Diducit trepidas ramosa in compita mentes,
Me tibi supposui: teneros tu suscipis annos
Socratico Cornute sinu: tunc fallere sollers
Apposita intortos extendit regula mores:
Et premitur ratione animus, vincique laborat,
Artificemque tuo ducit sub pollice vultum.
Tecum etenim longos memini consumere soles,
Et tecum primas epulis decerpere noctes.

Unum opus, et requiem pariter disponimus ambo,
Atque verecunda laxamus seria mensa.

Non equidem hoc dubites, amborum fœdere certo
Consentire dies, et ab uno sidere duci.
Nostra vel æquali suspendit tempora Libra
Parca tenax veri, seu nata fidelibus hora
Dividit in Geminos concordia fata duorum :
Saturnumque gravem nostro Jove frangimus una.
Nescio quod, certe est quod me tibi temperat, astrum.
Mille hominum species, et rerum discolor usus:

At that green age, when error most beguiles,
And Vice puts on her most seductive smiles,
Allures from Virtue unsuspecting youth,
And teaches Folly to abandon truth;
To thee, Cornutus, I myself resign'd,
To thee entrusted my uncultured mind.
Thy gentle bosom, O Socratic sage,

Proved the best refuge to my tender age:
Train'd by thy hand, and moulded by thy will,
I was thy scholar and companion still;

With thee I saw the summer sun arise,

With thee beheld him gild the evening skies:
Well pleased from feasts the twilight hours to steal,
And share with thee a philosophic meal.

On us, my friend, like fortune still awaits,
And stars consenting have conjoin'd our fates.
Whether by chance our lives were both begun,
When equal Libra had received the sun;

Whether our lots the Twins between them share,
And those, who love like them, have made their care;

Whether malignant Saturn's clouded hour

Was cross'd for us, by Jove's prevailing power;
The stars I know not, which do thus combine
To regulate my destiny by thine.

Of men and manners there are various kinds,
And life seems still to alter with our minds;
By turns the picture renovates and fades,
Its colours shifting to a thousand shades;

Velle suum cuique est, nec voto vivitur uno.
Mercibus hic Italis mutat sub sole recenti
Rugosum piper, et pallentis grana cumini:
Hic satur, irriguo mavult turgescere somno:
Hic campo indulget: hunc alea decoquit: ille
In Venerem putret: sed cum lapidosa chiragra
Fregerit articulos veteris ramalia fagi,
Tunc crassos transisse dies, lucemque palustrem,
Et sibi jam seri vitam ingemuere relictam.
At te nocturnis juvat impallescere chartis.
Cultor enim es juvenum: purgatas inseris aures
Fruge Cleanthea: petite hinc juvenesque senesque
Finem animo certum, miserisque viatica canis.

No single passion rules mankind alone,
But each has one peculiarly his own.

His Tuscan wares, on India's burning shores,
The merchant barters for her spicy stores.
Here, one in drunken stupor loves to lie;
Here, one prefers the chase, and one the die.
Another here, indulging sensual joys,
His health for Venus wantonly destroys;
But when, at length, in all his aking bones
The racking gout creates the chalky stones,
When all his limbs distorted by disease,
Like knotted branches of misshapen trees,
Proclaim old age and sorrow come too soon,
An early evening, and a clouded noon;
The pallid victim, at himself aghast,

Mourns when too late enjoyments that are past.
Thee it delights, by the nocturnal oil,
In learning's fair and fruitful fields to toil;
To scatter round thy Cleanthean corn,
And youthful minds to polish and adorn.
Lay up, ye youth, and ye with age grown grey,
Some mental stores ere nature feel decay;
Propose some purpose to the active mind,
Ere yet your setting sun be quite declined;
Ere yet you reach that last unhappy state,
Where life stands trembling on the brink of fate;
When all the prospects of this world are o'er,

Pleasures delight, and hope deceives no more.

Cras hoc fiet. Idem cras fiet, quid? quasi magnum
Nempe diem donas, sed cum lux altera venit,
Jam cras hesternum consumsimus: ecce aliud cras
Egerit hos annos, et semper paulum erit ultra.
Nam quamvis prope te, quamvis temone sub uno
Vertentem sese, frustra sectabere canthum,
Cum rota posterior curras, et in axe secundo.
Libertate opus est: non hac, ut quisque Velinâ
Publius emeruit scabiosum tesserula far

Possidet. Heu steriles veri, quibus una Quiritem
Vertigo facit: hic Dama est non tressis agaso,
Vappa, et lippus, et in tenui farragine mendax.
Verterit hunc dominus, momento turbinis exit
Marcas Dama, papa! Marco spondente recusas
Credere tu nummos? Marco sub judice palles?