University of Virginia Library

SATIRE I. Horace and Trebatius.

Horace.
There are, who think my Verses are too bold,
And more severe, than Satire's Laws allow;
But others say, whatever I compose
Is without Nerves; and that a thousand Lines,
Such as I write, might in a Day be spun.
Advise me, now, Trebatius, what to do.

Trebatius.
Be silent.

Horace.
What! mean you by this, that I
Should write no more?

Trebatius.
I do.

Horace.
By all the Gods,
Your Counsel's right: But then I cannot sleep.

Trebatius.
Let those, who court Sleep's balmy Power in vain,
Anointed, thrice across the Tyber swim,
Or drown, at Night, their busy Thoughts in Wine.
But, if you needs must write, dare then to sing
Victorious Cæsar's Deeds; assur'd to meet
A due Reward.

Horace.
Though warm with Zeal, I own
My Strength is far unequal to the Task.
It is not every-one, who knows to paint
Our valiant Troops drawn up in dread Array,
The Gauls, transfix'd with Spears, whose Staves are broke;
The wounded Parthian falling from his Horse!

Trebatius.
Paint then the milder Glories of his Reign;
Describe him temperate, just, and merciful,
As wise Lucilius virtuous Scipio drew.

Horace.
When fit Occasion offers, to myself
I never will be wanting; Cæsar's Ear
Must be approach'd with nice Address, when he
Is disengag'd from Business of the State:
Each rash Intruder will be spurn'd with Scorn.

Trebatius.
How much more prudent this, than in rough Verse
Buffoons and Spendthrifts to attack by Name;
For those you spare, fear for themselves, and hate you.

Horace.
How would you have me act? for every one
The Bent of his own Genius will pursue.
Millonius dances, when he's warm with Wine,
And double Lustres swim before his Eyes.
Castor delights in Horses; while his Brother,
Sprung from the self-same Egg, the Whirl-bat loves.
A thousand Men, a thousand different Tastes.
Satire amuses Me; for which I plead
Th'Example of Lucilius so rever'd.
Whatever happen'd to him, good or bad,
The old Man's tattling Muse disclos'd to all;
And his whole Life is in his Satires seen,
As in a votive Picture fairly drawn.
Him I attempt to trace; but whether I
Apulian or Lucanian should be deem'd,
Is to the Critics left; for my Venusium
Borders on both. Thither a Colony
(As ancient Fame reports) was sent from Rome,
After the Samnites were expell'd, to keep
Lucania's and Apulia's Sons in Awe,
Lest through the vacant Realm the Foe should rush
Furious; and meditate a March to Rome.
But, unprovok'd, my Pen no Mortal wounds;
'Tis like a Sword, which in the Scabbard lies
Merely for Self-defence. Why should I draw it,
Unless beset by Thieves, or Highwaymen?
O Jove, dread King and Father, grant my Prayer;
And rather let it be consum'd with Rust
Than I provok'd to use it, who abhor
Discord and Strife; but if I once am rouz'd,
The Man, who hurts me, shall his Folly rue;
Through the whole City laugh'd at by the Crowd.
Cervius to those who dare provoke him, threatens
The Penalties of Law, and fatal Urn:
Canidia, Poison: And your Cause is lost,
If Turius is your Foe, and sits as Judge.
That each will use his proper Arms, you may
By Premises like these with me conclude;
Wolves with their Teeth contend, and Bulls with Horns;
By Instinct, in the School of Nature, taught.
His long-liv'd Mother trust to Scæva's Care—

Trebatius.
Hush, hush!—
With impious Hand he will not stab her.

Horace.

Trebatius.
Alas! my Son, I pity thee; and fear
Thy Days will be but few. Some great Man's Slave
Will shortly give thee a composing Draught.

Horace.
What! when Lucilius with like Boldness wrote,
And from each Villain dar'd to pluck the Mask,
Fair to the Sight, but rotten at the Heart,
Was Lælius e'er provok'd to Wrath, or he,
Who from demolish'd Carthage took his Name?
Did they complain? or to themselves apply
His scourging Lines on Lupus and Metellus?
The base Patrician and base Commoner,
From Tribe to Tribe, he ventur'd to pursue;
To Virtue only, and her Friends, a Friend.
Yet when, from Crowds and public Scenes retir'd,
Lælius the Wise, and virtuous Scipio,
Tasted the Pleasures of a calm Retreat,
Without Reserve they lov'd with him to sport,
And trifle, 'till their frugal Meal was drest.
Whate'er I am; and though confess'd in Rank
And Wit inferior to Lucilius, yet
Spite of herself, must Envy own, that I
Live happy in the Friendship of the Great:
And, should this Viper nibble at my Name,
She'll break her Teeth—Now you have heard my Plea,
Say, learn'd Trebatius, what have you t'object?

Trebatius.
Nothing of Weight. Yet be upon your Guard,
Lest, unacquainted with our sacred Laws,
You Penalties incur. The Statute's clear
Against all those, who publish wicked Verse.

Horace.
True; wicked Verse. But what if it be good;
And such as Cæsar will himself approve?

Trebatius.
Indeed!—The Case is alter'd; if, of Crimes
Guiltless yourself, you rally Knaves, the Judge
Will smile; dismiss the Bill; and set you free.