Page:Satires, Epistles, Art of Poetry of Horace - Coningsby (1874).djvu/193

 Soon after this the general had in view To take some fortress, where I never knew; He singles out our friend, and makes a speech That e'en might drive a coward to the breach: "Go, my fine fellow! go where valour calls! There's fame and money too inside those walls." "I'm not your man," returned the rustic wit: "He makes a hero who has lost his kit."
 * At Rome I had my schooling, and was taught

Achilles' wrath, and all the woes it brought; At classic Athens, where I went erelong, I learnt to draw the line 'twixt right and wrong, And search for truth, if so she might be seen, In academic groves of blissful green; But soon the stress of civil strife removed My adolescence from the scenes it loved, And ranged me with a force that could not stand Before the might of Cæsar's conquering hand. Then when Philippi turned me all adrift A poor plucked fledgeling, for myself to shift, Bereft of property, impaired in purse, Sheer penury drove me into scribbling verse: But now, when times are altered, having got Enough, thank heaven, at least to boil my pot, I were the veriest madman if I chose To write a poem rather than to doze.
 * Our years keep taking toll as they move on;

My feasts, my frolics are already gone, And now, it seems, my verses must go too: Bestead so sorely, what's a man to do?