rts
Of her, and her uncertain Arts.
Laughs shee? turne bravely away thy face.
Weeps shee? bring't back, with smiling grace:
When shee's most busie, be thou than
Retyr'd, and alwayes thine own man.
Thus close shut up, thine owne free state
Thou best mayst rule, chiefe Magistrate;
When the fierce Fates shall most molest,
The serene palace of thy brest.

Cum leves visent tua tecta casus,
Laetus occurres: praeeunte luctu
Faustitas & pax subeunt eosdem
Saepe Penates.
Dextra sors omnis gerit hoc sinistrum,
Quod facit molleis: habet hoc sinistra
Prosperum, quem nunc ferit, imminenteis
Durat in ictus.
Ille qui longus fuit, esse magnus
Desinit moeror, facilem ferendo
Finge Fortunam; levis esse longo
Discit ab usu.

When light mischance, thy fort, or thee
Shall visit; meet it merrily:
Good luck, and peace, in that house stay
Where mourning, first, hath led the way.
In dext'rous chance, this hurt we see,
It makes us soft: Extremity--
This, prosperous hath, wheresoe're it hits,
It hardens, and for danger fits.
The griefe that hath been of such length,
Doth 'bate its violence and strength.
By bearing much, make fortune frees
Shee learnes, by custome, light to be.

Ad Marcum Silicernium.

Veras esse divitias, quae a bonis animi petuntur.

_Ode 6. Lib. 3._

Nunquam praecipiti credulus aleae
Cum Fatis avidas composui manus,
Ut mecum taciti foedere praelii
Aequa pace quiescerent.
Quid Fortuna ferat crastina, nesciam,
Haeres ipse neci. Quas dedit, auferet,
Non avellet opes, quae procul extime
Semotae spatio jacent.
Quae possunt adimi, non mea credidi;
Nunquam pauperior, si mens integer.
Regnum, _Marce_, mei si bene de meis
Vectigalia censibus--
Intra me numerem. Pars animi latet
Ingens, divitibus laetior Indiis,
Quo non ter spatio longius annuo
Itur navibus, aut equis.
Sed mens assiduum visitur in diem
Hospes saepe sui; non ebur, aut novas
Mercatura dapes, ipsa sui satis
Dives, si sibi cernitur.

To Marcus Silicernius.

_That those are the true riches which are fetch'd
from the goods of the mind._

_Ode 6. lib. 3._

A rash believer of their ticklish play,
With Fates, I ne're joyn'd greedy hands in hast.
From the