HKB
the name will do; Or fellow-servant: such am I to you: For you, whose work I do, do others' work, And move as dolls move when their wires we jerk.
Who then is free? The sage, who keeps in check His baser self, who lives at his own beck, Whom neither poverty nor dungeon drear Nor death itself can ever put in fear, Who can reject life's goods, resist desire, Strong, firmly braced, and in himself entire, A hard smooth ball that gives you ne'er a grip, 'Gainst whom when Fortune runs, she's sure to trip. Such are the marks of freedom: look them through, And tell me, is there one belongs to you? Your mistress begs for money, plagues you sore, Ducks you with water, drives you from her door, Then calls you back: break the vile bondage; cry "I'm free, I'm free."--Alas, you cannot. Why? There's one within you, armed with spur and stick, Who turns and drives you, howsoe'er you kick.
On one of Pausias' masterworks you pore, As you were crazy: what does Davus more, Standing agape and straining knees and eyes At some rude sketch of fencers for a prize, Where, drawn in charcoal or red ochre, just As if alive, they parry and they thrust? Davus gets called a loiterer and a scamp, You (save the mark!) a critic of high stamp. If hot sweet-cakes should tempt me, I am naught: Do you say no to dainties as you ought? Am I worse trounced than you when I obey My stomach? true, my back is made to pay: But when you let rich tit-bits pass your lip That cost no trifle, do you 'scape the whip? Indulging to excess, you loathe your meat, And the bloat trunk betrays the gouty feet.
The lad's a rogue who goes by night to chop A stolen flesh-brush at a fruiterer's shop: The man who sells a farm to buy good fare, Is there no slavery to the stomach there?
Then too you cannot spend an hour alone; No company's more hateful than your own; You dodge and give yourself the slip; you seek In bed or in your cups from care to sneak: In vain: the black dog follows you, and hangs Close on your flying skirts with hungry fangs.
H. Where's there a stone?
D. Who wants it?
H. Or a pike?
D. Mere raving this, or verse-making belike.
H. Unless you're off at once, you'll join the eight Who do their digging down at my estate.
UT NASIDIENI.
HORACE. FUNDANIUS.
HORACE.
That rich Nasidienus--let me hear How yesterday you relished his good cheer: For when I tried to get you, I was told You'd been there since the day was six hours old.
F. O, 'twas the finest treat.
H. Inform me, pray, What first was served your hunger to allay.
F. First a Lucanian boar; 'twas captured wild (So the host told us) when the wind was mild; Around it, turnips, lettuce, radishes, By way of whet, with brine and Coan lees. Then, when the board, a maple one, was cleared, A high-girt slave with purple cloth appeared And rubbed and wiped it clean: another boy Removed the scraps, and all that might annoy: "While dark Hydaspes, like an Attic maid Who carries Ceres' basket, grave and staid, Came in with Caecuban, and, close behind, Alcon with Chian, which had ne'er been brined. Then said our host: "If Alban you'd prefer, Maecenas, or Falern, we have them, Sir."
H. What sorry riches! but I fail to glean Who else was present at so rare a scene.