No More Learning

We are not admirers of the same
things: henoe you and I disagree. For what you reckon desert and
inhospitable wilds, he who is of my way of thinking calls delightful
places; and dislikes what you esteem pleasant. The bagnio, I perceive,
and the greasy tavern raise your inclination for the city: and this,
because my little spot will sooner yield frankincense and pepper than
grapes; nor is there a tavern near, which can supply you with wine; nor
a minstrel harlot, to whose thrumming you may dance, cumbersome to the
ground: and yet you exercise with plowshares the fallows that have been
a long while untouched, you take due care of the ox when unyoked, and
give him his fill with leaves stripped [from the boughs]. The sluice
gives an additional trouble to an idle fellow, which, if a shower fall,
must be taught by many a mound to spare the sunny meadow.

Come now, attend to what hinders our agreeing. [Me,] whom fine garments
and dressed locks adorned, whom you know to have pleased venal Cynara
without a present, whom [you have seen] quaff flowing Falernian from
noon--a short supper [now] delights, and a nap upon the green turf by
the stream side; nor is it a shame to have been gay, but not to break
off that gayety. There there is no one who reduces my possessions with
envious eye, nor poisons them with obscure malice and biting slander;
the neighbors smile at me removing clods and stones. You had rather be
munching your daily allowance with the slaves in town; you earnestly
pray to be of the number of these: [while my] cunning foot-boy envies
you the use of the firing, the flocks and the garden. The lazy ox wishes
for the horse's trappings: the horse wishes to go to plow. But I shall
be of opinion, that each of them ought contentedly to exercise that art
which he understands.

* * * * *



EPISTLE XV.

TO C. NEUMONIUS VALA.

_Preparing to go to the baths either at Velia or Salernum, he inquires
after the healthfulness and agreeableness of the places_.


It is your part, Vala, to write to me (and mine to give credit to your
information) what sort of a winter is it at Velia, what the air at
Salernum, what kind of inhabitants the country consists of, and how the
road is (for Antonius Musa [pronounces] Baiae to be of no service to me;
yet makes me obnoxious to the place, when I am bathed in cold water
even in the midst of the frost [by his prescription]. In truth the
village murmers at their myrtle-groves being deserted and the sulphurous
waters, said to expel lingering disorders from the nerves, despised;
envying those invalids, who have the courage to expose their head and
breast to the Clusian springs, and retire to Gabii and [such] cold
countries. My course must be altered, and my horse driven beyond his
accustomed stages. Whither are you going? will the angry rider say,
pulling in the left-hand rein, I am not bound for Cumae or Baiae:--but
the horse's ear is in the bit. ) [You must inform me likewise] which of
the two people is supported by the greatest abundance of corn; whether
they drink rainwater collected [in reservoirs], or from perennial wells
of never-failing water (for as to the wine of that part I give myself no
trouble; at my country-seat I can dispense and bear with any thing: but
when I have arrived at a sea-port, I insist upon that which is generous
and mellow, such as may drive away my cares, such as may flow into my
veins and animal spirits with a rich supply of hope, such as may supply
me with words, such as may make me appear young to my Lucanian
mistress). Which tract of land produces most hares, which boars: which
seas harbor the most fishes and sea-urchins, that I may be able to
return home thence in good case, and like a Phaeacian.

When Maenius, having bravely made away with his paternal and maternal
estates, began to be accounted a merry fellow--a vagabond droll, who had
no certain place of living; who, when dinnerless, could not distinguish
a fellow-citizen from an enemy; unmerciful in forging any scandal
against any person; the pest, and hurricane, and gulf of the market;
whatever he could get, he gave to his greedy gut. This fellow, when he
had extorted little or nothing from the favorers of his iniquity, or
those that dreaded it, would eat up whole dishes of coarse tripe and
lamb's entrails; as much as would have sufficed three bears; then truly,
[like] reformer Bestius, would he say, that the bellies of extravagant
fellows ought to be branded with a red-hot iron. The same man [however],
when he had reduced to smoke and ashes whatever more considerable booty
he had gotten; 'Faith, said he, I do not wonder if some persons eat up
their estates; since nothing is better than a fat thrush, nothing finer
than a lage sow's paunch. In fact, I am just such another myself; for,
when matters are a little deficient, I commend, the snug and homely
fare, of sufficient resolution amid mean provisions; but, if any thing
be offered better and more delicate, I, the same individual, cry out,
that ye are wise and alone live well, whose wealth and estate are
conspicuous from the elegance of your villas.

* * * * *



EPISTLE XVI.

TO QUINCTIUS.

_He describes to Quinctius the form, situation, and advantages of his
country house: then declares that probity consists in the consciousness
of good works; liberty, in probity_.


Ask me not, my best Quinctius, whether my farm maintains its master with
corn-fields, or enriches him with olives, or with fruits, or meadow
land, or the elm tree clothed with vines: the shape and situation of my
ground shall be described to you at large.

There is a continued range of mountains, except where they are separated
by a shadowy vale; but in such a manner, that the approaching sun views
it on the right side, and departing in his flying car warms the left.
You would commend its temperature. What? If my [very] briers produce in
abundance the ruddy cornels and damsens? If my oak and holm tree
accommodate my cattle with plenty of acorns, and their master with a
copious shade? You would say that Tarentum, brought nearer [to Rome],
shone in its verdant beauty. A fountain too, deserving to give name to a
river, insomuch that Hebrus does not surround Thrace more cool or more
limpid, flows salubrious to the infirm head, salubrious to the bowels.
These sweet, yea now (if you will credit me) these delightful retreats
preserve me to you in a state of health [even] in the September season.

