Linquenda tellus et domus et placens Uxor, neque harum quas colis arborum Te, praeter invisas cupressos,

Ulla brevem dominum sequetur. Absumet heres Caecuba dignior Servata centum clavibus, et mero Tinget pavimentum superbo Pontificum potiore coenis.

XV.

JAM pauca aratro jugera regiae
Moles relinquent; undique latius
Extenta visentur Lucrino

Stagna lacu platanusque caelebs

Evincet ulmos; tum violaria, et
Myrtus et omnis copia narium,
Spargent olivetis odorem
Fertilibus domino priori;
Tum spissa ramis laurea fervidos
Excludet ictus. Non ita Romuli
Praescriptum, et intonsi Catonis

Auspiciis, veterumque norma. Privatus illis census erat brevis, Commune magnum: nulla decempedis Metata privatis opacam

Porticus excipiebat Arcton;

To scorn the thatch-roofed cot their laws forbade,
Commanding that, at public cost, abodes

Of civic state, and temples of the gods
Should be with carvings of new stone arrayed.

Pompeius Grosphus is supposed to have been a rich Sicilian knight. In a letter of introduction to Iccius, Horace describes him as one who might be readily obliged, inasmuch as he would ask nothing improper.

FOR quiet are the gods by him besought
Who in the wide Aegean sea is caught

When black clouds hide the moon, and there is not
A star the seamen guiding:

For quiet, furiously warring Thrace

Seeks, Grosphus mine, and Medes whom quivers grace; Quiet which jewels, gold, or purple dress

Avail not for providing.

For neither regal wealth, nor consular
Lictor avails to drive away the care

And wretched tumults of the mind which are

Round paneled ceilings flying.

He happily on little lives, on whose

Plain board the family salt-cellar glows.

Who naught of fear or sordid avarice knows
Sleep's gentle balm denying.

Why fling away our short-lived energies

On numerous schemes? Why regions colonise

Nec fortuitum spernere caespitem
Leges sinebant, oppida publico
Sumptu jubentes, et deorum

Templa novo decorare saxo.

XVI. AD POMPEIUM GROSPHUM.

OTIUм divos rogat in patente

Prensus Aegaeo, simul atra nubes
Condidit lunam, neque certa fulgent

Sidera nautis ;

Otium bello furiosa Thrace,

Otium Medi pharetra decori,

Grosphe, non gemmis neque purpura ve

nale neque auro.

Non enim gazae neque consularis
Summovet lictor miseros tumultus

Mentis, et curas laqueata circum
Tecta volantes.

Vivitur parvo bene cui paternum
Splendet in mensa tenui salinum,
Nec leves somnos timor aut cupido
Sordidus aufert.

Quid brevi fortes jaculamur aevo
Multa? quid terras alio calentes

Warmed by another sun? Does he who flies

His home, himself too banish?

Pestilent care mounts brazen-beaked ships,
And closely up with troops of horsemen keeps,
With pace that stags and the east-wind outstrips-
Wind that bids storm-clouds vanish.

The mind that joyous for the present is,
Hates care for aught beyond, and bitterness
Tempers with tranquil smile. There is no bliss
On every side completed.

Death bore Achilles in his bloom away;
Age to Tithonus granted lengthened stay;
What time to you denies, there haply may
To me by her be meted.

Round you a hundred flocks and herds there are
And kine Sicilian lowing-and a mare
Neighs, fit already for the four-wheeled car:

Twice steeped has been your clothing

In Afric's dye. To me true fates assign
A little farm, and of the Grecian Nine
Some tincture, and vouchsafe that the malign
Vulgar I count as nothing.

Maecenas was a confirmed valetudinarian, and had of death a horror with which, as this Ode may suffice to show, he was prone to entertain his friends.

WHY torture me with thy forebodings dire?

That thou, Maecenas mine, should'st first depart,

Sole mutamus? Patriae quis exsul
Se quoque fugit?

Scandit aeratas vitiosa naves

Cura, nec turmas equitum relinquit,

Ocior cervis, et agente nimbos

Ocior Euro.

Laetus in praesens animus, quod ultra est
Oderit curare, et amara lento
Temperet risu. Nihil est ab omni

Parte beatum.

Abstulit clarum cita mors Achillem,
Longa Tithonum minuit senectus,
Et mihi forsan, tibi quod negarit
Porriget hora.

Te greges centum Siculaeque circum
Mugiunt vaccae, tibi tollit hinnitum
Apta quadrigis equa,; te bis Afro
Murice tinctae

Vestiunt lanae: mihi parva rura et
Spiritum Graiae tenuem Camenae
Parca non mendax dedit, et malignum
Spernere volgus.

XVII. AD MAECENATEM.

CUR me querelis exanimas tuis ?

Nec dis amicum est nec mihi te prius