Page:Satires, Epistles, Art of Poetry of Horace - Coningsby (1874).djvu/51



EAVING great Rome, my journey I begin, And reach Aricia, where a moderate inn (With me was Heliodorus, who knows more Of rhetoric than e'er did Greek before): Next Appii Forum, filled, e'en, nigh to choke, With knavish publicans and boatmen folk. This portion of our route, which most get through At one good stretch, we chose to split in two, Taking it leisurely: for those who go The Appian road are jolted less when slow. I find the water villanous, decline My stomach's overtures, refuse to dine, And sit and sit with temper less than sweet Watching my fellow-travellers while they eat. Now Night prepared o'er all the earth to spread Her veil, and light the stars up overhead: Boatmen and slaves a slanging-match begin: "Ho! put in here! What! take three hundred in? You'll swamp us all:" so, while our fares we pay, And the mule's tied, a whole hour slips away. No hope of sleep: the tenants of the marsh, Hoarse frogs and shrill mosquitos, sing so harsh,