Satires of Horace - Satire 1.6

Tho' of the Lydians, that came o'er
To settle on th'Etrurian shore,
Not one is of more rank than you,
And tho' your sire and grandsire too,
Reckon'd on either parent's side,
Did o'er such mighty hosts preside;
Yet, friend, the manners of the great
In this you do not imitate,
At low-born men to toss the nose,
Like me who from a free'd-man rose,
Because you will not grant that birth,
Tho' mean, can cancel real worth.
This is a truth that you maintain,
That long before the servile reign,
And pow'r of Tullius, many a one,
That merely from themselves begun,
Have both been held of good repute,
And the first honours gain'd to boot:
Whereas Laevinus, tho' the seed
Of great Poplicola, who freed
The Romans from proud Tarquin's sway,
Was not a jot the more in play,
Ev'n with that judge, so well you know,
The mob, who oftentimes bestow
Their honours on a worthless name,
And are the dupes of vulgar fame,
Amazed at titles and a bust —
But how shall we ourselves adjust,
Rais'd from all vulgar thoughts so high?
For granting that the pop'lar cry,
Had rais'd Laevinus to the chair,
Rather than placed new Decius there,
Or granted that the Appian frown,
Had from the senate turn'd me down
As not of parents nobly born:
(And well I had deserv'd his scorn,
While not content in my own dress)
Yet, after all, we must confess,
Glory's gilt chariot drags along
The gen'rous, as the vulgar throng.
What profit, Tullius, wou'd you have
Shou'd you resume your laticlave;
And be a tribune, in that state
The public envy, public hate
Was greater than they could have been
In your reserv'd domestic scene.
For soon as an ambitious sot
Has on his legs black buskins got,
With purple robe upon his back,
Such sounds as these his ear attack —
" Who's that, and who's his father, speak?"
As if a fellow shou'd be weak,
Like Barrus, whose desire and plan,
Is to be held a pretty man:
That he may tempt the ladies fair,
Still to enquire with anxious care,
What face, leg, foot, what teeth, and hair?
So he, that promises and swears
That Rome, and all the world's affairs,
That Italy, the public fanes,
Shall be protected by his pains,
Drives all mankind to be concern'd,
" Who's this, the man that is return'd !
What is his father? was the dame
That bore him of a virtuous fame?
Shall Syrus, you, or Dama's heir,
Or Dionysius' offspring dare,
From the TARPEIAN , men of Rome
Throw down, or unto Cadmus doom?"
My colleague Novius tho' must sit
One step behind me, as is fit,
For he was of my father's class —
" But do you therefore think to pass,
As Paulus or Messala may —
But here your colleague will huzza;
As if three funerals in the street,
Should with two hundred waggons meet,
And horns and trumpets too outvie,
His gift our choice to justify."
Now I return to my own case,
By all still reckon'd in disgrace;
Born of a free'd-man is their scorn,
And I am of a free'd-man born —
And this, Maecenas, now they do,
Because I am a guest with you;
This too some years ago they said,
When me the Roman band obey'd.
The first is diff'rent from the last,
Because the honour that is past,
No man can envy in degree,
As that I am so well with thee,
So cautious to select such friends,
As unambitious worth commends.
I cannot think it merely chance,
That did me to this rank advance;
For it was not a lucky throw,
But Virgil, Varius, long ago;
Those flow'rs of friendship were the cause,
By fairly saying what I was.
When first into your presence led,
Some interrupted words I said;
For stiffled by an aukward shame,
Few words in broken accents came.
I did not at that time aspire,
To be the son of some great sire,
Nor drawn by Satureian steeds,
To traverse thro' my native meads;
But, what indeed I was, report —
You, as your custom is, was short
In what you answered — I retir'd;
And ere the year was quite expir'd,
You call'd me to your gates again,
And bade me rank amongst your train.
