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Ovid

Ex Ponto Liber Primus

I.

Naso Tomitanae iam non novus incola terrae hoc tibi de Getico litore mittit opus. si vacat, hospitio peregrinos, Brute, libellos excipe, dumque aliquo, quolibet abde loco.1 5publica non audent intra2 monimenta venire, ne suus hoc illis clauserit auctor iter. a! quotiens dixi “certe nil turpe docetis: ite, patet castis versibus ille locus!” non tamen accedunt, sed, ut aspicis ipse, latere 10sub Lare privato tutius esse putant. quaeris ubi hos possis nullo componere laeso? qua steterant Artes, pars vacat illa tibi. quid3 veniant, novitate roges fortasse sub ipsa. accipe, quodcumque est, dummodo non sit amor. 15invenies, quamvis non est miserabilis index, non minus hoc illo triste, quod ante dedi. rebus idem, titulo differt; et epistula cui sit non occultato nomine missa docet. nec vos hoc vultis, sed nec prohibere potestis, 20Musaque ad invitos officiosa venit.

  • 1loco] modo
  • 2inter
  • 3qui
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Ex Ponto, I

Ex Ponto—Book I

I. To Brutus

Naso, no recent dweller now in the land of Tomis, sends to you this work from the Getic shore. If you have leisure, entertain and harbour, Brutus, these poems from a foreign land; hide them away where you will, yet somewhere. They venture not to enter a public memorial1 for fear their master has closed for them this way. Ah, how often have I said, “Surely you give no base instruction! Go! Clean verse may freely enter that place!” Yet these verses go not thither, but as you see they deem it safer to lie in the seclusion of a private household. Do you ask where you can lay them without injuring anybody? Where once stood my “Art” there you have a vacant space.

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What they come for, perchance you may ask while their novelty is still fresh. Take them, whatever it is, so only it be not love. You will find, though the title implies no sorrow, that this work is not less sad than that which I sent before—in theme the same, in title different, and each epistle reveals the recipient without concealing his name.2 You are all averse to this but cannot prevent it; my Muse comes to you with homage even against your will. Whatever

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DOI: 10.4159/DLCL.ovid-ex_ponto.1924