human
Ho! shads to sell! Pierian MAIDS, begin;--but, quit your lyres, 45 The fact I bring no lofty chord requires: Relate it, then, and in the simplest strain, Nor let the poet style you MAIDS, in vain. When the last Flavius, drunk with fury, tore The prostrate world, which bled at every pore, 50 And Rome beheld, in body as in mind, A bald-pate Nero rise, to curse mankind; It chanced, that where the fane of Venus stands, Reared on Ancona's coast by Grecian hands, A turbot, wandering from the Illyrian main, 55 Fill'd the wide bosom of the bursting seine. Monsters so bulky, from its frozen stream, Mæotis renders to the solar beam, And pours them, fat with a whole winter's ease, Through the bleak Euxine, into warmer seas. 60 The mighty draught the astonished boatman eyes, And to the Pontiff's table dooms his prize: For who would dare to sell it? who to buy? When the coast swarmed with many a practiced spy, Mud-rakers, prompt to swear the fish had fled 65 From Cæsar's ponds, ingrate! where long it fed, And thus recaptured, claimed to be restored To the dominion of its ancient lord! Nay, if Palphurius may our credit gain, Whatever rare or precious swims the main, 70 Is forfeit to the crown, and you may seize The obnoxious dainty, when and where you please. This point allowed, our wary boatman chose To give--what, else, he had not failed to lose. Now were the dogstar's sickly fervors o'er, 75 Earth, pinched with cold, her frozen livery wore; The old began their quartan fits to fear, And wintry blasts deformed the beauteous year, And kept the turbot sweet: yet on he flew, As if the sultry South corruption blew.-- 80 And now the lake, and now the hill he gains, Where Alba, though in ruins, still maintains The Trojan fire, which, but for her, were lost, And worships Vesta, though with less of cost. The wondering crowd, that gathered to survey 85 The enormous fish, and barred the fisher's way, Satiate, at length retires; the gates unfold!-- Murmuring, the excluded senators behold The envied dainty enter:--On the man To great Atrides pressed, and thus began. 90
gpt
This, for a private table far too great, Accept, and sumptuously your Genius treat: Haste to unload your stomach, and devour A turbot, destined to this happy hour. I sought him not;--he marked the toils I set, 95 And rushed, a willing victim, to my net. Was flattery e'er so rank! yet he grows vain, And his crest rises at the fulsome strain. When, to divine, a mortal power we raise, He looks for no hyperboles in praise. 100 But when was joy unmixed? no pot is found, Capacious of the turbot's ample round: In this distress, he calls the chiefs of state, At once the objects of his scorn and hate, In whose pale cheeks distrust and doubt appear, 105 And all a tyrant's friendship breeds of fear. Scarce was the loud Liburnian heard to say,
human
He sits, ere Pegasus was on his way; Yes:--the new bailiff of the affrighted town, (For what were Præfects more?) had snatched his gown, 110 And rushed to council: from the ivory chair, He dealt out justice with no common care; But yielded oft to those licentious times, And where he could not punish, winked at crimes. Then old, facetious Crispus tript along, 115 Of gentle manners, and persuasive tongue: None fitter to advise the lord of all, Had that pernicious pest, whom thus we call, Allowed a friend to soothe his savage mood, And give him counsel, wise at once and good. 120 But who shall dare this liberty to take, When, every word you hazard, life's at stake? Though but of stormy summers, showery springs-- For tyrants' ears, alas! are ticklish things. So did the good old man his tongue restrain; 125 Nor strove to stem the torrent's force in vain. Not one of those, who, by no fears deterred, Spoke the free soul, and truth to life preferred. He temporized--thus fourscore summers fled, Even in that court, securely, o'er his head. 130 Next him, appeared Acilius hurrying on, Of equal age--and followed by his son; Who fell, unjustly fell, in early years, A victim to the tyrant's jealous fears: But long ere this were hoary hairs become 135 A prodigy, among the great, at Rome; Hence, had I rather owe my humble birth, Frail brother of the giant-brood, to earth. Poor youth! in vain the ancient sleight you try; In vain, with frantic air, and ardent eye, 140 Fling every robe aside, and battle wage With bears and lions, on the Alban stage. All see the trick: and, spite of Brutus' skill, There are who count him but a driveler still; Since, in his days, it cost no mighty pains 145 To outwit a prince, with much more beard than brains. Rubrius, though not, like these, of noble race, Followed with equal terror in his face; And, laboring with a crime too foul to name, More, than the pathic satirist, lost to shame. 150 Montanus' belly next, and next appeared The legs, on which that monstrous pile was reared. Crispinus followed, daubed with more perfume, Thus early! than two funerals consume. Then bloodier Pompey, practiced to betray, 155 And hesitate the noblest lives away. Then Fuscus, who in studious pomp at home, Planned future triumphs for the Arms of Rome. Blind to the event! those arms, a different fate, Inglorious wounds, and Dacian vultures, wait. 160 Last, sly Veiento with Catullus came, Deadly Catullus, who, at beauty's name Took fire, although unseen: a wretch, whose crimes Struck with amaze even those prodigious times. A base, blind parasite, a murderous lord, 165 From the bridge-end raised to the council-board; Yet fitter still to dog the traveler's heels, And whine for alms to the descending wheels! None dwelt so largely on the turbot's size, Or raised with such applause his wondering eyes; 170 But to the left (O, treacherous want of sight) He poured his praise;--the fish was on the right! Thus would he at the fencer's matches sit, And shout with rapture, at some fancied hit; And thus applaud the stage-machinery, where 175 The youths were rapt aloft, and lost in air. Nor fell Veiento short:--as if possest With all Bellona's rage, his laboring breast Burst forth in prophecy;
gpt
I see, I see The omens of some glorious victory! 180 Some powerful monarch captured!--lo, he rears, Horrent on every side, his pointed spears! Arviragus hurled from the British car: The fish is foreign, foreign is the war. Proceed, great seer, and what remains untold, 185 The turbot's age and country, next unfold; So shall your lord his fortunes better know, And where the conquest waits and who the foe. The emperor now the important question put,
human
How say ye, Fathers, SHALL THE FISH BE CUT? 190
gpt
O, far be that disgrace, Montanus cries;
human
No, let a pot be formed, of amplest size, Within whose slender sides the fish, dread sire, May spread his vast circumference entire! Bring, bring the tempered clay, and let it feel 195 The quick gyrations of the plastic wheel:-- But, Cæsar, thus forewarned, make no campaign, Unless your potters follow in your train!