Ovid: TRISTIA

"Missus in hanc uenio timide liber exulis urbem
     da placidam fesso, lector amice, manum;
neue reformida, ne sim tibi forte pudori:
     nullus in hac charta uersus amare docet.
Haec domini fortuna mei est, ut debeat illam
     infelix nullis dissimulare iocis.
Id quoque, quod uiridi quondam male lusit in aeuo,
     heu nimium sero damnat et odit opus.

"Sent, I come timidly, the book of an exile, into this city
     give a placid hand to the weary one, reader and friend;
and do not shrink back, lest I perhaps be a shame to you:
     no verse on this page teaches to love.
Such is the fortune of my master, that the unhappy man
     ought not to dissimulate it with any jests.
That work too, which once he played at ill in his green age,
     alas, too late he condemns and hates the work.

Inspice quid portem: nihil hic nisi triste uidebis,
     carmine temporibus conueniente suis.
Clauda quod alterno subsidunt carmina uersu,
     uel pedis hoc ratio, uel uia longa facit;
quod neque sum cedro flauus nec pumice leuis,
     erubui domino cultior esse meo;
littera suffusas quod habet maculosa lituras,
     laesit opus lacrimis ipse poeta suum.
Siqua uidebuntur casu non dicta Latine,
     in qua scribebat, barbara terra fuit.

Inspect what I carry: here you will see nothing but sad,
     a poem fitting to its times.
The verses limp, subsiding in the alternate line,
     either the rationale of the foot does this, or the long road makes it;
that I am neither yellowed with cedar nor smoothed with pumice,
     I blushed to be more cultivated than my master;
that the writing has blot-stained, suffused erasures,
     the poet himself injured his work with tears.
If anything shall seem by chance not said in Latin,
     the land in which he was writing was barbarian.

Dicite, lectores, si non graue, qua sit eundum,
     quasque petam sedes hospes in urbe liber."
Haec ubi sum furtim lingua titubante locutus,
     qui mihi monstraret, uix fuit unus, iter.
"Di tibi dent, nostro quod non tribuere poetae,
     molliter in patria uiuere posse tua.
Duc age, namque sequar, quamuis terraque marique
     longinquo referam lassus ab orbe pedem."
Paruit, et ducens "haec sunt fora Caesaris," inquit,
     "haec est a sacris quae uia nomen habet,
hic locus est Vestae, qui Pallada seruat et ignem,
     haec fuit antiqui regia parua Numae."
Inde petens dextram "porta est" ait "ista Palati,
     hic Stator, hoc primum condita Roma loco est."
Singula dum miror, uideo fulgentibus armis
     conspicuos postes tectaque digna deo.

"Say, readers, if it is not burdensome, where I should go,
     and what seats I should seek as a guest, a book, in the city."
When I had spoken these things stealthily with a faltering tongue,
     there was scarcely a single one to show me the way.
"May the gods grant to you what they did not bestow upon our poet:
     to be able to live gently in your fatherland.
Lead on, come, for I will follow, although by land and sea
     I bring back my step, weary, from a far-off world."
He obeyed, and leading said, "these are the forums of Caesar,
     this is the way which has its name from the sacred rites,
here is the place of Vesta, which keeps Pallas and the fire,
     this was the small regia of ancient Numa."
Then making for the right, "that is the gate of the Palatine," he said,
     "here is Stator; in this place Rome was first founded."
While I marvel at each thing, I see with gleaming arms
     conspicuous doorposts and roofs worthy of a god.

"Et Iouis haec" dixi "domus est?" Quod ut esse putarem,
     augurium menti querna corona dabat.
Cuius ut accepi dominum, "non fallimur," inquam,
     "et magni uerum est hanc Iouis esse domum.
Cur tamen opposita uelatur ianua lauro,
     cingit et augustas arbor opaca comas?

"And is this," I said, "the house of Jove?" As I was thinking it to be so,
     an augury to my mind the quercine crown was giving.
When I learned who its master was, "we are not deceived," I say,
     "and it is true that this is the house of great Jove.
But why is the doorway set opposite veiled with laurel,
     and why does a shady tree gird the august locks?"

Num quia perpetuos meruit domus ista triumphos,
an quia Leucadio semper amata deo est?
Ipsane quod festa est, an quod facit omnia festa?
Quam tribuit terris, pacis an ista nota est?

Is it because that house has merited perpetual triumphs,
or because it has always been loved by the Leucadian god?
Is it itself because it is festal, or because it makes all things festal?
Is this the mark of peace which it has bestowed upon the lands?

utque uiret semper laurus nec fronde caduca
     carpitur, aeternum sic habet illa decus?
Causa superpositae scripto est testata coronae:
     seruatos ciuis indicat huius ope.
Adice seruatis unum, pater optime, ciuem,
     qui procul extremo pulsus in orbe latet,
in quo poenarum, quas se meruisse fatetur,
     non facinus causam, sed suus error habet.

And as the laurel is always green and is not plucked by falling foliage,
     so does that hold eternal glory?
The reason for the crown set above is attested by an inscription:
     it indicates citizens saved by this one’s help.
Add to the saved one citizen, most excellent father,
     who, driven far off to the world’s farthest edge, lies hidden,
in whose case, for the punishments which he confesses he has deserved,
     the cause is not a crime, but his own error.

Me miserum! Vereorque locum uereorque potentem,
et quatitur trepido littera nostra metu.
Aspicis exsangui chartam pallere colore?

Alas for wretched me! I fear the place and I fear the powerful,
and our letter is shaken with trembling fear.
Do you see the paper blanch with a bloodless hue?

     Aspicis alternos intremuisse pedes?
Quandocumque, precor, nostro placere parenti
     isdem et sub dominis aspiciare domus!"
Inde tenore pari gradibus sublimia celsis
     ducor ad intonsi candida templa dei,
signa peregrinis ubi sunt alterna columnis,
     Belides et stricto barbarus ense pater,
quaeque uiri docto ueteres cepere nouique
     pectore, lecturis inspicienda patent.
Quaerebam fratres, exceptis scilicet illis,
     quos suus optaret non genuisse pater.

     Do you see that the alternating feet have trembled?
“Whenever, I pray, you may be pleasing to our parent,
     may you also look upon the house under the same masters!”
Thence, with equal tenor, I am led up by lofty steps
     to the shining temples of the unshorn god,
where statues stand alternating with foreign columns,
     the Belides and the barbarian father with drawn sword,
and whatever the learned man—both ancient and new—has seized
     with his breast, lies open to be inspected by readers.
I was seeking brothers, of course with those excepted
     whom their own father would wish he had not begotten.

Quaerentem frustra custos e sedibus illis
     praepositus sancto iussit abire loco.
Altera templa peto, uicino iuncta theatro:
     haec quoque erant pedibus non adeunda meis.
Nec me, quae doctis patuerunt prima libellis,
     atria Libertas tangere passa sua est.

Seeking in vain, the custodian set over those seats
     ordered me to depart from that sacred place.
I seek other temples, joined to the neighboring theater:
     these too were not to be approached by my feet.
Nor did Liberty allow me to touch her own atria,
     which had first stood open to learned booklets.

In genus auctoris miseri fortuna redundat,
     et patimur nati, quam tulit ipse, fugam.
Forsitan et nobis olim minus asper et illi
     euictus longo tempore Caesar erit.
Di, precor, atque adeo (neque enim mihi turba roganda est)
     Caesar, ades uoto, maxime diue, meo.

Upon the lineage of the wretched author fortune flows back,
     and we, the offspring, suffer the flight which he himself bore.
Perhaps both for us someday less harsh, and for him,
     Caesar will be, vanquished by long time.
Gods, I pray, or rather (for I need not ask a crowd),
     Caesar, be present to my vow, greatest divine one.

Interea, quoniam statio mihi publica clausa est,
priuato liceat delituisse loco.
Vos quoque, si fas est, confusa pudore repulsae
sumite plebeiae carmina nostra manus.

Meanwhile, since the public station is closed to me,
let it be permitted to have lain hidden in a private place.
You too, if it is right, abashed by the shame of repulse,
you plebeian hands, take up our songs.

Ergo erat in fatis Scythiam quoque uisere nostris,
     quaeque Lycaonio terra sub axe iacet:
nec uos, Pierides, nec stirps Letoia, uestro
     docta sacerdoti turba tulistis opem.
Nec mihi, quod lusi uero sine crimine, prodest,
     quodque magis uita Musa iocata mea est:
plurima sed pelago terraque pericula passum
     ustus ab assiduo frigore Pontus habet.
Quique, fugax rerum securaque in otia natus,
     mollis et inpatiens ante laboris eram,
ultima nunc patior, nec me mare portubus orbum
     perdere, diuersae nec potuere uiae;
sufficit atque malis animus; nam corpus ab illo
     accepit uires, uixque ferenda tulit.

Therefore it was in the fates that I should visit Scythia too with my own eyes,
     and the land which lies beneath the Lycaonian axle;
nor did you, Pierides, nor the Letoian stock, your
     learned priestly throng, bring help to your priest.
Nor does it benefit me that I played in truth without crime,
     and that, what is more, my Muse has jested in my life;
but the Pontus holds me, having endured very many dangers by sea and land,
     scorched by the continual cold.
And I, who was a fugitive from affairs and born for carefree leisures,
     soft and impatient of toil before,
now suffer the utmost things; nor could the sea, harborless,
     destroy me, nor could the diverse roads;
my spirit suffices even for evils; for my body from it
     received strength, and has borne things scarcely to be borne.