You live well, if you take care to support the character which you bear.
Long ago, all Rome has proclaimed you happy: but I am apprehensive, lest
you should give more credit concerning yourself to any one than
yourself; and lest you should imagine a man happy, who differs from the
wise and good; or, because the people pronounce you sound and perfectly
well, lest you dissemble the lurking fever at meal-times, until a
trembling seize your greased hands. The false modesty of fools conceals
ulcers [rather than have them cured]. If any one should mention battles
which you had fought by land and sea, and in such expressions as these
should soothe your listening ears: "May Jupiter, who consults the safety
both of you and of the city, keep it in doubt, whether the people be
more solicitous for your welfare, or you for the people's;" you might
perceive these encomiums to belong [only] to Augustus when you suffer
yourself to be termed a philosopher, and one of a refined life; say,
pr'ythee, would you answer [to these appellations] in your own name? To
be sure--I like to be called a wise and good man, as well as you. He who
gave this character to-day, if he will, can take it away to-morrow: as
the same people, if they have conferred the consulship on an unworthy
person, may take it away from him: "Resign; it is ours," they cry: I do
resign it accordingly, and chagrined withdraw. Thus if they should call
me rogue, deny me to be temperate, assert that I had strangled my own
father with a halter; shall I be stung, and change color at these false
reproaches? Whom does false honor delight, or lying calumny terrify,
except the vicious and sickly-minded? Who then is a good man? He who
observes the decrees of the senate, the laws and rules of justice; by
whose arbitration many and important disputes are decided; by whose
surety private property, and by whose testimony causes are safe. Yet
[perhaps] his own family and all the neighborhood observe this man,
specious in a fair outside, [to be] polluted within. If a slave should
say to me, "I have not committed a robbery, nor run away:" "You have
your reward; you are not galled with the lash," I reply. "I have not
killed any man:" "You shall not [therefore] feed the carrion crows on
the cross. " I am a good man, and thrifty: your Sabine friend denies, and
contradicts the fact. For the wary wolf dreads the pitfall, and the hawk
the suspected snares, and the kite the concealed hook. The good, [on the
contrary,] hate to sin from the love of virtue; you will commit no crime
merely for the fear of punishment. Let there be a prospect of escaping,
you will confound sacred and profane things together. For, when from a
thousand bushels of beans you filch one, the loss in that case to me is
less, but not your villainy. The honest man, whom every forum and every
court of justice looks upon with reverence, whenever he makes an
atonement to the gods with a wine or an ox; after he has pronounced in a
clear distinguishable voice, "O father Janus, O Apollo;" moves his lips
as one afraid of being heard; "O fair Laverna put it in my power to
deceive; grant me the appearance of a just and upright man: throw a
cloud of night over my frauds. " I do not see how a covetous man can be
better, how more free than a slave, when he stoops down for the sake of
a penny, stuck in the road [for sport]. For he who will be covetous,
will also be anxious: but he that lives in a state of anxiety, will
never in my estimation be free. He who is always in a hurry, and
immersed in the study of augmenting his fortune, has lost the arms, and
deserted the post of virtue. Do not kill your captive, if you can sell
him: he will serve you advantageously: let him, being inured to
drudgery, feed [your cattle], and plow; let him go to sea, and winter in
the midst of the waves; let him be of use to the market, and import corn
and provisions. A good and wise man will have courage to say, "Pentheus,
king of Thebes, what indignities will you compel me to suffer and
endure. 'I will take away your goods:' my cattle, I suppose, my land, my
movables and money: you may take them. 'I will confine you with
handcuffs and fetters under a merciless jailer. ' The deity himself will
discharge me, whenever I please. " In my opinion, this is his meaning; I
will die. Death is the ultimate boundary of human matters.
* * * * *



EPISTLE XVII.

TO SCAEVA.

_That a life of business is preferable to a private and inactive one;
the friendship of great men is a laudable acquisition, yet their favors
are ever to be solicited with modesty and caution_.


Though, Scaeva, you have sufficient prudence of your own, and well know
how to demean yourself toward your superiors; [yet] hear what are the
sentiments of your old crony, who himself still requires teaching, just
as if a blind man should undertake to show the way: however see, if even
I can advance any thing, which you may think worth your while to adopt
as your own.

If pleasant rest, and sleep till seven o'clock, delight you; if dust and
the rumbling of wheels, if the tavern offend you, I shall order you off
for Ferentinum. For joys are not the property of the rich alone: nor
has he lived ill, who at his birth and at his death has passed
unnoticed. If you are disposed to be of service to your friends, and to
treat yourself with somewhat more indulgence, you, being poor, must pay
your respects to the great. Aristippus, if he could dine to his
satisfaction on herbs, would never frequent [the tables] of the great.
If he who blames me, [replies Aristippus,] knew how to live with the
great, he would scorn his vegetables. Tell me, which maxim and conduct
of the two you approve; or, since you are my junior, hear the reason why
Aristippus' opinion is preferable; for thus, as they report, he baffled
the snarling cynic: "I play the buffoon for my own advantage, you [to
please] the populace. This [conduct of mine] is better and far more
honorable; that a horse may carry and a great man feed me, pay court to
the great: you beg for refuse, an inferior to the [poor] giver; though
you pretend you are in want of nothing. " As for Aristippus, every
complexion of life, every station and circumstance sat gracefully upon
him, aspiring in general to greater things, yet equal to the present: on
the other hand, I shall be much surprised, if a contrary way of life
should become [this cynic], whom obstinacy clothes with a double rag.
The one will not wait for his purple robe; but dressed in any thing,
will go through the most frequented places, and without awkwardness
support either character: the other will shun the cloak wrought at
Miletus with greater aversion than [the bite of] dog or viper; he will
die with cold, unless you restore him his ragged garment; restore it,
and let him live like a fool as he is. To perform exploits, and show the
citizens their foes in chains, reaches the throne of Jupiter, and aims
at celestial honors. To have been acceptable to the great, is not the
last of praises. It is not every man's lot to gain Corinth. He
[prudently] sat still who was afraid lest he should not succeed: be it
so; what then? Was it not bravely done by him, who carried his point?
Either here therefore, or nowhere, is what we are investigating. The one
dreads the burden, as too much for a pusillanimous soul and a weak
constitution; the other under takes, and carries it through. Either
virtue is an empty name, or the man who makes the experiment deservedly
claims the honor and the reward.

Those who mention nothing of their poverty before their lord, will gain
more than the importunate. There is a great difference between modestly
accepting, or seizing by violence But this was the principle and source
of every thing [which I alleged]. He who says, "My sister is without a
portion, my mother poor, and my estate neither salable nor sufficient
for my support," cries out [in effect], "Give me a morsel of bread:"
another whines, "And let the platter be carved out for me with half a
share of the bounty. " But if the crow could have fed in silence, he
would have had better fare, and much less of quarreling and of envy.

A companion taken [by his lord] to Brundusium, or the pleasant
Surrentum, who complains of the ruggedness of the roads and the bitter
cold and rains, or laments that his chest is broken open and his
provisions stolen; resembles the well-known tricks of a harlot, weeping
frequently for her necklace, frequently for a garter forcibly taken from
her; so that at length no credit is given to her real griefs and losses.
Nor does he, who has been once ridiculed in the streets, care to lift up
a vagrant with a [pretended] broken leg; though abundant tears should
flow from him; though, swearing by holy Osiris, he says, "Believe me, I
do not impose upon you; O cruel, take up the lame. " "Seek out for a
stranger," cries the hoarse neighborhood.

* * * * *



EPISTLE XVIII.

TO LOLLIUS.

_He treats at large upon the cultivation of the favor of great men; and
concludes with a few words concerning the acquirement of peace of mind_.


If I rightly know your temper, most ingenuous Lollius, you will beware
of imitating a flatterer, while you profess yourself a friend. As a
matron is unlike and of a different aspect from a strumpet, so will a
true friend differ from the toad-eater. There is an opposite vice to
this, rather the greater [of the two]; a clownish, inelegant, and
disagreeable bluntness, which would recommend itself by an unshaven face
and black teeth; while it desires to be termed pure freedom and true
sincerity. Virtue is the medium of the two vices; and equally remote
from either. The one is over-prone to complaisance, and a jester of the
lowest, couch, he so reverences the rich man's nod, so repeats his
speeches, and catches up his falling words; that you would take him for
a school-boy saying his lesson to a rigid master, or a player acting an
underpart; another often wrangles about a goat's hair, and armed engages
for any trifle: "That I, truly, should not have the first credit; and
that I should not boldly speak aloud, what is my real sentiment--[upon
such terms], another life would be of no value. " But what is the subject
of this controversy? Why, whether [the gladiator] Castor or Dolichos be
the cleverer fellow; whether the Minucian, or the Appian, be the better
road to Brundusium.

