The Works of Horace In English Verse By several hands. Collected and Published By Mr. Duncombe. With Notes Historical and Critical |
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 | The Works of Horace In English Verse |  |
524
EPISTLE II. To Julius Florus.
In Excuse for his not having written to him, Horace says it is much better to employ our Time in modelling our Lives, than in composing Verses.
O
Florus, Friend of Nero good and brave,
What if a Man should offer you to Sale
A Boy, at Gabii or at Tibur born,
And thus accost you: ‘He is neat and clean;
‘Sound, I will warrant him, from Head to Foot.
‘Pay down but twenty Pounds, and he is yours;
‘He'll fly, like Lightning, at his Master's Nod;
‘Is skill'd in Greek, and fit for any Art;
‘Like plyant Clay you'll mould him to your Hand.
‘Besides, he rudely sings a merry Catch.
‘You might be jealous, should I say too much.
‘Though poor, I live on what I have; nor need
‘I part with him; my little is enough.
‘None but myself would with such Candor deal
‘He once, but once, was faulty; and to shun
‘The Scourge, took to his Heels, and ran away.
‘Now buy him, or refuse; just as you please.’
What if a Man should offer you to Sale
A Boy, at Gabii or at Tibur born,
And thus accost you: ‘He is neat and clean;
‘Sound, I will warrant him, from Head to Foot.
‘Pay down but twenty Pounds, and he is yours;
‘He'll fly, like Lightning, at his Master's Nod;
‘Is skill'd in Greek, and fit for any Art;
‘Like plyant Clay you'll mould him to your Hand.
‘Besides, he rudely sings a merry Catch.
‘You might be jealous, should I say too much.
‘Though poor, I live on what I have; nor need
‘I part with him; my little is enough.
‘None but myself would with such Candor deal
525
‘The Scourge, took to his Heels, and ran away.
‘Now buy him, or refuse; just as you please.’
You pay the Price, and bear him off content.
The Boy escapes; you heavily complain,
And for the Purchase-money sue the Man;
But with what Right let your own Heart be Judge;
For from the Master you had learn'd his Fault.
The Boy escapes; you heavily complain,
And for the Purchase-money sue the Man;
But with what Right let your own Heart be Judge;
For from the Master you had learn'd his Fault.
Now to apply, and bring this Story home.
I fairly told you, when you went from hence,
That I was lazy, and unfit to write,
Lest you should chide, because no Letter came.
But what avails it, if you still complain?
You would not, surely, break the Law we made
With joint Consent? It seems, you blame me too,
As if defrauded of the promis'd Verse.
I fairly told you, when you went from hence,
That I was lazy, and unfit to write,
Lest you should chide, because no Letter came.
But what avails it, if you still complain?
You would not, surely, break the Law we made
With joint Consent? It seems, you blame me too,
As if defrauded of the promis'd Verse.
A Soldier, in Lucullus' Wars, had lost
(After a tedious March, while sound he slept)
The little Gold, which he had hoarded up.
Now angry with himself, and all Mankind,
A very Tyger grown, wild he attacks
A Royal Fort, and takes it, Sword in Hand,
Replete with Stores, and strongly fortify'd.
This rais'd his Credit, and he justly gain'd
Part of the Spoils, and some Reward besides.
Soon after this, the Prætor wish'd to storm
Another Fort; (no matter for the Name)
He singles out this Man, and thus accosts
In Words that might a Coward's Courage raise:
‘Go, where your Virtue leads; go prosperous forth,
‘Sure to receive the Honours you deserve:
‘Why do you faulter?’ What was his Reply?
(Though rude in Speech, the Fellow was no Fool)
“Most noble Captain, I am satisfy'd;
“Bid him go conquer, who has lost his Purse.’
(After a tedious March, while sound he slept)
The little Gold, which he had hoarded up.