Dum tamen et terris dubius iactabar et undis,
     fallebat curas aegraque corda labor:
ut uia finita est et opus requieuit eundi,
     et poenae tellus est mihi tacta meae,
nil nisi flere libet, nec nostro parcior imber
     lumine, de uerna quam niue manat aqua.
Roma domusque subit desideriumque locorum,
     quicquid et amissa restat in urbe mei.
Ei mihi, quo totiens nostri pulsata sepulcri
     ianua, sed nullo tempore aperta fuit?

While yet I was being tossed, uncertain, on lands and on waves,
     labor beguiled my cares and my ailing heart:
when the road was finished and the work of going took rest,
     and the land of my penalty was touched by me,
nothing but to weep is my desire, nor is the shower from my eyes
     more sparing than the water that drips from vernal snow.
Rome and home come to mind, and the longing for the places,
     and whatever of mine remains in the city now lost.
Alas for me, to what end was the door of my sepulchre so often
     struck, yet at no time was it opened?

Cur ego tot gladios fugi totiensque minata
     obruit infelix nulla procella caput?
Di, quos experior nimium constanter iniquos,
     participes irae quos deus unus habet,
exstimulate, precor, cessantia fata meique
     interitus clausas esse uetate fores!

Why have I fled so many swords, and so often has no storm, though threatening,
     overwhelmed my unlucky head?
Gods, whom I experience as all too consistently iniquitous,
     partners in the wrath which a single god holds,
rouse, I pray, the delaying Fates, and of my destruction
     forbid that the doors be shut!

III

Haec mea si casu miraris epistula quare
     alterius digitis scripta sit, aeger eram.
Aeger in extremis ignoti partibus orbis,
     incertusque meae paene salutis eram.
Quem mihi nunc animum dira regione iacenti
     inter Sauromatas esse Getasque putes?

If by chance you wonder why this my epistle
     has been written by another’s fingers, I was sick.
Sick in the furthest parts of the unknown orb,
     and I was almost uncertain of my safety.
What spirit do you think I now have, lying in a dire region
     to be among the Sauromatae and the Getae?

Nec caelum patior, nec aquis adsueuimus istis,
     terraque nescioquo non placet ipsa modo.
Non domus apta satis, non hic cibus utilis aegro,
     nullus, Apollinea qui leuet arte malum,
non qui soletur, non qui labentia tarde
     tempora narrando fallat, amicus adest.
Lassus in extremis iaceo populisque locisque,
     et subit adfecto nunc mihi, quicquid abest.

I cannot endure the sky, nor have we grown accustomed to those waters,
     and the very earth itself does not please me, I know not in what way.
The house is not apt enough, nor is there here food useful for the sick,
     no one to alleviate the malady by Apollonian art,
nor one to console, nor one who may by narrating beguile the slowly-gliding
     times; no friend is present.
Weary, I lie at the extremities among peoples and places,
     and now, in my afflicted state, whatever is absent comes to me.

Omnia cum subeant, uincis tamen omnia, coniunx,
     et plus in nostro pectore parte tenes.
Te loquor absentem, te uox mea nominat unam;
     nulla uenit sine te nox mihi, nulla dies.
Quin etiam sic me dicunt aliena locutum,
     ut foret amenti nomen in ore tuum.

Though all things come upon me, yet you conquer all things, consort,
     and you hold more than a share in my breast.
I speak to you, absent; my voice names you alone;
     no night comes to me without you, nor any day.
Indeed, they even say that I have spoken thus to strangers,
     so that your name was on a madman’s lips.

Si iam deficiam, subpressaque lingua palato
     uix instillato restituenda mero,
nuntiet huc aliquis dominam uenisse, resurgam,
     spesque tui nobis causa uigoris erit.
Ergo ego sum dubius uitae, tu forsitan istic
     iucundum nostri nescia tempus agis?
Non agis, adfirmo.

If I already faint, and my tongue, pressed down to my palate,
     hardly to be restored by pure wine dripped in,

let someone report here that my lady has come; I shall rise again,
     and the hope of you will be for me a cause of vigor.
Therefore I am doubtful of life—are you, perhaps there,
     unaware of me, passing a pleasant time?
You are not, I affirm.

Liquet hoc, carissima, nobis,
     tempus agi sine me non nisi triste tibi.
Si tamen inpleuit mea sors, quos debuit, annos,
     et mihi uiuendi tam cito finis adest,
quantum erat, o magni, morituro parcere, diui,
     ut saltem patria contumularer humo?
Vel poena in tempus mortis dilata fuisset,
     uel praecepisset mors properata fugam.

It is clear, dearest, to me,
     that time without me is for you nothing if not sad.
If nevertheless my lot has fulfilled the years it owed,
     and the end of my living is so soon at hand,
how little were it, O great gods, to spare one about to die,
     that at least I might be interred in my native soil?
Either let the penalty have been deferred to the time of death,
     or let a hastened death have anticipated the flight.

Integer hanc potui nuper bene reddere lucem;
     exul ut occiderem, nunc mihi uita data est.
Tam procul ignotis igitur moriemur in oris,
     et fient ipso tristia fata loco;
nec mea consueto languescent corpora lecto,
     depositum nec me qui fleat, ullus erit;
nec dominae lacrimis in nostra cadentibus ora
     accedent animae tempora parua meae;
nec mandata dabo, nec cum clamore supremo
     labentes oculos condet amica manus;
sed sine funeribus caput hoc, sine honore sepulcri
     indeploratum barbara terra teget.
Ecquid, ubi audieris, tota turbabere mente,
     et feries pauida pectora fida manu?

I could lately have well rendered back this light intact;
     that I might fall an exile, now life has been given me.
So far away, then, on unknown shores shall we die,
     and by the place itself our fates will be made sad;
nor will my body faint upon the accustomed couch,
     nor will there be anyone to weep me, laid to rest;
nor, as my lady’s tears fall upon my face,
     will small moments be added to my spirit;
nor shall I give mandates, nor with the ultimate outcry
     will a friendly hand close my failing eyes;
but without funerals this head, without the honor of a sepulcher,
     unwept, barbarian earth will cover.
Will you at all, when you have heard, be troubled in your whole mind,
     and will you smite your breast, trembling, with a faithful hand?

Ecquid, in has frustra tendens tua brachia partes,
     clamabis miseri nomen inane uiri?
Parce tamen lacerare genas, nec scinde capillos:
     non tibi nunc primum, lux mea, raptus ero.
Cum patriam amisi, tunc me periisse putato:
     et prior et grauior mors fuit illa mihi.

Will you indeed, stretching your arms in vain toward these parts,
     cry the empty name of your wretched man?
Spare, however, from lacerating your cheeks, and do not tear your hair:
     I am not now for the first time being snatched from you, my light.
When I lost my fatherland, then reckon that I perished:
     and that death was both earlier and more grievous to me.

Nunc, si forte potes (sed non potes, optima coniunx)
     finitis gaude tot mihi morte malis.
Quod potes, extenua forti mala corde ferendo,
     ad quae iampridem non rude pectus habes.
Atque utinam pereant animae cum corpore nostrae,
     effugiatque auidos pars mihi nulla rogos.

Now, if by chance you can (but you cannot, best wife)
     rejoice that so many evils for me are ended by death.
What you can, extenuate the evils by bearing them with a brave heart,
     for which your heart has long not been untried.
And would that my soul perish with my body,
     and that no part of me escape the greedy pyres.

Nam si morte carens uacua uolat altus in aura
     spiritus, et Samii sunt rata dicta senis,
inter Sarmaticas Romana uagabitur umbras,
     perque feros Manes hospita semper erit.
Ossa tamen facito parua referantur in urna:
     sic ego non etiam mortuus exul ero.
Non uetat hoc quisquam: fratrem Thebana peremptum
     supposuit tumulo rege uetante soror.

For if the spirit, lacking death, flies high in the empty air
     and the sayings of the Samian old man are confirmed,
among Sarmatian shades the Roman will wander,
     and through the fierce Manes it will always be a guest.
Yet see that my small bones be carried back in an urn:
     thus I shall not be an exile even when dead.
No one forbids this: the Theban sister placed her slain brother
     beneath a tomb, though the king forbade.

Atque ea cum foliis et amomi puluere misce,
     inque suburbano condita pone solo;
quosque legat uersus oculo properante uiator,
     grandibus in tituli marmore caede notis:
"hic ego qui iaceo tenerorum lusor amorum
     ingenio perii Naso poeta meo;
at tibi qui transis ne sit graue quisquis amasti
     dicere "Nasonis molliter ossa cubent""
hoc satis in titulo est. Etenim maiora libelli
     et diuturna magis sunt monimenta mihi,
quos ego confido, quamuis nocuere, daturos
     nomen et auctori tempora longa suo.
Tu tamen extincto feralia munera semper
     deque tuis lacrimis umida serta dato.

And mix these with leaves and the powder of amomum,
     and, laid up, place them in suburban soil;
and have verses which a traveler with a hastening eye may read,
     cut in large letters on the marble of the title:
"here i, who lie, a player of tender loves,
     perished by my own ingenium, i, naso the poet;
but for you who pass by, let it not be burdensome—whoever has loved—
     to say 'may the bones of naso lie softly'"
this is enough on the inscription. For my little books are greater
     and more enduring monuments for me,
which I trust, although they did harm, will grant
     a name and long times to their author.
You, however, when I am extinguished, always bring funeral offerings
     and give garlands wet with your tears.

Quamuis in cineres corpus mutauerit ignis
     sentiet officium maesta fauilla pium.
Scribere plura libet: sed uox mihi fessa loquendo
     dictandi uires siccaque lingua negat.
Accipe supremo dictum mihi forsitan ore,
     quod, tibi qui mittit, non habet ipse, "uale".

