Page:Satires, Epistles, Art of Poetry of Horace - Coningsby (1874).djvu/136



LORUS, I wish to learn, but don't know how, Where Claudius and his troops are quartered now. Say, is it Thrace and Hæmus' winter snows, Or the famed strait 'twixt tower and tower that flows, Or Asia's rich exuberance of plain And upland slope, that holds you in its chain? Inform me too (for that, you will not doubt, Concerns me), what the ingenious staff's about: Who writes of Cæsar's triumphs, and portrays The tale of peace and war for future days? How thrives friend Titius, who will soon become A household word in the saloons of Rome; Who dares to drink of Pindar's well, and looks With scorn on our cheap tanks and vulgar brooks? Wastes he a thought on Horace? does he suit The strains of Thebes or Latium's virgin lute, By favour of the Muse, or grandly rage And roll big thunder on the tragic stage? What is my Celsus doing? oft, in truth, I've warned him, and he needs it yet, good youth, To trust himself, nor touch the classic stores That Palatine Apollo keeps indoors,