Page:Satires, Epistles, Art of Poetry of Horace - Coningsby (1874).djvu/166

 Don't kill your captive: keep him: he will sell; Some things there are the creature will do well: He'll plough and feed the cattle, cross the deep And traffic, carry corn, make produce cheap. The wise and good, like Bacchus in the play, When Fortune threats, will have the nerve to say: "Great king of Thebes, what pains can you devise The man who will not serve you to chastise?" "I'll take your goods." "My flocks, my land, to wit, My plate, my couches: do, if you think fit." "I'll keep you chained and guarded in close thrall." "A god will come to free me when I call." Yes, he will die; 'tis that the bard intends; For when Death comes, the power of Fortune ends.



HOUGH instinct tells you, Scæva, how to act, And makes you live among the great with tact, Yet hear a fellow-student; 'tis as though The blind should point you out the way to go, But still give heed, and see if I produce