The Works of Horace In English Verse :: :: University of Virginia Library

Nought to admire, Numicius, is the best
Of Arts, to make and to preserve us blest.
All the successive Seasons of the Year,
Sun, Moon, and Stars, some view untouch'd with Fear.
What think you of the Wealth Earth's Bowels yield?
What of the precious Pearls that lie conceal'd
Within th'Arabian Gulph or Indian Seas?
What of th'Applause conferr'd on those who please
The grateful People? With what Eyes, what Ears,
Should these be seen or heard? The Man who fears
Their Opposites, almost as much admires
As he who covets them. Both their Desires
Proceed from Fear; Impressions both receive
From unforeseen Events. Whether he grieve

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Or joy, desire or fear, it just will prove
The same, if when he sees what towers above
Or sinks beneath his Hopes, he stands with Eyes
Aghast, unknowing how to act. The Wise
Should be esteem'd a Fool, the Just Unjust,
If ev'n in Virtue he should place more Trust
Than fitting. Now, go gaze with doating Heart
On Urns and Statues, wrought by Grecian Art,
Or Tyrian Purple prize, with Gems and Gold
Adorn'd. Rejoice, a thousand Eyes behold
Thy Action at the Bar. There, soon and late,
Attend, lest Mucius, from the large Estate
His Consort brought him, should more Wealth amass:
Shameful! that he, from such a vulgar Class
Deriv'd, should be the Envy, not the Scorn,
Of thee, so nobly sprung, Patrician-born!

All that lies hid in Earth will Time reveal,
And all that now so gaily shines, conceal.

Grac'd as thou art with Honours well bestow'd,
And often seen along the Appian Road
Passing in Pomp, there still remains at last
That Road, where Numa and where Ancus past.

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Without Delay you seek a Cure, when Pains
By Chance afflict your Bowels or your Reins:
For would not you (who would not?) happy live?
If Virtue only can this Blessing give;
Scorn all Delights, and follow Virtue's Lore:
But if you think that Virtue is no more
Than a bare Name, as holy Groves are Trees,
Let then no Ship the Port before you seize.
Mind your Affairs. A thousand Talents keep;
A thousand add; another thousand heap,
To swell your Store; a fourth, the Sum to square:
For why? They who all-mighty Money share,
A portion'd Wife, Fame, Credit, Friends possess;
These Venus' self and soft Persuasion bless.

Though rich in Slaves, the Cappadocian King
Is poor in Money. Thou, more noble, bring
Lucullus to our View. For he, 'tis said,
When ask'd to lend a hundred Robes, to aid
The Stage's Splendor, cry'd, ‘How can I lend
‘So many? Yet I'll try, and strait will send
‘All that I have.’ Then writes, He had at Hand
Five thousand; all or Part they might command.

Ill furnish'd is that House which nought contains
Superfluous, to elude the Master's Pains,

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And give his Servants Room to steal secure.
If Wealth alone confers and can insure
True Happiness, to this Pursuit attend
Early and late. But should your Bliss depend
On public Favour, let your Slave suggest
The Names of Men of Note, or twitch your Vest,
And bid you lend o'er Lumber in the Way
Your Hand. ‘This in the Fabian Tribe bears Sway;
‘This in the Veline; he alone can chuse
‘A Consul, or the Ivory Chair refuse.’
Then frankly call him Brother, Son, or Sire,
As suits his Age. But if you still require
Good Cheer to make you blest, at Dawn of Day
Go rouze the Boar, or lure the finny Prey.
This did Gargilius. He, each Morn, along
The crowded Forum led a loaded Throng
Of Slaves, with Spears and Toils. At Night he brought
On a large Mule some Boar which he had bought,
The People's Wonder. Let us, gorg'd with Food
Yet undigested, plunge into the Flood;
Regardless of the Censor's Mark, disdain
All Decency, and, with Ulysses' Train,

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For lawless Pleasures, from our Country fly.
If, to conclude, you with Mimnermus cry,
That Love and Mirth afford the only Joy
In Life, be Love and Mirth your sole Employ.

Farewell; if better Precepts you can lend,
Freely impart; if not, to these attend.