on the moon, and what brings out her
orb, what is the intention and power of the jarring harmony of things,
whether Empedocles or the clever Stertinius be in the wrong.

However, whether you murder fishes, or onions and garlic, receive
Pompeius Grosphus; and, if he asks any favor, grant it him frankly:
Grosphus will desire nothing but what is right and just. The proceeds of
friendship are cheap, when good men want any thing.

But that you may not be ignorant in what situation the Roman affairs
are; the Cantabrians have fallen by the valor of Agrippa, the Armenians
by that of Claudius Nero: Phraates has, suppliant on his knees, admitted
the laws and power of Caesar. Golden plenty has poured out the fruits of
Italy from a full horn.

* * * * *

EPISTLE XIII.

TO VINNIUS ASINA.

_Horace cautions him to present his poems to Augustus at a proper
opportunity, and with due decorum_.

As on your setting out I frequently and fully gave you instructions,
Vinnius, that you would present these volumes to Augustus sealed up if
he shall be in health, if in spirits, finally, if he shall ask for them:
do not offend out of zeal to me, and industriously bring an odium upon
my books [by being] an agent of violent officiousness. If haply the
heavy load of my paper should gall you, cast it from you, rather than
throw down your pack in a rough manner where you are directed to carry
it, and turn your paternal name of Asina into a jest, and make yourself
a common story. Make use of your vigor over the hills, the rivers, and
the fens. As soon as you have achieved your enterprise, and arrived
there, you must keep your burden in this position; lest you happen to
carry my bundle of books under your arm, as a clown does a lamb, or as
drunken Pyrrhia [in the play does] the balls of pilfered wool, or as a
tribe-guest his slippers with his fuddling-cap. You must not tell
publicly, how you sweated with carrying those verses, which may detain
the eyes and ears of Caesar. Solicited with much entreaty, do your best.
Finally, get you gone, farewell: take care you do not stumble, and break
my orders.

* * * * *

EPISTLE XIV.

TO HIS STEWARD.

_He upbraids his levity for contemning a country life, which had been
his choice, and being eager to return to Rome_.

Steward of my woodlands and little farm that restores me to myself,
which you despise, [though formerly] inhabi