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Sweep the dry cobwebs down! the master cries, Whips in his hand, and fury in his eyes, 90
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Let not a spot the clouded columns stain; Scour you the figured silver; you, the plain! O inconsistent wretch! is all this coil, Lest the front hall, or gallery, daubed with soil (Which, yet, a little sand removes), offend 95 The prying eye of some indifferent friend? And do you stir not, that your son may see The house from moral filth, from vices free! True, you have given a citizen to Rome; And she shall thank you, if the youth become, 100 By your o'er-ruling care, or soon or late, A useful member of the parent state: For all depends on you; the stamp he'll take, From the strong impress which, at first, you make; And prove, as vice or virtue was your aim, 105 His country's glory, or his country's shame. The stork, with snakes and lizards from the wood And pathless wild, supports her callow brood; And the fledged storklings, when to wing they take, Seek the same reptiles, through the devious brake. 110 The vulture snuffs from far the tainted gale, And, hurrying where the putrid scents exhale, From gibbets and from graves the carcass tears, And to her young the loathsome dainty bears; Her young, grown vigorous, hasten from the nest, 115 And gorge on carrion, with the parent's zest. While Jove's own eagle, bird of noble blood, Scours the wide champaign for untainted food, Bears the swift hare, or swifter fawn away, And feeds her nestlings with the generous prey; 120 Her nestlings hence, when from the rock they spring, And, pinched by hunger, to the quarry wing, Stoop only to the game they tasted first, When, clamorous, from the shell, to light they burst. Centronius planned and built, and built and planned; 125 And now along Cajeta's winding strand, And now amid Præneste's hills, and now On lofty Tibur's solitary brow, He reared prodigious piles, with marble brought From distant realms, and exquisitely wrought: 130 Prodigious piles! that towered o'er Fortune's shrine, As those of gelt Posides, Jove, o'er thine! While thus Centronius crowded seat on seat, He spent his cash, and mortgaged his estate; Yet left enough his family to content: 135 Which his mad son, to the last farthing, spent, While, building on, he strove, with fond desire, To shame the stately structures of his sire! Sprung from a father who the sabbath fears, There is, who naught but clouds and skies reveres; 140 And shuns the taste, by old tradition led, Of human flesh, and swine's, with equal dread:-- This first: the prepuce next he lays aside, And, taught the Roman ritual to deride, Clings to the Jewish, and observes with awe 145 All Moses bade in his mysterious law: And, therefore, to the circumcised alone Will point the road, or make the fountain known; Warned by his bigot sire, who whiled away, Sacred to sloth, each seventh revolving day. 150 But youth, so prone to follow other ills, Are driven to AVARICE, against their wills; For this grave vice, assuming Virtue's guise, Seems Virtue's self, to undiscerning eyes. The miser, hence, a frugal man, they name; 155 And hence, they follow, with their whole acclaim, The griping wretch, who strictlier guards his store, Than if the Hesperian dragon kept the door.-- Add that the vulgar, still a slave to gold, The worthy, in the wealthy, man behold; 160 And, reasoning from the fortune he has made, Hail him, A perfect master of his trade! And true, indeed, it is--such MASTERS raise Immense estates; no matter, by what ways; But raise they do, with brows in sweat still dyed, 165 With forge still glowing, and with sledge still plied. The father, by the love of wealth possest, Convinced--the covetous alone are blest, And that, nor past, nor present times, e'er knew A poor man happy--bids his son pursue 170 The paths they take, the courses they affect, And follow, at the heels, this thriving sect. Vice boasts its elements, like other arts; These, he inculcates first: anon, imparts The petty tricks of saving; last, inspires, 175 Of endless wealth, the insatiable desires.-- Hungry himself, his hungry slaves he cheats, With scanty measures, and unfaithful weights; And sees them lessen, with increasing dread, The flinty fragments of his vinewed bread. 180 In dog-days, when the sun, with fervent power, Corrupts the freshest meat from hour to hour, He saves the last night's hash, sets by a dish Of sodden beans, and scraps of summer fish, And half a stinking shad, and a few strings 185 Of a chopped leek--all told, like sacred things, And sealed with caution, though the sight and smell Would a starved beggar from the board repel. But why this dire avidity of gain? This mass collected with such toil and pain? 190 Since 'tis the veriest madness, to live poor, And die with bags and coffers running o'er. Besides, while thus the streams of affluence roll, They nurse the eternal dropsy of the soul, For thirst of wealth still grows with wealth increast, 195 And they desire it less, who have it least.-- Now swell his wants: one manor is too small, Another must be bought, house, lands, and all; Still
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he spurns the narrow bounds, And turns an eye on every neighbor's grounds: 200 There all allures; his crops appear a foil To the rich produce of their happier soil.
gpt
And this, I'll purchase, with the grove, he cries,
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And that fair hill, where the gray olives rise. Then, if the owner to no price will yield 205 (Resolved to keep the hereditary field), Whole droves of oxen, starved to this intent, Among his springing corn, by night, are sent, To revel there, till not a blade be seen, And all appear like a close-shaven green. 210
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Monstrous! you say--And yet, 'twere hard to tell, What numbers, tricks like these have forced to sell. But, sure, the general voice has marked his name, And given him up to infamy and shame:--
human
And what of that? he cries.
