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Yet none from earthen bowls destruction sip: Dread then the draught, when, mantling, at your lip, 40 The goblet sparkles, radiant from the mine, And the broad gold inflames the ruby wine. And do we, now, admire the stories told Of the two Sages, so renowned of old; How this forever laughed, whene'er he stepp'd 45 Beyond the threshold; that, forever wept? But all can laugh:--the wonder yet appears, What fount supplied the eternal stream of tears! Democritus, at every step he took, His sides with unextinguished laughter shook, 50 Though, in his days, Abdera's simple towns No fasces knew, chairs, litters, purple gowns.-- What! had he seen, in his triumphal car, Amid the dusty Cirque, conspicuous far, The Prætor perched aloft, superbly dress'd 55 In Jove's proud tunic, with a trailing vest Of Tyrian tapestry, and o'er him spread A crown, too bulky for a mortal head, Borne by a sweating slave, maintained to ride In the same car, and mortify his pride! 60 Add now the bird, that, with expanded wing, From the raised sceptre seems prepared to spring; And trumpets here; and there the long parade Of duteous friends, who head the cavalcade; Add, too, the zeal of clients robed in white, } 65 Who hang upon his reins, and grace the sight, } Unbribed, unbought--save by the dole, at night! } Yes, in those days, in every varied scene, The good old man found matter for his spleen: A wondrous sage! whose story makes it clear 70 That men may rise in folly's atmosphere, Beneath Bœotian fogs, of soul sublime, And great examples to the coming time.-- He laughed aloud to see the vulgar fears, Laughed at their joys, and sometimes at their tears: 75 Secure the while, he mocked at Fortune's frown, And when she threatened, bade her hang or drown! Superfluous then, or fatal, is the prayer, Which, to the Immortals' knees, we fondly bear. Some, POWER hurls headlong from her envied height, 80 Some, the broad tablet, flashing on the sight, With titles, names: the statues, tumbled down, Are dragged by hooting thousands through the town; The brazen cars torn rudely from the yoke, And, with the blameless steeds, to shivers broke-- 85 Then roar the flames! the sooty artist blows, And all Sejanus in the furnace glows; Sejanus, once so honored, so adored, And only second to the world's great lord, Runs glittering from the mould, in cups and cans, 90 Basins and ewers, plates, pitchers, pots, and pans.
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Crown all your doors with bay, triumphant bay! Sacred to Jove, the milk-white victim slay, For lo! where great Sejanus by the throng, A joyful spectacle! is dragged along. 95 What lips! what cheeks! ha, traitor!--for my part, I never loved the fellow--in my heart.
human
But tell me; Why was he adjudged to bleed? And who discovered? and who proved the deed?
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Proved!--a huge, wordy letter came to-day 100 From Capreæ. Good! what think the people? They! They follow fortune, as of old, and hate, With their whole souls, the victim of the state. Yet would the herd, thus zealous, thus on fire, Had Nurscia met the Tuscan's fond desire, 105 And crushed the unwary prince, have all combined, And hailed Sejanus, MASTER OF MANKIND! For since their votes have been no longer bought, All public care has vanished from their thought; And those who once, with unresisted sway, 110 Gave armies, empire, every thing, away, For two poor claims have long renounced the whole, And only ask--the Circus and the Dole.
human
But there are more to suffer.
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So I find; A fire so fierce for one was ne'er designed. 115 I met my friend Brutidius, and I fear, From his pale looks, he thinks there's danger near. What if this Ajax, in his phrensy, strike, Suspicious of our zeal, at all alike!