Him whom pernicious lust, whom quick-dispatching dice strips, whom
vanity dresses out and perfumes beyond his abilities, whom insatiable
hunger and thirst after money, Whom a shame and aversion to poverty
possess, his rich friend (though furnished with a half-score more vices)
hates and abhors; or if he does not hate, governs him; and, like a pious
mother, would have him more wise and virtuous than himself; and says
what is nearly true: "My riches (think not to emulate me) admit of
extravagance; your income is but small: a scanty gown becomes a prudent
dependant: cease to vie with me. " Whomsoever Eutrapelus had a mind to
punish, he presented with costly garments. For now [said he] happy in
his fine clothes, he will assume new schemes and hopes; he will sleep
till daylight; prefer a harlot to his honest-calling; run into debt; and
at last become a gladiator, or drive a gardener's hack for hire.

Do not you at any time pry into his secrets; and keep close what is
intrusted to you, though put to the torture, by wine or passion. Neither
commend your own inclinations, nor find fault with those of others; nor,
when he is disposed to hunt, do you make verses. For by such means the
amity of the twins Zethus and Amphion, broke off; till the lyre,
disliked by the austere brother, was silent. Amphion is thought to have
given way to his brother's humors; so do you yield to the gentle
dictates of your friend in power: as often as he leads forth his dogs
into the fields and his cattle laden with Aetolian nets, arise and lay
aside the peevishness of your unmannerly muse, that you may sup together
on the delicious fare purchased by your labor; an exercise habitual to
the manly Romans, of service to their fame and life and limbs:
especially when you are in health, and are able either to excel the dog
in swiftness, or the boar in strength. Add [to this], that there is no
one who handles martial weapons more gracefully. You well know, with
what acclamations of the spectators you sustain the combats in the
Campus Marcius: in fine, as yet a boy, you endured a bloody campaign and
the Cantabrian wars, beneath a commander, who is now replacing the
standards [recovered] from the Parthian temples: and, if any thing is
wanting, assigns it to the Roman arms. And that you may not withdraw
yourself, and inexcusably be absent; though you are careful to do
nothing out of measure, and moderation, yet you sometimes amuse yourself
at your country-seat. The [mock] fleet divides the little boats [into
two squadrons]: the Actian sea-fight is represented by boys under your
direction in a hostile form: your brother is the foe, your lake the
Adriatic; till rapid victory crowns the one or the other with her bays.
Your patron, who will perceive that you come into his taste, will
applaud your sports with both his hands.

Moreover, that I may advise you (if in aught you stand in need of an
adviser), take great circumspection what you say to any man, and to
whom. Avoid an inquisitive impertinent, for such a one is also a
tattler, nor do open ears faithfully retain what is intrusted to them;
and a word, once sent abroad, flies irrevocably.

Let no slave within the marble threshold of your honored friend inflame
your heart; lest the owner of the beloved damsel gratify you with so
trifling a present, or, mortifying [to your wishes], torment you [with a
refusal].

Look over and over again [into the merits of] such a one, as you
recommend; lest afterward the faults of others strike you with shame. We
are sometimes imposed upon, and now and then introduce an unworthy
person. Wherefore, once deceived, forbear to defend one who suffers by
his own bad conduct; but protect one whom you entirely know, and with
confidence guard him with your patronage, if false accusations attack
him: who being bitten with the tooth of calumny, do you not perceive
that the same danger is threatening you? For it is your own concern,
when the adjoining wall is on fire: and flames neglected are wont to
gain strength.

The attending of the levee of a friend in power seems delightful to the
unexperienced; the experienced dreads it. Do you, while your vessel is
in the main, ply your business, lest a changing gale bear you back
again.

The melancholy hate the merry, and the jocose the melancholy; the
volatile [dislike] the sedate, the indolent the stirring and vivacious:
the quaffers of pure Falernian from midnight hate one who shirks his
turn; notwithstanding you swear you are afraid of the fumes of wine by
night. Dispel gloominess from your forehead: the modest man generally
carries the look of a sullen one; the reserved, of a churl.

In every thing you must read and consult the learned, by what means you
may be enabled to pass your life in an agreeable manner: that insatiable
desire may not agitate and torment you, nor the fear and hope of things
that are but of little account: whether learning acquires virtue, or
nature bestows it? What lessens cares, what may endear you to yourself?
What perfectly renders the temper calm; honor or enticing lucre, or a
secret passage and the path of an unnoticed life?

For my part, as often as the cooling rivulet Digentia refreshes me
(Digentia, of which Mandela drinks, a village wrinkled with cold); what,
my friend, do you think are my sentiments, what do you imagine I pray
for? Why, that my fortune may remain as it is now; or even [if it be
something] less: and that I may live to myself, what remains of my time,
if the gods will that aught do remain: that I may have a good store of
books, and corn provided for the year; lest I fluctuate in suspense of
each uncertain hour. But it is sufficient to sue Jove [for these
externals], which he gives and takes away [at pleasure]; let him grant
life, let him grant wealth: I myself will provide equanimity of temper.
* * * * *



EPISTLE XIX.

TO MAECENAS.

_He shows the folly of some persons who would imitate; and the envy of
others who would censure him_.


O learned Maecenas, if you believe old Gratinus, no verses which are
written by water-drinkers can please, or be long-lived. Ever since
Bacchus enlisted the brain-sick poets among the Satyrs and the Fauns,
the sweet muses have usually smelt of wine in the morning. Homer, by his
excessive praises of wine, is convicted as a booser: father Ennius
himself never sallied forth to sing of arms, unless in drink. "I will
condemn the sober to the bar and the prater's bench, and deprive the
abstemious of the power of singing. "

As soon as he gave out this edict, the poets did not cease to contend in
midnight cups, and to smell of them by day. What! if any savage, by a
stern countenance and bare feet, and the texture of a scanty gown,
should imitate Cato; will he represent the virtue and morals of Cato?
The tongue that imitated Timagenes was the destruction of the Moor,
while he affected to be humorous, and attempted to seem eloquent. The
example that is imitable in its faults, deceives [the ignorant]. Soh! if
I was to grow up pale by accident, [these poetasters] would drink the
blood-thinning cumin. O ye imitators, ye servile herd, how often your
bustlings have stirred my bile, how often my mirth!

I was the original, who set my free footsteps upon the vacant sod; I
trod not in the steps of others. He who depends upon himself, as leader,
commands the swarm. I first showed to Italy the Parian iambics:
following the numbers and spirit of Archilochus, but not his subject and
style, which afflicted Lycambes. You must not, however, crown me with a
more sparing wreath, because I was afraid to alter the measure and
structure of his verse: for the manly Sappho governs her muse by the
measures of Archilochus, so does Alcaeus; but differing from him in the
materials and disposition [of his lines], neither does he seek for a
father-in-law whom he may defame with his fatal lampoons, nor does he
tie a rope for his betrothed spouse in scandalous verse. Him too, never
celebrated by any other tongue, I the Roman lyrist first made known. It
delights me, as I bring out new productions, to be perused by the eyes,
and held in the hands of the ingenuous.

