As some the farther off; this loves the dark;
This fearing not the subtlest judge's mark,
Will in the light be view'd: this once the sight
Doth please, this ten times over will delight.
You, sir, the elder brother, though you are
Informed rightly, by your father's care,
And of yourself too understand; yet mind
This saying to some things there is assign'd
A mean, and toleration, which does well:
There may a lawyer be, may not excel;
Or pleader at the bar, that may come short
Of eloquent Messala's power in court,
Or knows not what Cacellius Aulus can;
Yet there's a value given to this man.
But neither men, nor gods, nor pillars meant,
Poets should ever be indifferent.
As jarring music doth at jolly feasts,
Or thick gross ointment but offend the guests: poppy, and Sardan honey; 'cause without These, the free meal might have been well drawn
So any poem, fancied, or forth-brought
To bett'ring of the mind of man, in aught,
If ne'er so little it depart the first
And highest, sinketh to the lowest and worst.
He that not knows the games, nor how to use
His arms in Mars his field, he doth refuse;
Or who's unskilful at the coit, or ball,
Or trundling wheel, he can sit still from all; Lest the throng'd heaps should on a laughter take:
Yet who's most ignorant, dares verses make. Why not? I'm gentle, and free born, do hate Vice, and am known to have a knight's estate. Thou, such thy judgment is, thy knowledge too, Wilt nothing against nature speak or do;
Id tibi judicium est, ea mens, si quid tamen olim
Scripseris, in Meti descendat judicis aures,
Et patris, et nostras, nonumque prematur in annum.
Membranis intus positis delere licebit,
Quod non edideris. Nescit vox missa reverti. Naturâ fieret laudabile carmen, an arte, Quæsitum est: ego nec studium sine divite vena, Nec rude quid prosit video ingenium; alterius sic Altera poscit opem res, et conjurat amicè.
Qui studet optatam cursu contingere metam, Multa tulit fecitque puer: sudavit, et alsit, Abstinuit Venere, et vino: qui Pythica cantat Tibicen, didicit priùs, extimuitque magistrum. Nunc satis est dixisse, Ego mira poëmata pango: Occupet extremum scabies, mihi turpe relinqui est, Et quod non didici, sanè nescire fateri.
Ut praco ad merces turbam qui cogit emendas,
Adsentatores jubet ad lucrum ire poëta
Dives agris, dives positis in fœnore nummis.
Si verò est, unctum qui rectè ponere possit,
Et spondere levi pro paupere, et eripere atris
Litibus implicitum; mirabor, si sciet inter-
noscere mendacem verumque beatus amicum.
Tu seu donaris, seu quid donare voles cui,
But if hereafter thou shalt write, not fear
To send it to be judg'd by Metius' ear,
And to your father's, and to mine, though't be
Nine years kept in, your papers by, yo' are free
To change and mend, what you not forth do set.
The writ, once out, never returned yet.
'Tis now inquir'd which makes the nobler
Nature, or art. My judgment will not pierce
Into the profits, what a mere rude brain
Can; nor all toil, without a wealthy vein:
So doth the one the other's help require,
And friendly should unto one end conspire.
He that's ambitious in the race to touch
The wished goal, both did, and suffer'd much
While he was young; he sweat, and freez'd
again,
And both from wine and women did abstain.
Who since to sing the Pythian rites is heard,
Did learn them first, and once a master fear'd.
But now it is enough to say, I make
An admirable verse. The great scurf take
Him that is last, I scorn to come behind,
Or of the things that ne'er came in my mind
To say, I'm ignorant. Just as a crier
That to the sale of wares calls every buyer;
So doth the poet, who is rich in land,
Or great in moneys out at use, command
His flatterers to their gain. But say, he can
Make a great supper, or for some poor man
Will be a surety, or can help him out
Of an entangling suit, and bring't about:
I wonder how this happy man should know,
Whether his soothing friend speak truth or no.
But you, my Piso, carefully beware
(Whether yo'are given to, or giver are)
Nolito ad versus tibi factos ducere plenum
Lætitia: clamabit enim, Pulchrè, benè, rectè.
Pallescit super his: etiam stillabit amicis
Ex oculis rorem, saliet, tundet pede terram.
Ut qui conducti plorant in funere, dicunt,
Et faciunt propè plura dolentibus ex animo: sic
Derisor vero plus laudatore movetur.
Reges dicuntur multis urgere culullis,
Et torquere mero, quem perspexisse laborent,
An sit amicitiâ dignus: si carmina condes,
Nunquam te fallant animi sub vulpe latentes.
Quintilio, si quid recitares, corrige, sodes,
Hoc, aiebat, et hoc: meliùs te posse negares,
Bis, terque expertum frustra; delere jubebat,
Et malè tornatos incudi reddere versus,
Si defendere delictum, quàm vertere malles,
Nullum ultra verbum, aut operam sumebat inanem,
Quin sine rivali teque et tua solus amares.
Vir bonus et prudens. versus reprehendit inertes, Culpabit duros, incomptis allinet atrum Transverso calamo signum, ambitiosa recidet Ornamenta, parum claris lucem dare coget : Arguet ambiguè dictum, mutanda notabit: Fiet Aristarchus, nec dicet, Cur ego amicum
You do not bring to judge your verses, one, With joy of what is given him, over-gone: For he'll cry, Good, brave, better, excellent! Look pale, distil a shower (was never meant) Out at his friendly eyes, leap, beat the groun', As those that hir'd to weep at funerals swoon, Cry, and do more to the true mourners: so The scoffer the true praiser doth out-go.
Rich men are said with many cups to ply, And rack with wine the man whom they would try,
If of their friendship he be worthy or no
When you write verses, with your judge do so: Look through him, and be sure you take not mocks
For praises, where the mind conceals a fox.
If to Quintilius you recited aught,
He'd say, Mend this, good friend, and this; 'tis naught.
If you denied you had no better strain,
And twice or thrice had 'ssay'd it, still in vain :
He'd bid blot all, and to the anvil bring
Those ill-torn'd verses to new hammering.
Then if your fault you rather had defend
Than change; no word or work more would he
spend
In vain, but you and yours you should love still
Alone, without a rival, by his will.
A wise and honest man will cry out shame On artless verse; the hard ones he will blame, Blot out the careless with his turned pen; Cut off superfluous ornaments, and when They're dark, bid clear this: all that's doubtful
Reprove, and what is to be changed note;
Become an Aristarchus. And not say
Why should I grieve my friend this trifling way?
K
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