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Translations frm Ovid's Epistles.
The First Book of Ovid's Art of Love
Translations from Juvenal.
HE chiefs were fet, the soldiers crown'd
But basely fled that memorable day,
blood Without that plea would make my title good : My fire was Telamon, whose arms, employ'd With Hercules, these Trojan walls destroy'd ; And who before, with Jason, sent from Greece, In the first ship brought home the golden fleece: