And watch that no obscenities prevail.
And trust me, friend, even Argus' self might fail,
The busy hands of schoolboys to espy,
And the lewd fires that twinkle in their eye.
Yes, make all this a point; and having found
The man you seek, say-When the year comes round,
We'll give thee for thy twelvemonth's toil and pains,
As much as IN AN HOUR A FENCER GAINS!
were negligent of their own: the censure of Juvenal, however, falls rather on those who exacted such miserable minutiae of them; in particular, he seems to allude to Tiberius (Suet. § lxx.), who used to harass these poor men, by inquiring who was Hecuba's mother, what the Sirens used to sing, &c.
TO PONTICUS, ON TRUE NOBILITY.
"YOUR ancient house!" No more.-
The wondrous merits of a pedigree:
No, Ponticus; nor of a proud display
Of smoky ancestors, in wax or clay;
Æmilius, mounted on his car sublime,
Curius, half wasted by the teeth of time,
Corvinus, dwindled to a shapeless bust,
And high-born Galba crumbling into dust.
What boots it, on the LINEAL TREE to trace,
Through many a branch, the founders of our race,
Time-honour'd chiefs; if, in their sight, we give
A loose to vice, and like low villains live?
Say what avails it, that, on either hand,
The stern Numantii, an illustrious band,
Frown from the walls, if their degenerate race
Waste the long night at dice, before their face?
If, staggering, to a drowsy bed they creep,
At that prime hour when, starting from their sleep,
Their sires the signal of the fight unfurl'd,
And drew their legions forth, and won the world?
Say, why should Fabius, of the Herculean name,
Vaunt, with such arrogance, his House's claim
To the GREAT ALTAR? if, with anxious care,
From his soft limbs he pumice every hair,
And shame his rough-hewn sires! if greedy, vain,
If a vile trafficker in secret bane,
He blast his wretched kindred with a bust
For public justice to reduce to dust!
Fond man! though all the heroes of your line Bedeck your halls, and round your galleries shine,
In proud display; yet, take this truth from me,
VIRTUE ALONE IS TRUE NOBILITY.
Set Cossus, Drusus, Paulus, then, in view;
The bright examples of their lives pursue:
Let these precede the statues of your race,
And these, when Consul, of your rods take place.
O give me inborn worth! dare to be just,
Firm to your word, and faithful to your trust:
These praises hear, at least deserve to hear,
I grant your claim, and recognise the peer.
Hail! from whatever stock you draw your birth,
The son of Cossus, or the son of Earth,
All hail! in you, exulting Rome espies
Her guardian Power, her great Palladium rise;
And shouts like Egypt, when her priests have found
A new Osiris, for the old one drown'd! (29)
But shall we call those noble, who disgrace
Their lineage, proud of an illustrious race?
Vain thought!—but thus, with a sarcastic smile,
The dwarf an Atlas, Moor a swan, we style;
The crookback'd wench, Europa; and the hound,
Feeble with age, blind, toothless, and unsound,
That listless lies, and licks the lamps for food,
Lord of the chase, and tyrant of the wood!
You, too, beware, lest Satire's piercing eye
The slave of guilt through grandeur's blaze espy;
And drawing from your crime some sounding name,
Declare at once your greatness, and your shame.
Ask you for whom this picture I design?
Plautus, thy birth and folly make it thine.
Thou vaunt'st thy pedigree, on every side
To noble and imperial blood allied;
As if thy honours by thyself were won,
And thou hadst some illustrious action done,
29. It will be sufficient, for the understanding of this passage, to remark, that Osiris was worshipped in that country, under the figure of a live ox, which he was supposed to animate. When the animal grew old, and consequently unfit for the residence of the divinity, he was thought to quit it, and migrate into a younger body of the same species.
To make the world believe thee Julia's heir,
And not the offspring of some easy fair,
Who, shivering in the wind, near yon dead wall,
Plies her vile labour, and is all to all.
Away, away! ye slaves of humblest birth,
Ye dregs of Rome, ye nothings of the earth,
Whose fathers who shall tell? while my bright line
Descends from Cecrops." Man of blood divine!
Long mayst thou taste the secret sweets which spring
In breasts affined to so remote a king!-
Yet know, amid those "dregs of Rome," thy scorn,
Names may be found whom arts and arms adorn:
Some skill'd to plead a noble blockhead's cause,
And solve the deep enigmas of the laws;
Others that, great in war, to conquest fly,
And spread our fame beneath the polar sky;
While thou, in mean, inglorious pleasure lost,
With "Cecrops! Cecrops!" all thou hast to boast,
Art a full brother to the crossway stone,
Which clowns have chipp'd the head of Hermes on: (55) For 'tis no bar to kindred, that thy block
Is form'd of flesh and blood, and theirs of rock.
Of beasts, great son of Troy, who vaunts the breed, Unless renown'd for courage, strength, or speed? "Tis thus we praise the horse, that mocks our eyes, While to the goal, with lightning's speed, he flies; Whom many a well-earn'd palm and trophy grace, And the Cirque hails, unrivall'd in the race! Yes, he is noble, spring from whom he will, Whose footsteps in the dust are foremost still; While Hirpine's stock are to the market led, If Victory perch but rarely on their head:
55. The figures here described were termes, rough-hewn square stones set upright, and surmounted with a head of Hermes, or Mercury. They were anciently placed at the turning of streets, and in cross and intricate roads, for the direction of passengers. The honour of serving as a direction post was allotted to Hermes, as the old critics say, on account of his name, which, in Greek, denotes to show or explain anything.
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