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Unlock your stores, put forth your saving hand,
Nor let

your

kinsman wander on the strand; To passing strangers tell his tale of woe, And the blue picture of his shipwreck show. Thus urged, you cry that your unfeeling heir Will blame the deed, and curse your generous care: No honours due shall at your grave be paid, No prayers

shall bless, no rites shall soothe your shade: No crowd of mourners shall attend your tomb, No torches burn, no casia round it bloom. How long shall we, indignant Bestius cries, Adopt the customs conquer'd Greece supplies? These funeral honours render'd at the tomb, Are strange to Italy, are new to Rome. Time was, he adds, when foreign climes unknown, Our speech was siniple, and our style our own; Our frugal fare, the produce of the soil, Required no dates, no pepper, and no oil. Now through all ranks luxurious pleasures spread, And Vice unblushing stands in Virtue's stead: Rome's warlike Genius, humbled in the dust, His laurel soil'd, his armour stain'd with rust, Walks in her train, assumes her spotted robe, And sheathes that sword which had subdued the globe. In silken cords his palsied hands are bound, His reverend head with folly's cap is crown'd; With him the sons of revelry advance, And Bacchants sing, and Satyrs round him dance. O thou, my heir, whoe'er thou art, attend; Trust not to me, nor on my wealth depend.

O bone num ignoras? missa est à Cæsare laurus
Insignem ob cladem Germanæ pubis, et aris
Frigidus excutitur cinis : ac jam postibus arma,
Jam chlamydes regum, jam lutea gausapa captis,
Essedaque, ingentesque locat Cæsonia Rhenos:
Diis igitur, genioque ducis centum paria, ob res
Egregie gestas, induco : quis vetat? aude.
Væ, nisi connives, Oleum, artocreasque popello
Largior: an prohibes ? dic clare: Non adeo, inquis,
Exossatus ager juxta est. Age, si mihi nulla
Jam reliqua ex amitis, patruelis nulla, proneptis
Nulla manet patrui, sterilis matertera vixit,
Deque avia nihilum superest: accedo Bovillas,
Clivumque ad Virbi: præsto est mihi Manius heres.
Progenies terræ ? quære ex me, quis mihi quartus
Sit pater: haud prompte, dicam tamen, adde etiam unum,
Unum etiam, terræ est jam filius; et mihi ritu
Manius hic generis prope major avunculus exit.
Qui prior es, cur me in decursu lampada poscas ?
Sum tibi Mercurius; venio deus huc ego, ut ille

Lo, Cæsar triumphs on Germania's plains,
And binds her hardy sons with Roman chains;
Cæsonia shows the trophies won in war,
The regal mantle, and the gilded car.
Exulting Rome bids all her altars blaze,
Through all her streets proclaims the victor's praise.
Shall I not then, to join the festive joy,
Unlock my coffers, and my wealth employ?
Two hundred gladiators straight I'll pay,
To grace the shows, and celebrate the day.
Who blames my conduct ? Do you mutter still?
Another word, and I have changed my will,
Away, away,

I soon shall find an heir,
Though my own stock no kindred plant should bear;
I'll seek Bovillæ, to Aricia go,
And on poor Manius all my wealth bestow.

What, on a peasant, born of humble birth, “ A wretch obscure, the progeny of earth?” 'Tis even so; and thus I trace his line, And find his origin the same with mine. Ah! think, my friend, while you impatient wait, And grieve that my last hour should come so late; Think, after

you

in life's career I ran,
And last should finish, what I last began.
Your eyes no more their wonted fire disclose,
From your pale cheek is fled health's living rose :
Fled too the morn of life, its balmy dews,
Its purple light, and all its orient hues :
Can you then hope my funeral pile to raise,
To place the urn, or bid the torches blaze ?

Pingitur: an renuis ? vin’tu gaudere relictis ?
Deest aliquid summæ: minui mihi: sed tibi totum est,
Quicquid id est. Ubi sit, fuge quærere, quod mihi

quondam
Legarat Tadius: neu dicta repone paterna:
Fænoris accedat merces : hinc exime sumptus :
Quid reliquum est ? reliquum ? nunc nunc impensius

unge, Unge puer caules. Mihi festa luce coquatur Urtica, et fissa fumosum sinciput aure : Ut tuus iste nepos olim satur anseris extis, Cum morosa vago singultiet inguine vena, Patriciæ immeiat vulvæ? mihi trama figuræ Sit reliqua ; ast illi tremat omento popa venter? Vende animam lucro, mercare, atque excute sollers Omne latus mundi; ne sit præstantior alter, Cappadocas rigida pingues plausisse catasta. Rem duplica. Feci : jam triplex: jam mihi quartò, Jam decies redit in rugam. Depinge, ubi sistam. Inventus, Chrysippe, tui finitor acervi.

But if, by chance, you lay me in the grave,
Enjoy my stores, nor ask what Tadius gave.
Nor let me now those selfish precepts hear
Which misers whisper in a spendthrift's ear.
Shall I, in times when mirth and freedom reign,
The joyful voice of merriment restrain;
Check the gay spirits kindling with delight,
When social pleasures flow, and friends invite;
On herbs, and cheek of hog, content to dine,
That you may own the wealth which now is mine?
Here, pour the oil, nor spare the spices, boy;
Time flies apace, we must the world enjoy;
Nor hoard for others, who shall spend our store,
When life and all its joys are ours no more.
Go, miser, go, in avarice grown old,
Raise heaps on heaps, increase the mass of gold :
Go, dare the storms and terrors of the main ;
Brave hunger, thirst, and pawn your soul for gain ;
As interest bids, be sure to buy or sell;
Still as you hoard the mighty heap shall swell :-
Now twice, now thrice the sum it was before ;--
Now it is five; now it is ten times more :-

O good Chrysippus, you who sagely found
Limits to number, and to space a bound,
Instruct me here, and your assistance lend,
That to this growing wealth I find an end.

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