Would you know why the ungrateful reader extols and is fond of many
works at home, unjustly decries them without doors? I hunt not after the
applause of the inconstant vulgar, at the expense of entertainments, and
for the bribe of a worn-out colt: I am not an auditor of noble writers,
nor a vindictive reciter, nor condescend to court the tribes and desks
of the grammarians. Hence are these tears. If I say that "I am ashamed
to repeat my worthless writings to crowded theatres, and give an air of
consequence to trifles:" "You ridicule us," says [one of them], "and you
reserve those pieces for the ears of Jove: you are confident that it is
you alone that can distill the poetic honey, beautiful in your own
eyes. " At these words I am afraid to turn up my nose; and lest I should
be torn by the acute nails of my adversary, "This place is
disagreeable," I cry out, "and I demand a prorogation of the contest. "
For contest is wont to beget trembling emulation and strife, and strife
cruel enmities and funereal war.

* * * * *



EPISTLE XX.

TO HIS BOOK.

_In vain he endeavors to retain his book, desirous of getting abroad;
tells it what trouble it is to undergo, and imparts some things to be
said of him to posterity. _


You seem, my book, to look wistfully at Janus and Vertumnus; to the end
that you may be set out for sale, neatly polished by the pumice-stone of
the Sosii. You hate keys and seals, which are agreeable to a modest
[volume]; you grieve that you are shown but to a few, and extol public
places; though educated in another manner. Away with you, whither you
are so solicitous of going down: there will be no returning for you,
when you are once sent out. "Wretch that I am, what have I done? What
did I want? "--you will say: when any one gives you ill treatment, and
you know that you will be squeezed into small compass, as soon as the
eager reader is satiated. But, if the augur be not prejudiced by
resentment of your error, you shall be caressed at Rome [only] till your
youth be passed. When, thumbed by the hands of the vulgar, you begin to
grow dirty; either you shall in silence feed the grovelling book-worms,
or you shall make your escape to Utica, or shall be sent bound to
Ilerda. Your disregarded adviser shall then laugh [at you]: as he, who
in a passion pushed his refractory ass over the precipice. For who would
save [an ass] against his will? This too awaits you, that faltering
dotage shall seize on you, to teach boys their rudiments in the skirts
of the city. But when the abating warmth of the sun shall attract more
ears, you shall tell them, that I was the son of a freedman, and
extended my wings beyond my nest; so that, as much as you take away from
my family, you may add to my merit: that I was in favor with the first
men in the state, both in war and peace; of a short stature, gray
before my time, calculated for sustaining heat, prone to passion, yet so
as to be soon appeased. If any one should chance to inquire my age; let
him know that I had completed four times eleven Decembers, in the year
in which Lollius admitted Lepidus as his colleague.

* * * * *




THE SECOND BOOK OF THE EPISTLES OF HORACE.



EPISTLE I.

TO AUGUSTUS.

_He honors him with the highest compliments; then treats copiously of
poetry, its origin, character, and excellence_.


Since you alone support so many and such weighty concerns, defend Italy
with your arms, adorn it by your virtue, reform it by your laws; I
should offend, O Caesar, against the public interests, if I were to
trespass upon your time with a long discourse.

Romulus, and father Bacchus, and Castor and Pollux, after great
achievements, received into the temples of the gods, while they were
improving the world and human nature, composing fierce dissensions,
settling property, building cities, lamented that the esteem which they
expected was not paid in proportion to their merits. He who crushed the
dire Hydra, and subdued the renowned monsters by his forefated labor,
found envy was to be tamed by death [alone]. For he burns by his very
splendor, whose superiority is oppressive to the arts beneath him: after
his decease, he shall be had in honor. On you, while present among us,
we confer mature honors, and rear altars where your name is to be sworn
by; confessing that nothing equal to you has hitherto risen, or will
hereafter rise. But this your people, wise and just in one point (for
preferring you to our own, you to the Grecian heroes), by no means
estimate other things with like proportion and measure: and disdain and
detest every thing, but what they see removed from earth and already
gone by; such favorers are they of antiquity, as to assert that the
Muses [themselves] upon Mount Alba, dictated the twelve tables,
forbidding to trangress, which the decemviri ratified; the leagues of
our kings concluded with the Gabii, or the rigid Sabines; the records of
the pontifices, and the ancient volumes of the augurs.

If, because the most ancient writings of the Greeks are also the best,
Roman authors are to be weighed in the same scale, there is no need we
should say much: there is nothing hard in the inside of an olive,
nothing [hard] in the outside of a nut. We are arrived at the highest
pitch of success [in arts]: we paint, and sing, and wrestle more
skillfully than the annointed Greeks. If length of time makes poems
better, as it does wine, I would fain know how many years will stamp a
value upon writings. A writer who died a hundred years ago, is he to be
reckoned among the perfect and ancient, or among the mean and modern
authors? Let some fixed period exclude all dispute. He is an old and
good writer who completes a hundred years. What! one that died a month
or a year later, among whom is he to be ranked? Among the old poets, or
among those whom both the present age and posterity will disdainfully
reject? He may fairly be placed among the ancients, who is younger
either by a short month only, or even by a whole year. I take the
advantage of this concession, and pull away by little and little, as [if
they were] the hairs of a horse's tail: and I take away a single one and
then again another single one; till, like a tumbling heap, [my
adversary], who has recourse to annals and estimates excellence by the
year, and admires nothing but what Libitina has made sacred, falls to
the ground.

Ennius the wise, the nervous, and (as our critics say) a second Homer,
seems lightly to regard what becomes of his promises and Pythagorean
dreams. Is not Naevius in people's hands, and sticking almost fresh in
their memory? So sacred is every ancient poem.
As often as a debate
arises, whether this poet or the other be preferable; Pacuvius bears
away the character of a learned, Accius, of a lofty writer; Afranius'
gown is said to have fitted Menander; Plautus, to hurry after the
pattern of the Sicilian Epicharmus; Caecilius, to excel in gravity,
Terence in contrivance. These mighty Rome learns by heart, and these she
views crowded in her narrow theater; these she esteems and accounts her
poets from Livy the writer's age down to our time. Sometimes the
populace see right; sometimes they are wrong. If they admire and extol
the ancient poets so as to prefer nothing before, to compare nothing
with them, they err; if they think and allow that they express some
things in an obsolete, most in a stiff, many in a careless manner; they
both think sensibly, and agree with me, and determine with the assent of
Jove himself. Not that I bear an ill-will against Livy's epics, and
would doom them to destruction, which I remember the severe Orbilius
taught me when a boy; but they should seem correct, beautiful, and very
little short of perfect, this I wonder at: among which if by chance a
bright expression shines forth, and if one line or two [happen to be]
somewhat terse and musical, this unreasonably carries off and sells the
whole poem. I am disgusted that any thing should be found fault with,
not because it is a lumpish composition or inelegant, but because it is
modern; and that not a favorable allowance, but honor and rewards are
demanded for the old writers. Should I scruple, whether or not Atta's
drama trod the saffron and flowers in a proper manner, almost all the
fathers would cry out that modesty was lost; since I attempted to find
fault with those pieces which the pathetic Aesopus, which the skillful
Roscius acted: either because they esteem nothing right, but what has
pleased themselves; or because they think it disgraceful to submit to
their juniors, and to confess, now they are old, that what they learned
when young is deserving only to be destroyed. Now he who extols Numa's
Salian hymn, and would alone seem to understand that which, as well as
me, he is ignorant of, does not favor and applaud the buried geniuses,
but attacks ours, enviously hating us moderns and every thing of ours.
Whereas if novelty had been detested by the Greeks as much as by us,
what at this time would there have been ancient? Or what what would
there have been for common use to read and thumb, common to every body.

