Today | News | Books | Recipes Adventure | Science Fiction | Ghost stories | Poetry | Children | History Bookr wanderer o'er the watery way, And the huge mole, whose arms the waves embrace, 105 And stretching, an immeasurable space, Far into Ocean's bosom, leave the coast, Till, in the distance, Italy is lost!-- Less wonderful the bays which Nature forms, And less secure against assailing storms: 110 Here rides the wave-worn bark, devoid of fear; For Baian skiffs might ply with safety here. The joyful crew, with shaven crowns, relate Their timely rescue from the jaws of fate; On every ill a pomp of words bestow, 115 And dwell delighted on the tale of woe. Go then, my boys--but let no boding strain Break on the sacred silence--dress the fane With garlands, bind the sod with ribbons gay, And on the knives the salted offering lay: 120 This done, I'll speed, myself the rites to share, And finish what remains, with pious care. Then, hastening home, where chaplets of sweet flowers Bedeck my Lares, dear, domestic Powers! I'll offer incense there, and at the shrine 125 Of highest Jove, my father's god, and mine; There will I scatter every bud that blows, And every tint the various violet knows. All savors here of joy; luxuriant bay } O'ershades my portal, while the taper's ray } 130 Anticipates the feast, and chides the tardy day: } Nor think, Corvinus, interest fires my breast: Catullus, for whose sake my house is dress'd, Has three sweet boys, who all such hopes destroy, And nobler views excite my boundless joy. 135 Yet who besides, on such a barren friend, Would waste a sickly pullet? who would spend So vast a treasure, where no hopes prevail, Or, for a FATHER, sacrifice a quail?-- But should the symptoms of a slight disease 140 The childless Paccius or Gallita seize, Legions of flatterers to the fanes repair, And hang in rows their votive tablets there. Nay, some with vows of hecatombs will come-- For yet no elephants are sold at Rome; 145 The breed, to Latium and to us unknown, Is only found beneath the burning zone: Thence to our shore, by swarthy Moors conveyed, They roam at large through the Rutulian shade, Kept for the imperial pleasure, envied fate! 150 And sacred from the subject, and the state. Though their progenitors, in days of yore, Did worthy service, and to battle bore Whole cohorts; taught the general's voice to know, And rush, themselves an army, on the foe. 155 But what avails their worth! could gold obtain So rare a creature, worth might plead in vain: Novius, without delay, their blood would shed, To raise his Paccius from affliction's bed; An offering, sacred to the great design, 160 And worthy of the votary and the shrine! Pacuvius, did our laws the crime allow, The fairest of his numerous slaves would vow; The blooming boy, the love-inspiring maid, With garlands crown, and to the temple lead; 165 Nay, seize his Iphigene, prepared to wed, And drag her to the altar, from the bed; Though hopeless, like the Grecian sire, to find, In happy hour, the substituted hind. And who shall say my countryman does ill? 170 A thousand ships are trifles to a Will! For Paccius, should the fates his health restore, May cancel every _item_ framed before (Won by his friend's vast merits, and beset, On all sides, by the inextricable net), 175 And, in one line, convey plate, jewels, gold, Lands, every thing to him, "to have and hold." With victory crowned, Pacuvius struts along, And smiles contemptuous on the baffled throng; Then counts his gains, and deems himself o'erpaid 180 For the cheap murder of one wretched maid. Health to the man! and may he THUS get more Than Nero plundered! pile his shining store High, mountain high; in years a Nestor prove, And, loving none, ne'er know another's love! 185 SATIRE XIII. TO CALVINUS. Man, wretched man, whene'er he stoops to sin, Feels, with the act, a strong remorse within; 'Tis the first vengeance: Conscience tries the cause, And vindicates the violated laws; Though the bribed Prætor at their sentence spurn, 5 And falsify the verdict of the Urn. What says the world, not always, friend, unjust, Of his late injury, this breach of trust? That thy estate so small a loss can bear, And that the evil, now no longer rare, 10 Is one of that inevitable set, Which man is born to suffer and forget. Then moderate thy grief: 'tis mean to show An anguish disproportioned to the blow. But thou, so new to crosses, as to feel 15 The slightest portion of the slightest ill, Art tired with rage, because a friend forswears The sacred pledge, intrusted to his cares. What, thou, Calvinus, bear so weak a mind! Thou, who hast left full three-score years behind! 20 Heaven, have they taught thee nothing! nothing, friend! And art thou grown gray-headed to no end!-- Wisdom, I know, contains a sovereign charm, To vanquish fortune, or at least disarm: Blest they who walk in her unerring rule!-- 25 Nor those unblest, who, tutored in life's school, Have learned of old experience to submit, And lightly bear the yoke they can not quit. What day so sacred, which no guilt profanes, No secret fraud, no open rapine stains? 30 What hour, in which no dark assassins prowl, Nor point the sword for hire, nor drug the bowl? THE GOOD, ALAS, ARE FEW! "The valued file," Less than the gates of Thebes, the mouths of Nile! For now an age is come, that teems with crimes, 35 Beyond all precedent of former times; An age so bad, that Nature can not frame A metal base enough to give it name! Yet you, indignant at a paltry cheat, Call heaven and earth to witness the deceit, 40 With cries as deafening, as the shout that breaks From the bribed audience, when Fæsidius speaks. Dotard in nonage! are you to be told What loves, what graces, deck another's gold? Are you to learn, what peals of mirth resound, 45 At your simplicity, from all around? When you step forth, and, with a serious air, } Bid them abstain from perjury, and beware } To tempt the altars--for A GOD IS THERE! } Idle old man! there was, indeed, a time, 50 When the rude natives of this happy clime Cherished such dreams: 'twas ere the king of heaven, To change his sceptre for a scythe was driven; Ere Juno yet the sweets of love had tried, Or Jove advanced beyond the caves of Ide. 55 'Twas when no gods indulged in sumptuous feasts, No Ganymede, no Hebe served the guests; No Vulcan, with his sooty labors foul, Limped round, officious, with the nectared bowl; But each in private dined: 'twas when the throng 60 Of godlings, now beyond the scope of song, The courts of heaven, in spacious ease, possess'd, And with a lighter load poor Atlas press'd!-- Ere Neptune's lot the watery world obtained, Or Dis and his Sicilian consort reigned; 65 Ere Tityus and his ravening bird were known, Ixion's wheel, or Sisyphus's stone: While yet the shades confessed no tyrant's power, And all below was one Elysian bower! Vice was a phœnix in that blissful time, 70 Believed, but never seen: and 'twas a crime, |