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I valued more 215 A single lupine, added to my store, Than all the country's praise; if cursed by fate With the scant produce of a small estate. -- 'Tis well! no more shall age or grief annoy, But nights of peace succeed to days of joy, 220 If more of ground to you alone pertain, Than Rome possessed, in Numa's pious reign! Since then, the veteran, whose brave breast was gored, By the fierce Pyrrhic, or Molossian sword, Hardly received for all his service past, 225 And all his wounds, TWO ACRES at the last; The meed of toil and blood! yet never thought His country thankless, or his pains ill bought. For then, this little glebe, improved with care, Largely supplied, with vegetable fare, 230 The good old man, the wife in childbed laid, And four hale boys, that round the cottage played, Three free-born, one a slave: while, on the board, Huge porringers, with wholesome pottage stored, Smoked for their elder brothers, who were now, 235 Hungry and tired, expected from the plow.-- TWO ACRES will not now, so changed the times, Afford a garden plot:--and hence our crimes! For not a vice that taints the human soul, More frequent points the sword, or drugs the bowl, 240 Than the dire lust of an
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-- Since, he who covets wealth, disdains to wait: Law threatens, Conscience calls--yet on he hies, And this he silences, and that defies, Fear, Shame--he bears down all, and, with loose rein, 245 Sweeps headlong o'er the alluring paths of gain!
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Let us, my sons, contented with our lot, Enjoy, in peace, our hillock and our cot (The good old Marsian to his children said),
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And from our labor seek our daily bread. 250 So shall we please the rural Powers, whose care, And kindly aid, first taught us to prepare The golden grain, what time we ranged the wood, A savage race, for acorns, savage food! The poor who, with inverted skins, defy 255 The lowering tempest and the freezing sky, Who, without shame, without reluctance go, In clouted brogues, through mire and drifted snow, Ne'er think of ill: 'tis purple, boys, alone, Which leads to guilt--purple, to us unknown. 260 Thus, to their children, spoke the sires of yore. Now, autumn's sickly heats are scarcely o'er, Ere, while deep midnight yet involves the skies, The impatient father shakes his son, and cries,
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What, ho, boy, wake! Up; pleas, rejoinders draw, 265 Turn o'er the rubric of our ancient law; Up, up, and study: or, with brief in hand, Petition Lælius for a small command, A captain's!--Lælius loves a spreading chest, Broad shoulders, tangled locks, and hairy breast: 270 The British towers, the Moorish tents destroy, And the rich Eagle, at threescore, enjoy!
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But if the trump, prelusive to the fight, And the long labors of the camp affright, Go, look for merchandise of readiest vent, 275 Which yields a sure return of cent. per cent. Buy this, no matter what; the ware is good, Though not allowed on this side Tiber's flood: Hides, unguents, mark me, boy, are equal things, And gain smells sweet, from whatsoe'er it springs. 280 This golden sentence, which the Powers of heaven, Which Jove himself, might glory to have given, Will never, never, from your thoughts, I trust-- NONE QUESTION WHENCE IT COMES; BUT COME IT MUST. This, when the lisping race a farthing ask, 285 Old women set them, as a previous task; The wondrous apophthegm all run to get, And learn it sooner than their alphabet. But why this haste? Without your care, vain fool! The pupil will, ere long, the tutor school: 290 Sleep, then, in peace; secure to be outdone, Like Telamon, or Peleus, by your son. O, yet indulge awhile his tender years: The seeds of vice, sown by your fostering cares, Have scarce ta'en root; but they will spring at length, 295
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Grow with his growth, and strengthen with his strength. Then, when the firstlings of his youth are paid, And his rough chin requires the razor's aid, Then he will swear, then to the altar come, And sell deep perjuries for a paltry sum!-- 300 Believe your step-daughter already dead, If, with an ample dower, she mount his bed: Lo! scarcely laid, his murderous fingers creep, And close her eyes in everlasting sleep. For that vast wealth which, with long years of pain, 305 You thought would be acquired by land and main, He gets a readier way: the skill's not great, The toil not much, to make a knave complete. But you will say hereafter,