Although fire has changed the body into ashes,
     the mournful cinder will feel the pious service.
I am minded to write more; but my voice, weary with speaking,
     denies me the strength for dictating, and my parched tongue.
Receive, perhaps spoken with my last breath,
     that which he who sends it to you does not himself have: "farewell."

O mihi care quidem semper, sed tempore duro
     cognite, res postquam procubuere meae:
usibus edocto si quicquam credis amico,
     uiue tibi et longe nomina magna fuge.
Viue tibi, quantumque potes praelustria uita:
     saeuum praelustri fulmen ab arce uenit.
Nam quamquam soli possunt prodesse potentes,
     non prosit potius, siquis obesse potest.

O you indeed dear to me always, but in a hard time known,
     since after my affairs have collapsed:
to a friend taught by experience, if you trust anything,
     live for yourself and flee great names far away.
Live for yourself, and, as much as you can, avoid a very conspicuous life:
     from a very conspicuous citadel comes the savage lightning.
For although only the potent can be of use,
     is it not rather a profit that, if someone can be of harm, he cannot?

Effugit hibernas demissa antemna procellas,
     lataque plus paruis uela timoris habent.
Aspicis, ut summa cortex leuis innatet unda,
     cum graue nexa simul retia mergat onus.
Haec ego si monitor monitus prius ipse fuissem,
     in qua debebam forsitan urbe forem.

A lowered yard escapes the wintry squalls,
     and broad sails hold more fear than small ones.
Do you see how the light bark floats on the topmost wave,
     while a heavy burden sinks the nets knotted together.
If I myself had earlier been admonished by a monitor of these things,
     perhaps I would be in the city in which I ought to be.

Dum tecum uixi, dum me leuis aura ferebat,
     haec mea per placidas cumba cucurrit aquas.
Qui cadit in plano (uix hoc tamen euenit ipsum)
     sic cadit, ut tacta surgere possit humo.
At miser Elpenor tecto delapsus ab alto
     occurrit regi debilis umbra suo.

While I lived with you, while a light breeze bore me,
     this my skiff ran through placid waters.
He who falls on level ground (scarcely indeed does this itself befall)
     so falls that, the earth just touched, he can rise.
But wretched Elpenor, having slipped from a high roof,
     met his king as a feeble shade.

Quid fuit, ut tutas agitaret Daedalus alas,
     Icarus inmensas nomine signet aquas?
Nempe quod hic alte, demissius ille uolabat:
     nam pennas ambo non habuere suas.
Crede mihi, bene qui latuit bene uixit, et intra
     fortunam debet quisque manere suam.

What was it, that Daedalus plied safe wings,
     and that Icarus mark the immense waters with his name?
Surely that this one flew high, that one more low:
     for neither of them had feathers that were their own.
Believe me, he who has well lain hidden has well lived, and within
     his own fortune each person ought to remain.

Non foret Eumedes orbus, si filius eius
     stultus Achilleos non adamasset equos:
nec natum in flamma uidisset, in arbore natas,
     cepisset genitor si Phaethonta Merops.
Tu quoque formida nimium sublimia semper,
     propositique, precor, contrahe uela tui.
Nam pede inoffenso spatium decurrere uitae
     dignus es et fato candidiore frui.

Eumedes would not be bereft, if his foolish son had not coveted Achilles’ horses:
     nor would the father have seen his son in flame, his daughters in a tree,
     if Merops had seized Phaethon. You too, always fear things too lofty,
     and, I pray, reef the sails of your purpose.
For you are worthy to run through the span of life with an un-stumbling foot
     and to enjoy a brighter fate.

Quae pro te ut uoueam, miti pietate mereris
     haesuraque fide tempus in omne mihi.
Vidi ego te tali uultu mea fata gementem,
     qualem credibile est ore fuisse meo.
Nostra tuas uidi lacrimas super ora cadentes,
     tempore quas uno fidaque uerba bibi.

What I should vow for you, you merit by gentle piety,
     and by a faith destined to cling to me for all time.
I saw you with such a countenance lamenting my fates,
     as it is believable was upon my own face.
I saw your tears falling over my features,
     which at one and the same time, along with faithful words, I drank in.

Nunc quoque summotum studio defendis amicum,
     et mala uix ulla parte leuanda leuas.
Viue sine inuidia, mollesque inglorius annos
     exige, amicitias et tibi iunge pares,
Nasonisque tui, quod adhuc non exulat unum,
     nomen ama: Scythicus cetera Pontus habet.

Now too you defend the friend removed with zeal,
     and you lighten ills scarcely to be lightened in any part.
Live without envy, and lead gentle, inglorious years,
     and join to yourself friendships that are equal,
and of your Naso, the one thing which has not yet gone into exile,
     love the name: Scythian Pontus holds the rest.

IV B

4 B

Proxima sideribus tellus Erymanthidos Vrsae
me tenet, adstricto terra perusta gelu.
Bosporos et Tanais superant Scythiaeque paludes
uix satis et noti nomina pauca loci.
ulterius nihil est nisi non habitabile frigus.

The land nearest to the stars of the Erymanthian Bear
holds me, the earth scorched, fast-bound by frost.
The Bosporus and the Tanais and the marshes of Scythia lie beyond,
and scarcely even a few names of the place are known.
Further on there is nothing except uninhabitable cold.

     Heu quam uicina est ultima terra mihi!
At longe patria est, longe carissima coniunx,
     quicquid et haec nobis post duo dulce fuit.
Sic tamen haec adsunt, ut quae contingere non est
     corpore: sunt animo cuncta uidenda meo.

     Alas, how near the farthest land is to me!
But far is my fatherland, far my dearest spouse,
     and whatever after these two has been sweet to me.
Yet thus these are present, as things which cannot be touched
     by the body: all are to be seen by my mind.

Ante oculos errant domus, urbsque et forma locorum,
     acceduntque suis singula facta locis.
Coniugis ante oculos, sicut praesentis, imago est.
     Illa meos casus ingrauat, illa leuat:
ingrauat hoc, quod abest; leuat hoc, quod praestat amorem
     inpositumque sibi firma tuetur onus.

Before my eyes wander the home, and the city and the form of the places,
     and each deed comes and fits to its proper places.
Before my eyes, as though present, is the image of my spouse.
     She aggravates my misfortunes, she lightens them:
she aggravates in this, that she is absent; she lightens in this, that she bestows love
     and, firm, she guards the burden imposed upon herself.

Vos quoque pectoribus nostris haeretis, amici,
     dicere quos cupio nomine quemque suo.
Sed timor officium cautus compescit, et ipsos
     in nostro poni carmine nolle puto.
Ante uolebatis, gratique erat instar honoris,
     uersibus in nostris nomina uestra legi.

You also cling to my heart, friends,
     whom I desire to name each by his own name.
But cautious fear restrains duty, and I think they themselves
     are unwilling to be set in our song.
Formerly you wished it, and it was, as it were, the likeness of honor,
     that your names be read in our verses.

Quod quoniam est anceps, intra mea pectora quemque
alloquar, et nulli causa timoris ero.
Nec meus indicio latitantes uersus amicos
protrahit. Occulte siquis amabat, amet.

Since this is ambiguous, within my breast I will address each one
and I shall be a cause of fear to no one.
Nor does my verse, by evidence, latent friends
drag forth. Covertly, if anyone loved, let him love.

Scite tamen, quamuis longe regione remotus
     absim, uos animo semper adesse meo.
Et qua quisque potest, aliqua mala nostra leuate,
     fidam proiecto neue negate manum.
Prospera sic maneat uobis fortuna, nec umquam
     contacti simili sorte rogetis idem.

Know, however, although far remote in region
     I may be absent, that you are always present to my mind.
And as each is able, somewhat alleviate our ills,
     nor deny a faithful hand to one cast forth.
Thus may prosperous fortune abide with you, and may you never,
     touched by a similar sort, ask the same.

Vsus amicitiae tecum mihi paruus, ut illam
     non aegre posses dissimulare, fuit,
nec me complexus uinclis propioribus esses
     naue mea uento, forsan, eunte suo.
ut cecidi cunctique metu fugere ruinam,
     uersaque amicitiae terga dedere meae,
ausus es igne Iouis percussum tangere corpus
     et deploratae limen adire domus:
idque recens praestas nec longo cognitus usu,
     quod ueterum misero uix duo tresue mihi.
Vidi ego confusos uultus uisosque notaui,
     osque madens fletu pallidiusque meo:
et lacrimas cernens in singula uerba cadentes
     ore meo lacrimas, auribus illa bibi;
brachiaque accepi presso pendentia collo,
     et singultatis oscula mixta sonis.

The use of friendship with you for me was small, so that you could, without difficulty, dissimulate it,
     nor would you have embraced me with closer bonds,
had my ship, perhaps, been going with its own wind. But when I fell and all, from fear, fled the ruin,
     and turned the backs of friendship to mine,
you dared to touch a body struck by the fire of Jove
     and to approach the threshold of a house deplored;
and, though newly known and not by long-continued use, you render that
     which of my old friends to a wretch scarcely two or three do.
I saw your confused visages and I marked how they appeared,
     and your face, dripping with weeping and paler than my own;
and seeing tears falling at each single word,
     with my mouth I drank the tears, with my ears I drank those words;
and I received arms hanging on my pressed neck,
     and kisses mixed with the sounds of sobbing.

Sum quoque, care, tuis defensus uiribus absens
      (scis carum ueri nominis esse loco),
multaque praeterea manifestaque signa fauoris
     pectoribus teneo non abitura meis.
Di tibi posse tuos tribuant defendere semper,
     quos in materia prosperiore iuues.
Si tamen interea, quid in his ego perditus oris
      (quod te credibile est quaerere) quaeris, agam:
spe trahor exigua, quam tu mihi demere noli,
     tristia leniri numina posse dei.