human
True: fly we then, our loyalty to show; 120 And trample on the carcass of his foe, While yet exposed on Tiber's banks it lies --
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But let our slaves be there, another cries:
human
Yes; let them (lest our ardor they forswear, And drag us, pinioned, to the Bar) be there. 125 Thus of the favorite's fall the converse ran, And thus the whisper passed from man to man. Lured by the splendor of his happier hour, Would'st thou possess Sejanus' wealth and power; See crowds of suppliants at thy levee wait, 130 Give this to sway the army, that the state; And keep a prince in ward, retired to reign O'er Capreæ's crags, with his Chaldean train? Yes, yes, thou would'st (for I can read thy breast) Enjoy that favor which he once possess'd, 135 Assume all offices, grasp all commands, The Imperial Horse, and the Prætorian Bands. 'Tis nature, this; even those who want the will, Pant for the dreadful privilege to kill: Yet what delight can rank and power bestow, 140 Since every joy is balanced by its woe! --STILL would'st thou choose the favorite's purple, say? Or, thus forewarned, some paltry hamlet sway? At Gabii, or Fidenæ, rules propound, For faulty measures, and for wares unsound; 145 And take the tarnished robe, and petty state, Of poor Ulubræ's ragged magistrate?-- You grant me then, Sejanus grossly erred, Nor knew what prayer his folly had preferred: For when he begged for too much wealth and power, 150 Stage above stage, he raised a tottering tower, And higher still, and higher; to be thrown, With louder crash, and wider ruin down! What wrought the Crassi, what the Pompeys' doom, And his, who bowed the stubborn neck of Rome? 155 What but the wild, the unbounded wish to rise, Heard, in malignant kindness, by the skies! Few kings, few tyrants, find a bloodless end, Or to the grave, without a wound, descend. The child, with whom a trusty slave is sent, 160 Charged with his little scrip, has scarcely spent His mite at school, ere all his bosom glows With the fond hope he never more foregoes, To reach Demosthenes' or Tully's name, Rival of both in eloquence and fame!-- 165 Yet by this eloquence, alas! expired Each orator, so envied, so admired! Yet by the rapid and resistless sway Of torrent genius, each was swept away! Genius, for that, the baneful potion sped, 170 And lopp'd, from this, the hands and gory head: While meaner pleaders unmolested stood, Nor stained the rostrum with their wretched blood.
gpt
175 Oh, soul of eloquence! had all been found An empty vaunt, like this, a jingling sound, Thou might'st, in peace, thy humble fame have borne, And laughed the swords of Antony to scorn! Yet this would I prefer, the common jest, 180 To that which fired the fierce triumvir's breast, That second scroll, where eloquence divine Burst on the ear from every glowing line. And he too fell, whom Athens, wondering, saw Her fierce democracy, at will, o'erawe, 185 And
human
some angry Power Scowled, with dire influence, on his natal hour.-- Bleared with the glowing mass, the ambitious sire, From anvils, sledges, bellows, tongs, and fire, From tempting swords, his own more safe employ, 190 To study RHETORIC, sent his hopeful boy. The spoils of WAR; the trunk in triumph placed With all the trophies of the battle graced, Crushed helms, and battered shields; and streamers borne From vanquished fleets, and beams from chariots torn; 195 And arcs of triumph, where the captive foe Bends, in mute anguish, o'er the pomp below, Are blessings, which the slaves of glory rate Beyond a mortal's hope, a mortal's fate! Fired with the love of these, what countless swarms, 200 Barbarians, Romans, Greeks, have rushed to arms, All danger slighted, and all toil defied, And madly conquered, or as madly died! So much the raging thirst of fame exceeds The generous warmth, which prompts to worthy deeds, 205 That none confess fair virtue's genuine power, Or woo her to their breast, without a dower. Yet has this wild desire, in other days, This boundless avarice of a few for praise, This frantic rage for names to grace a tomb, 210 Involved whole countries in one general doom; Vain
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the roots of the wild fig-tree rise, Strike through the marble, and their memory dies! For, like their mouldering tenants, tombs decay, And, with the dust they hide, are swept away. 215 Produce the urn that Hannibal contains, And weigh the mighty dust, which yet remains: AND IS THIS ALL! Yet THIS was once the bold, The aspiring chief, whom Afric could not hold, Though stretched in breadth from where the Atlantic roars, 220 To distant Nilus, and his sun-burnt shores; In length, from Carthage to the burning zone, Where other moors, and elephants are known. --Spain conquered, o'er the Pyrenees he bounds: Nature opposed her everlasting mounds, 225 Her Alps, and snows; o'er these, with torrent force, He pours, and rends through rocks his dreadful course. Already at his feet, Italia lies;-- Yet thundering on,
