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Tyrrhena regum progenies, tibi
non ante verso lene merum cado
cum flore, Maecenas, rosarum et
pressa tuis balanus capillis
iam dudum apud me est: eripe te morae,
nec semper udum Tibur et Aefulae
declive contempleris arvum et
Telegoni iuga parricidae.
fastidiosam desere copiam et
molem propinquam nubibus arduis,
omitte mirari beatae
fumum et opes strepitumque Romae.
plerumque gratae divitibus vices
mundaeque parvo sub lare pauperum
cenae sine aulaeis et ostro
sollicitam explicuere frontem.
iam clarus occultum Andromedae pater
ostendit ignem, iam Procyon furit
et stella vesani Leonis
sole dies referente siccos;
iam pastor umbras cum grege languido
rivumque fessus quaerit et horridi
dumeta Silvani, caretque
ripa vagis taciturna ventis.
tu civitatem quis deceat status
curas et urbi sollicitus times,
quid Seres et regnata Cyro
Bactra parent Tanaisque discors.
prudens futuri temporis exitum
caliginosa nocte premit deus,
ridetque si mortalis ultra
fas trepidat. quod adest memento
componere aequus; cetera fluminis
ritu feruntur, nunc medio alveo
cum pace delabentis Etruscum
in mare, nunc lapides adesos
stirpesque raptas et pecus et domos
volventis una non sine montium
clamore vicinaeque silvae,
cum fera diluvies quietos
inritat amnes. ille potens sui
laetusque deget, cui licet in diem
dixisse: "vixi: cras vel atra
nube polum Pater occupato
vel sole puro; non tamen irritum,
quodcumque retro est, efficiet, neque
diffinget infectumque reddet,
quod fugiens semel hora vexit.
Fortuna saevo laeta negotio et
ludum insolentem ludere pertinax
transmutat incertos honores,
nunc mihi, nunc alii benigna.
laudo manentem; si celeres quatit
pinnas, resigno quae dedit et mea
virtute me involvo probamque
pauperiem sine dote quaero.
non est meum, si mugiat Africis
malus procellis, ad miseras preces
decurrere et votis pacisci,
ne Cypriae Tyriaeque merces
addant avaro divitias mari:
tunc me biremis praesidio scaphae
tutum per Aegaeos tumultus
aura feret geminusque Pollux."
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Maecenas, scion of Tuscan kings, a jar of
mellow wine as yet untouched has long been
waiting for thee at my house, along with
roses and balsam for thy locks expressed.
Delay no more! Gaze not ever at
well-watered 'Tibur and the sloping
fields of Aefula and the heights
of Telegonus, the parricide!
Abandon cloying luxury and the pile
that towers to the lofty clouds! Cease
to wonder at the smoke, the riches,
and the din of wealthy Rome!
Often a change is pleasant to the rich,
and a simple meal beneath the poor man's
humble roof, without tapestries and purple,
has smoothed the wrinkles on the care-worn brow.
Already Andromeda's shining father reveals
his hidden fires; already Procyon rages
and the star of furious Leo, as the sun
brings back the days of drought.
Now with his listless flock the weary
shepherd seeks the shade and stream and
shaggy Silvanus' thickets, and the silent
bank is forsaken by the straying breeze.
Thy thoughts are set on what conditions fit the
State; anxious art thou for the City, fearing what
the Seres may be plotting, or Bactra once ruled by
Cyrus, and the discordant tribes on Tanais' banks.
With wise purpose does the god bury in the
shades of night the future's outcome, and
laughs if mortals be anxious beyond due
limits. Remember to settle
with tranquil heart the problem of the hour! All
else is borne along like some river, now gliding
peacefully in mid-channel into the Tuscan Sea, now
rolling polished stones,
uprooted trees, and flocks and homes together,
with echoing of the hills and neighbouring woods,
while the wild deluge stirs up
the peaceful streams.
Master of himself and joyful will that
man live who day by day can say:
"I have lived to-day; to-morrow let the
Father fill the heaven with murky clouds,
or radiant sunshine! Yet will he not render
vain whatever now is past, nor will he
alter and undo what once the
fleeting hour has brought
Fortune, exulting in her cruel work,
and stubborn to pursue her wanton sport,
shifts her fickle favours,
kind now to me, now to some other.
I praise her while she stays;
but if she shake her wings for flight,
I renounce her gifts, enwrap me in my virtue,
and woo honest Poverty, undowered though she be.
Not mine, when masts are groaning with the Afric
gales, to have recourse to wretched prayers
and with vows to strike a compact with the gods
that my Cyprian and my Tyrian wares
shall not add new riches to the devouring sea.
Then the breezes and Pollux with his brother
shall bear me through the tempests of the Aegean
main, safely protected in my two-oared skiff."
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