I too, dear, though absent, am defended by your forces
      (you know that “dear” is in the place of a true name),
and many, moreover, and manifest signs of favor
     I hold in my breast, not about to depart from me.
May the gods grant to you to be able always to defend your own,
     those whom you assist in a more prosperous cause.
If, however, meanwhile you ask what I, undone, do on these shores
      (which it is believable you are asking), I do this:
I am drawn by meager hope—do not take it from me—
     that the grim divine will of the god can be softened.

Seu temere exspecto, siue id contingere fas est,
     tu mihi, quod cupio, fas, precor, esse proba,
quaeque tibi linguae est facundia, confer in illud,
     ut doceas uotum posse ualere meum.
Quo quisque est maior, magis est placabilis irae,
     et faciles motus mens generosa capit.
Corpora magnanimo satis est prostrasse leoni,
     pugna suum finem, cum iacet hostis, habet:
at lupus et turpes instant morientibus ursi
     et quaecumque minor nobilitate fera.

Whether I await rashly, or whether it is divinely permitted that this should befall,
     you, I pray, prove for me that what I desire is licit,
and whatever eloquence of tongue is yours, bring it to that end,
     that you may show my vow can prevail.
The greater a man is, the more he is placable in wrath,
     and a generous mind admits gentle motions.
For the great-souled lion it is enough to have laid low the bodies,
     the fight has its end when the foe lies prostrate:
but the wolf and foul bears press upon the dying,
     and whatever beast is lesser in nobility.

Maius apud Troiam forti quid habemus Achille?
Dardanii lacrimas non tulit ille senis.
Quae ducis Emathii fuerit clementia, Porus
Dareique docent funeris exsequiae.

What greater at Troy do we have than brave Achilles?
He did not withstand the tears of the Dardanian old man.
What the clemency of the Emathian leader was, Porus
and the obsequies of Darius teach.

Neue hominum referam flexas ad mitius iras,
     Iunonis gener est qui prius hostis erat.
Denique non possum nullam sperare salutem,
     cum poenae non sit causa cruenta meae.
Non mihi quaerenti pessumdare cuncta petitum
     Caesareum caput est, quod caput orbis erat:
non aliquid dixiue, elataue lingua loquendo est,
     lapsaque sunt nimio uerba profana mero:
inscia quod crimen uiderunt lumina, plector,
     peccatumque oculos est habuisse meum.

Nor let me recount men’s angers bent to a milder temper,
     he who once was an enemy is Juno’s son-in-law.
At last I cannot bring myself to hope for no salvation,
     since there is no bloody cause of my punishment.
Not, as I was seeking to bring all things to ruin, was the Caesarean head
     the target for me, that head which was the head of the world:
nor have I said anything, nor has my tongue been carried away in speaking,
     nor have profane words slipped out through too much wine:
I am punished because my eyes, unknowing, beheld a crime,
     and my having had eyes has been the sin.

Non equidem totam possum defendere culpam:
     sed partem nostri criminis error habet.
spes igitur superest facturum ut molliat ipse
     mutati poenam condicione loci.
Hos utinam nitidi Solis praenuntius ortus
     afferat admisso Lucifer albus equo!

I indeed cannot defend the whole fault:
     but error has a share of my crime.
Hope therefore remains that he himself will so act
     as to soften the punishment by the condition of a changed place.
Would that the herald of the shining Sun’s rising
     the white Lucifer might bring these, with his horse at a gallop!

Foedus amicitiae nec uis, carissime, nostrae,
     nec, si forte uelis, dissimulare potes.
Donec enim licuit, nec te mihi carior alter,
     nec tibi me tota iunctior urbe fuit;
isque erat usque adeo populo testatus, ut esset
     paene magis quam tu quamque ego notus, amor:
quique est in caris animi tibi candor amicis-
     cognita sunt ipsi, quem colis, ista uiro.
Nil ita celabas, ut non ego conscius essem,
     pectoribusque dabas multa tegenda meis:
cuique ego narrabam secreti quicquid habebam,
     excepto quod me perdidit, unus eras.

The compact of friendship you neither wish, dearest, to disguise,
     nor, if by chance you should wish, can you dissimulate.
For as long as it was permitted, neither was there another dearer to me than you,
     nor in the whole city was there one more closely joined to you than I;
and our love was so attested before the people that it was
     almost more known than you and than I:
and that candor of spirit which you have toward dear friends—
     those things are known to the very man whom you cherish.
You hid nothing so that I was not conscious of it,
     and you gave to my breast many things to be kept covered:
and you were the one to whom I told whatever secret I had,
     except for that which ruined me.

Id quoque si scisses, saluo fruerere sodali,
consilioque forem sospes, amice, tuo.
Sed mea me in poenam nimirum fata trahebant.
Omne bonae claudent utilitatis iter?

If you had known that too, you would be enjoying your comrade safe and sound,
and by your counsel, friend, I would be safe.
But surely my fates were dragging me into penalty.
Will they close every path of good utility?

Siue malum potui tamen hoc uitare cauendo,
     seu ratio fatum uincere nulla ualet,
tu tamen, o nobis usu iunctissime longo,
     pars desiderii maxima paene mei,
sis memor, et siquas fecit tibi gratia uires,
     illas pro nobis experiare, rogo,
numinis ut laesi fiat mansuetior ira,
     mutatoque minor sit mea poena loco.
Idque ita, si nullum scelus est in pectore nostro,
     principiumque mei criminis error habet.
Nec breue nec tutum, quo sint mea, dicere, casu
     lumina funesti conscia facta mali:
mensque reformidat, ueluti sua uulnera, tempus
     illud, et admonitu fit nouus ipse pudor:
sed quaecumque adeo possunt afferre pudorem,
     illa tegi caeca condita nocte decet.

Whether I could nevertheless avoid this evil by taking caution,
     or whether no reason avails to conquer fate,
yet you, O most closely joined to me by long usage,
     almost the greatest part of my longing,
be mindful, and if favor has made any powers for you,
     I ask, try those on our behalf,
that the wrath of the offended divinity may become more gentle,
     and, with the place changed, my punishment may be lesser.
And let it be thus, if there is no crime in my breast,
     and if error holds the beginning of my charge.
It is neither brief nor safe to say by what chance
     my eyes were made conscious of the baneful deed;
and my mind shudders back from that time, as from its own wounds,
     and at the admonition a new shame itself arises:
but whatever things can to such a degree bring shame,
     it is fitting that they be covered, hidden by blind night.

Nil igitur referam nisi me peccasse, sed illo
     praemia peccato nulla petita mihi,
stultitiamque meum crimen debere uocari,
     nomina si facto reddere uera uelis.
Quae si non ita sunt, alium, quo longius absim,
     quaere, suburbana est hic mihi terra locus.

Therefore I shall report nothing except that I have sinned; but for that
     sin no rewards were sought by me,
and my crime ought to be called stupidity,
     if you wish to render true names to the deed.
But if these things are not so, look for another, where I may be farther away;
     here a suburban land is my place.

VII

Vade salutatum, subito perarata, Perillam,
     littera, sermonis fida ministra mei.
Aut illam inuenies dulci cum matre sedentem,
     aut inter libros Pieridasque suas.
Quicquid aget, cum te scierit uenisse, relinquet,
     nec mora, quid uenias quidue, requiret, agam.

Go, to give greeting, hastily drafted, Perilla,
     letter, faithful minister of my discourse.
Either you will find her sitting with her sweet mother,
     or among her books and her Pierides.
Whatever she is doing, when she knows you have come, she will leave it,
     and, without delay, she will inquire why you come and for what; I will set it forth.

Viuere me dices, sed sic, ut uiuere nolim,
     nec mala tam longa nostra leuata mora:
et tamen ad Musas, quamuis nocuere, reuerti,
     aptaque in alternos cogere uerba pedes.
"Tu quoque" dic "studiis communibus ecquid inhaeres,
     doctaque non patrio carmina more canis?
Nam tibi cum fatis mores natura pudicos
     et raras dotes ingeniumque dedit.

You will say that I live, but thus, as I would not wish to live,
     nor have my evils been relieved by so long a delay:
and yet I have returned to the Muses, although they have harmed me,
     and to compel fitting words into alternating feet.
"You too," say, "do you at all cleave to our common studies,
     and do you not sing learned songs in the native manner?
For to you, along with the Fates, Nature has given modest morals
     and rare endowments and talent.

Hoc ego Pegasidas deduxi primus ad undas,
     ne male fecundae uena periret aquae;
primus id aspexi teneris in uirginis annis,
     utque pater natae duxque comesque fui.
Ergo si remanent ignes tibi pectoris idem,
     sola tuum uates Lesbia uincet opus.
Sed uereor, ne te mea nunc fortuna retardet,
     postque meos casus sit tibi pectus iners.

This I was the first to lead down to the Pegasid waters,
     lest the fertile vein of water should go to waste;
I was the first to behold it in a maiden’s tender years,
     and, like a father to a daughter, I was both guide and companion.
Therefore, if the same fires of your breast remain to you,
     only the Lesbian vates will surpass your work.
But I fear lest my fortune now may hold you back,
     and that after my misfortunes your heart may be inert.

Dum licuit, tua saepe mihi, tibi nostra legebam;
     saepe tui iudex, saepe magister eram:
aut ego praebebam factis modo uersibus aures,
     aut, ubi cessares, causa ruboris eram.
Forsitan exemplo, quia me laesere libelli,
     tu quoque sis poenae fata secuta meae.
Pone, Perilla, metum.

While it was permitted, I often read your works to myself, and to you I read my own;
     often I was your judge, often your teacher:
either I would lend my ears to verses only just made,
     or, when you were idle, I was the cause of your blush.
Perhaps, by example—since little books (libelli) have hurt me—
     you too may have followed the fates of my punishment.
Put aside, Perilla, your fear.

