A Poetical Translation of the works of Horace With the Original Text, and Critical Notes collected from his best Latin and French Commentators. By the Revd Mr. Philip Francis...The third edition |
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 | A Poetical Translation of the works of Horace |  |
321
Epist. XI. To Bullatius.
Do the fam'd Islands of th' Ionian Seas,
Lesbos, or Chios, my Bullatius please?
Or Sardis, where great Crœsus held his Court?
Say, are they less, or greater than Report?
Does Samos, Colophon, or Smyrna, yield
Compar'd to Tybur, or to Mars's Field?
Would you, fatigu'd with Toils of Land and Seas,
In Lebedus, or Asia, spend your Days?
Lesbos, or Chios, my Bullatius please?
Or Sardis, where great Crœsus held his Court?
Say, are they less, or greater than Report?
Does Samos, Colophon, or Smyrna, yield
Compar'd to Tybur, or to Mars's Field?
Would you, fatigu'd with Toils of Land and Seas,
In Lebedus, or Asia, spend your Days?
You tell me, Lebedus is now become
More desart, than our Villages at home,
Yet there you gladly fix your future Lot,
Your Friends forgetting, by your Friends forgot;
Enjoy the Calm of Life, and safe on Shore,
At Distance hear the raging Tempest roar.
More desart, than our Villages at home,
Yet there you gladly fix your future Lot,
Your Friends forgetting, by your Friends forgot;
Enjoy the Calm of Life, and safe on Shore,
At Distance hear the raging Tempest roar.
A Traveller, though wet with Dirt and Rain,
Would not for ever at an Inn remain,
Or pierc'd with Cold, and joying in the Heat
Of a warm Bath, believe his Joys complete.
Though by strong Winds your Bark were Tempest-tost,
Say, would you sell it on a distant Coast?
Would not for ever at an Inn remain,
Or pierc'd with Cold, and joying in the Heat
Of a warm Bath, believe his Joys complete.
Though by strong Winds your Bark were Tempest-tost,
Say, would you sell it on a distant Coast?
323
Believe me, at delicious Rhodes to live,
To a sound Mind no greater Bliss can give,
Than a thick Coat in Summer's burning Ray,
Or a light Mantle on a snowy Day,
Or to a Swimmer Tiber's freezing Stream,
Or sunny Rooms in August's mid-day Flame.
While yet 'tis in your Power; while Fortune smiles,
At Rome with Rapture vaunt those happy Isles,
And with a grateful Hand the Bliss receive,
If Heaven an Hour more fortunate shall give.
Seize on the present Joy, and thus possess,
Where-e'er you live, an inward Happiness.
To a sound Mind no greater Bliss can give,
Than a thick Coat in Summer's burning Ray,
Or a light Mantle on a snowy Day,
Or to a Swimmer Tiber's freezing Stream,
Or sunny Rooms in August's mid-day Flame.
While yet 'tis in your Power; while Fortune smiles,
At Rome with Rapture vaunt those happy Isles,
And with a grateful Hand the Bliss receive,
If Heaven an Hour more fortunate shall give.
Seize on the present Joy, and thus possess,
Where-e'er you live, an inward Happiness.
If Reason only can our Cares allay,
Not the bold Site, that wide commands the Sea;
If they, who through the venturous Ocean range,
Not their own Passions, but the Climate change;
Anxious through Seas and Land to search for Rest
Is but laborious Idleness at best.
In desart Ulubræ the Bliss you'll find,
If you preserve a firm, and equal Mind.
Not the bold Site, that wide commands the Sea;
If they, who through the venturous Ocean range,
Not their own Passions, but the Climate change;
Anxious through Seas and Land to search for Rest
Is but laborious Idleness at best.
In desart Ulubræ the Bliss you'll find,
If you preserve a firm, and equal Mind.
| A Poetical Translation of the works of Horace | |