"To-morrow we shall choose another way."
To-morrow passes like the former day.
"Ah, but to-morrow something shall be done,
"We wait impatient for to-morrow's sun."
But still another day is like the last;
The hour of promised change already past.
See, while the victor's chariot gains the goal,
The rapid wheels on glowing axles roll;
Their circling orbs impell'd with equal force,
With equal swiftness trace each other's course;
The hinder pair pursue the first in vain,
Their distance keep, but no advantage gain :
So flying Time is follow'd close by you,
He still escaping, while you still pursue.
Let us speak out. 'Tis liberty we need :
Not such as wretches vaunt, from bondage freed:
Not such as every Publius may obtain,

Who takes his quota of divided grain,

Who dares the rights of citizen to claim,
And fix a proud prænomen to his name.
Besotted race! is thus a Roman made?
By this one turn are all his rights convey'd?
Here Dama stands, a worthless stupid slave,
A blear-ey'd villain, and a cheating knave:
But let his master turn this varlet round,
And Marcus Dama is a Roman found.
Marcus is bound: your money do you grudge?
You need not fear, 'tis Marcus sits as judge.

Marcus dixit: ita est, adsigna Marce tabellas.
Hæc mera libertas, hoc nobis pilea donant.
An quisquam est alius liber, nisi ducere vitam
Cui licet, ut voluit? licet, ut volo, vivere: non sim
Liberior Bruto? Mendose colligis, inquit

Stoicus hic, aurem mordaci lotus aceto.

Hoc (reliquum accipio), LICET ILLUD, et, UT VOLO, tolle,

Vindicta, postquam meus à prætore recessi,

Cur mihi non liceat jussit quodcunque voluntas,
Excepto si quid Masuri rubrica vetavit?

Disce: sed ira cadat naso, rugosaque sanna,
Dum veteres avias tibi de pulmone revello.
Non prætoris erat stultis dare tenuia rerum
Officia, atque usum rapidæ permittere vitæ.
Sambucam citius caloni aptaveris alto.
Stat contra ratio, et secretam garrit in aurem,
Ne liceat facere id, quod quis vitiabit agendo.
Publica lex hominum, naturaque continet hoc fas,

Marcus said thus.-Nay, then the thing is true.
Marcus, the will must first be sign'd by you.
O sacred Liberty! O name profaned !
Are thus thine honours, and thy rights obtain'd?
No, 'tis not wealth which lifts the soul to thee,
Nor yet thy cap, which makes the wearer free!
My pleasure is my law, by that I go.
"What greater freedom did your Brutus know?"
Ah, falsely urged, the indignant Stoic cries,
(Who thinks the truly free to be the wise).

"E'er since the prætor's wand hath changed my doom, "And made the slave the citizen of Rome,

"My will alone my passions have obey'd,
"Save where my country and its laws forbade."
Listen; but lay that haughty frown aside,

That sneer, produced by prejudice and pride;

Whilst from thy breast those noxious weeds I tear, Which fools have sown, and thou hast nurtured there.

'Tis not the prætor, nor the prætor's wand, Which o'er itself can give the mind command,

Which can instruct the unreflecting fool

The stormy passions of his soul to rule;

To fix the lifted eye on things sublime,

While his swift bark glides down the stream of time.
The clown shall sooner catch the poet's fire,

And touch with skilful hand the tuneful lyre.
Reason condemns the unavailing toil,

Which fondly cultivates a sterile soil;

Ut teneat vetitos inscitia debilis actus.
Diluis helleborum certo compescere puncto
Nescius examen: vetat hoc natura medendi,
Navem si poscat sibi peronatus arator
Luciferi rudis, exclamet Melicerta perisse
Frontem de rebus. Tibi recto vivere talo
Ars dedit? et veri speciem dignoscere calles,
Ne qua subærato mendosam tinniat auro?
Quæque sequenda forent, quæque evitanda vicissim,
Illa prius creta, mox hæc carbone notasti?
Es modicus voti, presso lare, dulcis amicis:
Jam nunc astringas, jam nunc granaria laxes:
Inque luto fixum possis transcendere nummum :
Nec glutto sorbere salivam Mercurialem ?
Hæc mea sunt, teneo, cum vere dixeris, esto
Liberque, ac sapiens, prætoribus, ac Jove dextro,
Sin tu, cum fueris nostræ paulo ante farinæ,
Pelliculam veterem retines, et fronte politus
Astutam vapido servas sub pectore vulpem :
Quæ dederam supra repeto, funemque reduco.
Nil tibi concessit ratio, digitum exere, peccas:

Forbids the effort where, through want of skill,
The end proposed rests unaccomplish'd still.
The laws of nature and of man declare,
That ignorance from action should forbear.
"Tis not for you the medicine to compose,
To mix the hellebore, a dangerous dose;
The grains to weigh, the healing art to try,
Who know not when the balance hangs awry.
If, quitting all the labours of the plain,
The hind should launch his vessel on the main;
Indignant Nereids through the deep would cry,
That shame had left the earth, and sought the sky.
Has art instructed thee to reason well?

Its semblance, from the truth, at once to tell?
On fleeting things to set their proper price,

And mark the bounds of virtue and of vice?
Dost thou know when to save, and when to spend,
A prudent master, but a generous friend?
Canst thou unmoved another's wealth behold,
The treasure view, nor sigh to gain the gold?—
When virtues, such as these, belong to thee,
Then let propitious Jove ordain thee free.
But if beneath a new and glossy skin,
The same envenom'd serpent lurk within;
If still thy passions do their power retain,
I must retract, and call thee slave again.
Imperious reason holds despotic rule,
And even his slightest actions mark the fool.