Tantummodo femina nulla
     neue uir a scriptis discat amare tuis.
Ergo desidiae remoue, doctissima, causas,
     inque bonas artes et tua sacra redi.
Ista decens facies longis uitiabitur annis,
     rugaque in antiqua fronte senilis erit,
inicietque manum formae damnosa senectus,
     quae strepitus passu non faciente uenit.

Only let no woman     nor man learn to love from your writings.
Therefore remove the causes of sloth, most learned one,     and return to the good arts and to your sacred rites.
That comely face will be marred by long years,     and a senile wrinkle will be on an aged brow,
and ruinous old age will lay its hand upon beauty,     which comes with a step that makes no sound.

Cumque aliquis dicet "fuit haec formosa" dolebis,
     et speculum mendax esse querere tuum.
Sunt tibi opes modicae, cum sis dignissima magnis:
     finge sed inmensis censibus esse pares,
nempe dat id quodcumque libet fortuna rapitque,
     Irus et est subito, qui modo Croesus erat.
Singula ne referam, nil non mortale tenemus
     pectoris exceptis ingeniique bonis.

And when someone says "she was beautiful," you will grieve,
     and complain that your mirror is mendacious.
You have moderate wealth, though you are most worthy of great ones:
     but imagine yourself to be equal to immense revenues,
surely Fortune gives whatever she pleases and snatches it away,
     and he who just now was Croesus is suddenly Irus.
Not to recount things one by one, we hold nothing that is not mortal,
     save the goods of the heart and of genius.

En ego, cum caream patria uobisque domoque,
     raptaque sint, adimi quae potuere mihi,
ingenio tamen ipse meo comitorque fruorque:
     Caesar in hoc potuit iuris habere nihil.
Quilibet hanc saeuo uitam mihi finiat ense,
     me tamen extincto fama superstes erit,
dumque suis uictrix omnem de montibus orbem
     prospiciet domitum Martia Roma, legar.
Tu quoque, quam studii maneat felicior usus,
     effuge uenturos, qua potes, usque rogos!"

Lo, I, though I lack my fatherland and you and my home,
     and though the things that could be taken from me have been snatched away,
yet I am accompanied by and take enjoyment in my own genius:
     in this Caesar could have no jurisdiction.
Let anyone end this life for me with a savage sword,
     yet, though I be extinguished, my fame will survive,
and while victorious Martial Rome from her own hills
     surveys the whole world tamed, I shall be read.
You too, that a happier use of study may remain,
     flee, so far as you can, the pyres that are to come!"

VIII

Nunc ego Triptolemi cuperem consistere curru,
     misit in ignotam qui rude semen humum;
nunc ego Medeae uellem frenare dracones,
     quos habuit fugiens arce, Corinthe, tua;
nunc ego iactandas optarem sumere pennas,
     siue tuas, Perseu, Daedale, siue tuas:
ut tenera nostris cedente uolatibus aura
     aspicerem patriae dulce repente solum,
desertaeque domus uultus, memoresque sodales,
     caraque praecipue coniugis ora meae.
Stulte, quid haec frustra uotis puerilibus optas,
     quae non ulla tibi fertque feretque dies?
Si semel optandum est, Augusti numen adora,
     et, quem sensisti, rite precare deum.

Now I would wish to stand upon Triptolemus’s chariot,
     he who sent the raw seed into the unknown soil;
now I would wish to bridle Medea’s dragons,
     which, as she fled, she had from your citadel, Corinth;
now I would choose to take wings fit for flinging forth,
     whether yours, Perseus, or yours, Daedalus;
so that, as the tender breeze yielded to my flights,
     I might suddenly behold the sweet soil of my fatherland,
and the faces of my deserted household, and comrades mindful,
     and above all the dear features of my wife.
Fool, why do you vainly desire these things with boyish prayers,
     which no day brings to you nor will ever bring?
If there is one thing to be wished for, adore the numen of Augustus,
     and duly pray as a god to him whom you have felt.

Ille tibi pennasque potest currusque uolucres
tradere. Det reditum, protinus ales eris.
Si precer hoc (neque enim possum maiora rogare)
ne mea sint, timeo, uota modesta parum.

He can hand over to you both wings and winged chariots
Let him grant a return; at once you will be winged.
If I should pray this (for indeed I cannot ask greater things)
I fear lest my prayers be too little modest.

Forsitan hoc olim, cum iam satiauerit iram,
     tum quoque sollicita mente rogandus erit.
Quod minus interea est, instar mihi muneris ampli,
     ex his me iubeat quolibet ire locis.
Nec caelum nec aquae faciunt nec terra nec aurae;
     ei mihi, perpetuus corpora languor habet!

Perhaps this someday, when he has now sated his anger,
     then too he will have to be entreated with a solicitous mind.
What is less in the meantime, tantamount to me to a great gift,
     let him bid me go to any places whatsoever from among these.
Neither heaven nor waters avail, nor earth nor airs;
     alas for me, a perpetual languor possesses my body!

Seu uitiant artus aegrae contagia mentis,
     siue mei causa est in regione mali,
ut tetigi Pontum, uexant insomnia, uixque
     ossa tegit macies nec iuuat ora cibus;
quique per autumnum percussis frigore primo
     est color in foliis, quae noua laesit hiems,
is mea membra tenet, nec uiribus alleuor ullis,
     et numquam queruli causa doloris abest.
Nec melius ualeo, quam corpore, mente, sed aegra est
     utraque pars aeque binaque damna fero.
Haeret et ante oculos ueluti spectabile corpus
     astat fortunae forma legenda meae:
cumque locum moresque hominum cultusque sonumque
     cernimus, et, qui sim qui fuerimque, subit,
tantus amor necis est, querar ut cum Caesaris ira,
     quod non offensas uindicet ense suas.

Whether the limbs are vitiated by the contagions of a sick mind,
     or whether the cause of the ill is in the region itself,
from the moment I touched Pontus, insomnias vex me, and emaciation scarcely
     covers my bones, nor does food please my mouth;
and the color which through autumn is on leaves struck by the first frigidity,
     which new winter has injured,
that hue holds my members, nor am I alleviated by any strength,
     and the cause of querulous pain is never absent.
Nor do I fare better in mind than in body, but each part
     is equally sick, and I bear twin damages.
And it clings before my eyes, as if a visible body stood,
     the form of my fortune to be read;
and when we discern the place and the morals of men and the culture and the sound,
     and it comes up who I am and who I have been,
so great is my love of death, that I even complain against Caesar’s wrath,
     because it does not avenge its offenses with the sword.

At, quoniam semel est odio ciuiliter usus,
mutato leuior sit fuga nostra loco.

But, since he has once used his hatred civilly,
let our exile be lighter with the place changed.

Hic quoque sunt igitur Graiae (quis crederet?) urbes
     inter inhumanae nomina barbariae?
Huc quoque Mileto missi uenere coloni,
     inque Getis Graias constituere domos?
Sed uetus huic nomen, positaque antiquius urbe,
     constat ab Absyrti caede fuisse loco.

Here too, then, there are Graecian (who would believe it?) cities
     among the names of inhuman barbarity?
Hither too colonists sent from Miletus came,
     and among the Getae did they establish Graecian homes?
But the name for this place is old, and more ancient than the city set down,
     it is established that the place’s name was from the slaughter of Absyrtus.

Nam rate, quae cura pugnacis facta Mineruae
     per non temptatas prima cucurrit aquas,
impia desertum fugiens Medea parentem
     dicitur his remos applicuisse uadis.
Quem procul ut uidit tumulo speculator ab alto,
     "hospes," ait "nosco, Colchide, uela, uenit."
Dum trepidant Minyae, dum soluitur aggere funis,
     dum sequitur celeres ancora tracta manus,
conscia percussit meritorum pectora Colchis
     ausa atque ausura multa nefanda manu;
et, quamquam superest ingens audacia menti,
     pallor in attonitae uirginis ore fuit.
Ergo ubi prospexit uenientia uela "tenemur,
     et pater est aliqua fraude morandus" ait.

For the ship, which, made by the care of warlike Minerva,
     first ran through waters not yet attempted,
impious Medea, fleeing her abandoned father,
     is said to have brought her oars to these shallows.
When a lookout saw it from afar, from a high mound,
     "Stranger," he says, "I know the sails—Colchian; it comes."
While the Minyae are in a flurry, while the rope is loosed from the embankment,
     while the anchor, drawn up, follows the swift hands,
the Colchian woman struck her breast, conscious of her deeds,
     having dared and about to dare many unspeakable things with her hand;
and, although huge audacity remains in her mind,
     pallor was on the face of the astonished maiden.
Therefore, when she looked out at the coming sails, "we are caught,
     and my father must be delayed by some fraud," she said.

Dum quid agat quaerit, dum uersat in omnia uultus,
     ad fratrem casu lumina flexa tulit.
Cuius ut oblata est praesentia, "uicimus" inquit:
     "hic mihi morte sua causa salutis erit."
Protinus ignari nec quicquam tale timentis
     innocuum rigido perforat ense latus,
atque ita diuellit diuulsaque membra per agros
     dissipat in multis inuenienda locis.
Neu pater ignoret, scopulo proponit in alto
     pallentesque manus sanguineumque caput,
ut genitor luctuque nouo tardetur et, artus
     dum legit extinctos, triste moretur iter.