Now angry with himself, and all Mankind,
A very Tyger grown, wild he attacks
A Royal Fort, and takes it, Sword in Hand,
Replete with Stores, and strongly fortify'd.
This rais'd his Credit, and he justly gain'd
526
Soon after this, the Prætor wish'd to storm
Another Fort; (no matter for the Name)
He singles out this Man, and thus accosts
In Words that might a Coward's Courage raise:
‘Go, where your Virtue leads; go prosperous forth,
‘Sure to receive the Honours you deserve:
‘Why do you faulter?’ What was his Reply?
(Though rude in Speech, the Fellow was no Fool)
“Most noble Captain, I am satisfy'd;
“Bid him go conquer, who has lost his Purse.’
It was my Fortune to be bred at Rome,
Instructed there, how fatal to the Greeks
The fell Resentment of Achilles prov'd:
Athens then show'd a little more than this,
And taught me to distinguish Right from Wrong,
And search for Truth in Academus' Grove.
Me, quite unskill'd, from that delightful Seat
The Tide of Civil War bore into Arms,
Too weak to cope with mighty Cæsar's Force.
From whence Philippi sent me soon away,
Stripp'd of my Plumes, with House and Fortune lost;
Impatient Want first made me scribble Verse.
But now I have enough, and crave no more,
What Hellebore could ever purge my Brain,
If I should rather chuse to write than sleep?
Instructed there, how fatal to the Greeks
The fell Resentment of Achilles prov'd:
Athens then show'd a little more than this,
And taught me to distinguish Right from Wrong,
And search for Truth in Academus' Grove.
Me, quite unskill'd, from that delightful Seat
The Tide of Civil War bore into Arms,
Too weak to cope with mighty Cæsar's Force.
From whence Philippi sent me soon away,
Stripp'd of my Plumes, with House and Fortune lost;
Impatient Want first made me scribble Verse.
But now I have enough, and crave no more,
527
If I should rather chuse to write than sleep?
Each Year some Joy steals with it as it flies;
Time has already robb'd me of my Sports,
The Joys of Venus, Revellings and Play;
And now the Pilferer would snatch my Verse.
What would you have me do, when of three Guests
No single Dish can suit the Taste of each?
What you approve disgusts the other two;
Nor can those two agree among themselves.
One for Heroics; one for Satire asks:
A third the Lyric Muse alone can please.
Time has already robb'd me of my Sports,
The Joys of Venus, Revellings and Play;
And now the Pilferer would snatch my Verse.
What would you have me do, when of three Guests
No single Dish can suit the Taste of each?
What you approve disgusts the other two;
Nor can those two agree among themselves.
One for Heroics; one for Satire asks:
A third the Lyric Muse alone can please.
What! can you think it possible for Me
To write at Rome, amidst such Noise and Care?
One wants me for his Bail; another calls
T'attend, at ten, the Reading of his Play,
Postponing all Affairs. The House of one
On Mount Quirinus stands; the other lives
At the most distant Part of Aventine;
Yet both of these am I oblig'd to see.
How wide the Distance too full well you know.
‘The Streets are clear; compose then as you walk.’
Yes; here a Builder with his Workmen hies,
Bearing large Logs of Timber; there a Crane
Up-heaves a poaderous Stone, or massy Beam.
Hearses and Waggons now dispute the Way;
Here runs a miry Sow; there a mad Dog.
Go now, and meditate sonorous Verse!
To write at Rome, amidst such Noise and Care?
One wants me for his Bail; another calls
T'attend, at ten, the Reading of his Play,
Postponing all Affairs. The House of one
On Mount Quirinus stands; the other lives
At the most distant Part of Aventine;
Yet both of these am I oblig'd to see.
How wide the Distance too full well you know.
‘The Streets are clear; compose then as you walk.’
Yes; here a Builder with his Workmen hies,
Bearing large Logs of Timber; there a Crane
528
Hearses and Waggons now dispute the Way;
Here runs a miry Sow; there a mad Dog.
