EPISTLE XX.

TO HIS BOOK.

THE shops of Rome impatient to behold,
And elegantly polish'd to be sold,
You hate the tender seal, and guardian keys,
Which modest volumes love, and fondly praise
The public world, even sighing to be read-
Unhappy book! to other manners bred.
Indulge the fond desire, with which you burn,
Pursue thy flight, yet think not to return.
But, when insulted by the critic's scorn,
How often shall you cry, ah! me forlorn?
When he shall throw the tedious volume by,
Nor longer view thee with a lover's eye.

If rage pervert not my prophetic truth,

Rome shall admire, while you can charm with youth,
But soon as vulgar hands thy beauty soil,
The moth shall batten on the silent spoil;
Then fly to Afric, or be sent to Spain,
Our colonies of wits to entertain.
This shall thy fond adviser laughing see,
As, when his ass was obstinate like thee,
The clown in vengeance push'd him down the hill;
For who would save an ass against his will?

At last thy stammering age in suburb-schools
Shall toil in teaching boys their grammar-rules:
But when in evening mild the listening tribe
Around thee throng, thy master thus describe;

A free-man's son, with moderate fortune blest,
Who boldly spread his wings beyond his nest;
What from my birth you take, to virtue give,
And say, with ease and happiness I live,
With all that Rome in peace and war calls great :
Of lowly stature : fond of summer's heat:
Early turn'd gray; to passion quickly rais'd,
Yet not ill-natur'd, and with ease appeas'd.
Let them, who ask my age, be frankly told,
That I was forty-four Decembers old,
When Lollius chose with Lepidus to share
The power and honors of the consul's chair.

EPISTLES.

BOOK II.

EPISTLES.

BOOK II.

EPISTLE I.

TO AUGUSTUS.

WHILE you alone sustain th' important weight

Of Rome's affairs, so various and so great:

While you the public weal with arms defend,
Adorn with morals, and with laws amend;
Shall not the tedious letter prove a crime,
That steals one moment of our Cæsar's time?
Rome's founder, Leda's twins, the god of wine,
By human virtues rais'd to power divine,
While they with pious cares improv'd mankind,
To various states their proper bounds assign'd,
Commanded war's destroying rage to cease,
And bless'd their cities with the arts of peace,
Complain'd their virtues and their toils could raise
But slight returns of gratitude and praise.
Who crush'd the Hydra, when to life renew'd,
And monsters dire with fated toil subdu'd,
Found that the monster envy never dies,
"Till low in equal death her conqueror lies;
For he, who soars to an unusual height,
Oppressive dazzles, with excess of light,