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I am free: He never learned those practices of me. 310 Yes, all of you:--for he who, madly blind, Imbues with avarice his children's mind, Fires with the thirst of riches, and applauds The attempt, to double their estate by frauds, Unconscious, flings the headlong wheels the rein, 315 Which he may wish to stop, but wish in vain; Deaf to his voice, with growing speed they roll, Smoke down the steep, and spurn the distant goal! None sin by rule; none heed the charge precise, THUS, AND NO FARTHER, MAY YE STEP IN VICE; 320 But leap the bounds prescribed, and, with free pace, Scour far and wide the interdicted space. So, when you tell the youth, that FOOLS alone Regard a friend's distresses as their own; You bid the willing hearer riches raise, 325 By fraud, by rapine, by the worst of ways; Riches, whose love is on your soul imprest, Deep as their country's on the Decii's breast; Or Thebes on his, who sought an early grave (If Greece say true), her sacred walls to save. 330 Thebes, where, impregned with serpents' teeth, the earth Poured forth a marshaled host, prodigious birth! Horrent with arms, that fought with headlong rage, Nor asked the trumpet's signal, to engage.-- But mark the end! the fire, derived, at first, 335 From a small sparkle, by your folly nurst, Blown to a flame, on all around it preys, And wraps you in the universal blaze. So the young lion rent, with hideous roar, His keeper's trembling limbs, and drank his gore. 340
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Tush! I am safe, you cry;
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Chaldæan seers Have raised my Scheme, and promised length of years. But has your son subscribed? will he await The lingering distaff of decrepit Fate? No; his impatience will the work confound, 345 And snap the vital thread, ere half unwound. Even now your long and stag-like age annoys His future hopes, and palls his present joys. Fly then, and bid Archigenes prepare An antidote, if life be worth your care; 350 If you would see another autumn close, And pluck another fig, another rose:-- Take mithridate, rash man, before your meat, A FATHER, you? and without medicine eat! Come, my Fuscinus, come with me, and view 355 A scene more comic than the stage e'er knew. Lo! with what toil, what danger, wealth is sought, And to the fane of watchful Castor brought; Since MARS THE AVENGER slumbered, to his cost, And, with his helmet, all his credit lost! 360 Quit then the plays! the FARCE OF LIFE supplies A scene more comic in the sage's eyes. For who amuses most?--the man who springs, Light, through the hoop, and on the tight-rope swings; Or he, who, to a fragile bark confined, 365 Dwells on the deep, the sport of wave and wind? Fool-hardy wretch! scrambling for every bale Of stinking merchandise, exposed to sale; And proud to Crete, for ropy wine, to rove, And jars, the fellow-citizens of Jove! 370 THAT skips along the rope, with wavering tread, Dangerous dexterity, which brings him bread; THIS ventures life, for wealth too vast to spend, Farm joined to farm, and villas without end! Lo! every harbor thronged and every bay, 375 And half mankind upon the watery way! For, where he hears the attractive voice of gain, The merchant hurries, and defies the main.-- Nor will he only range the Libyan shore, But, passing Calpé, other worlds explore; 380 See Phœbus, sinking in the Atlantic, lave His fiery car, and hear the hissing wave. And all for what? O glorious end! to come, His toils o'erpast, with purse replenished, home, And, with a traveler's privilege, vent his boasts, 385 Of unknown monsters seen on unknown coasts. What varying forms in madness may we trace!-- Safe in his loved Electra's fond embrace, Orestes sees the avenging Furies rise, And flash their bloody torches in his eyes; 390 While Ajax strikes an ox, and, at the blow, Hears Agamemnon or Ulysses low: And surely he (though, haply, he forbear, Like these, his keeper and his clothes to tear) Is just as mad, who to the water's brim 395 Loads his frail bark--a plank 'twixt death and him! When all this risk is but to swell his store With a few coins, a few gold pieces more. Heaven lowers, and frequent, through the muttering air, The nimble lightning glares, or seems to glare: 400
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Weigh! weigh! the impatient man of traffic cries,
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These gathering clouds, this rack that dims the skies, Are but the pageants of a sultry day; A thunder shower, that frowns, and melts away. Deluded wretch! dashed on some dangerous coast, 405 This night, this hour, perhaps, his bark is lost; While he still strives, though whelmed beneath the wave, His darling purse with teeth or hand to save. Thus he, who sighed, of late, for all the gold Down the bright Tagus and Pactolus rolled, 410 Now bounds his wishes to one poor request, A scanty morsel and a tattered vest; And shows, where tears, where supplications fail, A daubing of his melancholy tale! Wealth, by such dangers earned, such anxious pain, 415 Requires more care to keep it, than to gain: Whate'er my miseries, make me not, kind Fate, The sleepless Argus of a vast estate! The slaves of Licinus, a numerous band, Watch through the night, with buckets in their hand, 420 While their rich master trembling lies, afraid Lest fire his ivory, amber, gold, invade, The naked Cynic mocks such restless cares, His earthen tub no conflagration fears; If cracked, to-morrow he procures a new, 425 Or, coarsely soldering, makes the old one do. Even Philip's son, when, in his little cell Content, he saw the mighty master dwell, Owned, with a sigh, that he, who naught desired, Was happier far, than he who worlds required, 430 And whose ambition certain dangers brought, Vast, and unbounded, as the object sought.-- Fortune, advanced to heaven by fools alone, Would lose, were wisdom ours, her shadowy throne.
gpt
What call I, then, ENOUGH?