Go now, and meditate sonorous Verse!
The Bards all love the Woods, and hate the Town,
True Sons of Bacchus, pleas'd with Sleep and Shade.
Amid such ceaseless Din by Day and Night,
You cannot, sure, expect that I should trace
The narrow Paths the ancient Poets trod,
Or aught produce, that merits your Regard.
True Sons of Bacchus, pleas'd with Sleep and Shade.
Amid such ceaseless Din by Day and Night,
You cannot, sure, expect that I should trace
The narrow Paths the ancient Poets trod,
Or aught produce, that merits your Regard.
The Wit, to Books and Study who has giv'n
Sev'n tedious Years in Athens' calm Retreat,
Stalks forth, a walking Statue, and excites
(Grown grey with Cares) the Laughter of the Crowd.
Can I then, here in Town, by Business tost,
And bandy'd to-and-fro from Place to Place,
Cherish a Hope such Verses to compose
As may be fit to grace the Latian Lyre?
Sev'n tedious Years in Athens' calm Retreat,
Stalks forth, a walking Statue, and excites
(Grown grey with Cares) the Laughter of the Crowd.
Can I then, here in Town, by Business tost,
And bandy'd to-and-fro from Place to Place,
Cherish a Hope such Verses to compose
As may be fit to grace the Latian Lyre?
At Rome two Brothers liv'd, a Lawyer one;
And one taught there the Art of Rhetoric;
They flourish'd on each others Parts and Skill:
A Gracchus this, and that a Scævola.
And one taught there the Art of Rhetoric;
They flourish'd on each others Parts and Skill:
529
Nor from this Frenzy are we Bards secure:
I Lyrics write; another Elegy;
My Verses he commends as all divine;
His Lines I praise as polish'd by the Muse.
Mark in Apollo's Temple how we strut,
While all around we cast our Eyes, and see
The Shelves and Niches vacant, where we hope
Our Works shall live, preserv'd to future Times.
Pursue us at a Distance, and observe
What prompts our Pride, and in what Style we talk;
While each on each the Laurel-Wreath confers.
Aiming to wound, we slyly ward the Blow;
Like Samnites, brandish Foils from Morn till Night.
At length, Alcæus I depart, in his
Account; but who, d'ye think, is he in mine?
Callimachus, be sure; or, if he please,
Mimnermus he shall stalk with Head erect.
I Lyrics write; another Elegy;
My Verses he commends as all divine;
His Lines I praise as polish'd by the Muse.
Mark in Apollo's Temple how we strut,
While all around we cast our Eyes, and see
The Shelves and Niches vacant, where we hope
Our Works shall live, preserv'd to future Times.
Pursue us at a Distance, and observe
What prompts our Pride, and in what Style we talk;
While each on each the Laurel-Wreath confers.
Aiming to wound, we slyly ward the Blow;
Like Samnites, brandish Foils from Morn till Night.
At length, Alcæus I depart, in his
Account; but who, d'ye think, is he in mine?
Callimachus, be sure; or, if he please,
Mimnermus he shall stalk with Head erect.
I many things must bear whene'er I write,
And humbly court the Suffrage of the Crowd,
To keep in Peace the fretful Race of Bards;
But, when the Fit is past, and I am calm,
I stop my Ears to all their senseless Din.
The Writers of bad Verse are ridicul'd,
Yet they rejoice, and triumph in their Works;
And, if you hesitate, or silent stand,
Blest in themselves, applaud the happy Thought.
And humbly court the Suffrage of the Crowd,
To keep in Peace the fretful Race of Bards;
But, when the Fit is past, and I am calm,
I stop my Ears to all their senseless Din.
The Writers of bad Verse are ridicul'd,
530
And, if you hesitate, or silent stand,
Blest in themselves, applaud the happy Thought.
