Our adversaries. By this rule,

The wolf attacks with teeth, the bull With horns. And why, but for the fact, That instinct prompts them so to act? You'd leave his long-lived mother's fate To Scæva, that mere profligate?

TREBATIUS.

Why not? His hand he'll ne'er imbrue In crime.

HORACE.

Oh, it were strange, did you

See wolves employ their heels in fighting,
Or steers attack their foes by biting!
But hemlock in her honey may
Take the old lady from his way.

In brief, if I shall draw my breath
Into a calm old age, or death
Hangs o'er me with his ebon wing,
Rich, poor, at Rome, or wandering
In lonely exile, whether bright
Or dark my life, I still shall write.

TREBATIUS.

My son, my son, I greatly fear,
That yours will be a brief career,
And some of those great folks you took
For friends will freeze you with a look.

HORACE.

What! When Lucilius wrote like me,

And did so with impunity,

Tearing away the glistering skin,

That masked the rottenness within?

Did Lælius, say, or he, whose name

Was drawn from conquered Carthage, blame
His wit, or take Metellus' part,

Or Lupus', aching with the smart

Of his satiric lash? * Not they.

But he held on his fearless way,

And with indifferent hand would strike

At peer and populace alike,

As one, whose purpose only bends
To virtue and to virtue's friends.
Nay, when from life and public view
Into retirement they withdrew,—
Scipio's great heart, and Lælius his
Wise spirit toned with gentleness,-
Unbending to the mood of whim,
They used to laugh and joke with him,
Whilst waiting till their homely food
Of potherbs and of pulse was stewed.
Such as I am I am; and though
In rank and genius far below
Lucilius, Envy's self must own,
That I familiarly have known
Men of great eminence; and where

She thinks to find me tenderest, there,

* Both the elder and the younger Scipio had a Lælius for their chief friend. The Lælius mentioned in the text was C. Lælius Sapiens, the friend of P. Scipio Africanus Minor, as his father had been of the elder Scipio. Lucilius was on terms of close intimacy with them. Though Metellus (Q. Cæcilius Metellus Macedonicus) was opposed in politics to Scipio, it is obvious from the language of the text that this was not the cause or subject of the attacks upon him by Lucilius. Metellus, at all events, was a generous adversary, for Pliny in his 'Natural History' (vii. 14) reports that when Scipio died Metellus said, "Go, my sons, do honour to the last rites paid him; never will you see the funeral of a greater citizen." "Ite, filii, celebrate exequias; nunquam civis majoris funus videbitis." Who Lupus was is uncertain. He was obviously, like Metellus, a man of importance.

If she shall strike her fangs, she'll feel
I have a cuticle of steel.

Here, then, I take my stand. And so,
Unless, Trebatius, you can show
Strong reason on the other side,

In this resolve I shall abide.

TREBATIUS.

So be it! But lest you, perchance,
Should stumble through your ignorance
Of law into a scrape, I may

One warning hint before you lay:

If any man ill verses pen

Against a fellow-citizen,

Justice and judgment shall ensue.

HORACE.

I grant you, if ill verses,-true.

But if they're good, then all men praise,
And Cæsar's self confers the bays.
If any man shall lash, and soundly,
Some fellow who deserves it roundly,
While none to his own door can bring
Such flaws as give his lines their sting,
The court with laughter cracks its sides,
And off the bard in triumph rides.

VOL. II.

M

SATIRE II.

WHAT the virtue consists in, and why it is great,

To live on a little, whatever your state

('Tis not I who discourse, but Ofellus the hind,
Though no scholar, a sage of exceptional kind),
Come, learn, friends! But not among tables bedight
With gold and with silver, and sparkling with light,

Where the eye with mad splendour is dazed, and the breast
Recoils from the truth, by false shows prepossessed,

Must the lesson be read, but this moment, and here,
Before you have dined, and away from good cheer.

Why so? you inquire. I will tell you. Who'd trust

A judge, who had taken a bribe, to be just?

Go, course down a hare, scamper league upon league
On a horse that's unbroke, till you're spent with fatigue;
Or, if these our Roman gymnastics are too

Severe for such Greek-aping foplings as you,

Take a stiff bout at tennis, where zest in the sport

Makes the labour seem light, and the long hours seem short; Or if quoits should be more to your taste, smite away

At the thin air with them the best part of a day;

And when the hard work has your squeamishness routed, When you're parched up with thirst, and your hunger's

undoubted,

Then spurn simple food, if you can, or plain wine,

Which no honeyed gums from Hymettus refine!

When your butler's away, and the weather so bad,
That there is not a morsel of fish to be had,
A crust with some salt will soothe not amiss
The ravening stomach. You ask, how is this?
Because for delight, at the best, you must look
To yourself, and not to your wealth, or your cook.
Work till you perspire. Of all sauces 'tis best.
The man that's with over-indulgence oppressed,
White-livered and pursy, can relish no dish,
Be it ortolans, oysters, or finest of fish.

Still I scarcely can hope, if before you there were
A peacock and capon, you would not prefer
With the peacock to tickle your palate, you're so
Completely the dupes of mere semblance and show.
For to buy the rare bird only gold will avail,

And he makes a grand show with his fine painted tail.

As if this had to do with the matter the least!

Can you make of the feathers you prize so a feast?

And when the bird's cooked, what becomes of its splendour?

Is his flesh than the capon's more juicy or tender?

Mere appearance, not substance, then, clearly it is,

Which bamboozles your judgment. So much, then, for this!
You tell me of taste; will it give you a notion,

If this pike in the Tiber was caught, or the ocean?
If it used 'twixt the bridges to glide and to quiver,

Or was tossed to and fro at the mouth of the river?
Let a mullet weigh three pounds, oh, then you're in fits.
What stuff, when it must be cut down into bits!
"'Tis big, and so plump!" Oh, that's what you like,
Why then should you loathe a great brute of a pike?
Can it be, that-reply, if you can, to the charge-
One by nature is small, and the other is large?

The stomach that's been on short commons, I'll swear,
Will hardly recoil from the plainest of fare.