And like a chilly fog, pervades the town: 
Each man I meet accosts me “Is it so? 
You live so near the gods, you’re sure to know: 
That news about the Dacians? have you heard
No secret tidings?” “Not a single word.” 
“O yes! you love to banter us poor folk.” 
“Nay, if I’ve heard a tittle, may I choke!”
“Will Caesar grant his veterans their estates
In Italy, or t’other side of the straits?”
I swear that I know nothing, and am dumb: 
They think me deep, miraculously mum. 
And so my day between my fingers slips,
While fond regrets keep rising to my lips: 
O my dear homestead in the country! when
Shall I behold your pleasant face again;
And, studying now, now dozing and at ease,
Imbibe forgetfulness of all this tease? 
O when, Pythagoras, shall thy brother bean,
With pork and cabbage, on my board be seen? 
O happy nights and suppers half divine,
When, at the home-gods’ altar, I and mine
Enjoy a frugal meal, and leave the treat
Unfinished for my merry slaves to eat! 
Not bound by mad-cap rules, but free to choose
Big cups or small, each follows his own views: 
You toss your wine off boldly, if you please,
Or gently sip, and mellow by degrees. 
We talk of—­not our neighbour’s house or field,
Nor the last feat of Lepos, the light-heeled—­
But matters which to know concerns us more,
Which none but at his peril can ignore;
Whether ’tis wealth or virtue makes men blest,
What leads to friendship, worth or interest,
In what the good consists, and what the end
And chief of goods, on which the rest depend: 
While neighbour Cervius, with his rustic wit,
Tells old wives’ tales, this case or that to hit. 
Should some one be unwise enough to praise
Arellius’ toilsome wealth, he straightway says: 
“One day a country mouse in his poor home
Received an ancient friend, a mouse from Rome: 
The host, though close and careful, to a guest
Could open still:  so now he did his best. 
He spares not oats or vetches:  in his chaps
Raisins he brings and nibbled bacon-scraps,
Hoping by varied dainties to entice
His town-bred guest, so delicate and nice,
Who condescended graciously to touch
Thing after thing, but never would take much,
While he, the owner of the mansion, sate
On threshed-out straw, and spelt and darnels ate. 
At length the townsman cries:  “I wonder how
You can live here, friend, on this hill’s rough brow: 
Take my advice, and leave these ups and downs,
This hill and dale, for humankind and towns. 
Come now, go home with me:  remember, all
Who live on earth are mortal, great and small: 
Then take, good sir, your pleasure while you may;
With life so short, ’twere wrong to lose a day.” 
This reasoning made the rustic’s head turn round;
Forth from his hole he issues with a bound,
And they two make together for their mark,
In hopes to reach the city during dark.