms in the midst of the waves, when he beholds no land on any side. Many a time has the skilful care of the physicians given a person up; and yet, as his pulse has failed, hope has not deserted him. Those shut up in prison are said to hope for safety; and the criminaly as he hangs on the cross, breathes his prayers. How many, when they have fastened their necks with the noose, has that Goddess forbidden to die by the fate they had purposed! Me too, endeavouring to end my griefs by the sword, she prevented, and restrained me by laying her hand upon me. "What art thou doing? said she." Tears are needed, not blood; by means of them, often is the wrath of the Prince wont to be assuaged. Although then it is not the due of my deserts, yet there is great room for hope, in the clemency of the God. Do thou entreat him, Græcinus, not to be inexorable against me; and contribute thy words towards the attainment of my wishes. May I He entombed amid the sands of Tomi, if I do not believe that thou wishest the same in my behalf; for first would the pigeons begin to avoid the turrets, the wild beasts their dens, the sheep their pastures, the didapper the waves, before Græcinus would show himself unkind to his old friend. Everything has not been so far reversed as that, by my destiny.

Book I, Epistle 7

The letter, Messalinus, which thou art reading, has, in the place of words, brought thee my salutation, even from among the savage Getæ. Does the region reveal who the writer is? or is it unknown to thee, unless thou readest my name, that it is! Naso, who write these words? Who of thy friends lies prostrate, far removed in a distant region, except myself, who pray ever to be thy friend? Oh! that the Gods would wish that all who esteem and love thee, should gain no knowledge of this race. It is enough for me, to be living among ice and the Scythian arrows; if a kind of death is to be considered life. Let the earth with its wars, or the climate with its cold, be distressing me, and let the fierce Getan be striking me with his arms, and the storm with its hail. Let a region confine me that is prolific neither in pomes nor in grapes; and of which no side is free from the enemy. Let the rest of the multitude of thy friends be in safety, among whom I was a small fraction, like one out of a great number. Ah, wretched me! if thou art off'ended by these words; and if thou denyest that I was ever, in any degree, thy friend. Suppose that to be the truth, thou oughtst to forgive me thus guilty of a falsehood: my praise subtracts nothing from thy fame. Who is there, if the Cæsars are known to him, that does not pretend that he is a friend of theirs?? Pardon me, if I confess it; thou shalt be my Cæsar. But I rush not in where I may not tread; and it is enough, if thou dost not deny that thy hall was once open to me. And although I had no further intimacy with thee than this; thou art now saluted by one mouth less than formerly thou wast; but thy father did not deny that I was his friend, the encourager, the cause, and the very light of my pursuits. To him I gave both my tears, as my last gift at his death, and my verses for recitation in the middle of the Forum. Besides, thou hast a brother, united to thee in an affection as strong as that between the sons of Atreus and the offspring of Tyndarus. He rejected me, neither as a companion, nor as a friend; if thou art of opinion that these avowals will not do him any injury; but, if thou dost not think so, I will confess that in this respect, also, I have been untruthful. Sooner than that, may the whole of thy house be shut against me. But there is no necessity for it to be shut, for there is no power that has the means of preventing a friend from doing wrong. And although, much as I could wish that my fault could be denied, no one is ignorant that I was not guilty of a sin. And, unless some part of my offence had been excusable, 'twould have been but a light penalty to be removed from my country. But Cæsar himself, who perceives everything, saw that my offence might be construed to be thoughtlessness; and, so far as I permitted him, and so far as the matter allowed of, he showed himself merciful; and he used the flames of his lightnings with moderation. He took not away my life, nor my property, nor even the possibility of my return; if only his wrath can be moderated by your entreaties, my friends. But heavy was my fall; and what is there surprising, if one who has been struck by Jupiter, has no slight wound? Even when Achilles spared to exert his strength, the spear of the son of Pelias, when hurled, gave heavy blows. Since, therefore, the sentence of the avenger was favourable to me, there is no reason why thy gate should deny acquaintance with me. It was attended, I confess, less often than it ought to have been; but this, too, I believe, was the effect of my destiny. And yet no other one was more sensible of my respect; and whether in this place, or in that, I was ever under the protection of thy family. Such is thy affection, that, even if he did not cultivate thy friendship, the friend of thy brother has some claim upon thee; and is it not thy own good fortune, as gratitude is ever the result of kindness, now to have made thyself deserving of it? And if thou allowest me to persuade thee what to desire, pray the Gods that thou mayst give, rather than exchange for a requital. And so thou art wont to do, and, so far as I can remember, thou wast wont to be the originator of kindnesses shown to many. Give me, Messalinus, whatever place thou mayst please, so that I be a portion not alienated from thy house; and, if thou dost not grieve that Naso has endured misfortunes, since he appears to have deserved them, still grieve that he has been deserving of them.