When first Greece, her wars being over, began to trifle, and through
prosperity to glide into folly; she glowed with the love, one while of
wrestlers, another while of horses; was fond of artificers in marble, or
in ivory, or in brass; hung her looks and attention upon a picture; was
delighted now with musicians, now with tragedians; as if an infant girl
she sported under the nurse; soon cloyed, she abandoned what [before]
she earnestly desired. What is there that pleases or is odious, which
you may not think mutable? This effect had happy times of peace, and
favorable gales [of fortune].

At Rome it was long pleasing and customary to be up early with open
doors, to expound the laws to clients; to lay out money cautiously upon
good securities: to hear the elder, and to tell the younger by what
means their fortunes might increase and pernicious luxury be diminished.
The inconstant people have changed their mind, and glow with a universal
ardor for learning: young men and grave fathers sup crowned with leaves,
and dictate poetry. I myself, who affirm that I write no verses, am
found more false than the Parthians: and, awake before the sun is risen,
I call for my pen and papers and desk. He that is ignorant of a ship is
afraid to work a ship; none but he who has learned, dares administer
[even] southern wood to the sick; physicians undertake what belongs to
physicians; mechanics handle tools; but we, unlearned and learned,
promiscuously write poems.

Yet how great advantages this error and this slight madness has, thus
compute: the poet's mind is not easily covetous; fond of verses, he
studies this alone; he laughs at losses, flights of slaves, fires; he
contrives no fraud against his partner, or his young ward; he lives on
husks, and brown bread; though dastardly and unfit for war, he is useful
at home, if you allow this, that great things may derive assistance from
small ones. The poet fashions the child's tender and lisping mouth, and
turns his ear even at this time from obscene language; afterward also he
forms his heart with friendly precepts, the corrector of his rudeness,
and envy, and passion; he records virtuous actions, he instructs the
rising age with approved examples, he comforts the indigent and the
sick. Whence should the virgin, stranger to a husband, with the chaste
boys, learn the solemn prayer, had not the muse given a poet? The chorus
entreats the divine aid, and finds the gods propitious; sweet in learned
prayer, they implore the waters of the heavens; avert diseases, drive
off impending dangers, obtain both peace and years enriched with fruits.
With song the gods above are appeased, with song the gods below.

Our ancient swains, stout and happy with a little, after the grain was
laid up, regaling in a festival season their bodies and even their
minds, patient of hardships through the hope of their ending, with their
slaves and faithful wife, the partners of their labors, atoned with a
hog [the goddess] Earth, with milk Silvanus, with flowers and wine the
genius that reminds us of our short life. Invented by this custom, the
Femminine licentiousness poured forth its rustic taunts in alternate
stanzas; and this liberty, received down through revolving years,
sported pleasingly; till at length the bitter raillery began to be
turned into open rage, and threatening with impunity to stalk through
reputable families. They, who suffered from its bloody tooth smarted
with the pain; the unhurt likewise were concerned for the common
condition: further also, a law and a penalty were enacted, which forbade
that any one should be stigmatized in lampoon. Through fear of the
bastinado, they were reduced to the necessity of changing their manner,
and of praising and delighting.

Captive Greece took captive her fierce conqueror, and introduced her
arts into rude Latium. Thus flowed off the rough Saturnian numbers, and
delicacy expelled the rank venom: but for a long time there remained,
and at this day remain traces of rusticity. For late [the Roman writer]
applied his genius to the Grecian pages; and enjoying rest after the
Punic wars, began to search what useful matter Sophocles, and Thespis,
and Aeschylus afforded: he tried, too, if he could with dignity
translate their works; and succeeded in pleasing himself, being by
nature [of a genius] sublime and strong; for he breathes a spirit tragic
enough, and dares successfully; but fears a blot, and thinks it
disgraceful in his writings.

Comedy is believed to require the least pains, because it fetches its
subjects from common life; but the less indulgence It meets with, the
more labor it requires. See how Plautus supports the character of a
lover under age, how that of a covetous father, how those of a cheating
pimp: how Dossennus exceeds all measure in his voracious parasites; with
how loose a sock he runs over the stage: for he is glad to put the money
in his pocket, after this regardless whether his play stand or fall.

Him, whom glory in her airy car has brought upon the stage, the careless
spectator dispirits, the attentive renders more diligent: so slight, so
small a matter it is, which overturns or raises a mind covetous of
praise! Adieu the ludicrous business [of dramatic writing], if applause
denied brings me back meagre, bestowed [makes me] full of flesh and
spirits.

This too frequently drives away and deters even an adventurous poet?
that they who are in number more, in worth and rank inferior, unlearned
and foolish, and (if the equestrian order dissents) ready to fall to
blows, in the midst of the play, call for either a bear or boxers; for
in these the mob delight. Nay, even all the pleasures of our knights is
now transferred from the ear to the uncertain eye, and their vain
amusements. The curtains are kept down for four hours or more, while
troops of horse and companies of foot flee over the stage: next is
dragged forward the fortune of kings, with their hands bound behind
them; chariots, litters, carriages, ships hurry on; captive ivory,
captive Corinth, is borne along. Democritus, if he were on earth, would
laugh; whether a panther a different genus confused with the camel, or a
white elephant attracted the eye of the crowd. He would view the people
more attentively than the sports themselves, as affording him more
strange sights than the actor: and for the writers, he would think they
told their story to a deaf ass. For what voices are able to overbear the
din with which our theatres resound? You would think the groves of
Garganus, or the Tuscan Sea, was roaring; with so great noise are viewed
the shows and contrivances, and foreign riches: with which the actor
being daubed over, as soon as he appears upon the stage, each right hand
encounters with the left. Has he said any thing yet? Nothing at all.
What then pleases? The cloth imitating [the color of] violets, with the
dye of Tarentum.

And, that you may not think I enviously praise those kinds of writing
which I decline undertaking, when others handle them well: that poet to
me seems able to walk upon an extended rope, who with his fictions
grieves my soul, enrages, soothes, fills it with false terrors, as an
enchanter; and sets me now in Thebes, now in Athens.

But of those too, who had rather trust themselves with a reader, than
bear the disdain of an haughty spectator, use a little care; if you
would fill with books [the library you have erected], an offering worthy
of Apollo, and add an incentive to the poets, that with greater
eagerness they may apply to verdant Helicon.