But he, who hopes to write a finish'd Piece,
Must exercise the Censor's irksome Task,
And dare degrade whatever Words he finds
To fail in Weight, or Dignity, or Grace,
Unwilling though they quit the darling Seat,
And in his own Scrutore securely sleep.
Old Words he must revive, discreetly bold,
And bring to Light the nervous Phrases, us'd
By our redoubted Sires, in pristine Days,
Which now lie cover'd in a Heap of Dust;
And new invent, which Custom will confirm.
Copious and clear, like a pure Stream he flows,
Enriching Rome with Tides of Eloquence.
The Stragglers he brings back; and those too rough
With Culture smooths; the lifeless cuts away;
Yet polishes each Line with so much Ease,
It seems th'Effect of Chance, though wrought with Toil:
As he, who in the Pantomime now moves
A Satyr light, and now a Cyclops rude,
Was form'd by Art, though Nature it appears.
Much rather for a Dotard would I pass;
Be happily deceiv'd, and with my Faults
Content, than deem'd a Wit, and rack'd with Spleen.
Must exercise the Censor's irksome Task,
And dare degrade whatever Words he finds
To fail in Weight, or Dignity, or Grace,
Unwilling though they quit the darling Seat,
And in his own Scrutore securely sleep.
Old Words he must revive, discreetly bold,
And bring to Light the nervous Phrases, us'd
By our redoubted Sires, in pristine Days,
Which now lie cover'd in a Heap of Dust;
And new invent, which Custom will confirm.
Copious and clear, like a pure Stream he flows,
Enriching Rome with Tides of Eloquence.
The Stragglers he brings back; and those too rough
With Culture smooths; the lifeless cuts away;
Yet polishes each Line with so much Ease,
It seems th'Effect of Chance, though wrought with Toil:
As he, who in the Pantomime now moves
A Satyr light, and now a Cyclops rude,
Was form'd by Art, though Nature it appears.
531
Be happily deceiv'd, and with my Faults
Content, than deem'd a Wit, and rack'd with Spleen.
At Argos once there liv'd a Citizen,
A Man of some Account, who thought he heard
Tragedians act their Part with wond'rous Skill;
In empty Theatres he us'd to sit,
Well-pleas'd, alone, and loudly clapp'd his Hands;
In all things else he show'd a sober Mind;
A civil Neighbour, hospitable Friend,
Mild to his Wife; nor would he curse his Slave,
If he by chance had broke a costly Jar;
Knew how to shun a Rock, or open Well.
But when his Friends had call'd the Doctor in,
And purg'd his Brain with Hellebore; restor'd,
And in his perfect Senses, he cry'd out,
‘What have ye done? Alas! you have destroy'd,
‘Not sav'd my Life. Blasted is all my Joy!
‘The sweet Delusion of my Mind is lost!’
A Man of some Account, who thought he heard
Tragedians act their Part with wond'rous Skill;
In empty Theatres he us'd to sit,
Well-pleas'd, alone, and loudly clapp'd his Hands;
In all things else he show'd a sober Mind;
A civil Neighbour, hospitable Friend,
Mild to his Wife; nor would he curse his Slave,
If he by chance had broke a costly Jar;
Knew how to shun a Rock, or open Well.
But when his Friends had call'd the Doctor in,
And purg'd his Brain with Hellebore; restor'd,
And in his perfect Senses, he cry'd out,
‘What have ye done? Alas! you have destroy'd,
‘Not sav'd my Life. Blasted is all my Joy!
‘The sweet Delusion of my Mind is lost!’
O Wisdom! let me now pursue thy Paths,
Discarding Trifles, fit for Boys alone;
Let me, instead of scanning empty Verse,
Now learn to scan the Tenor of my Life,
To smooth and harmonize my jarring Soul.
Thus then I reason, when at home retir'd;
If still the more you drink, the more you thirst,
Strait to the Doctor you relate your Case;
But if the more you gain, you covet more,
You dare not this to any Friend impart.
