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ODE XVI.

To Grosphus.

O Grosphus, he that is caught in the wide Aegean Sea; when a black tempest has obscured the moon, and not a star appears with steady light for the mariners, supplicates the gods for repose:  for repose, Thrace furious in war; the quiver-graced Medes, for repose neither purchasable by jewels, nor by purple, nor by gold.  For neither regal treasures nor the consul’s officer can remove the wretched tumults of the mind, nor the cares that hover about splendid ceilings.  That man lives happily on a little, who can view with pleasure the old-fashioned family salt-cellar on his frugal board; neither anxiety nor sordid avarice robs him of gentle sleep.  Why do we, brave for a short season, aim at many things?  Why do we change our own for climates heated by another sun?  Whoever, by becoming an exile from his country, escaped likewise from himself?  Consuming care boards even brazen-beaked ships:  nor does it quit the troops of horsemen, for it is more fleet than the stags, more fleet than the storm-driving east wind.  A mind that is cheerful in its present state, will disdain to be solicitous any further, and can correct the bitters of life with a placid smile.  Nothing is on all hands completely blessed.  A premature death carried off the celebrated Achilles; a protracted old age wore down Tithonus; and time perhaps may extend to me, what it shall deny to you.  Around you a hundred flocks bleat, and Sicilian heifers low; for your use the mare, fit for the harness, neighs; wool doubly dipped in the African purple-dye, clothes you:  on me undeceitful fate has bestowed a small country estate, and the slight inspiration of the Grecian muse, and a contempt for the malignity of the vulgar.

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ODE XVII.

To Maecenas.

Why dost thoti kill me with thy complaints?  ’Tis neither agreeable to the gods, nor to me, that thou shouldest depart first, O Maecenas, thou grand ornament and pillar of my affairs.  Alas! if an untimely blow hurry away thee, a part of my soul, why do I the other moiety remain, my value lost, nor any longer whole?  That [fatal] day shall bring destruction upon us both.  I have by no means taken a false oath:  we will go, we will go, whenever thou shalt lead the way, prepared to be fellow-travelers in the last journey.  Me nor the breath of the fiery Chimaera, nor hundred-handed Gyges, were he to rise again, shall ever tear from thee:  such is the will of powerful Justice, and of the Fates.  Whether Libra or malignant Scorpio had the ascendant at my natal hour, or Capricon the ruler of the western wave, our horoscopes agree in a wonderful manner.  Thee the benign protection of Jupiter, shining with friendly aspect, rescued from the baleful influence of impious Saturn, and retarded the wings of precipitate destiny, at the time the crowded people with resounding applauses thrice hailed you in the theatre:  me the trunk of a tree, falling upon my skull, would have dispatched, had not Faunus, the protector of men of genius, with his right hand warded off the blow.  Be thou mindful to pay the victims and the votive temple; I will sacrifice an humble lamb.