We poets, it is true (that I may hew down my own vineyards), often do
ourselves many mischiefs, when we present a work to you while thoughtful
or fatigued; when we are pained, if my friend has dared to find fault
with one line; when, unasked, we read over again passages already
repeated: when we lament that our labors do not appear, and war poems,
spun out in a fine thread: when we hope the thing will come to this,
that as soon as you are apprised we are penning verses, you will kindly
of yourself send for us and secure us from want, and oblige us to write.
But yet it is worth while to know, who shall be the priests of your
virtue signalized in war and at home, which is not to be trusted to an
unworthy poet. A favorite of king Alexander the Great was that
Choerilus, who to his uncouth and ill-formed verses owed the many pieces
he received of Philip's royal coin. But, as ink when touched leaves
behind it a mark and a blot, so writers as it were stain shining actions
with foul poetry. That same king, who prodigally bought so dear so
ridiculous a poem, by an edict forbade that any one beside Apelles
should paint him, or that any other than Lysippus should mold brass for
the likeness of the valiant Alexander. But should you call that faculty
of his, so delicate in discerning other arts, to [judge of] books and of
these gifts of the muses, you would swear he had been born in the gross
air of the Boeotians. Yet neither do Virgil and Varius, your beloved
poets, disgrace your judgment of them, and the presents which they have
received with great honor to the donor; nor do the features of
illustrious men appear more lively when expressed by statues of brass,
than their manners and minds expressed by the works of a poet. Nor would
I rather compose such tracts as these creeping on the ground, than
record deeds of arms, and the situations of countries, and rivers, and
forts reared upon mountains, and barbarous kingdoms, and wars brought to
a conclusion through the whole world under your auspices, and the
barriers that confine Janus the guardian of peace, and Rome treaded by
the Parthians under your government, if I were but able to do as much as
I could wish. But neither does your majesty admit of humble poetry, nor
dares my modesty attempt a subject which my strength is unable to
support. Yet officiousness foolishly disgusts the person whom it loves;
especially when it recommends itself by numbers, and the art [of
writing]. For one learns sooner, and more willingly remembers, that
which a man derides, than that which he approves and venerates. I value
not the zeal that gives me uneasiness; nor do I wish to be set out any
where in wax with a face formed for the worse, nor to be celebrated in
ill-composed verses; lest I blush, when presented with the gross gift;
and, exposed in an open box along with my author, be conveyed into the
street that sells frankincense, and spices, and pepper, and whatever is
wrapped up in impertinent writings.

* * * * *



EPISTLE II.

TO JULIUS FLORUS.

_In apologizing for not having written to him, he shows that the
well-ordering of life is of more importance than the composition of
verses_.


O Florus, faithful friend to the good and illustrious Nero, if by chance
any one should offer to sell you a boy born at Tibur and Gabii, and
should treat with you in this manner; "This [boy who is] both
good-natured and well-favored from head to foot, shall become and be
yours for eight thousand sesterces; a domestic slave, ready in his
attendance at his master's nod; initiated in the Greek language, of a
capacity for any art; you may shape out any thing with [such] moist
clay; besides, he will sing in an artless manner, but yet entertaining
to one drinking. Lavish promises lessen credit, when any one cries up
extravagantly the wares he has for sale, which he wants to put off. No
emergency obliges me [to dispose of him]: though poor, I am in nobody's
debt. None of the chapmen would do this for you; nor should every body
readily receive the same favor from me. Once, [in deed,] he [loitered on
an errand]; and (as it happens) absconded, being afraid of the lash that
hangs in the staircase. Give me your money, if this runaway trick, which
I have expected, does not offend you. " In my opinion, the man may take
his price, and be secure from any punishment: you wittingly purchased a
good-for-nothing boy: the condition of the contract was told you.
Nevertheless you prosecute this man, and detain him in an unjust suit.

I told you, at your setting out, that I was indolent: I told you I was
almost incapable of such offices: that you might not chide me in angry
mood, because no letter [from me] came to hand. What then have I
profited, if you nevertheless arraign the conditions that make for me?
On the same score too you complain, that, being worse than my word, I do
not send you the verses you expected.

A soldier of Lucullus, [having run through] a great many hardships, was
robbed of his collected stock to a penny, as he lay snoring in the night
quite fatigued: after this, like a ravenous wolf, equally exasperated at
himself and the enemy, eager, with his hungry fangs, he beat off a royal
guard from a post (as they report) very strongly fortified, and well
supplied with stores. Famous on account of this exploit, he is adorned
with honorable rewards, and receives twenty thousand sesterces into the
bargain. It happened about this time that his officer being inclined to
batter down a certain fort, began to encourage the same man, with words
that might even have given courage to a coward: "Go, my brave fellow,
whither your valor calls you: go with prosperous step, certain to
receive ample rewards for your merit. Why do you hesitate? " Upon this,
he arch, though a rustic: "He who has lost his purse, will go whither
you wish," says he.

It was my lot to have Rome for my nurse, and to be instructed [from the
Iliad] how much the exasperated Achilles prejudiced the Greeks. Good
Athens give me some additional learning: that is to say, to be able to
distinguish a right line from a curve, and seek after truth in the
groves of Academus. But the troublesome times removed me from that
pleasant spot; and the tide of a civil war carried me away,
unexperienced as I was, into arms, [into arms] not likely to be a match
for the sinews of Augustus Caesar. Whence, as soon as [the battle of]
Philippi dismissed me in an abject condition, with my wings clipped, and
destitute both of house and land, daring poverty urged me on to the
composition of verses: but now, having more than is wanted, what
medicines would be efficacious enough to cure my madness, if I did not
think it better to rest than to write verses.

The advancing years rob us of every thing: they have taken away my
mirth, my gallantry, my revelings, and play: they are now proceeding to
force poetry from me. What would you have me do?

In short, all persons do not love and admire the same things. Ye delight
in the ode: one man is pleased with iambics; another with satires
written in the manner of Bion, and virulent wit. Three guests scarcely
can be found to agree, craving very different dishes with various
palate. What shall I give? What shall I not give? You forbid, what
another demands: what you desire, that truly is sour and disgustful to
the [other] two.

Beside other [difficulties], do you think it practicable for me to
write poems at Rome, amid so many solicitudes and so many fatigues? One
calls me as his security, another to hear his works, all business else
apart; one lives on the mount of Quirinus, the other in the extremity of
the Aventine; both must be waited on. The distances between them, you
see, are charmingly commodious. "But the streets are clear, so that
there can be no obstacle to the thoughtful. "--A builder in heat hurries
along with his mules and porters: the crane whirls aloft at one time a
stone, at another a great piece of timber: the dismal funerals dispute
the way with the unwieldy carriages: here runs a mad dog, there rushes a
sow begrimed with mire. Go now, and meditate with yourself your
harmonious verses. All the whole choir of poets love the grove, and
avoid cities, due votaries to Bacchus delighting in repose and shade.
Would you have me, amid so great noise both by night and day, [attempt]
to sing, and trace the difficult footsteps of the poets? A genius who
has chosen quiet Athens for his residence, and has devoted seven years
to study, and has grown old in books and study, frequently walks forth
more dumb than a statue, and shakes the people's sides with laughter:
here, in the midst of the billows and tempests of the city, can I be
thought capable of connecting words likely to wake the sound of the
lyre?