Tis a great honour I confess,
That I could have so much address,
With such a person to find grace,
Who picks the best, and spurns the base,
Preferring moral men, and sage,
To those of glorious parentage.
But if my nature has a spice,
Of here and there a little vice,
And otherwise is quite direct;
(As if a critic should detect,
In some fair body certain flaws)
Yet if the crimes against the laws,
Or avarice or dirty ways,
No man can urge to my dispraise;
If with clean hands and conscience clear,
(That I may for myself appear)
I live, and to my friends am dear:
All this was from my father's hand,
Who poor, and with a little land,
Yet cou'd not bear to have me brought
To the low school, that Flavius taught;
Where hulking lads in clumsy gaite,
Bearing their satchel and their slate,
Sprung from tall soldiers, to a day
Went duly with their quarter's pay;
But dar'd to trust his boy of parts
At Rome, to learn those lib'ral arts,
Which every senator, or knight,
Prescribes his children — at the sight
Of all my slaves, and decent gown,
In such a great and populous town,
They might have thought that all this show,
Did from some patrimony flow.
Himself the wariest guard and spy,
Still to my masters had an eye:
In short, he kept me chaste and free,
(Which is fair virtue's first degree)
Both from all guilt, and obloquy.
Nor did he for his own part care
About the blame, that he might bear,
Shou'd I be forc'd to get my bread
As auctioneer, or even be sped
Like him upon the tax to go,
Nor had I murmur'd, were it so.
For this upon the whole you see,
More praise from all to him shou'd be,
And far more gratitude from me.
As long as I've my wits intire,
I can't repent of such a sire.
Wherefore I shall not act like some,
Who did not from good parents come,
And plead the fault was not their own —
Far wide of all such useless moan
Are both my language and my heart;
For could we from our years depart,
And reach the past of life, and choose
Our parents by ambitious views,
Content with mine, I'd not desire
Those, that to higher posts aspire.
For this, by all the revel rout,
I shou'd be deem'd as mad, no doubt;
But you, perhaps, wou'd hold me sane ,
That from a burthen I refrain,
Which I'm unable to sustain.
For in that case, without debate
Things must be had in greater state,
More ceremonies than before,
With two or three companions more,
For fear I shou'd at home remain,
Or go abroad without a train.
Men slaves, with coaches and a stand
Of horses too, I must command.
Now can I go serene and cool,
More pleasant on my bob-tail mule,
E'en to Tarentum, if it suit,
With cloak-bag, and myself to boot.
Yet none alive, in this respect,
Will stingyness to me object;
In such as Tullius, is thy due,
When five slaves only follow you,
A mighty praetor, as you are,
With wine, and necessary jar.
Sage senator, on this account,
Thee, and ten thousand I surmount.
Where'er I will is in my pow'r
To walk, and cheapen greens and flow'r.
The Circus, where they trick and thieve,
And Forum I frequent at eve.
The temples duly I attend,
Then homewards make my journey's end;
And take my supper at my ease,
Of onions, pancakes, or of pease.
Three slaves the supper serve — at hand
Two large mugs, and a tumbler stand
Upon a marble slab, with ew'r
And bowl, and cruet mean and poor.
I go to sleep, without dismay,
That I must rise betimes next day,
And in my rambles stand the shock
Of Marsya's phiz, who tho' a block,
Still signifies with hideous stare,
That he cannot young Novius bear.
To the fourth hour I lay me down,
Then take a walk about the town;
Or my still privacy delight
By reading, or by what I write.
Then I take oil — but better chuse,
Then Natta robs the lamps to use.
But when the sun with fiercer beam
Warns me to seek the cooling stream,
I foil the dog-star's heat, and swim.
Next after dining in such wise,
As with an appetite to rise;
I lounge at home — such are the days
Of men, whom no ambition sways.
With these few comforts I console
Myself, more happy on the whole,
Than if my sire and grandsire both,
Had fairly took the Questor's oath.
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