While she seeks what she should do, while she turns her face in every direction,
     by chance she cast her eyes turned toward her brother.
As his presence was offered, “we have conquered,” she said:
     “here, by his own death, he will be for me the cause of safety.”
Immediately, of one unaware and fearing nothing of the sort,
     she perforated the innocent side with a rigid sword,
and thus she tears him apart, and the sundered limbs through the fields
     she scatters to be found in many places.
And lest her father be unaware, on a high crag she sets forth
     the pallid hands and the bloodied head,
so that the sire may be delayed by new grief and, while he gathers
     the lifeless limbs, he may linger on his sad journey.

Inde Tomis dictus locus hic, quia fertur in illo
membra soror fratris consecuisse sui.

Hence this place is called Tomis, because it is reported that in that place
the sister cut to pieces the limbs of her own brother.

Siquis adhuc istic meminit Nasonis adempti,
     et superest sine me nomen in urbe meum.
suppositum stellis numquam tangentibus aequor
     me sciat in media uiuere barbaria.
Sauromatae cingunt, fera gens, Bessique Getaeque,
     quam non ingenio nomina digna meo!

If anyone still there remembers Naso, taken away,
     and my name survives in the city without me,
let him know that, beneath stars that never touch the sea,
     I live in the midst of barbarism.
The Sauromatae encircle me, a savage race, and the Bessi and the Getae—
     how names not worthy of my genius!

Dum tamen aura tepet, medio defendimur Histro:
     ille suis liquidis bella repellit aquis.
At cum tristis hiems squalentia protulit ora,
     terraque marmoreo est candida facta gelu,
dum prohibet Boreas et nix habitare sub Arcto,
     tum patet has gentes axe tremente premi.
Nix iacet, et iactam ne sol pluuiaeque resoluant,
     indurat Boreas perpetuamque facit.

While yet the air is warm, we are defended by the Danube in between:
     he with his liquid waters repels wars.
But when grim winter has put forth its squalid visage,
     and the earth has been made white by marble-like frost,
while Boreas and the snow forbid dwelling beneath the Arctic,
     then it is evident that these peoples are pressed by the trembling axis.
Snow lies, and, lest the sun and rains unloose what has been cast down,
     Boreas hardens it and makes it perpetual.

Ergo ubi delicuit nondum prior, altera uenit,
     et solet in multis bima manere locis;
tantaque commoti uis est Aquilonis, ut altas
     aequet humo turres tectaque rapta ferat.
Pellibus et sutis arcent mala frigora bracis,
     oraque de toto corpore sola patent.
Saepe sonant moti glacie pendente capilli,
     et nitet inducto candida barba gelu;
nudaque consistunt, formam seruantia testae,
     uina, nec hausta meri, sed data frusta bibunt.

Therefore, when the former has not yet melted away, a second comes,
     and in many places it is wont to remain for two years;
and so great is the force of the stirred Aquilon, that it makes level
     with the ground high towers and carries off roofs, torn away.
With pelts and with stitched breeches they ward off the baleful cold,
     and of the whole body the faces alone lie exposed.
Often the hair, when moved, rings with the ice hanging from it,
     and the white beard gleams with frost laid on;
and the wines, bare, stand solid, keeping the shape of the jar,
     and they drink not draughts of neat wine, but pieces handed out.

Quid loquar, ut uincti concrescant frigore riui,
     deque lacu fragiles effodiantur aquae?
Ipse, papyrifero qui non angustior amne
     miscetur uasto multa per ora freto,
caeruleos uentis latices durantibus, Hister
     congelat et tectis in mare serpit aquis;
quaque rates ierant, pedibus nunc itur, et undas
     frigore concretas ungula pulsat equi;
perque nouos pontes, subter labentibus undis,
     ducunt Sarmatici barbara plaustra boues.
Vix equidem credar, sed, cum sint praemia falsi
     nulla, ratam debet testis habere fidem.

What shall I say, that fettered streams congeal with frigidity,
     and that from the lake brittle waters are dug out?
The Hister itself, which is not narrower than the papyrus-bearing river,
     is mingled with the vast sea through many mouths,
with the winds hardening the cerulean liquors, the Hister
     freezes and with roofed-over waters crawls into the sea;
and where ships had gone, now one goes on foot, and the waves
     concreted by cold the hoof of the horse strikes;
and over new bridges, with waves gliding beneath,
     Sarmatian oxen draw barbarian wagons.
I shall scarcely be believed, indeed; but, since there are no prizes
     for falsehood, a witness ought to have his trust accounted valid.

Vidimus ingentem glacie consistere pontum,
lubricaque inmotas testa premebat aquas.
Nec uidisse sat est. Durum calcauimus aequor,
undaque non udo sub pede summa fuit.

We saw the huge deep stand fast with ice,
and a slippery potsherd-like crust pressed upon the motionless waters.
Nor is it enough to have seen. We trod the hard surface,
and the top of the wave was not wet beneath a dry foot.

Si tibi tale fretum quondam, Leandre, fuisset,
     non foret angustae mors tua crimen aquae.
Tum neque se pandi possunt delphines in auras
     et quamuis Boreas iactatis insonet alis,
fluctus in obsesso gurgite nullus erit;
     inclusaeque gelu stabunt in marmore puppes,
nec poterit rigidas findere remus aquas.
     Vidimus in glacie pisces haerere ligatos,
sed pars ex illis tum quoque uiua fuit.

If such a strait had once been yours, Leander,
     your death would not have been the blame of the narrow water.
Then neither can dolphins arch themselves into the airs,
     and although Boreas resound with his brandished wings,
no billow will be in the besieged whirlpool;
     and ships, enclosed by frost, will stand as if in marble,
nor will the oar be able to cleave the rigid waters.
     We have seen fishes cling, bound fast, in the ice,
but a part of them even then was alive.

     Siue igitur nimii Boreae uis saeua marinas,
protinus aequato siccis Aquilonibus Histro
     inuehitur celeri barbarus hostis equo;
hostis equo pollens longeque uolante sagitta
     uicinam late depopulatur humum.
Diffugiunt alii, nullisque tuentibus agros
     incustoditae diripiuntur opes,
ruris opes paruae, pecus et stridentia plaustra,
     et quas diuitias incola pauper habet.
Pars agitur uinctis post tergum capta lacertis,
     respiciens frustra rura Laremque suum:
pars cadit hamatis misere confixa sagittis:
     nam uolucri ferro tinctile uirus inest.

     Whether then the savage force of excessive Boreas makes hard the sea-waters,
straightway, with the Ister (Danube) leveled, dried by the North Winds,
     the barbarian enemy rides in on a swift horse;
the enemy, strong on horseback and with the far-flying arrow,
     lays waste far and wide the neighboring ground.
Others scatter, and with no one defending the fields
     the unguarded wealth is plundered,
the small resources of the countryside, the herd and the creaking wagons,
     and whatever riches the poor inhabitant has.
Some are driven off, captured, with arms bound behind their back,
     looking back in vain at their fields and their household Lar:
others fall miserably, transfixed by barbed arrows;
     for in the winged iron there is a tinctile poison.

Quae nequeunt secum ferre aut abducere, perdunt,
     et cremat insontes hostica flamma casas.
Tunc quoque, cum pax est, trepidant formidine belli,
     nec quisquam presso uomere sulcat humum.
Aut uidet aut metuit locus hic, quem non uidet, hostem;
     cessat iners rigido terra relicta situ.

What they cannot carry with them or carry off, they destroy,
     and a hostile flame burns innocent cottages.
Then also, when there is peace, they tremble with the dread of war,
     nor does anyone with the pressed ploughshare furrow the soil.
Either this place sees the enemy, or fears an enemy whom it does not see;
     the land, left inert in rigid stagnation, stands idle.

Non hic pampinea dulcis latet uua sub umbra,
     nec cumulant altos feruida musta lacus.
Poma negat regio, nec haberet Acontius, in quo
     scriberet hic dominae uerba legenda suae.
Aspiceres nudos sine fronde, sine arbore, campos:
     heu loca felici non adeunda uiro!

Here the sweet grape does not lie hidden beneath vine-leafy shade,
     nor do fervid musts heap up high vats.
The region denies apples, nor would Acontius have that on which
     he might write here for his lady words to be read.
You would see fields naked, without leaf, without tree:
     alas, places not to be approached by a fortunate man!

Ergo tam late pateat cum maximus orbis,
haec est in poenam terra reperta meam.

Therefore, though the greatest orb lies open so widely,
this is the land discovered for my penalty.

Si quis es, insultes qui casibus, inprobe, nostris,
     meque reum dempto fine cruentus agas,
natus es e scopulis et pastus lacte ferino,
     et dicam silices pectus habere tuum.
Quis gradus ulterior, quo se tua porrigat ira,
     restat? Quidue meis cernis abesse malis?

If you are one who, shameless man, insults our misfortunes,
     and, bloodthirsty, prosecute me as a defendant with the limit removed,
you were born from crags and nourished on feral milk,
     and I will say your breast has flints.
What further step, to which your wrath may stretch itself,
     remains? Or what do you discern to be lacking from my evils?

Barbara me tellus et inhospita litora Ponti
     cumque suo Borea Maenalis Vrsa uidet.
Nulla mihi cum gente fera commercia linguae:
     omnia solliciti sunt loca plena metus.
utque fugax auidis ceruus deprensus ab ursis,
     cinctaue montanis ut pauet agna lupis,
sic ego belligeris a gentibus undique saeptus
     terreor, hoste meum paene premente latus.

The barbarous earth and the inhospitable shores of the Pontus,
     and, with his own Maenalian Bear, Boreas, behold me.
I have no commerce of language with the savage race:
     all the places are full of anxious fear.
and as a timorous stag, seized by greedy bears,
     or as a lamb, encircled by mountain wolves, grows afraid,
so I, on all sides hemmed in by belligerent peoples,
     am terrified, the enemy almost pressing upon my flank.

utque sit exiguum poenae, quod coniuge cara,
     quod patria careo pignoribusque meis:
ut mala nulla feram nisi nudam Caesaris iram,
     nuda parum est nobis Caesaris ira mali?
Et tamen est aliquis, qui uulnera cruda retractet,
     soluat et in mores ora diserta meos.
In causa facili cuiuis licet esse diserto,
     et minimae uires frangere quassa ualent.

