our business, lest a changing gale bear you back
again.

The melancholy hate the merry, and the jocose the melancholy; the
volatile [dislike] the sedate, the indolent the stirring and vivacious:
the quaffers of pure Falernian from midnight hate one who shirks his
turn; notwithstanding you swear you are afraid of the fumes of wine by
night. Dispel gloominess from your forehead: the modest man generally
carries the look of a sullen one; the reserved, of a churl.

In every thing you must read and consult the learned, by what means you
may be enabled to pass your life in an agreeable manner: that insatiable
desire may not agitate and torment you, nor the fear and hope of things
that are but of little account: whether learning acquires virtue, or
nature bestows it? What lessens cares, what may endear you to yourself?
What perfectly renders the temper calm; honor or enticing lucre, or a
secret passage and the path of an unnoticed life?

For my part, as often as the cooling rivulet Digentia refreshes me
(Digentia, of which Mandela drinks, a village wrinkled with cold); what,
my friend, do you think are my sentiments, what do you imagine I pray
for? Why, that my fortune may remain as it is now; or even [if it be
something] less: and that I may live to myself, what remains of my time,
if the gods will that aught do remain: that I may have a good store of
books, and corn provided for the year; lest I fluctuate in suspense of
each uncertain hour. But it is sufficient to sue Jove [for these
externals], which he gives and takes away [at pleasure]; let him grant
life, let him grant wealth: I myself will provide equanimity of temper.
* * * * *

EPISTLE XIX.

TO MAECENAS.

_He shows the folly of some persons who would imitate; and the envy of
others who would censure him_.

O learned Maecenas, if you believe old Gratinus, no verses which are
written by water-drinkers can please, or be long-lived. Ever since
Bacchus enlisted the brain-sick poets among the Satyrs and the Fauns,
the sweet muses have usually smelt of wine in the morning. Homer, by his
excessive praises of wine, is convicted as a booser: father Ennius
himself never sallied forth to sing of arms, unless in drink. "I will
condemn the sober to the bar and the prater's bench, and deprive the
abstemious of the power of singing."

As soon as he gave out this edict, the poets did not cease to contend in
midnight cups, and to smell of