At Rome there was a rhetorician, brother to a lawyer: [so fond of each
other were they,] that they would hear nothing but the mere praises of
each other: insomuch, that the latter appeared a Gracchus to the former,
the former a Mucius to the latter. Why should this frenzy affect the
obstreperous poets in a less degree? I write odes, another elegies: a
work wonderful to behold, and burnished by the nine muses! Observe
first, with what a fastidious air, with what importance we survey the
temple [of Apollo] vacant for the Roman poets. In the next place you may
follow (if you are at leisure) and hear what each produces, and
wherefore each weaves for himself the crown. Like Samnite gladiators in
slow duel, till candle-light, we are beaten and waste out the enemy with
equal blows: I came off Alcaeus, in his suffrage; he is mine, who? Why
who but Callimachus? Or, if he seems to make a greater demand, he
becomes Mimnermus, and grows in fame by the chosen appellation. Much do
I endure in order to pacify this passionate race of poets, when I am
writing; and submissive court the applause of the people; [but,] having
finished my studies and recovered my senses, I the same man can now
boldly stop my open ears against reciters.

Those who make bad verses are laughed at: but they are pleased in
writing, and reverence themselves; and if you are silent, they, happy,
fall to praising of their own accord whatever they have written. But he
who desires to execute a genuine poem, will with his papers assume the
spirit of an honest critic: whatever words shall have but little
clearness and elegance, or shall be without weight and held unworthy of
estimation, he will dare to displace: though they may recede with
reluctance, and still remain in the sanctuary of Vesta: those that have
been long hidden from the people he kindly will drag forth, and bring to
light those expressive denominations of things that were used by the
Catos and Cethegi of ancient times, though now deformed dust and
neglected age presses upon them: he will adopt new words, which use, the
parent [of language], shall produce: forcible and perspicuous, and
bearing the utmost similitude to a limpid stream, he will pour out his
treasures, and enrich Latium with a comprehensive language. The
luxuriant he will lop, the too harsh he will soften with a sensible
cultivation: those void of expression he will discard: he will exhibit
the appearance of one at play; and will be [in his invention] on the
rack, like [a dancer on the stage], who one while affects the motions of
a satyr, at another of a clumsy cyclops.

I had rather be esteemed a foolish and dull writer, while my faults
please myself, or at least escape my notice, than be wise and smart for
it. There lived at Argos a man of no mean rank, who imagined that he was
hearing some admirable tragedians, a joyful sitter and applauder in an
empty theater: who [nevertheless] could support the other duties of life
in a just manner; a truly honest neighbor, an amiable host, kind toward
his wife, one who could pardon his slaves, nor would rave at the
breaking of a bottle-seal: one who [had sense enough] to avoid a
precipice, or an open well. This man, being cured at the expense and by
the care of his relations, when he had expelled by the means of pure
hellebore the disorder and melancholy humor, and returned to himself;
"By Pollux, my friends (said he), you have destroyed, not saved me; from
whom my pleasure is thus taken away, and a most agreeable delusion of
mind removed by force. "

In a word, it is of the first consequence to be wise in the rejection
of trifles, and leave childish play to boys for whom it is in season,
and not to scan words to be set to music for the Roman harps, but
[rather] to be perfectly an adept in the numbers and proportions of real
life. Thus therefore I commune with myself, and ponder these things in
silence: "If no quantity of water would put an end to your thirst, you
would tell it to your physicians. And is there none to whom you dare
confess, that the more you get the more you crave? If you had a wound
which was not relieved by a plant or root prescribed to you, you would
refuse being doctored with a root or plant that did no good. You have
heard that vicious folly left the man, on whom the gods conferred
wealth; and though you are nothing wiser, since you become richer, will
you nevertheless use the same monitors as before? But could riches make
you wise, could they make you less covetous and mean-spirited, you well
might blush, if there lived on earth one more avaricious than yourself. "

If that be any man's property, which he has bought by the pound and
penny, [and] there be some things to which (if you give credit to the
lawyers) possession gives a claim, [then] the field that feeds you is
your own; and Orbius' steward, when he harrows the corn which is soon to
give you flour, finds you are [in effect] the proper master. You give
your money; you receive grapes, pullets, eggs, a hogshead of strong
wine: certainly in this manner you by little and little purchase that
farm, for which perhaps the owner paid three hundred thousand sesterces,
or more. What does it signify, whether you live on what was paid for the
other day, or a long while ago? He who purchased the Aricinian and
Veientine fields some time since, sups on bought vegetables, however he
may think otherwise; boils his pot with bought wood at the approach of
the chill evening. But he calls all that his own, as far as where the
planted poplar prevents quarrels among neighbors by a determinate
limitation: as if anything were a man's property, which in a moment of
the fleeting hour, now by solicitations, now by sale, now by violence,
and now by the supreme lot [of all men], may change masters and come
into another's jurisdiction. Thus since the perpetual possession is
given to none, and one man's heir urges on another's, as wave impels
wave, of what importance are houses, or granaries; or what the Lucanian
pastures joined to the Calabrian; if Hades, inexorable to gold, mows
down the great together with the small?

Gems, marble, ivory, Tuscan statues, pictures, silver-plate, robes dyed
with Getulian purple, there are who can not acquire; and there are
others, who are not solicitous of acquiring. Of two brothers, why one
prefers lounging, play, and perfume, to Herod's rich palm-tree groves;
why the other, rich and uneasy, from the rising of the light to the
evening shade, subdues his woodland with fire and steel: our attendant
genius knows, who governs the planet of our nativity, the divinity [that
presides] over human nature, who dies with each individual, of various
complexion, white and black.

I will use, and take out from my moderate stock, as much as my exigence
demands: nor will I be under any apprehensions what opinion my heir
shall hold concerning me, when he shall, find [I have left him] no more
than I had given me. And yet I, the same man, shall be inclined to know
how far an open and cheerful person differs from a debauchee, and how
greatly the economist differs from the miser. For there is some
distinction whether you throw away your money in a prodigal manner, or
make an entertainment without grudging, nor toil to accumulate more; or
rather, as formerly in Minerva's holidays, when a school-boy, enjoys by
starts the short and pleasant vacation.

Let sordid poverty be far away. I, whether borne in a large or small
vessel, let me be borne uniform and the same. I am not wafted with
swelling sail before the north wind blowing fair: yet I do not bear my
course of life against the adverse south. In force, genius, figure,
virtue, station, estate, the last of the first-rate, [yet] still before
those of the last.

You are not covetous, [you say]:--go to. --What then? Have the rest of
your vices fled from you, together with this? Is your breast free from
vain ambition? Is it free from the fear of death and from anger? Can you
laugh at dreams, magic terrors, wonders, witches, nocturnal goblins, and
Thessalian prodigies? Do you number your birth-days with a grateful
mind? Are you forgiving to your friends? Do you grow milder and better
as old age approaches? What profits you only one thorn eradicated out of
many? If you do not know how to live in a right manner, make way for
those that do. You have played enough, eaten and drunk enough, it is
time for you to walk off: lest having tippled too plentifully, that age
which plays the wanton with more propriety, and drive you [off the
stage].

* * * * *




HORACE'S BOOK UPON THE ART OF POETRY.

TO THE PISOS.


If a painter should wish to unite a horse's neck to a human head, and
spread a variety of plumage over limbs [of different animals] taken from
every part [of nature], so that what is a beautiful woman in the upper
part terminates unsightly in an ugly fish below; could you, my friends,
refrain from laughter, were you admitted to such a sight? Believe, ye
Pisos, the book will be perfectly like such a picture, the ideas of
which, like a sick man's dreams, are all vain and fictitious: so that
neither head nor foot can correspond to any one form. "Poets and
painters [you will say] have ever had equal authority for attempting any
thing. " We are conscious of this, and this privilege we demand and allow
in turn: but not to such a degree, that the tame should associate with
the savage; nor that serpents should be coupled with birds, lambs with
tigers.