And grant it be a small part of the punishment, that I am without my dear wife,
     that I lack my fatherland and my pledges (my children):
suppose I were to bear no evils save the naked wrath of Caesar—
     is the naked wrath of Caesar too little of evil for us?
And yet there is someone who rehandles raw wounds,
     and unlooses eloquent mouths against my morals.
In an easy cause anyone is allowed to be disert (eloquent),
     and the slightest forces are able to shatter what is already shattered.

Subruere est arces et stantia moenia uirtus:
quamlibet ignaui praecipitata premunt.
Non sum ego quod fueram. Quid inanem proteris umbram?

To subvert citadels and standing walls is valor:
however cowardly, they press upon the overthrown.
I am not what I was. Why do you trample an empty shadow?

     quid cinerem saxis bustaque nostra petis?
Hector erat tunc cum bello certabat; at idem
     uinctus ad Haemonios non erat Hector equos.
Me quoque, quem noras olim, non esse memento:
     ex illo superant haec simulacra uiro.

     why do you seek the cinders with stones and my tomb?
Hector was himself then when he contended in war; but the same
     bound to the Haemonian horses was not Hector.
Remember that I too, whom once you knew, am not the same:
     from that man there survive these simulacra.

Quid simulacra, ferox, dictis incessis amaris?
     Parce, precor, Manes sollicitare meos.
Omnia uera puta mea crimina, nil sit in illis,
     quod magis errorem quam scelus esse putes,
pendimus en profugi (satia tua pectora) poenas
     exilioque graues exiliique loco.

Why, fierce one, do you assail the simulacra with bitter words?
     Spare, I pray, from troubling my Manes.
Suppose all my charges are true, let there be nothing in them,
     which you would think to be error rather than crime;
behold we fugitives pay the penalties (sate your heart)
     heavy with exile and with the very place of exile.

Carnifici fortuna potest mea flenda uideri:
     et tamen est uno iudice mersa partum.
Saeuior es tristi Busiride, saeuior illo,
     qui falsum lento torruit igne bouem,
quique bouem Siculo fertur donasse tyranno,
     et dictis artes conciliasse suas:
"munere in hoc, rex, est usus, sed imagine maior,
     nec sola est operis forma probanda mei.
Aspicis a dextra latus hoc adapertile tauri?

My fortune can seem worthy of tears even to an executioner:
     and yet it is, by a single judge, plunged and undone.
You are more savage than gloomy Busiris, more savage than the one
     who roasted the counterfeit bull with a slow fire,
and the one who is said to have given the bull to the Sicilian tyrant,
     and to have commended his arts by his words:
"in this gift, O king, there is a use, but greater in its image,
     nor is the mere form of my workmanship to be approved.
Do you see on the right this side of the bull, made to be openable?

     Hac tibi, quem perdes, coniciendus erit.
Protinus inclusum lentis carbonibus ure:
     mugiet, et ueri uox erit illa bouis.
Pro quibus inuentis, ut munus munere penses,
     da, precor, ingenio praemia digna meo."
Dixerat.

     By this opening, the one you will destroy must be cast in.
At once burn the enclosed one with slow coals:
     he will bellow, and that will be the voice of a real ox.
For these inventions, so that you may weigh gift with gift,
     give, I pray, rewards worthy of my ingenuity."
He had spoken.

At Phalaris "poenae mirande repertor,
     ipse tuum praesens imbue" dixit "opus".
Nec mora, monstratis crudeliter ignibus ustus
     exhibuit geminos ore gemente sonos.
Quid mihi cum Siculis inter Scythiamque Getasque?
     Ad te, quisquis is es, nostra querela redit.

But Phalaris said, "astonishing inventor of punishment,
     do you yourself, being present, imbue your work."
No delay: burned by the fires cruelly pointed out,
     he exhibited twin sounds from a groaning mouth.
What have I to do with the Sicilians, and between Scythia and the Getae?
     To you, whoever you are, our complaint returns.

utque sitim nostro possis explere cruore,
     quantaque uis, auido gaudia corde feras,
tot mala sum fugiens tellure, tot aequore passus,
     te quoque ut auditis posse dolere putem.
Crede mihi, si sit nobis collatus Vlixes,
     Neptunine minor quam Iouis ira fuit?
Ergo quicumque es, rescindere crimina noli,
     deque graui duras uulnere tolle manus;
utque meae famam tenuent obliuia culpae,
     facta cicatricem ducere nostra sine;
humanaeque memor sortis, quae tollit eosdem
     et premit, incertas ipse uerere uices.

and so that you may be able to slake your thirst with our blood,
     and, as much as you wish, bear joys with an avid heart,
fleeing so many evils on land, so many have I suffered on the sea,
     so that I may think you too, on hearing, able to feel pain.
Believe me, if Ulysses be compared with us,
     was Neptune’s wrath any less than the wrath of Jove?
Therefore whoever you are, do not rescind—reopen—the charges,
     and from the grave wound lift your hard hands;
and so that forgetfulness may attenuate the report of my fault,
     allow my deeds to draw a scar;
and mindful of the human lot, which both raises the same
     and presses them down, yourself fear the uncertain vicissitudes.

Et quoniam, fieri quod numquam posse putaui,
     est tibi de rebus maxima cura meis,
non est quod timeas: fortuna miserrima nostra est,
     omne trahit secum Caesaris ira malum.
Quod magis ut liqueat, neue hoc ego fingere credar,
     ipse uelim poenas experiare meas.

And since, that should happen which I thought could never be,
     you have the greatest care for my affairs,
there is no reason for you to fear: our fortune is most wretched,
     Caesar’s ire drags every evil along with it.
So that this may be more clear, and lest I be thought to be feigning this,
     I would wish that you yourself experience my penalties.

XII

Frigora iam Zephyri minuunt, annoque peracto
     longior antiquis uisa Maeotis hiems,
inpositamque sibi qui non bene pertulit Hellen,
     tempora nocturnis aequa diurna facit.
Iam uiolam puerique legunt hilaresque puellae,
     rustica quae nullo nata serente uenit;
prataque pubescunt uariorum flore colorum,
     indocilique loquax gutture uernat auis;
utque malae matris crimen deponat hirundo
     sub trabibus cunas tectaque parua facit;
herbaque, quae latuit Cerealibus obruta sulcis,
     exit et expandit molle cacumen humo;
quoque loco est uitis, de palmite gemma mouetur:
     nam procul a Getico litore uitis abest;
quoque loco est arbor, turgescit in arbore ramus:
     nam procul a Geticis finibus arbor abest.
Otia nunc istic, iunctisque ex ordine ludis
     cedunt uerbosi garrula bella fori.

Cold now the Zephyrs lessen the frigidity, and with the year completed
     the Maeotic winter has seemed longer than the ancient ones,
and he who did not well bear Helle imposed upon him
     makes the times equal, the diurnal to the nocturnal.
Now boys and cheerful girls gather the violet,
     which, rustic, comes, born with no sower sowing;
and the meadows grow downy with the flower of various colors,
     and with an indocile, loquacious throat the bird is in spring-song;
and so that the swallow may lay down the reproach of an evil mother
     it makes cradles beneath the beams and little roofs;
and the grass, which lay hidden, buried in Cereal furrows,
     comes forth and spreads its soft tip from the soil;
and in whatever place there is a vine, from the tendril the bud is moved:
     for far from the Getic shore the vine is absent;
and in whatever place there is a tree, on the tree the branch swells:
     for far from the Getic borders a tree is absent.
Now there is leisure there, and, with the games joined in due order,
     the garrulous wars of the wordy forum give way.

usus equi nunc est, leuibus nunc luditur armis,
     nunc pila, nunc celeri uoluitur orbe trochus;
nunc ubi perfusa est oleo labente iuuentus,
     defessos artus Virgine tingit aqua.
Scaena uiget studiisque fauor distantibus ardet,
     proque tribus resonant terna theatra foris.
O quantum et quotiens non est numerare, beatum,
     non interdicta cui licet urbe frui!

now there is use of the horse, now sport is played with light arms,
     now the ball, now the hoop is rolled in a swift circle;
now, when the youth has been drenched with flowing oil,
     it dips its weary limbs in the Virgin water.
The Stage flourishes and favor burns with differing allegiances,
     and, in place of three, triple theaters resound outdoors.
O how great and how often—it is not to be numbered—the blessedness
     of him to whom it is permitted to enjoy a city not interdicted!

At mihi sentitur nix uerno sole soluta,
     quaeque lacu durae non fodiantur aquae:
nec mare concrescit glacie, nec, ut ante, per Histrum
     stridula Sauromates plaustra bubulcus agit.
Incipient aliquae tamen huc adnare carinae,
     hospitaque in Ponti litore puppis erit.
Sedulus occurram nautae, dictaque salute,
     quid ueniat, quaeram, quisue quibusue locis.

But for me it is felt that the snow is loosened by the vernal sun,
     and that the waters, hard in the lake, are not being pierced;
nor does the sea congeal with ice, nor, as before, across the Danube
     does the Sauromatian oxherd drive creaking wagons.
Nevertheless some ships will begin to sail hither,
     and a guest-bark will be on the shore of the Pontus.
Assiduous I will run to meet the sailor, and, a greeting having been given,
     I will ask what he comes for, who he is, and from what places.

