Today | News | Books | Recipes Adventure | Science Fiction | Ghost stories | Poetry | Children | History Bookboard, 110 And prove yourself a man upon record?-- Haste, with triumphal wreaths your gates adorn, You're now a father, now no theme for scorn; My toils have ta'en the opprobrium from your name, And stopp'd the babbling of malicious fame. 115 A parent's rights you now may proudly share, Now, thank my industry, be named an heir; Take now the whole bequest, with what beside, From lucky windfalls, may in time betide; And other blessings, if I but repeat 120 My pains, and make the number THREE complete. JUV. Nay, thou hast reason to complain, I feel: But, what says Virro? NÆV. Not a syllable; But, while my wrongs and I unnoticed pass, Hunts out some other drudge, some two-legged ass. 125 Enough;--and never, on your life, unfold The secret thus to you, in friendship told; But let my injuries, undivulged, still rest Within the closest chamber of your breast: How the discovery might be borne, none knows-- 130 And your smooth pathics are such fatal foes! Virro, who trusts me yet, may soon repent, And hate me for the confidence he lent; With fire and sword my wretched life pursue, As if I'd blabbed already all I knew. 135 Sad situation mine! for, in your ear, The rich can never buy revenge too dear; And--but enough: be cautious, I entreat, And secret as the Athenian judgment-seat. JUV. And dost thou seriously believe, fond swain, 140 The actions of the great unknown remain? Poor Corydon! even beasts would silence break, And stocks and stones, if servants did not, speak. Bolt every door, stop every cranny tight, Close every window, put out every light; 145 Let not a whisper reach the listening ear, No noise, no motion; let no soul be near; Yet all that passed at the cock's second crow, The neighboring vintner shall, ere daybreak, know; With what besides the cook and carver's brain, 150 Subtly malicious, can in vengeance feign! For thus they glory, with licentious tongue, To quit the harsh command and galling thong. Should these be mute, some drunkard in the streets Will pour out all he knows to all he meets, 155 Force them, unwilling, the long tale to hear, And with his stories drench their hapless ear. Go now, and earnestly of those request, To lock, like me, the secret in their breast: Alas! they hear thee not; and will not sell 160 The dear, dear privilege--to see and tell, For more stolen wine than late Saufeia boused, When, for the people's welfare, she--caroused! LIVE VIRTUOUSLY:--thus many a reason cries, But chiefly this, that so thou may'st despise 165 Thy servant's tongue; for, lay this truth to heart, The tongue is the vile servant's vilest part: Yet viler he, who lives in constant dread Of the domestic spies that--eat his bread. NÆV. Well have you taught, how we may best disdain 170 The envenomed babbling of our household train; But this is general, and to all applies:-- What, in my proper case, would you advise? After such flattering expectations cross'd, And so much time in vain dependence lost? 175 For youth, too transient flower! of life's short day The shortest part, but blossoms--to decay. Lo! while we give the unregarded hour To revelry and joy, in Pleasure's bower, While now for rosy wreaths our brows to twine, 180 And now for nymphs we call, and now for wine, The noiseless foot of Time steals swiftly by, And ere we dream of manhood, age is nigh! JUV. Oh, fear not: thou canst never seek in vain A pathic friend, while these seven hills remain. 185 Hither in crowds the master-misses come, From every point, as to their proper home: One hope has failed, another may succeed; Meanwhile do thou on hot eringo feed. NÆV. Tell this to happier men; the Fates ne'er meant 190 Such luck for me: my Clotho is content, When all my oil a bare subsistence gains, And fills my belly, by my back and reins. O, my poor Lares! dear, domestic Powers! To whom I come with incense, cakes, and flowers, 195 When shall my prayers, so long preferred in vain, Acceptance find? O, when shall I obtain Enough to free me from the constant dread Of life's worst ill, gray hairs and want of bread? On mortgage, six-score pounds a year, or eight, 200 A little sideboard, which, for overweight, Fabricius would have censured; a stout pair Of hireling Mæsians, to support my chair, In the thronged Circus: add to these, one slave Well skilled to paint, another to engrave; 205 And I--but let me give these day-dreams o'er-- Wish as I may, I ever shall be poor; For when to Fortune I prefer my prayers, The obdurate goddess stops at once her ears; Stops with that wax which saved Ulysses' crew, } 210 When by the Syrens' rocks and songs they flew, } False songs and treacherous rocks, that all to ruin drew. } SATIRE X. In every clime, from Ganges' distant stream To Gades, gilded by the western beam, Few, from the clouds of mental error free, In its true light or good or evil see. For what, with reason, do we seek or shun? 5 What plan, how happily soe'er begun, But, finished, we our own success lament, And rue the pains, so fatally misspent?-- To headlong ruin see whole houses driven, Cursed with their prayers, by too indulgent heaven! 10 Bewildered thus by folly or by fate, We beg pernicious gifts in every state, In peace, in war. A full and rapid flow Of eloquence, lays many a speaker low: Even strength itself is fatal; Milo tries 15 His wondrous arms, and--in the trial dies! But avarice wider spreads her deadly snare, And hoards amassed with too successful care, Hoards, which o'er all paternal fortunes rise, As o'er the dolphin towers the whale in size. 20 For this, in other times, at Nero's word, The ruffian bands unsheathed the murderous sword, Rushed to the swelling coffers of the great, Chased Lateranus from his lordly seat, Besieged too-wealthy Seneca's wide walls, 25 And closed, terrific, round Longinus' halls: While sweetly in their cocklofts slept the poor, And heard no soldier thundering at their door. The traveler, freighted with a little wealth, Sets forth at night, and wins his way by stealth: 30 Even then, he fears the bludgeon and the blade, And starts and trembles at a rush's shade; While, void of care, the beggar trips along, And, in the spoiler's presence, trolls his song. The first great wish, that all with rapture own, 35 The general cry, to every temple known, Is, gold, gold, gold!--"and let, all-gracious Powers, The largest chest the Forum boasts be ours!" Yet none from earthen bowls destruction sip: Dread then the draught, when, mantling, at your lip, 40 The goblet sparkles, radiant from the mine, And the broad gold inflames the ruby wine. And do we, now, admire the stories told Of the two Sages, so renowned of old; How this forever laughed, whene'er he stepp'd 45 Beyond the threshold; that, forever wept? But all can laugh:--the wonder yet appears, What fount supplied the eternal stream of tears! Democritus, at every step he took, His |