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but sees good suns, of which we are to give a strict account, set and march thick away ; knows a man how to live, and does he stay?
MARTIAL, LIB. II.
Vota tui breviter, &c. Well, then, sir, you shall know how far extend the pray’rs and hopes of your poetic friend; he does not palaces nor manors crave, would be no lord, but less a lord would have: the ground he holds, if he his can can call, he quarrels not with Heaven because 't is small
: let gay and tvilsome greatness others please, he loves of homely littleness the ease: can any man in gilded rooms attend, and his dear hours in humble visits spend, when in the fresh and beauteous fields he
may with various healthful pleasures fill the day? if there be man, ye gods! I ought to hate, dependence and attendance be his fate ; still let him busy be, and in a crowd, and very much a slave, and very proud : thus he, perhaps, pow'rful and rich may grow; no matter, Oye Gods ! that I'll allow; but let him peace and freedom never see ; let him not love this life who loves not me.
MARTIAL, LIB. II.
Vis fieri liber ? &c, Would
be free ? 'T is your chief wish, you say : come on; I'll shew thee, friend! the certain way. If to no feasts abroad thou lov'st to go, whilst bounteous God does bread at home bestow; if thou the goodness of thy clothes dost prize, by thine own use, and not by others' eyes ;
if, only safe from weathers, thou canst dwell in a small house, but a convenient shell; if thou, without a sigh, or golden wish, canst look upon thy beachen bowl and dish; it in thy mind such pow'r and greatness be, the Persian king's a slave compar'd with thee.
MARTIAL, LIB. V. EP. LIX, Tomorrow you will live, you always cry; in what far country does this morrow lie, that 't is so mighty long e'er it arrive? beyond the Indies does this morrow live ? It is so far-fetch'd this morrow, that I fear 't will be both very old and very dear. To-morrow I will live, the fool does say ; to-day itself's too late ; the wise liv'd yesterday.
MARTIAL, LIB. X. EP. XLVII.
Vitam quæ faciunt beatiorum, &c. Since, dearest friend ! 'tis your desire to see a true receipt of happiness from me, these are the chief ingredients, if not all; Take an estate neither too great nor small, which quantum sufficit the doctors call; Jet this estate from parents' care descend; the getting it too much of life does spend. Take such a ground whose gratitude may be a fair encouragement for industry: Tèt constant fires the winter's fury tame, and let thy kitchens be a vestal Name: thee to the town let never suit at law, and rarely, very rarely, bus’ness draw: thy active mind in equal temper keep,
in undisturbed peace, yet not in sleep: let exercise a vigorous health maintain, without which all the composition's vain. In the same weight prudence and innocence take; ana of each does the just mixture make: but a few friendships wear, and let them be by Nature and by Fortune fit for thee: instead of art and luxury in food, let mirth and freedom make thy table good: if any cares into thy day-time creep, at night, without wine's opium, let them sleep: Jet rest, which' Nature does to Darkness wed, and not lust, recommend to thee thy bed. Be satisfy'd and pleas'd with what thou art; act cheerfully and well th' allotted part: enjoy the present hour, be thankful for the past, and neither fear nor wish th' approaches of the last.
Beatus ille qui procul, &c. Happy the man whom bounteous gods allow with his own hands paternal grounds to plough! like the first golden mortals, happy be, from bus'ness and the cares of money
free! no human storms beak off at land his sleep, no loud alarms of Nature on the deep; from all the cheats of law he lives secure, nor does th' affronts of palaces endure. Sometimes the beauteous marriageable Vine he to the lusty bridegroom Elm does join; sometimes he lops the barren trees around, and grafts new life into the fruitful wound; sometimes he shears his flock, and sometimes he
stores up the golden treasures of the bee: he sees his lowing herds walk o'er the plain, whilst neighb’ring hills low back to them again; and when the season rich, as well as gay, all her autumnal bounty does display, how is he pleasd th' increasing use to see of his well trusted labours bend the tree? of which large shares, on the glad sacred days, to gives to friends, and to the gods repays: with how much joy does he beneath some shade, by aged trees' rev'rend embraces made, his careless head on the fresh green recline, his head, uncharg'd with fear or with design? by him a river constantly coinplains, the birds above rejoice with various strains, and in the solemn scene their orgies keep, like dreams mix'd with the gravity of sleep; Sleep, which does always there for entrance wait and nought within against it shuts the gate. This is the life from all misfortunes free, from thee the great one, tyrant Love! from thee; and if a chaste and clean, through homely wife, be added to the blessings of this life, such as the ancient sunburnt Sabines were, such as Apulia, frugal still, does bear, who makes her children and the house her care, and joyfully the work of life does share, nor thinks herself too noble, or too fine, to pin the sheepfold, or to milk the kine, who waits at door against ber husband come, from rural duties, late, and weary'd home, where she receives him with a kind embrace, a cheerful fire, and a more cheerful face, and fills the bowl up to her homely lord,
and with domestic plenty loads the board;
THE COUNTRY LIFE. Bless'd be the man (and bless'd he is) whom e'er (plac'd far out of the roads of hope or fear) a little field and little garden feeds; the field gives all that frugal Nature needs; the wealthy garden lib'rally bestows all she can ask, when she luxurious grows. The specious inconveniencies that wait upon a life of bus’ness and of state, he sees (nor does the sight disturb his res') by fools desir’d, by wicked men possess'd; thus, thus (and this deserv'd great Virgil's praise) the old Corycian yeomen pass'd his days: thus his wise life Abdolonymus spent : th' ambassadors, which the great emp’ror sent to offer him a crown, with wonder found the rev'rend gard'ner boeing of his ground: unwillingly, and slow, and discontent, from his lov'd cottage to a throne he went; and oft he stopp'd in his triumphant way, and ofl'look'd back, and oft' was heard to say, not without sighs, Alas! I there forsake a happier kingdom than I go to take. Thus Aglaüs (a man unknown to men, but the gods knew, and therefore lov'd him then