If, by the Root or Herb prescrib'd, your Wound
Is unasswag'd, you will not always use
The Root or Herb, which had been try'd in vain.
But you have heard, that wicked Folly quits
The Man, on whom the Gods have Wealth bestow'd;
And now more rich, but not a Jot more wise,
You follow still the same deceitful Guides.
Discarding Trifles, fit for Boys alone;
Let me, instead of scanning empty Verse,
Now learn to scan the Tenor of my Life,
To smooth and harmonize my jarring Soul.
532
If still the more you drink, the more you thirst,
Strait to the Doctor you relate your Case;
But if the more you gain, you covet more,
You dare not this to any Friend impart.
If, by the Root or Herb prescrib'd, your Wound
Is unasswag'd, you will not always use
The Root or Herb, which had been try'd in vain.
But you have heard, that wicked Folly quits
The Man, on whom the Gods have Wealth bestow'd;
And now more rich, but not a Jot more wise,
You follow still the same deceitful Guides.
If Riches could confer or Wit or Sense,
And from your Breast expell Desires and Fears,
With Reason might you blush, if you could find
A Man on Earth more covetous than you.
And from your Breast expell Desires and Fears,
With Reason might you blush, if you could find
A Man on Earth more covetous than you.
If That be ours we purchase with our Coin,
Possession too must make some things our own;
And thus the Lawyers teach: Agreed. So then
Yon' Field, which feeds you, is your Property;
And when the Bailiff of rich Orbus sows
The Seed, which springing yields you Corn for Bread,
What does he less than own you for his Lord?
You pay the Price, and in Return receive
Baskets of Grapes, Fowls, Eggs, or Casks of Wine,
For your own Use; and thus you piece-meal buy
Th'Estate, which cost two thousand Pounds, or more.
What Difference, if you pay, for what you eat,
This Hour; or bought it many Years ago?
The Purchaser of fair Aricia's Fields
Pays for the very Herbs, on which he dines,
Though he thinks otherwise; pays for the Wood,
Pil'd on the Hearth, to make his Kettle boil:
And yet he calls that spacious Tract his own,
To where the Poplar ends Disputes; as if
That could belong to any Man which hangs
On the fleet Wing of every wavering Hour,
Prepar'd by Gift, or Sale, or Force, or Death,
To quit its Lord, and pass to other Hands?
Possession too must make some things our own;
And thus the Lawyers teach: Agreed. So then
Yon' Field, which feeds you, is your Property;
And when the Bailiff of rich Orbus sows
The Seed, which springing yields you Corn for Bread,
533
You pay the Price, and in Return receive
Baskets of Grapes, Fowls, Eggs, or Casks of Wine,
For your own Use; and thus you piece-meal buy
Th'Estate, which cost two thousand Pounds, or more.
What Difference, if you pay, for what you eat,
This Hour; or bought it many Years ago?
The Purchaser of fair Aricia's Fields
Pays for the very Herbs, on which he dines,
Though he thinks otherwise; pays for the Wood,
Pil'd on the Hearth, to make his Kettle boil:
And yet he calls that spacious Tract his own,
To where the Poplar ends Disputes; as if
That could belong to any Man which hangs
On the fleet Wing of every wavering Hour,
Prepar'd by Gift, or Sale, or Force, or Death,
To quit its Lord, and pass to other Hands?
Since Nature then no endless Tenure grants,
But one Heir drives another off the Stage,
Like Wave impelling Wave; O! what avail
Your stately Villas, and your Piles of Plate?
Why to Lucania's Forests should you join
Calabria's Fields, since ruthless Pluto claims
Both High and Low, nor heeds the Charms of Gold?
Jewels, and Marble, Tuscan Statues, Plate,
Pictures, and Ivory, and purple Robes,
Some not possess, and some not ev'n desire.
But one Heir drives another off the Stage,
Like Wave impelling Wave; O! what avail
Your stately Villas, and your Piles of Plate?
