Page:Satires, Epistles, Art of Poetry of Horace - Coningsby (1874).djvu/132

 You smile not; 'tis an every-day affair; I need no doctor's, no, nor keeper's care: Yet you're my patron, and would blush to fail In taking notice of an ill-pared nail.
 * So, to sum up: the sage is half divine,

Rich, free, great, handsome, king of kings, in fine; A miracle of health from toe to crown; Mind, heart, and head, save when his nose runs down.



HILE you at Rome, dear Lollius, train your tongue, I at Praeneste read what Homer sung: What's good, what's bad, what helps, what hurts, he shows Better in verse than Crantor does in prose. The reason why I think so, if you'll spare A moment from your business, I'll declare.
 * The tale that tells how Greece and Asia strove

In tedious battle all for Paris' love, Talks of the passions that excite the brain Of mad-cap kings and peoples not more sane.