Page:Satires, Epistles, Art of Poetry of Horace - Coningsby (1874).djvu/174

 Be all my own, not held at others' will! Let me have books, and stores for one year hence, Nor make my life one flutter of suspense!"
 * But I forbear: sufficient 'tis to pray

To Jove for what he gives and takes away: Grant life, grant fortune, for myself I'll find That best of blessings, a contented mind.



F truth there be in old Cratinus' song, No verse, you know, Mæcenas, can live long Writ by a water-drinker. Since the day When Bacchus took us poets into pay With fauns and satyrs, the celestial Nine Have smelt each morning of last evening's wine. The praises heaped by Homer on the bowl At once convict him as a thirsty soul: And father Ennius ne'er could be provoked To sing of battles till his lips were soaked. "Let temperate folk write verses in the hall Where bonds change hands, abstainers not at all;" So ran my edict: now the clan drinks hard, And vinous breath distinguishes a bard.
 * What if a man appeared with gown cut short,