Who piles the hearth with logs well dried and old Against the coming of her wearied lord,

And, when at eve the cattle seek the fold,

Drains their full udders of the milky hoard;

And bringing forth from her well-tended store
A jar of wine, the vintage of the year,
Spreads an unpurchased feast, — oh then, not more
Could choicest Lucrine oysters give me cheer,

Or the rich turbot, or the dainty char,
If ever to our bays the winter's blast
Should drive them in its fury from afar;
Nor were to me a welcomer repast

The Afric hen or the Ionic snipe,

Than olives newly gathered from the tree, That hangs abroad its clusters rich and ripe, Or sorrel, that doth love the pleasant lea,

Or mallows wholesome for the body's need,
Or lamb foredoomed upon some festal day

In offering to the guardian gods to bleed,

Or kidling which the wolf hath marked for prey.

What joy, amidst such feasts, to see the sheep, Full of the pasture, hurrying homewards come; To see the wearied oxen, as they creep,

Dragging the upturned plowshare slowly home!

Or, ranged around the bright and blazing hearth, To see the hinds, a house's surest wealth, Beguile the evening with their simple mirth, And all the cheerfulness of rosy health!

Thus spake the miser Alphius; and, bent
Upon a country life, called in amain

The money he at usury had lent;

But ere the month was out, 'twas lent again.

Book III., ODE 29.

To Maecenas.

TRANSLATED BY TALLMADGE A. LAMBERT.

O thou, Mæcenas, who canst trace
Descent from 'Truria's royal race,
My humble store I pray thee grace
Of unbroached wine,

And at my board resume the place
Forever thine!

Make no delay, but once again
Forsake wet Tibur's moistened plain,
And Æsula, whose fields attain
The hill's steep side,

And Telegon, red with the stain
Of parricide.

Thy cloying wealth and honors proud,
Thy palace rearing to the cloud,

And all the sycophantic crowd,
Leave for a time;

Avoid the din, the smoky shroud
Of Rome sublime.

The wealthy ofttimes welcome change; And oft the farmer's humble grange, Where cleanliness and health arrange The plain repast,

Restores the brow which cares derange And overcast.

Bright Cepheus rises in the sky,
And Procyon fiercely burns on high,

While Leo's star, of lurid dye,
Portends the drouth,

And glowing Phoebus, drawing nigh,
Deserts the south.

The shepherd, now, and panting sheep
Close to the thicket's shading keep,
And in the cooling streamlet steep

Their languid limbs;

The sluggish waters onward creep
Uncurled by winds.

That through the storm my ship hold fast Its precious freight.

Not mine to strive, with bargaining vows, The heavenly deities to rouse,

Lest my rich Cyprian, Tyrian prows

Sink on the deep;

For griefless poverty allows

Unbroken sleep.

The Twins my trusting course shall guide

As o'er the fickle waves I glide,

Assisted by the winds and tide,
In my swift bark;

And every storm I'll safely ride,
A scathless mark!

Book III., ODE 28.

Neptune and the Sea Goddesses.

How shall I honor Neptune best
On his holiday? Lyde mine,

Bring the hoarded Cæcuban out with zest,
Break Wisdom's guarded line.

You feel the noontide sun decline,

Yet as if the fleet day stood still,
You leave the lingering cask of wine
With Consul Bibulus' vintage sign,
Asleep in the cellar's chill.

We will sing by turns of the ocean sire
And the Nereids' tresses green;

You first recite to the arching lyre
Latona's love, and the arrows dire
Of Cynthia, fleet-foot queen;
The carol done, of her be the tale
Whom Cnidus' charms can please,
Who swan-borne visits her Paphian vale
And the sun-bright Cyclades;

And the song of Night in a minor wail
Shall fitly follow these.

HORACE ON CHARITABLE JUDGMENTS.

(From the "Satires," I. 3.)

TRANSLATED BY SIR THEODORE MARTIN.

TRUE love, we know, is blind: defects that blight
The loved one's charms escape the lover's sight,-
Nay, pass for beauties; as Balbinus shows
A passion for the wen on Agna's nose.
Oh, with our friendships that we did the same,
And screened our blindness under virtue's name!
For we are bound to treat a friend's defect
With touch most tender, and a fond respect:
Even as a father treats a child's, who hints
The urchin's eyes are roguish, if he squints:
Or if he be as stunted, short, and thick
As Sisyphus the dwarf, will call him "chick!"
If crooked all ways, in back, in legs, and thighs,
With softening phrases will the flaw disguise.
So, if one friend too close a fist betrays,
Let us ascribe it to his frugal ways;

Or is another such we often find

To flippant jest and braggart talk inclined,

"Tis only from a kindly wish to try

To make the time 'mongst friends go lightly by;
Another's tongue is rough and overfree,

Let's call it bluntness and sincerity;

Another's choleric-him we must screen,

As cursed with feelings for his peace too keen. This is the course, methinks, that makes a friend,

And having made, secures him to the end.