§3.2.1Ergo erat in fatis Scythiam quoque visere nostris, §3.2.2quaeque Lycaonio terra sub axe iacet; §3.2.3nec vos, Pierides, nec stirps Letoïa, vestro §3.2.4docta sacerdoti turba tulistis opem.
Therefore, it was also in our fates to visit Scythia, and the land which lies under the Lycaonian pole; neither you, Pierides, nor the offspring of Leto, did your learned crowd bring help to your priest.
§3.2.5nec mihi, quod lusi vero sine crimine, prodest, §3.2.6quodque magis vita Musa iocata mea est, §3.2.7plurima sed pelago terraque pericula passum §3.2.8ustus ab assiduo frigore Pontus habet, §3.2.9quique fugax rerum securaque in otia natus, §3.2.10mollis et inpatiens ante laboris eram, §3.2.11ultima nunc patior, nec me mare portubus orbum §3.2.12perdere, diversae nec potuere viae, §3.2.13suffecitque malis animus; nam corpus ab illo §3.2.14accepit vires vixque ferenda tulit.
Nor does it profit me that I played without a real crime, and that my Muse was more playful than my life, but Pontus, parched by constant cold, holds me who have suffered very many dangers on sea and land, and I, who was shunning affairs and born for carefree leisure, and was formerly soft and impatient of labor, now suffer the extreme things; neither could a sea bereft of harbors destroy me, nor could the hostile roads, and my mind was sufficient for the evils; for my body from it received strength and bore what was scarcely to be borne.
Yet while I, though anxious, was finding joy on both land and waves, the labor of travel beguiled my cares and my sick heart!
§3.2.17ut via finita est §3.2.18et opus requievit eundi, et poenae tellus est mihi tacta meae, §3.2.19nil nisi flere libet, nec nostro parcior imber §3.2.20lumine, de verna quam nive manat aqua.
When the journey was finished and the work of going rested, and the land of my punishment was touched by me, nothing pleases me but to weep, nor is the rain from my eyes more sparing than the water that flows from spring snow.
Rome and my home come to my mind, and the longing for those places, and whatever of me remains in the lost city.
Ah, wretched me, that the door of my tomb has been knocked on so many times, yet was at no time opened!
Why did I escape so many swords, and why did no unfortunate storm, though threatening so many times, overwhelm my head?
§3.2.27di, quos experior nimium constanter iniquos, §3.2.28participes irae quos deus unus habet, §3.2.29exstimulate, precor, cessantia fata meique §3.2.30interitus clausas esse vetate fores!
O gods, whom I experience to be too consistently hostile, whom one god has as partners in his anger, spur on, I pray, my lingering fate, and forbid the doors of my death to be closed!