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 of the Republic, and was now the refuge of thoughtful minds under the despotism of the Empire. Then we have once more a slashing publicist in Juvenal, who is national and popular in a broader sense than Horace or Persius. His fierce indignation is turned against the alien intruders, the scum of Greece and Asia, who are making Rome a foreign city, and robbing Roman citizens of their bread. He denounces the imported vices which are effacing the old Roman character. He is the last of the Roman satirists, and in much he resembles the first.

It may be noted that each of the three satirists of the Empire—Horace, Persius, Juvenal—gives us a dialogue between himself and an imaginary friend, who remonstrates with him for his rashness in imitating Lucilius, the outspoken satirist of the Republic. Horace replies, in effect, "Never mind, I'm not afraid—Augustus will stand by me as Scipio and Laelius stood by Lucilius"; but, in fact, Horace never strikes like Lucilius; he keeps us smiling while he probes our faults; "he gains his entrance, and plays about the heart"; his censures, even when keen, show cautious tact. Persius replies: "You need not read me if you do not like: but the joke is too good; I must tell some one that Midas has the ears of an ass." When Juvenal is warned, we catch quite a different tone in the answer. After painting the Rome of his day, he says (I venture to give a version of my own):—

"Nought worse remains: the men of coming times    Can but renew our lusts, repeat our crimes.