SK not, good Quinctius, if my farm maintain
Its wealthy master with abundant grain,
With fruits or pastures; ask not, if the vine
Around its bridegroom-elm luxuriant twine,
For I'll describe, and in loquacious strain,
The site and figure of the pleasing scene.
A chain of mountains with a vale divide,
That opens to the sun on either side:
The right wide spreading to the rising day,
The left is warm'd beneath his setting ray.
How mild the clime, where sloes luxurious grow,
And blushing cornels on the hawthorn glow!
My cattle are with plenteous acorns fed,
Whose various oaks around their master spread;
Well might you swear, that here Tarentum waves
Its dusky shade, and pours forth all its leaves.
A fountain to a rivulet gives its name,
Cooler and purer than a Thracian stream;
Useful to ease an aching head it flows,
Or when with burning pains the stomach glows.
This pleasing, this delicious soft retreat
In safety guards me from September's heat.
Would you be happy, be the thing you seem,
And sure you now possess the world's esteem;
Nor yet to others too much credit give,
But in your own opinion learn to live;
For know, the bliss in our own judgment lies,
And none are happy but the good and wise.
Nor, tho' the crowd pronounce your health is good,
Disguise the fever lurking in your blood,
Till trembling seize you at th' unfinish'd meal-
Idiots alone their ulcer'd ills conceal.
Should some bold flatterer sooth your listening
"The conquer'd world, dread sir, thy name reveres;
And Jove our guardian god, with power divine,
Who watches o'er Rome's happiness and thine,
Yet holds it doubtful, whether Rome or you,
With greater warmth, each other's good pursue."
This praise, you own, is sacred Cæsar's fame;
But can you answer to your proper name,
When you are call'd th' accomplish'd or the wise,
Names, which we all with equal ardour prize?
Yet he, who gives to-day this heedless praise,
Shall take it back to-morrow, if he please.
As when the people from some worthless knave
Can tear away the consulship they gave;
"Lay down the name of wisdom, sir, 'tis mine;"
Confus'd I leave him, and his gifts resign.
What if he said, I hang'd my aged sire,
Call'd me a thief, a slave to lewd desire,
Shall I be tortur'd with unjust disgrace,
Or change the guilty colours of my face?
False praise can charm, unreal shame controul-
Whom, but a vicious or a sickly soul?
The senate's wise decrees, nor ever swerves
From the known rules of justice and the laws:
Whose bail secures, whose oath decides a cause.
Horace.
Yet his own house, his neighbours, through his art
Behold an inward baseness in his heart.
Suppose a slave should say, I never steal,
I never ran away-" nor do you feel
The flagrant lash"-No human blood I shed
"Nor on the cross the ravening crows have fed."But, sir, I am an honest slave, and wise
"My Sabine neighbour there the fact denies.
For wily wolves the fatal pit-fall fear;
Kites fly the bait, and hawks the latent snare;
But virtuous minds a love of virtue charms:
The fear of chastisement thy guilt alarms.
When from my stores you steal one grain of wheat,
My loss indeed is less, your crime as great."
Your honest man, on whom with awful praise
The forum and the courts of justice gaze,
If e'er he make a public sacrifice,
Dread Janus, Phœbus, clear and loud he cries;
But when his prayer in earnest is preferr'd
Scarce moves his lips, afraid of being heard,
"Beauteous Laverna, my petition hear;
Let me with truth and sanctity appear:
Oh! give me to deceive, and with a veil
Of darkness and of night my crimes conceal."
Behold the miser bending down to earth
For a poor farthing, which the boys in mirth
Fix'd to the ground; and shall the caitiff dare
In honest freedom with a slave compare?
Whoever wishes is with fear possest,
And he, who holds that passion in his breast,
Is in my sense a slave; hath left the post
Where virtue plac'd him, and his arms hath lost:
To purchase hasty wealth his force applies,
And overwhelm'd beneath his burthen lies.
Say, is not this a very worthless knave?
But if you have the most untoward slave,
Yet kill him not, he may some profit yield,
Of strength to guard your flocks, and plough your field,
Or let him winter in the stormy main,
By imports to reduce the price of grain.
The good, and wise, like Bacchus in the play, Dare, to the king of Thebes, undaunted say,
What can thy power? Thy threatenings I disdain.
I'll take away thy goods.
My cattle, money, moveables, or land.
Well; take them all.
But, slave, if I command,
A cruel jailor shall thy freedom seize.
A god shall set me free whene'er I please.
Death is that god, the poet here intends,
That utmost bound, where human sorrow ends.
LTHOUGH my Sceva knows with art complete,
How to converse familiar with the great,
Yet to th' instruction of an humble friend,
Who would himself be better taught, attend;
Tho' blind your guide, some precepts yet unknown
He may disclose, which you may make your own.
Are you with tranquil, easy pleasure blest,
Or after sun-rise love an hour of rest,
If dusty streets, the rattling chariot's noise,
Or if the neighbouring tavern's midnight joys,
Delight you not, by my advice retreat
To the calm raptures of a rural seat:
For pleasure's not confin'd to wealth alone,
Nor ill he lives, who lives and dies unknown;
But would you serve your friends, and joyous waste
The bounteous hour, perfume you for the feast.
"His patient herbs could Aristippus eat,
He had disdain'd the tables of the great,"
And he, who censures me, the sage replies,
If he could live with kings, would herbs despise.
Tell me, which likes you best, or, younger, hear,
Why Aristippus' maxims best appear;
For with the snarling Cynic well he play'd,
"I am my own buffoon, you take the trade
To please the crowd; yet sure 'tis better pride,
Maintain'd by monarchs, ou my horse to ride.
But while at court observant I attend,
For things of vileness you submissive bend;
Own a superior, and yet proudly vaunt,
Imperious Cynic, that you nothing want."
Yet Aristippus every dress became :
In every various change of life the same;
And though he aim'd at things of higher kind,
Yet to the present held an equal mind.
P
But that a man, whom patience taught to wear
A thick, coarse coat, should ever learn to bear-
A change of life with decency and ease,
May justly, I confess, our wonder raise.
Yet Aristippus, though but meanly drest,
Nor wants, nor wishes for, a purple vest;
He walks, regardless of the public gaze,
And knows in every character to please;
But neither dog's nor snake's envenom'd bite
Can, like a silken robe, the Cynic fright.
"Give hin his mantle, or he dies with cold-"
"Nay, give it, let the fool his blessing hold."
In glorious war a triumph to obtain,
Celestial honours, and a seat shall gain
Fast by the throne of Jove; nor mean the praise
These deities of human kind to please.
"But, midst the storms and tempests of a court, Not every one shall reach the wish'd-for port; And sure the man, who doubts of his success, Wisely declines th' attempt"-Then you confess, That who succeeds, thus difficult his part, Gives the best proof of courage, as of art. Then, here, or no where, we the truth shall find; Conscious how weak in body, or in mind, When we behold the burthen with despair, Which others boldly try, with spirit bear, If virtue's aught beyond an empty name, Rewards and honours they with justice claim. In silence who their poverty conceal, More than th' importunate, with kings prevail: And whether we with modest action take, Or snatch the favour, may some difference make. From this fair fountain our best profits rise: For, when with plaintive tone a suppliant cries, My sister lies unportion'd on my hands; My mother's poor, nor can I sell my lands, Or they maintain me; might he not have said, Give me, ah! give me, sir, my daily bread? While he, who hears him, chants on t'other side, With me your bounty, ah! with me divide: But had the crow his food in silence eat, Less had his quarrels been, and more his meat.
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