Ille quidem mirum ni de regione propinqua
     non nisi uicinas tutus ararit aquas.
Rarus ab Italia tantum mare nauita transit,
     litora rarus in haec portubus orba uenit.
Siue tamen Graeca scierit, siue ille Latina
     uoce loqui (certe gratior huius erit;
fas quoque ab ore freti longaeque Propontidos undis
     huc aliquem certo uela dedisse Noto),
quisquis is est, memori rumorem uoce referre
     et fieri famae parsque gradusque potest.

He indeed, unless I am mistaken, from a neighboring region
     has safely ploughed only the neighboring waters.
Rare is the sailor who crosses so great a sea from Italy,
     rare does one come to these shores, bereft of harbors.
Whether, however, he will know to speak with a Greek voice, or that man with a Latin
     voice (certainly the latter will be more agreeable;
it is also permitted that from the mouth of the strait and from the waves of the long Propontis
     someone has here set his sails with the sure South Wind),
whoever he is, he can report the rumor with a mindful voice
     and become both a part and a step of fame.

Is, precor, auditos possit narrare triumphos
     Caesaris et Latio reddita uota Ioui,
teque, rebellatrix, tandem, Germania, magni
     triste caput pedibus supposuisse ducis.
Haec mihi qui referet, quae non uidisse dolebo,
     ille meae domui protinus hospes erit.
Ei mihi, iamne domus Scythico Nasonis in orbe est?

May he, I pray, be able to narrate the heard triumphs of Caesar and the vows restored to Jupiter by Latium,
and that you, rebel, Germany, at last have placed your grim head beneath the feet of the great leader.
Whoever will report to me these things, which I will grieve not to have seen,
he will forthwith be a guest of my house.
Alas for me, is Naso’s home already in the Scythian world?

Iamque suum mihi dat pro Lare poena locum?
di facite ut caesar non hic penetrale domumque,
hospitium poenae sed uelit esse meae.

And now does punishment give me its own place in place of a Lar?
gods, grant that caesar not wish this to be an inner shrine and a home,
but to be a lodging for my punishment.

XIII

Ecce superuacuus (quid enim fuit utile gigni?)
ad sua natalis tempora noster adest.
Dure, quid ad miseros ueniebas exulis annos?
debueras illis inposuisse modum.

Behold, superfluous (for what was useful in being begotten?)
at its own times my natal day is here.
Harsh one, why were you coming to the wretched years of an exile?
you ought to have imposed a limit upon them.

Si tibi cura mei, uel si pudor ullus inesset,
     non ultra patriam me sequerere meam,
quoque loco primum tibi sum male cognitus infans,
     illo temptasses ultimus esse mihi,
inque relinquendo, quod idem fecere sodales,
     tu quoque dixisses tristis in urbe "uale".
Quid tibi cum Ponto? Num te quoque Caesaris ira
     extremam gelidi misit in orbis humum?
Scilicet exspectas soliti tibi moris honorem,
     pendeat ex umeris uestis ut alba meis,
fumida cingatur florentibus ara coronis,
     micaque sollemni turis in igne sonet,
libaque dem proprie genitale notantia tempus,
     concipiamque bonas ore fauente preces.

If you had any care for me, or if any modesty were in you,
     you would not follow me beyond my fatherland,
and in whatever place I was first ill-acquainted with you as an infant,
     in that place you should have tried to be my last,
and, in leaving me—what my comrades likewise have done—
     you too would have said in the city, sad, “farewell.”
What have you to do with Pontus? Did Caesar’s wrath also send you
     to the farthest soil of the icy world?
Of course you expect the honor of the custom usual to you,
     that a white garment hang from my shoulders,
that the smoking altar be girded with blooming garlands,
     and that a grain of incense crackle in the solemn fire,
and that I give cakes properly marking the natal time,
     and that with favoring lips I frame good prayers.

Non ita sum positus, nec sunt ea tempora nobis,
     aduentu possim laetus ut esse tuo.
Funeris ara mihi, ferali cincta cupresso,
     conuenit et structis flamma parata rogis.
Nec dare tura libet nil exorantia diuos,
     in tantis subeunt nec bona uerba malis.

Not so am I positioned, nor are such times for me,
     that I can be glad at your advent.
A funeral altar, girt with funereal cypress,
     befits me, and a flame prepared with the pyres piled up.
Nor is it my pleasure to offer incense, prevailing not at all upon the gods,
     nor do good words come up amid such great ills.

Si tamen est aliquid nobis hac luce petendum,
in loca ne redeas amplius ista, precor,
dum me terrarum pars paene nouissima, Pontus,
Euxinus falso nomine dictus, habet.

If, however, there is anything for us to petition in this light,
do not return any more to those places, I pray,
while Pontus, the part of the lands almost farthest, holds me,
the Euxine, called by a false name.

XIV

Cultor et antistes doctorum sancte uirorum,
     quid facis ingenio semper amice meo?
Ecquid, ut incolumem quondam celebrare solebas,
     nunc quoque ne uidear totus abesse, caues?
Conficis exceptis ecquid mea carmina solis
     Artibus, artifici quae nocuere suo?

Cultivator and prelate of learned men, holy man,
     what are you doing, ever a friend to my genius?
Do you, as you once were accustomed to celebrate me safe,
     now also take care that I may not seem wholly absent?
Do you at all finish my songs, with only the Arts excepted—
     the Arts which harmed their own artificer?

Immo ita fac, quaeso, uatum studiose nouorum,
     quaque potes, retine corpus in urbe meum.
Est fuga dicta mihi, non est fuga dicta libellis,
     qui domini poenam non meruere sui.
Saepe per externas profugus pater exulat oras,
     urbe tamen natis exulis esse licet.

Rather do so, I pray, zealous student of new poets,
     and by whatever ways you can, keep my body in the city.
Flight has been decreed for me; flight has not been decreed for my little books,
     which have not deserved their master’s penalty.
Often a father, a fugitive, goes into exile through foreign shores,
     yet it is permitted for the exile’s children to be in the city.

Palladis exemplo de me sine matre creata
     carmina sunt; stirps haec progeniesque mea est.
Hanc tibi commendo, quae quo magis orba parente est,
     hoc tibi tutori sarcina maior erit.
Tres mihi sunt nati contagia nostra secuti:
     cetera fac curae sit tibi turba palam.

By Pallas’s example, songs of mine created without a mother
     have been; this is my stock and my progeny.
This I commend to you; and the more it is bereft of a parent,
     the heavier a burden it will be to you, its tutor.
Three sons I have, who have followed our contagion:
     see to it that the rest of the crowd be openly your care.

Sunt quoque mutatae, ter quinque uolumina, formae,
     carmina de domini funere rapta sui.
Illud opus potuit, si non prius ipse perissem,
     certius a summa nomen habere manu:
nunc incorrectum populi peruenit in ora,
     in populi quicquam si tamen ore mei est.
Hoc quoque nescioquid nostris appone libellis,
     diuerso missum quod tibi ab orbe uenit.

There are also the changed forms, fifteen volumes,
     songs snatched from their master’s own funeral.
That work could have, if I had not perished first,
     more surely had its name from the final hand:
now, uncorrected, it reaches the people’s lips,
     if indeed anything of mine is on the people’s lips.
Add this I-know-not-what also to my little books,
     which has come to you sent from a different orb.

Quod quicumque leget (si quis leget) aestimet ante,
     compositum quo sit tempore quoque loco.
Aequus erit scriptis, quorum cognouerit esse
     exilium tempus barbariamque locum:
inque tot aduersis carmen mirabitur ullum
     ducere me tristi sustinuisse manu.
Ingenium fregere meum mala, cuius et ante
     fons infecundus paruaque uena fuit.

Which whoever shall read (if anyone shall read) let him consider beforehand,
     in what time and in what place as well it was composed.
He will be equitable to the writings, who shall have known
     the time to be exile and the place barbarism:
and amid so many adversities he will marvel that any poem
     I have managed to draw out with a sad hand.
My ingenium the evils have broken, whose even before
     fount was infecund and the vein small.

Sed quaecumque fuit, nullo exercente refugit,
     et longo periit arida facta situ.
Non hic librorum, per quos inuiter alarque,
     copia: pro libris arcus et arma sonant.
Nullus in hac terra, recitem si carmina, cuius
     intellecturis auribus utar, adest.

But whatever it was, with no one exercising it, it has shrunk back,
     and, made arid by long neglect, has perished.
Here there is not a supply of books, through which I might be invited and nourished;
     in place of books bows and arms resound.
No one is present in this land, should I recite poems, whose
     ears I might use that would understand.

Non quo secedam locus est. Custodia muri
summouet infestos clausaque porta Getas.
Saepe aliquod quaero uerbum nomenque locumque,
nec quisquam est a quo certior esse queam.

There is no place to which I may withdraw. The custody of the wall
wards off the hostile, and the closed gate the Getae.
Often I seek some word, and the name and the place,
and there is no one by whom I can be made more certain.

Dicere saepe aliquid conanti (turpe fateri)
     uerba mihi desunt dedidicique loqui.
Threicio Scythicoque fere circumsonor ore,
     et uideor Geticis scribere posse modis.
Crede mihi, timeo ne sint inmixta Latinis
     inque meis scriptis Pontica uerba legas.

Often, when I try to say something (shameful to confess),
     words fail me, and I have unlearned to speak.
I am almost surrounded by Thracian and Scythian speech,
     and I seem able to write in Getic modes.
Believe me, I fear lest there be Pontic words intermixed with Latin,
     and that you may read Pontic words in my writings.

Qualemcumque igitur uenia dignare libellum.
Sortis et excusa condicione meae.

Therefore, deign pardon to whatever sort of little book.
And excuse the condition of my lot.