Book I, Epistle 8

Receive, Severus, thou great portion of my life, the salutation sent from Naso, beloved by thee. But ask not what I am doing: if I should recount everything, thou wouldst weep. Let it be enough, if the sum of my misfortunes is known to thee.

Destitute of peace, I am living in eternal warfare, the quivered Getan provoking the cruel strife. Out of so many banished, I am the only one that is a soldier, as well as an exile; all the rest of the exiles are in safety, but I do not envy their lot. And that thou mayst the more readily accord pardon to my writings, thou wilt read these lines composed by me, in readiness for military duty.

There stands an ancient city, near the bank of the Danube, that bears two names, scarcely accessible, from its fortifications and the position of the place. The Caspian Ægypsus (if we believe them, when speaking of themselves) founded it, and called it after his own name. The savage Getan took it, the Odrysii being massacred in a sudden incursion, and then he waged war against its king. He, mindful of his high birth, which he enhances by his courage, immediately presents himself, surrounded with soldiers innumerable; and he does not withdraw, before, through the well-deserved slaughter of the aggressors, he, in his excess of vengeance, himself becomes the aggressor. O king, the most valiant in this our age, may it be granted thee, ever to wield the sceptre with an honoured hand. May Rome, too, the offspring of Mars, and the great Cæsar, grant thee their approval, a thing still more desirable; what greater boon than this could I pray for thee? But, not forgetful whence I have digressed, my dear companion, I complain that cruel warfare is added to my calamities. The rising Pleiad has brought on four autumns, since, driven into these Stygian regions, I have been deprived of thee. But do not suppose that Naso regrets the conveniences of a city life; and yet he does regret them. For at one moment I recall to mind you, my much-loved friends; at another time, my daughter, with my dear wife, recurs to me: and then, from my house I turn to the spots of the beauteous City: and my mind, with its eye, surveys them all. Now the markets, now the temples, now the theatres paved with marble, and now all the porticos recur to me, with their level ground. Now the grass of the plain that looks on the beauteous gardens, and the standing waters of the Euripus, and the aqueduct of the Virgin, recur to me.

But, I suppose, the delights of the City have been thus torn from wretched me, that, at least, I may be allowed, in some degree, to enjoy the pleasures of the country. My spirit longs not for the fields that it has lost, and the rural retreats to be beheld on the Pelignian soil; nor yet for the gardens, situate on the pine-bearing hills, which the Clodian way, at its junction with the Flaminian, looks upon. For another, whom, I know not, have I cultivated them; in them I was wont to conduct the fountain streams to my plantations, and I repent not. There too, if they are still alive, are apples, once planted with my hand, but not destined to be gathered by it as well. In exchange for the loss of these things, would that some piece of land, at least, had fallen to my lot to cultivate in my exile. I myself could wish, were it only allowed me, to feed my she-goats balancing on the edge of the crag, and, leaning on my staff, to feed my sheep. I myself, did not my heart continually dwell on my wonted cares, could lead the oxen that till the land under the curving yoke. I could learn the words that the Getan bullocks understand, and I could apply to them the wonted threats of the ploughman. I myself, guiding the handle of the pressed plough, with my hand could try to scatter the seed in the ground that has been turned up. I would not hesitate to cleanse the field with the long hoe, and to supply the water, for the thirsting garden to drink up. But in what quarter am I to find this, between whom and the foe, the fortifications and the closed gate form but a scanty interval? But for thee, (and with all my heart do I rejoice at it) the Goddesses of Destiny have spun strong threads. At one moment, the Field of Mars receives thee; at another, the portico, with its dark shade; at another, the Forum, to which thou givest but little of thy time. And now Umbria recalls thee; and the Appian way takes thee, going towards the fields of Alba with swift wheel. Perhaps here thou mayst wish that Cæsar would check his deserved anger; and that thy country residence might be my hospitable retreat. Oh! my friend, 'tis too much, what thou dost wish for; request something more moderate, and take in the sails of thy desires. Would that a land were granted me nearer to my country, and subject to no warfare; then would a great part be subtracted from my woes.

Book I, Epistle 9

Thy letter, which came to me, speaking of the loss of Celsus, was immediately moistened with my tears; and, what I ought not to say, and I did not think possible to happen, thy letter was read by unwilling eyes. Nothing has come to my ears more distressing, since I have been in Pontus; and may it long be so, I pray. His countenance ever remains before my eyes, as though he were present; and affection makes the dead still to live. My mind often recalls his playful remarks, when stripped of gravity; and often recalls his performance of the serious duties of life with sincere fidelity.

