VINIUS, I oft desir'd you, ere you went,
Well seal'd my rhiming volumes to present
When Cæsar's high in health, in spirits gay,
Or if he ask to read th' unoffer'd lay,
Lest you offend with too officious zeal,
And my poor works his just resentment feel.
Throw down the burden, if it gall your back,
Nor at the palace fiercely break the pack,
Lest my dear ass become the laughing sport,
The quibbling fable of the wits at court.
Through rivers, steeps, and fens, exert your force,
Nor, when you're victor of the destin'd course,
Under your arm the letter'd bundle bear,
As rustics do their lambs, with awkward air;
Or Pyrrhia, reeling from the drunken bowl,
Conveys away the ball of wool she stole ;
Or, in his pride, a tribe-invited guest
Carries his cap and slippers to a feast;
Nor loud proclaim, with how much toil you bear Such verse, as may detain even Cæsar's ear. Farewell, make haste; and special caution take, Lest you should stumble, and my orders break.
TO HIS STEWARD IN THE COUNTRY.
THOU steward of the woods and country-seat,
That give me to myself; whose small estate,
Which you despise, five worthy fathers sent,
One from each house, to Varia's parliament:
Let us inquire, if you with happier toil
Root out the thorns and thistles of the soil,
Than Horace tears his follies from his breast;
Whether my farm or I be cultivated best.
Though Lamia's pious tears, that ceaseless mourn
His brother's death, have hinder'd my return,
Thither my warmest wishes bend their force,
Start from the goal, and beat the distant course.
Rome is your rapture, mine the rural seat;
Pleas'd with each other's lot, our own we hate:
But both are fools, and fools in like extreme;
Guiltless the place, that we unjustly blame,
For in the mind alone our follies lie,
The mind, that never from itself can fly.
A slave at Rome, and discontented there,
A country-life was once your silent prayer:
A rustic grown, your first desires return;
For Rome, her public games and baths, you burn.
More constant to myself, I leave with pain,
By hateful business forc'd, the rural scene.
From different objects our desires arise,
And thence the distance that between us lies;
For what you call inhospitably drear,
To me with beauty and delight appear.
Full well I know a tavern's greasy steam,
And a vile stew, with joy your heart inflame,
While my small farm yields rather herbs than vines,
Nor there a neighbouring tavern pours its wines,
Nor harlot-minstrel sings, when the rude sound
Tempts you with heavy heels to thump the ground.
But you complain, that with unceasing toil
You break, alas! the long unbroken soil,
Or loose the wearied oxen from the plough,
And feed with leaves new-gather'd from the bough.
Then feels your laziness an added pain,
If e'er the rivulet be swoln with rain;
What mighty mounds against its force you rear,
To teach its rage the sunny mead to spare!
Now hear, from whence our sentiments divide:
In youth, perhaps with not ungraceful pride,
I wore a silken robe, perfum'd my hair,
And without presents charm'd the venal fair:
From early morning quaff'd the flowing glass;
Now a short supper charms, or on the grass
To lay me down at some fair river's side,
And sweetly slumber as the waters glide;
Nor do I blush to own my follies past,
But own, those follies should no longer last.
None there with eye askance my pleasures views,
With hatred dark, or poison'd spite pursues;
My neighbours laugh to see with how much toil
I carry stones, or break the stubborn soil.
You with my city-slaves would gladly join,
And on their daily pittance hardly dine;
While more refin'd they view with envious eye
The gardens, horses, fires, that you enjoy.
Thus the slow ox would gaudy trappings claim;
The sprightly horse would plough amidst the team:
By my advice, let each with cheerful heart,
As best he understands, employ his art.
Y my physician's learn'd advice I fly
From Baia's waters, yet with angry eye
The village views me, when I mean to bathe
The middle winter's freezing wave beneath;
Loudly complaining, that their myrtle groves
Are now neglected; their sulphureous stoves,
Of ancient fame our feeble nerves to raise,
And dissipate the lingering cold disease,
While the sick folks in Clusium's fountains dare
Plunge the bold head, or seek a colder air.
The road we now must alter, and engage
Th'unwilling horse to pass his usual stage:
Ho! whither now? his angry rider cries,
And to the left the restive bridle plies.
We go no more to Baiæ; prithee hear-
But in his bridle lies an horse's ear.
Dear Vala, say; how temperate, how severe,
Are Velia's winters, and Salernum's air:
The genius of the folks, the roads how good:
Which eats the better bread, and when a flood
Of rain descends, which quaffs the gather'd shower,
Or do their fountains purer water pour?
Their country-vintage is not worth my care,
For though at home, whatever wine, I bear,
At sea-port towns I shall expect to find
My wines of generous and of smoother kind,
To drive away my cares, and to the soul,
Through the full veins, with golden hopes to roll;
With flowing language to inspire my tongue,
And make the listening fair-one think me young.
With hares or boars which country's best supplied?
Which seas their better fish luxurious hide? That I may home return in luscious plight'Tis ours to credit, as 'tis yours to write.
When Mænius had consum'd, with gallant heart, A large estate, he took the jester's art:
A vagrant zany, of no certain manger,
Who knew not, ere he din'd, or friend or stranger:
Cruel, and scurrilous to all, his jest;
The ruin'd butcher's gulf, a storm, a pest.
Whate'er he got his ravening guts receive,
And when or friend or foe no longer gave,
A lamb's fat paunch was a delicious treat,
As much as three voracious bears could eat;
Then, like reformer Bestius, would he tell ye,
That gluttons should be branded on the belly.
But if, perchance, he found some richer fare,
Instant it vanish'd into smoke and air-
"By Jove I wonder not, that folks should eat,
At one delicious meal, a whole estate,
fat thrush is most delightful food, And a swine's paunch superlatively good." Thus I, when better entertainments fail, Bravely commend a plain and frugal meal; On cheaper suppers show myself full wise, But if some dainties more luxurious rise
Right sage and happy they alone, whose fate Gives them a splendid house, and large estate."
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