Why to Lucania's Forests should you join
Calabria's Fields, since ruthless Pluto claims
534
Jewels, and Marble, Tuscan Statues, Plate,
Pictures, and Ivory, and purple Robes,
Some not possess, and some not ev'n desire.
Why of two Brothers one should still delight
To loiter and to play; and Baths prefer
To Herod's Gardens and his wealthy Palms;
The other toil, from Break of Day till Night,
(Restless, though rich) to mellow and improve
The shrubby Ground with Fire and with the Share,
That Genius knows, who guides our natal Star;
The God of Human Nature! With each Man
Who dies, of changeful Face; now white, now black.
To loiter and to play; and Baths prefer
To Herod's Gardens and his wealthy Palms;
The other toil, from Break of Day till Night,
(Restless, though rich) to mellow and improve
The shrubby Ground with Fire and with the Share,
That Genius knows, who guides our natal Star;
The God of Human Nature! With each Man
Who dies, of changeful Face; now white, now black.
For Me, I shall not scruple from my Store
(Though small) freely to use what suits my Taste,
Regardless, though my ravenous Heir should scowl,
Because I leave not more than has been given.
Yet nicely will I weigh the Difference
Between a generous Man and Prodigal;
Between the Sordid and th'Oeconomist.
'Tis one thing sure, profusely not to spend;
Another, to receive with open Heart,
And entertain a Friend; and, like the Boys
On Festivals, to snatch the short-liv'd Day.
(Though small) freely to use what suits my Taste,
Regardless, though my ravenous Heir should scowl,
Because I leave not more than has been given.
Yet nicely will I weigh the Difference
Between a generous Man and Prodigal;
Between the Sordid and th'Oeconomist.
'Tis one thing sure, profusely not to spend;
Another, to receive with open Heart,
535
On Festivals, to snatch the short-liv'd Day.
Let but uncleanly Want from Me retire;
I care not then, if down the Stream of Life
In a small Skiff or stately Barge I sail.
Nor am I hurry'd by too strong a Blast,
Nor always struggle against Wind and Tide.
In Power, Wit, Person, Virtue, Birth, Estate,
Behind the first, yet still before the last.
I care not then, if down the Stream of Life
In a small Skiff or stately Barge I sail.
Nor am I hurry'd by too strong a Blast,
Nor always struggle against Wind and Tide.
In Power, Wit, Person, Virtue, Birth, Estate,
Behind the first, yet still before the last.
‘But why all this of Avarice to Me?
‘You cannot say, I'm tainted.’ True. What then?
Have you with That discarded every Vice?
From vain Ambition is your Bosom free;
From Anger, and the slavish Fear of Death?
And do you laugh at Dreams, and magic Charms,
At Witches, Miracles, and nightly Ghosts?
Do you with grateful Mind each Birth-day greet?
Pardon your Friends, and at th'Approach of Age
Grow wiser, milder, better by Decay?
What boots it that a single Thorn is drawn,
If many more are left to give you Pain?
‘You cannot say, I'm tainted.’ True. What then?
Have you with That discarded every Vice?
From vain Ambition is your Bosom free;
From Anger, and the slavish Fear of Death?
And do you laugh at Dreams, and magic Charms,
At Witches, Miracles, and nightly Ghosts?
Do you with grateful Mind each Birth-day greet?
Pardon your Friends, and at th'Approach of Age
Grow wiser, milder, better by Decay?
What boots it that a single Thorn is drawn,
If many more are left to give you Pain?
But if you know not how to live, give up
Your Part to those, who act more gracefully.
Enough have you indulg'd, and eat and drank
Enough; 'tis Time for you to quit the Board,
Lest playful Youth, whom Follies more become,
Should mock, and drive you reeling from the Feast.
Your Part to those, who act more gracefully.
536
Enough; 'tis Time for you to quit the Board,
Lest playful Youth, whom Follies more become,
Should mock, and drive you reeling from the Feast.
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