human
Think nothing done, he cries,
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Till Rome, proud Rome, beneath my fury falls, 230 And Afric's standards float along her walls! Big words!--but view his figure! view his face! O, for some master-hand the lines to trace, As through the Etrurian swamps, by floods increas'd, The one-eyed chief urged his Getulian beast! 235 But what ensued? Illusive Glory, say. Subdued on Zama's memorable day, He flies in exile to a petty state, With headlong haste! and, at a despot's gate, Sits, mighty suppliant! of his life in doubt, 240 Till the Bithynian's morning nap be out. No swords, nor spears, nor stones from engines hurled, Shall quell the man whose frown alarmed the world: The vengeance due to Cannæ's fatal field, And floods of human gore, a ring shall yield!-- 245 Fly, madman, fly! at toil and danger mock, Pierce the deep snow, and scale the eternal rock, To please the rhetoricians, and become A DECLAMATION for the boys of Rome! One world, the ambitious youth of Pella found 250 Too small; and tossed his feverish limbs around, And gasped for breath, as if immured the while In Gyaræ, or Seripho's rocky isle: But entering Babylon, found ample room Within the narrow limits of a tomb! 255 Death, the great teacher, Death alone proclaims The true dimensions of our puny frames. The daring tales, in Grecian story found, Were once believed:--of Athos sailed around, Of fleets, that bridges o'er the waves supplied, 260 Of chariots, rolling on the steadfast tide, Of lakes exhausted, and of rivers quaff'd, By countless nations, at a morning's draught, And all that Sostratus so wildly sings, Besotted poet, of the king of kings. 265 But how returned he, say? this soul of fire, This proud barbarian, whose impatient ire Chastised the winds, that disobeyed his nod, With stripes, ne'er suffered from the Æolian god; Fettered the Shaker of the sea and land-- 270 But, in pure clemency, forbode to brand! And sure, if aught can touch the Powers above, This calls for all their service, all their love! But how returned he? say;--His navy lost, In a small bark he fled the hostile coast, 275 And, urged by terror, drove his laboring prore, Through floating carcasses, and floods of gore. So Xerxes sped, so speed the conquering race; They catch at glory, and they clasp disgrace!
human
LIFE! LENGTH OF LIFE! For this, with earnest cries, 280 Or sick or well, we supplicate the skies. Pernicious prayer! for mark what ills attend, Still, on the old, as to the grave they bend: A ghastly visage, to themselves unknown, For a smooth skin, a hide with scurf o'ergrown, 285 And such a cheek, as many a grandam ape, In Tabraca's thick woods, is seen to scrape. Strength, beauty, and a thousand charms beside, With sweet distinction, youth from youth divide; While age presents one universal face: 290 A faltering voice, a weak and trembling pace, An ever-dropping nose, a forehead bare, And toothless gums to mumble o'er its fare. Poor wretch, behold him, tottering to his fall, So loathsome to himself, wife, children, all, 295 That those who hoped the legacy to share, And flattered long--disgusted, disappear. The sluggish palate dulled, the feast no more Excites the same sensations as of yore; Taste, feeling, all, a universal blot, 300 And e'en the rites of love remembered not: Or if--through the long night he feebly strives To raise a flame where not a spark survives; While Venus marks the effort with distrust, And hates the gray decrepitude of lust. 305 Another loss!--no joy can song inspire, Though famed Seleucus lead the warbling quire: The sweetest airs escape him; and the lute, Which thrills the general ear, to him is mute.-- He sits, perhaps, too distant: bring him near; 310 Alas! 'tis still the same: he scarce can hear The deep-toned horn, the trumpet's clanging sound, And the loud blast which shakes the benches round. Even at his ear, his slave must bawl the hour, And shout the comer's name, with all his power! 