Persius, Satire 56/b> Translated by Lewis Evans (1889) Formatted by C. Chinn (2008) HAS the winter already made thee retire, Bassus, to thy Sabine hearth? Does thy harp, and its strings, now wake to life for thee with its manly quill? Of wondrous skill in adapting to minstrelsy the early forms of ancient words, and the masculine sound of the Latin lute— 5 and then again give vent to youthful merriment; or, with dignified touch, sing of distinguished old men. For me the Ligurian shore now grows warm, and my sea wears its wintry aspect, where the cliffs present a broad side, and the shore retires with a capacious bay. "It is worth while, citizens, to become acquainted with the Port of Luna!" 10 Such is the hest of Ennius in his senses, when he ceased to dream he was Homer and sprung from a Pythagorean peacock, and woke up plain "Quintus." Here I live, careless of the vulgar herd—careless too of the evil which malignant Auster is plotting against my flock—or that that corner of my neighbor's farm is more fruitful than my own. Nay, even though all 15 who spring from a worse stock than mine, should grow ever so rich, I would still refuse to be bowed down double by old age on that account, or dine without good cheer, or touch with my nose the seal on some vapid flagon. Another man may act differently from this. The star that presides over the natal hour produces even twins with widely-differing disposition. One, a cunning dog, 20 would, only on his birthday, dip his dry cabbage in pickle which he has bought in a cup, sprinkling over it with his own hands the pepper, as if it were sacred; the other, a fine-spirited lad, runs through his large estate to please his palate. I, for my part, will use—not abuse—my property; neither sumptuous enough to serve up turbots before my freedmen, nor epicure enough to discern the delicate flavor of female 25 thrushes. Live up to your income, and exhaust your granaries. You have a right to do it! What should you fear? Harrow, and lo! another crop is already in the blade! "But duty calls! My friend, reduced to beggary, with shipwrecked bark, is clutching at the Bruttian rocks, and has buried all his property, and his prayers unheard by heaven, in the Ionian sea. He himself lies on the shore, 30 and by him the tall gods from the stern; and the ribs of his shattered vessel are a station for cormorants." Now therefore detach a fragment from the live turf; and bestow it upon him in his need, that he may not have to roam about with a painting of himself on a sea-green picture. But your heir, enraged that you have curtailed your estate, will neglect your funeral supper, 35 he will commit your bones unperfumed to their urn, quite prepared to be careless whether the cinnamon has a scentless flavor, or the cassia be adulterated with cherry-gum. Should you then in your lifetime impair your estate? But Bestius rails against the Grecian philosophers: "So it is—ever since this counterfeit philosophy came into the city, along with pepper and dates, 40 the very hay-makers spoil their pottage with gross unguents." And are you afraid of this beyond the grave? But you, my heir, whoever you are to be, come apart a little from the crowd, and hear.— "Don't you know, my good friend, that a laureate letter has been sent by Caesar on account of his glorious defeat of the flower of the German youth; and now 45 the ashes are being swept from the altars, where they have lain cold; already Caesonia is hiring arms for the door-posts, mantles for kings, yellow wigs for captives, and chariots, and tall Rhinelanders. Consequently I intend to contribute a hundred pair of gladiators to the gods and the emperor's Genius, in honor of his splendid exploits.—Who shall prevent 50 me? Do you, if you dare! Woe betide you, unless you consent.—I mean to make a largess to the people of oil and meat-pies. Do you forbid it? Speak out plainly! " Not so," you say. I have a well-cleared field close by. Well, then! If I have not a single aunt left, or a cousin, nor a single niece's daughter; if my mother's sister is barren, 55 and none of my grandmother's stock survives—I will go to Bovillae, and Virbius' hill. There is Manius already as my heir. "What that son of earth!" Well, ask me who my great-great-grandfather was! I could tell you certainly, but not very readily. Go yet a step farther back, and one more; you will find he is a son of earth! and on 60 this principle of genealogy Manius turns out to be my great uncle. You, who are before me, why do you ask of me the torch in the race? I am your Mercury! I come to you as the god, in the guise in which he is painted. Do you reject the offer? Will you not be content with what is left? But there is some deficiency in the sum total! Well, I spent it on myself! But the 65 whole of what is left is yours, whatever it is. Attempt not to inquire what is become of what Tadius once left me; nor din into my ears precepts such as fathers give. "Get interest for your principal, and live upon that."— What is the residue? "The residue! Here, slave, at once pour oil more bountifully over my cabbage. Am I to have a nettle, or a smoky 70 pig's cheek with a split ear, cooked for me on a festival day, that that spendthrift grandson of yours may one day stuff himself with goose-giblets, and when his forward humor urge him on, indulge in a patrician mistress? Am I to live a threadbare skeleton, that his fat paunch may sway from side to side? 75 Barter your soul for gain. Traffic; and with keen craft sift every quarter of the globe. Let none exceed you in the art of puffing off your sleek Cappadocian slaves, on their close-confining platform. Double your property. "I have done so”—already it returns three-fold, four-fold, ten-fold to my scrip. Mark where I am to stop. Could I do 80 so, he were found, Chrysippus, that could put the finish to thy heap!