First 200 words of the document:
Ovid picks a favourite at the races Ovid
I do not sit here as a fan of thoroughbred horses;
But whoever you support yourself, I pray that he may win.
I came to chat with you, and to sit with you, so that the love, which
you provoke, might not be unknown to you.
You are watching the races, I am watching you: let each gaze upon
what he likes and let each feast their own eyes.
O lucky driver of horses, whoever you are supporting!
Then has he been lucky enough to be the object of your care?
If this luck were to happen to me...carried by horses set off from the
sacred starting gate I will forge on with a tough attitude,
And at one point I will give on the reins, and at another I will mark
their backs with a lash,
And now I will scrape the turning posts with my inside wheel.
If you shall have come into sight to me as I run, I will slow down, and
the slack reins will flow from my hands.