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THE

SATIRES OF PERSIUS.

SATIRE III.

SATIRA III.

v.1-13

Nempe hæc assidue. Jam clarum mane fenestras
Intrat, et angustas extendit lumine rimas:
Stertimus indomitum quod despumare Falernum
Sufficiat, quinta dum linea tangitur umbra.
En quid agis ? siccas insana canicula messes
Jamdudum coquit, et patula pecus omne sub ulmo est.
Unus ait comitum : verumne? itane ? ocyus adsit
Huc aliquis, nemon'? turgescit vitrea bilis:
Findor: ut Arcadiæ pecuaria rudere credas.
Jam liber, et bicolor positis membrana capillis,
Inque manus chartæ, nodosaque venit arundo.
Tunc queritur, crassus calamo quod pendeat humor.
Nigra quod infusa vanescat sepia lympha ;

SATIRE III.

THE PHILOSOPHER AND DISCIPLE; OR,

THE REPROACH OF IDLENESS.

V. I-22.

What, always thus ? Now in full blaze of day
Sol mounts the skies, and shoots a downward ray;
Breaks on your darken'd chamber's lengthen’d night,
And pours thro' narrow chinks long streams of light:
Yet still subdued by sleep's oppressive power,
You slumber, heedless of the passing hour;
Of strong Falernian dissipate the fumes,
And snore unconscious, while the day consumes.
See the hot sun through reddening Leo roll,
The raging dog-star fire the glowing pole;
The yellow harvest waving o'er the plain,
The reapers bending o'er the golden grain ;-
Beneath the spreading elm the cattle laid,
And panting flocks recumbent in the shade.
"Is it indeed so late?" the sluggard cries.
“ Who waits ? here, slaves! be quick-I wish to rise.
At length, to study see the youth proceed,
Charged with his book, his parchment, and his reed.
But now he finds the ink too black to write;
And now, diluted, it escapes the sight :
Now it is made too thick, and now too thin,
And now it sinks too deeply in the skin;

Dilutas queritur geminet quod fistula guttas.
O miser; inque dies ultra miser, huccine rerum
Venimus? at cur non potius, teneroque columbo,
Et similis regum pueris, pappare minutum
Poscis, et iratus manimæ lallare recusas ?
An tali studeam calamo? cui verba ? quid istas
Succinis ambages ? tibi luditur : effluis amens.
Contemnere, sonat vitium percussa, maligne
Respondet viridi non cocta fidelia limo.
Udum et molle lutum es, nunc, nunc properandus, et

acri
Fingendus sine fine rota: sed rure paterno
Est tibi far modicum, purum et sine labe salinum.
Quid metuas ? cultrix que foci secura patella est.
Hoc satis? an deceat pulmonem rumpere ventis,
Stemmate quod Tusco ramum millesime ducis,
Censoremne tuum vel quod trabeate salutas ?
Ad populum phaleras : ego te intus, et in cute novi.
Non pudet ad morem discincti vivere Nattæ ?
Sed stupet hic vitio, et fibris increvit opimum
Pingue : caret culpa : nescit quid perdat: et alto

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