lated rules. It is interesting that he places his emphasis on dramatic poetry, although he himself produced nothing in that branch and although Roman opinion was generally agreed in giving epic the highest place.

Now listen, dramatists, and I will tell What I expect, and all the world as well. If you would have your auditors to stay Till curtain-rise and plaudit end the play, Observe each age's temper, and impart To each the grace and finish of your art. Note first the boy who just knows how to talk

And feels his feet beneath him in his walk:

He likes his young companions, loves a game,

Soon vexed, soon soothed, and not two hours the same.

The beardless youth, at last from tutor freed,

Loves playing-field and tennis, dog and steed:

Pliant as wax to those who lead him

Years, as they come, bring blessings in their train;

Years, as they go, take blessings back again:

Yet haste or chance may blink the obvious truth,

Make youth discourse like age, and age like youth:

Attention fixed on life alone can teach The traits and adjuncts which pertain to each.

Sometimes an action on the stage is shown,

Sometimes 'tis done elsewhere, and there made known.

A thing when heard, remember, strikes less keen

On the spectator's mind than when 'tis

seen.

Yet 'twere not well in public to display A business best transacted far away, And much may be secluded from the eye For well-graced tongues to tell of by and by.

Medea must not shed her children's blood,

Nor savage Atreus cook man's flesh for food,

Nor Philomel turn bird or Cadmus snake, With people looking on and wide awake. If scenes like these before my eyes be thrust,

They shock belief and generate disgust.

Would you your play should prosper

and endure?

Then let it have five acts, nor more nor fewer.

Bring in no god save as a last resource, Nor make four speakers join in the dis

course.

An actor's part the chorus should sustain

And do their best to get the plot in train: And whatsoe'er between the acts they chant

Should all be apt, appropriate, relevant. Still let them give sage counsel, back the good,

If grave and gay could flourish side by side,

That the spectator, feasted to his fill, Noisy and drunk, might ne'ertheless sit still.

Yet, though loud laugh and frolic jest commend

Your Satyr folk, and mirth and morals blend,

Let not your heroes doff their robes of red

To talk low language in a homely shed, Nor, in their fear of crawling, mount too high,

Catching at clouds and aiming at the sky.
Melpomene, when bidden to be gay,
Like matron dancing on a festal day,
Deals not in idle banter, nor consorts
Without reserve with Satyrs and their
sports.

In plays like these I would not deal alone

In words and phrases trite and too well known,

Nor, stooping from the tragic height, drop

For those who have a father or a horse Or an estate will take offence of course, Nor think they're bound in duty to admire

What gratifies the vetch-and-chestnutbuyer.

The Iambic foot is briefly thus defined: Two syllables, a short with long behind: Repeat it six times o'er, so quick its beat, 'Tis trimeter, three measures for six feet: At first it ran straight on; but, years ago, Its hearers begged that it would move more slow;

On which it took, with a good-natured air, Stout spondees in, its native rights to share,

Yet so that none should ask it to resign The sixth, fourth, second places in the line.

But search through Attius' trimeters, or those

Which Ennius took such pleasure to compose,

You'll rarely find it: on the boards they

groan,

Laden with spondees, like a cart with stone,

And brand our tragedy with want of skill

Or want of labour, call it what you will. What then? false rhythm few judges can detect,

And Roman bards of course are all correct.

What shall a poet do? make rules his sport,

And dash through thick and thin, through long and short?

Or pick his steps, endeavour to walk clean,

And fancy every mud-stain will be seen? What good were that, if though I mind

my ways

And shun all blame, I do not merit praise?

My friends, make Greece your model when you write,

"But Plautus pleased our sires, the

good old folks;

They praised his numbers, and they praised his jokes."

They did: 'twas mighty tolerant in them To praise where wisdom would perhaps condemn;

That is, if you and I and our compeers Can trust our tastes, our fingers, and our

ears,

Know polished wit from horse-play, and can tell

What verses do, and what do not, run well.

Thespis began the drama: rumour says In travelling carts he carried round his plays,

Where actors, smeared with lees, before the throng

Performed their parts with gesture and with song.

Then Eschylus brought in the mask and pall,

Put buskins on his men to make them tall,

Turned boards into a platform, not too great,

And taught high monologue and grand debate.

The elder Comedy had next its turn,
Nor small the glory it contrived to earn:
But freedom passed into unbridled spite,
And law was soon invoked to set things
right:

Law spoke: the chorus lost the power to sting,

And (shame to say) thenceforth refused to sing.

Our poets have tried all things; nor do they

Deserve least praise, who follow their own

way,

And tell in comedy or history-piece Some story of home growth, not drawn from Greece.

Nor would the land we love be now more strong