Then, gazing on the precipice below,
The wretch who says within himself, 'I go-
To headlong ruin go, with fatal speed'

Too weak to stop, yet shuddering to proceed; While the heart whispers what the tongue must hide

Even from the wife that slumbers at his side.

HOWES

TO-MORROW.

FROM THE LATIN OF PERSIUS.

"TO-MORROW then begins the task,' you say:
Alas! you'll act to-morrow as to-day:
'What? is one day (you cry) too much to ask?
Trust me, to-morrow shall commence the task.'
But think-ere yet to-morrow's dawn come on,
Our yesterday's to-morrow will be gone.
Thus, while the present from the future borrows,
To-morrows slowly creep upon to-morrows,
Till months and years behold the task undone,
Which, still beginning, never is begun.
Just as the hinder of two chariot wheels
Still presses closely on its fellow's heels,
So flies to-morrow, while you fly as fast,
For ever following, and for ever last.

HOWES

AVARICE AND LUXURY.

FROM THE LATIN OF PERSIUS.

'SLUGGARD, awake!' imperious Avarice cries; 'See morning dawns; awake, I say-arise!' You plead excuse; she no excuse will take: "Up, up'—" Oh, spare me !" Wake!'" I cannot.". -Wake!'

6

And, prithee, what are your commands?" say you: [you do, 'What!' answers Avarice, why, what should But run forthwith to port, and issue thence The oil, the fish, the flax, the frankincense, The Coan wines? Be foremost to unpack The pepper from the thirsting camel's back!' Go, turn the penny; traffic for the pelf; And, if your interest need, forswear yourself.' "But what if Jupiter should overhear?" Fool, if you feel of Jupiter a fear,If qualms of conscience choke the rising lie, Give up your trade, and starve on honesty! Your salt-dish still with patient finger bore, And, when 'tis all dug out, then-dig for more!' All hands aloft, the voyage they prepare; Wine, bales, and baggage to the strand they bear: And now no obstacles your bark retain, Equipp'd to waft you o'er the' Ægean main,When lo! persuasive Luxury draws near, And, beckoning, softly whispers in your ear;'What are you seeking, madman!-do you know? Why all this hurry? whither would you go? What frantic fires within your bosom rage That loads of hemlock never can assuage?

You tempt the ocean! you the tempest brave!
You court the hardships of the wind and wave!
You get your dinner, perch'd on a coil'd cable,
The deck your parlour and a plank your table!
You suck from the broad can, begrimed with tar,
The fusty lees of Veian vinegar!

And all for what? Why, truly, not content
To nurse at home a modest five per cent,
You must, the faster to increase your store,
From every hundred pounds thresh out five more!
Indulge your Genius; drive dull care away,
And seize the pleasures of the passing day:
To revelry and mirth each moment give;
For not to live with me is-not to live:
Think, timely think, how soon that mortal frame
Shall sink in dust, a phantom and a name !
Even while we talk, the precious moments fly;
And what but now was ours,-is now gone by.'
Such is your state! By struggling passions torn,
This way by pleasure,—that by lucre borne,—
As, when the fish the double bait espies,
He hesitates to choose, then choosing dies;
So you, in doubt which tyrant to prefer,
Are doom'd, determine as you will, to err.
Nor think, because perhaps for once or twice
You dare to struggle with your headstrong vice,
That lasting freedom must reward the endeavour,
And that, if free for once, you're free for ever.
Glad of his liberty, the captive dog

Oft gnaws the rope that binds him to his clog :
Still as a badge of slavery there remains,
Trail'd at his neck, a remnant of his chains.

HOWES.

VOL. VI.

Y

THE REPLY OF CATO TO LABIENUS.

FROM THE LATIN OF LUCAN.

BEFORE the temple's* entrance at the gate
Attending crowds of eastern pilgrims wait:
These from the horned god expect relief;
But all give way before the Latian chief.
His host (as crowds are superstitious still)
Curious of fate, of future good and ill,
And fond to prove prophetic Ammon's skill,
Entreat their leader to the god would go,
And from his oracle Rome's fortunes know:
But Labienus chief the thought approved,
And thus the common suit to Cato moved-
'Chance and the fortune of the way (he said)
Have brought Jove's sacred counsels to our aid : ·
This greatest of the gods, this mighty chief,
In each distress shall be a sure relief;
Shall point the distant dangers from afar,
And teach the future fortunes of the war.
To thee, O Cato! pious! wise! and just!
Their dark decrees the cautious gods shall trust;
To thee their foredetermined will shall tell :
Their will has been thy law, and thou hast kept

it well.

Fate bids thee now the noble thought improve;
Fate brings thee here to meet and talk with Jove.
Inquire betimes what various chance shall come
To impious Cæsar and thy native Rome;
Try to avert, at least, thy country's doom.
Ask, if these arms our freedom shall restore?
Or else, if laws and right shall be no more?
* The temple of Jupiter Ammon.

Be thy great breast with sacred knowledge fraught,
To lead us in the wandering maze of thought:
Thou, that to virtue ever wert inclined,
Learn what it is, how certainly defined,
And leave some perfect rule to guide mankind.'
Full of the god that dwelt within his breast,
The hero thus his secret mind express'd-
And inborn truths reveal'd: truths which might
Become e'en oracles themselves to tell : [well
'Where would thy fond thy vain inquiry go?
What mystic fate, what secret wouldst thou know?
Is it a doubt if death should be my doom,
Rather than live till kings and bondage come,
Rather than see a tyrant crown'd in Rome?
Or wouldst thou know if what we value here,
Life, be a trifle hardly worth our care:
What by old age and length of days we gain,
More than to lengthen out the sense of pain?
Or if this world, with all its forces join'd,
The universal malice of mankind,

Can shake or hurt the brave and honest mind?
If stable virtue can her ground maintain
While fortune feebly threats and frowns in vain?
If truth and justice with uprightness dwell,
And honesty consists in meaning well?

If right be independent of success,

And conquest cannot make it more or less?
Are these, my friend, the secrets thou wouldst
know;

Those doubts for which to oracles we go?
"Tis known, 'tis plain, 'tis all already told;
And horned Ammon can no more unfold.
From God derived, to God by nature join'd,
We act the dictates of his mighty mind: