Tell him that under stars which never set in the ocean I am existing still, here in a barbarous land. Fierce Sarmatians encompass me round, and the Bessi and Getæ; Yet when the air is warm, intervening Ister defends us: But when the dismal winter reveals its hideous aspect, And when Boreas is loosed, and the snow hurled under Arcturus, Deep lies the snow, and neither the sun nor the rain can dissolve it; Boreas hardens it still, makes it forever remain. Hence, ere the first has melted away, another succeeds it. And two years it is wont, in many places, to lie. And so great is the power of the Northwind awakened, it levels ΙΟ Wrapped in skins, and with trousers sewed, they contend with the weather, And their faces alone of the whole body are seen. Often their tresses, when shaken, with pendent icicles tinkle, Wines consolidate stand, preserving the form of the vessels; Why should I tell you how all the rivers are frozen and solid, Ister, no narrower stream than the river that bears the papyrus, Which through its many mouths mingles its waves with the deep; 20 Ister, with hardening winds, congeals its cerulean waters, 30 There where ships have sailed, men go on foot; and the billows, Over unwonted bridges, with water gliding beneath them, Scarcely shall I be believed; yet when naught is gained by a falsehood, Absolute credence then should to a witness be given. I have beheld the vast Black Sea of ice all compacted, T is not enough to have seen, I have trodden this indurate ocean; If thou hadst had of old such a sea as this is, Leander! Then thy death had not been charged as a crime to the Strait. Nor can the curvèd dolphins uplift themselves from the water; And though Boreas sound with roar of wings in commotion, And the ships will stand hemmed in by the frost, as in marble, Fast-bound in the ice have I seen the fishes adhering, Yet notwithstanding this some of them still were alive. Hence, if the savage strength of omnipotent Boreas freezes 50 Straightway, the Ister made level by arid blasts of the North-wind,— Comes the barbaric foe borne on his swift-footed steed; Foe, that powerful made by his steed and his far-flying arrows, Some take flight, and none being left to defend their possessions, Cattle and creaking carts, the little wealth of the country, Some as captives are driven along, their hands bound behind them, Others, transfixed with barbèd arrows, in agony perish. What they cannot carry or lead away they demolish, Even when there is peace, the fear of war is impending; None, with the ploughshare pressed, furrows the soil any more. Either this region sees, or fears a foe that it sees not, 60 70 No sweet grape lies hidden here in the shade of its vine-leaves, Apples the region denies; nor would Acontius have found here Naked and barren plains without leaves or trees we behold here,Places, alas! unto which no happy man would repair. Since then this mighty orb lies open so wide upon all sides, TRISTIA, BOOK III., ELEGY XII. Now the zephyrs diminish the cold, and the year being ended, And the Ram that bore unsafely the burden of Helle, Now makes the hours of the day equal with those of the night. Now the boys and the laughing girls the violet gather, Now the meadows are blooming with flowers of various colors, Now the swallow, to shun the crime of her merciless mother, 80 And the blade that lay hid, covered up in the furrows of Ceres, 90 Where there is ever a vine, the bud shoots forth from the tendrils, Where there is ever a tree, on the tree the branches are swelling, Now it is holiday there in Rome, and to games in due order Now they are riding the horses; with light arms now they are playing, Now with the ball, and now round rolls the swift-flying hoop: Now, when the young athlete with flowing oil is anointed, Thrives the stage; and applause, with voices at variance, thunders, And the Theatres three for the three Forums resound. IOG Four times happy is he, and times without number is happy, But all I see is the snow in the vernal sunshine dissolving, Nor is the cea now frozen, nor as before o'er the Ister Hitherward, nevertheless, some keels already are steering, Eagerly shall I run to the sailor, and, having saluted, Who he may be, I shall ask; wherefore and whence he hath come. Strange indeed will it be, if he come not from regions adjacent, Rarely a mariner over the deep from Italy passes, Rarely he comes to these shores, wholly of harbors devoid. Whether he knoweth Greek, or whether in Latin he speaketh, IK Also perchance from the mouth of the Strait and the waters Propon tic, Unto the steady South-wind, some one is spreading his sails. 120 Whosoever he is, the news he can faithfully tell me, He, I pray, may be able to tell me the triumphs of Cæsar, And that thy sorrowful head, Germania, thou, the rebellious, Whoso shall tell me these things, that not to have seen will afflict me, Forthwith unto my house welcomed as guest shall he be. Woe is me! Is the house of Ovid in Scythian lands now? 130 Grant, ye gods, that Cæsar make this not my house and my homestead But decree it to be only the inn of my pain. |