But no occasion recurs to me more frequently than tliat, which I wish had been the last moment of my life; when my house coming down suddenly, fell in ruins with a tremendous crash upon the head of its master. He was present with me, Maximus, when a great part deserted me; and he proved himself no hanger-on upon Fortune. I beheld him, weeping at my downfall, in no other manner, than if his brother was about to be placed on the burning pile. He fastened in my embrace, and consoled me, as I lay prostrate, and even mingled his own tears with mine. Oh! how often did he, at that moment, the repulsive defender of my hated life, restrain my hands prepared for my own destruction! Oh! how often did he say, "The anger of the Gods is capable of being appeased; live on, and do not deny that possibly thou mayst receive pardon. Yet these were his most remarkable words," Consider how much assistance Maximus ought to afford thee! Maximus will apply himself to the task, and, such is his affection, he will ask that the anger of Cæsar be not lasting for ever. Together with his brothers, he will use his energies and try every resource, that thy griefs may be alleviated. These words diminished in me the hatred of my wretched existence; and be it thy care, Maximus, that they prove not to have been unfounded. Hither, too, he used to swear to me that he would come, if only thou didst grant him permission to undertake so long a voyage. For he esteemed thy family with no less veneration, than that with which thou thyself dost worship the Gods that rule the earth. Believe me, although thou deservedly hast many friends; out of so many he was inferior to none: if only, it is not riches, nor the illustrious names of ancestors, but probity and talent that make men great. Justly then do I shed the tear for Celsus removed from us, which he gave for me still living, at the time when I was banished. Deservedly do I afford these lines, that attest thy rare virtues; in order, Celsus, that posterity may read of thy name. This is what I am able to send thee from the Getic regions; in this place, this is the only thing that 'tis certain is my own.

I could not attend thy funeral, nor anoint thy body; and from thy pile I am separated by the distance of the whole earth. Maximus, who was able, and whom, when alive, thou didst esteem as a Divinity, performed every duty for thee. He performed thy sepulchral rites, and gave thee a funeral of great pomp; he, too, poured the amomum on thy cold breast. He, weeping, mingled the ointment with his gushing tears, and buried thy bones, laid at rest in the neighbouring ground. And since he gives their due to his friends when dead, he is at liberty to reckon me in the number of them.

Book I, Epistle 10

Flaccus, the exile Naso sends thee health; if any one can send the thing which he himself is in want of. For lasting grief does not allow a body diseased by grievous cares to retain its strength. And yet no pain is there; I am not parched by panting fever, and my pulse beats with its usual tenor. My appetite is blunted; food set before me creates loathing; and I complain when the hour comes for my hated repast. Set before me whatever the sea, whatever the land, whatever the air produces; there will be nothing there, to create an appetite in me. Were Hebe, the active damsel, with her beauteous hand to present to me nectar and ambrosia, the drink and the food of the Gods, yet the taste of them would not sharpen my dulled palate; and the weight would rest long on my inactive stomach. This, though it is most true, I dare not write to any one; lest they should style my malady mere affectation. Such is my state, forsooth, such is the aspect of my fortunes, that there can be room even for affectation! I wish such affectation as this, to be the lot of the man, if such there is, who fears lest the wrath of Cæsar against me should be mitigated. That sleep, too, which, to a weakly body, is aliment, affords no nourishment by its virtues to my emaciated frame. But I keep awake, and for ever do my griefs abstain from sleep; matter for which the very place itself affords me. Scarcely, then, couldst thou recognize my features, if seen; and thou wouldst ask whither the colour has gone, that formerly existed. But little nourishment comes into my wasted limbs; and my members are paler than new wax. These maladies I have not contracted through excess of wine; thou knowest how almost water alone is drunk by me. I am not stuffed with food: and were I affected with a desire for it, there is no abundance in the Getic regions.

The injurious pleasures of Venus take not away my strength: she is not wont to approach my bed of sorrow. The water and the climate are injurious to me; and, a cause still more powerful than these, the anxiety of mind that is ever present with me. And hadst thou not, together with thy brother, like to thee, alleviated this, scarcely could my sorrowing mind have borne its weight of sadness. You two are as a hospitable shore for my frail skiff, and you give me that aid which many refuse. Give it me always,! pray, because I shall always stand in need of it: as long as the divine Majesty of Cæsar shall be offended with me. And do you, both, humbly entreat your Gods, that he may moderate not that he may put an end to, the anger that I have merited.