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Sybilla's secret works, and wash'd their saint
In Almo's flood. Next learned augurs follow;
Apollo's soothsayers, and Jove's feasting priests;
The skipping Salii with shields like wedges;
And Flamins last, with network woollen veils.
While these thus in and out had circled Rome,
Look what the lightning blasted, Aruns takes
And it inters with murmurs dolorous,
And calls the place Bidental; on the altar
He lays a ne'er-yok'd bull, and pours down wine,
Then crams salt levin on his crooked knife;
The beast long struggled, as being like to prove
An awkward sacrifice, but by the horns
The quick priest pull'd him on his knees and slew him;
No vein sprung out but from the yawning gash,
Instead of red blood wallowed venomous gore.
These direful signs made Aruns stand amaz’d,
And searching farther for the god's displeasure,
colour scar'd him; a dead blackness
Ran through the blood, that turn'd it all to jelly,
And stain'd the bowels with dark loathsome spots;
The liver swellid with filth; and every vein
Did threaten horror from the host of Cæsar;
A small thin skin contain'd the vital parts,
The heart stirr'd not and from the gaping liver
Squeez'd matter through the caul, the entrails 'peard,
And which (aye me!) ever pretendeth ill,
At that bunch where the liver is, appear'd
A knob of flesh, whereof one half did look
Dead and discolour'd; th' other lean and thip.
By these he seeing what mischiefs must ensue,
Cried out, “ O gods! I tremble to unfold
What you intend, great Jove is now displeas’d,
And in the breast of this slain bull are crept,
Th'infernal powers. My fear transcends my words ;
Yet more will happen than I can unfold ;
Turn all to good, be augury vain, and Tages,
Th’art's master, false.” Thus in ambiguous terms,
Involving all, did Aruns darkly sing.
But Figulus, more seen in heavenly mysteries,
Whose like Ægyptian Memphis never had
For skill in stars, and tuneful planeting,
In this sort spake. “The world's swift course is lawless,
And casual; all the stars at random rage:
Or if fate rule them, Rome! thy citizens
Are near some plague: what mischief shall ensue?
Shall towns be swallowed ? shall the thickened air,
Become intemperate ? shall the earth be barren?
Shall water be congeald and turn'd to ice?
O gods what death prepare ye? with what plague
to rage? the death of many men Meets in one period. If cold noisome Saturn Were now exalted, and with blue beams shin'd, Then Ganymede would renew Deucalion's flood, And in the fleeting sea the earth be drench'd. O Phæbus! should'st thou with thy rays now sing The fell Nemean beast, th' earth would be fired, And heaven tormented with thy chafing heat ; But thy fires hurt not: Mars, 'tis thou enflam'st The threat'ning Scorpion with the burning tail
And fir’st his cleyes.* Why art thou thus enrag'd?
Kind Jupiter hath low declined himself;
Venus is faint; swift Hermes retrograde;
Mars only rules the heaven; why do the planets
Alter their course, and vainly dim their virtue?
Sword-girt Orion's side glisters too bright.
War’s rage draws near; and to the sword's strong hard
Let all laws yield, sin bear the name of virtue;
Many a year these furious broils let last!
Why should we wish the gods should ever end them?
War only gives us peace: 0 Rome continue,
The course of mischief, and stretch out the date
Of slaughter! only cruel broils make peace."
These sad presages were enough to scar
The quivering Romans, but worse things affright them;
As Mænas full of wine on Pindus raves,
So runs a matron through th’amazed streets,
Disclosing Phæbus' fury in this sort :
« Pean whither am I haild? where shall I fall?
Thus borne aloft I see Pangeus' hill,
With hoary top, and under Hemus' mount,
Philippi plains; Phæbus! what rage is this?
Why grapples Rome, and makes war, having no foes ?
Whither turn I now? thou lead'st me toward th'east,
Where Nile augmenteth the Pelusian sea;
'This headless trunk that lies on Nilus' sand
I know; now throughout the air I fly,
To doubtful Sirtes and dire Afric, where
A fury leads the Emathian bands; from thence
To the pine-bearing hills, thence to the mounts
Pirene, and so back to Rome again.
See impious war defiles the senate-house!
New factions rise; now through the world again
I go; O Phæbus shew me Neptune's shore,
And other regions! I have seen Philippi :"
This said being tir'd with fury she sunk down
Ovids Elegies : Three Bookes, by C. M. Epigrammes, by I. D.
at Middlebourgh. The reprint of another, and different edition of Marlowe's translation of the Elegies of Ovid in this place, requires some explanation. The fact is, that a reprint of Marlowe's translations did not originally form a part of the design of this pablication, and it was not until the whole of his original works had been printed that it was determined to include the former in the present collection. Having been faroured with the loan of a copy of the recent edition mentioned in the note preceding the “Certaine Elegies,” we immediately adopted it, not bar. ing the opportunity at the time of collating it with any of the older editions, which, as our readers may suppose are suffiaently scarce. On the eve of publication however, we found that there was another edition, bearing the same imprint, bat containing the whole of the elegies of the first three books, and differing from the other in some other particulars, but of less importance. This determined us to reprint the present edition entire. We learn that there is also a third edition, bearing an imprint similar to the others but with the title of · Al Ovids Elegies,' differing howerer from the second only in the title. That Marlowe originally intended to translate three books is manifest from the commencement of the first elegy,
“We which were Ovid's five books now are three,” but whether he actually did so, and whether the “Certaine Elegies” or the above edition was first published, and whether either of them was published in his life-time, it is, from the absence of dates, impossible to determine with accuracy. At the same time it is worthy of remark that the order for burning the translations was not made unul 1599-a circumstance which leads us to suppose that it was not published until after Marlowe's death, and probably not long before the order. The Epigrams printed in the preceding pages are the same as those contained in the above edition, in which, however, the lines entitled Ignoto' are omitted. In this Edition it will be observed, the Epigrams are ascribed wholly to Davies.
Those elegies included in the copy first reprinted are distinguished by asterisks.