In pompous introductions, and such as promise a great deal, it generally
happens that one or two verses of purple patch-work, that may make a
great show, are tagged on; as when the grove and the altar of Diana and
the meandering of a current hastening through pleasant fields, or the
river Rhine, or the rainbow is described. But here there was no room for
these [fine things]: perhaps, too, you know how to draw a cypress: but
what is that to the purpose, if he, whe is painted for the given price,
is [to be represented as] swimming hopeless out of a shipwreck? A large
vase at first was designed: why, as the wheel revolves, turns out a
little pitcher? In a word, be your subject what it will, let it be
merely simple and uniform.

The great majority of us poets, father, and youths worthy such a
father, are misled by the appearance of right. I labor to be concise, I
become obscure: nerves and spirit fail him, that aims at the easy: one,
that pretends to be sublime, proves bombastical: he who is too cautious
and fearful of the storm, crawls along the ground: he who wants to vary
his subject in a marvelous manner, paints the dolphin in the woods, the
boar in the sea. The avoiding of an error leads to a fault, if it lack
skill.

A statuary about the Aemilian school shall of himself, with singular
skill, both express the nails, and imitate in brass the flexible hair;
unhappy yet in the main, because he knows not how to finish a complete
piece. I would no more choose to be such a one as this, had I a mind to
compose any thing, than to live with a distorted nose, [though]
remarkable for black eyes and jetty hair.

Ye who write, make choice of a subject suitable to your abilities; and
revolve in your thoughts a considerable time what your strength
declines, and what it is able to support. Neither elegance of style, nor
a perspicuous disposition, shall desert the man, by whom the subject
matter is chosen judiciously.

This, or I am mistaken, will constitute the merit and beauty of
arrangement, that the poet just now say what ought just now to be said,
put off most of his thoughts, and waive them for the present.

In the choice of his words, too, the author of the projected poem must
be delicate and cautious, he must embrace one and reject another: you
will express yourself eminently well, if a dexterous combination should
give an air of novelty to a well-known word. If it happen to be
necessary to explain some abstruse subjects by new invented terms; it
will follow that you must frame words never heard of by the
old-fashioned Cethegi: and the license will be granted, if modestly
used: and the new and lately-formed words will have authority, if they
descend from a Greek source, with a slight deviation. But why should the
Romans grant to Plutus and Caecilius a privilege denied to Virgil and
Varius? Why should I be envied, if I have it in my power to acquire a
few words, when the language of Cato and Ennius has enriched our native
tongue, and produced new names of things? It has been, and ever will be,
allowable to coin a word marked with the stamp in present request. As
leaves in the woods are changed with the fleeting years; the earliest
fall off first: in this manner words perish with old age, and those
lately invented nourish and thrive, like men in the time of youth. We,
and our works, are doomed to death: Whether Neptune, admitted into the
continent, defends our fleet from the north winds, a kingly work; or the
lake, for a long time unfertile and fit for oars, now maintains its
neighboring cities and feels the heavy plow; or the river, taught to run
in a more convenient channel, has changed its course which was so
destructive to the fruits. Mortal works must perish: much less can the
honor and elegance of language be long-lived. Many words shall revive,
which now have fallen off; and many which are now in esteem shall fall
off, if it be the will of custom, in whose power is the decision and
right and standard of language.

Homer has instructed us in what measure the achievements of kings, and
chiefs, and direful war might be written.

Plaintive strains originally were appropriated to the unequal numbers
[of the elegiac]: afterward [love and] successful desires were included.
Yet what author first published humble elegies, the critics dispute, and
the controversy still waits the determination of a judge.

Rage armed Archilochus with the iambic of his own invention. The sock
and the majestic buskin assumed this measure as adapted for dialogue,
and to silence the noise of the populace, and calculated for action.

To celebrate gods, and the sons of gods, and the victorious wrestler,
and the steed foremost in the race, and the inclination of youths, and
the free joys of wine, the muse has alotted to the lyre.

If I am incapable and unskilful to observe the distinction described,
and the complexions of works [of genius], why am I accosted by the name
of "Poet? " Why, out of false modesty, do I prefer being ignorant to
being learned?

A comic subject will not be handled in tragic verse: in like manner the
banquet of Thyestes will not bear to be held in familiar verses, and
such as almost suit the sock. Let each peculiar species [of writing]
fill with decorum its proper place. Nevertheless sometimes even comedy
exalts her voice, and passionate Chremes rails in a tumid strain: and a
tragic writer generally expresses grief in a prosaic style. Telephus and
Peleus, when they are both in poverty and exile, throw aside their rants
and gigantic expressions if they have a mind to move the heart of the
spectator with their complaint.

It is not enough that poems be beautiful; let them be tender and
affecting, and bear away the soul of the auditor whithersoever they
please. As the human countenance smiles on those that smile, so does it
sympathize with those that weep. If you would have me weep you must
first express the passion of grief yourself; then, Telephus or Peleus,
your misfortunes hurt me: if you pronounce the parts assigned you ill, I
shall either fall asleep or laugh.

Pathetic accents suit a melancholy countenance; words full of menace, an
angry one; wanton expressions, a sportive look; and serious matter, an
austere one. For nature forms us first within to every modification of
circumstances; she delights or impels us to anger, or depresses us to
the earth and afflicts us with heavy sorrow: then expresses those
emotions of the mind by the tongue, its interpreter. If the words be
discordant to the station of the speaker, the Roman knights and plebians
will raise an immoderate laugh. It will make a wide difference, whether
it be Davus that speaks, or a hero; a man well-stricken in years, or a
hot young fellow in his bloom; and a matron of distinction, or an
officious nurse; a roaming merchant, or the cultivator of a verdant
little farm; a Colchian, or an Assyrian; one educated at Thebes, or one
at Argos.

You, that write, either follow tradition, or invent such fables as are
congruous to themselves. If as poet you have to represent the renowned
Achilles; let him be indefatigable, wrathful, inexorable, courageous,
let him deny that laws were made for him, let him arrogate every thing
to force of arms. Let Medea be fierce and untractable, Ino an object of
pity, Ixion perfidious, Io wandering, Orestes in distress.

If you offer to the stage any thing unattempted, and venture to form a
new character; let it be preserved to the last such as it set out at the
beginning, and be consistent with itself. It is difficult to write with
propriety on subjects to which all writers have a common claim; and you
with more prudence will reduce the Iliad into acts, than if you first
introduce arguments unknown and never treated of before. A public story
will become your own property, if you do not dwell upon the whole circle
of events, which is paltry and open to every one; nor must you be so
faithful a translator, as to take the pains of rendering [the original]
word for word; nor by imitating throw yourself into straits, whence
either shame or the rules of your work may forbid you to retreat.

Nor must you make such an exordium, as the Cyclic writer of old: "I will
sing the fate of Priam, and the noble war. " What will this boaster
produce worthy of all this gaping?