315 Add that a fever only warms his veins, And thaws the little blood which yet remains; That ills of every kind, and every name, Rush in, and seize the unresisting frame. Ask you how many? I could sooner say 320 How many drudges Hippia kept in pay, How many orphans Basilus beguiled, How many pupils Hæmolus defiled, How many men long Maura overmatched, How many patients Themison dispatched 325 In one short autumn; nay, perhaps, record, How many villas call my quondam barber lord! These their shrunk shoulders, those their hams bemoan; This hath no eyes, and envies that with one: This takes, as helpless at the board he stands, 330 His food, with bloodless lips, from others' hands; While that, whose eager jaws, instinctive, spread At every feast, gapes feebly to be fed, Like Progne's brood, when, laden with supplies, From bill to bill, the fasting mother flies. 335 But other ills, and worse, succeed to those: His limbs long since were gone; his memory goes. Poor driveler! he forgets his servants quite, Forgets, at morn, with whom he supped at night; Forgets the children he begot and bred; 340 And makes a strumpet heiress in their stead.-- So much avails it the rank arts to use, Gained, by long practice, in the loathsome stews! But grant his senses unimpaired remain; Still woes on woes succeed, a mournful train! 345 He sees his sons, his daughters, all expire, His faithful consort on the funeral pyre, Sees brothers, sisters, friends, to ashes turn, And all he loved, or loved him, in their urn. Lo here, the dreadful fine we ever pay 350 For life protracted to a distant day! To see our house by sickness, pain pursued, And scenes of death incessantly renewed: In sable weeds to waste the joyless years, And drop, at last, mid solitude and tears! 355 The Pylian's (if we credit Homer's page) Was only second to the raven's age.
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O happy, sure, beyond the common rate, Who warded off, so long, the stroke of fate! Who told his years by centuries, who so oft 360 Quaffed the new must! O happy, sure --But, soft. This
human
man of destiny complained, Cursed his gray hairs, and every god arraigned; What time he lit the pyre, with streaming eyes, And, in dark volumes, saw the flames arise 365 Round his Antilochus:--
gpt
Tell me, he cried, To every friend who lingered at his side,
human
Tell me what crimes have roused the Immortals' hate, That thus, in vengeance, they protract my date? So questioned heaven Laertes--Peleus so-- 370 (Their hoary heads bowed to the grave with woe) While this bewailed his son, at Ilium slain; That his, long wandering o'er the faithless main. While Troy yet flourished, had her Priam died, With what solemnity, what funeral pride, 375 Had he descended, every duty paid, To old Assaracus, illustrious shade!-- Hector himself, bedewed with many a tear, Had joined his brothers to support the bier; While Troy's dejected dames, a numerous train, 380 Followed, in sable pomp, and wept amain, As sad Polyxena her pall had rent, And wild Cassandra raised the loud lament: Had he but fallen, ere his adulterous boy Spread his bold sails, and left the shores of Troy. 385 But what did lengthened life avail the sire? To see his realm laid waste by sword and fire. Then too, too late, the feeble soldier tried Unequal arms, and flung his crown aside; Tottered, his children's murderer to repel, 390 With trembling haste, and at Jove's altar fell, Fell without effort; like the steer, that, now, Time-worn and weak, and, by the ungrateful plow, Spurned forth to slaughter, to the master's knife Yields his shrunk veins and miserable life. 395 His end, howe'er, was human; while his mate, Doomed, in a brute, to drain the dregs of fate, Pursued the foes of Troy from shore to shore, And barked and howled at those she cursed before. I pass, while hastening to the Roman page, 400 The Pontic king, and Crœsus, whom the Sage Wisely forbade in fortune to confide, Or take the name of HAPPY, till he died. That Marius, exiled from his native plains, Was hid in fens, discovered, bound in chains; 405 That, bursting these, to Africa he fled, And, through the realms he conquered, begged his bread, Arose from age, from treacherous age alone: For what had Rome, or earth, so happy known, Had he, in that bless'd moment, ceased to live, 410 When, graced with all that Victory could give,
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Pride, pomp, and circumstance of glorious war, He first alighted from his Cimbrian car! Campania, prescient of her Pompey's fate, Send a kind fever to arrest his date: 415 When lo! a thousand suppliant altars rise, And public prayers obtain him of the skies. Ill done! that head, thus rescued from the grave, His Evil Fate and ours, by Nilus' wave, Lopp'd from the trunk:--such mutilation dire } 420 Cornelius 'scaped; Cethegus fell entire; } And Catiline pressed, whole, the funeral pyre. } Whene'er the fane of Venus meets her eye, The anxious mother breathes a secret sigh For handsome boys; but asks, with bolder prayer, 425 That all her girls be exquisitely fair!
human
And wherefore not? Latona, in the sight Of Dian's beauty, took unblamed delight. True; but Lucretia cursed her fatal charms, When spent with struggling in a Tarquin's arms; 430 And poor Virginia would have changed her grace For Rutila's crooked back and homely face.
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But boys may still be fair? No; they destroy Their parents' peace, and murder all their joy; For rarely do we meet, in one combined, 435 A beauteous body and a virtuous mind, Though, through the rugged line, there still has run A Sabine sanctity, from sire to son.-- Besides, should Nature, in her kindest mood, Confer the ingenuous flush of modest blood, 440 The disposition chaste as unsunned snow-- (And what can Nature more than these bestow, These, which no art, no care can give)?--even then, They can not hope, they must not, to be men! Smit with their charms, the imps of hell appear, 445 And pour their proffers in a parent's ear, For prostitution!--infamously bold, And trusting to the almighty power of gold: While youths in shape and air less formed to please No tyrants mutilate, no Neros seize. 450 Go now, and triumph in your beauteous boy, Your Ganymede! whom other ills annoy, And other dangers wait: his graces known, He stands professed, the favorite of the town; And dreads, incessant dreads, on every hand, 455 The vengeance which a husband's wrongs demand: For sure detection follows soon or late; Born under Mars, he can not scape his fate. Oft on the adulterer, too, the furious spouse Inflicts worse evils than the law allows; 460 By blows, stripes, gashes some are robbed of breath And others, by the mullet, racked to death.
human
But my Endymion will more lucky prove, And serve a beauteous mistress, all for love. No; he will soon to ugliness be sold, 465 And serve a toothless grandam, all for gold. Servilia will not lose him; jewels, clothes, All, all she sells, and all on him bestows; For women naught to the dear youth deny, Or think his labors can be bought too high: 470 When love's the word, the naked sex appear, And every niggard is a spendthrift here.
gpt
But if my boy with virtue be endued, What harm will beauty do him? Nay, what good? Say, what availed, of old, to Theseus' son, 475 The stern resolve? what to Bellerophon?-- O, then did Phædra redden, then her pride Took fire, to be so steadfastly denied! Then, too, did Sthenobœa glow with shame, And both burst forth with unextinguished flame! 480 A woman scorned is pitiless as fate, For, there, the dread of shame adds stings to hate. But Silius comes.--Now, be thy judgment tried: Shall he accept, or not, the proffered bride, And marry Cæsar's wife? hard point, in truth: 485 Lo! this most noble, this most beauteous youth, Is hurried off, a helpless sacrifice To the lewd glance of Messalina's eyes! --Haste, bring the victim: in the nuptial vest Already see the impatient Empress dress'd; 490 The genial couch prepared, the accustomed sum Told out, the augurs and the notaries come.
human
But why all these?