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The Works of Horace
Page 10
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HORACE'S BOOK UPON THE ART OF POETRY.
TO THE PISOS.
If a painter should wish to unite a horse's neck to a human head,
and spread a variety of plumage over limbs [of different animals]
taken from every part [of nature], so that what is a beautiful woman
in the upper part terminates unsightly in an ugly fish below; could
you, my friends, refrain from laughter, were you admitted to such a
sight? Believe, ye Pisos, the book will be perfectly like such a
picture, the ideas of which, like a sick man's dreams, are all vain
and fictitious: so that neither head nor foot can correspond to any
one form. "Poets and painters [you will say] have ever had equal
authority for attempting any thing." We are conscious of this, and
this privilege we demand and allow in turn: but not to such a
degree, that the tame should associate with the savage; nor that
serpents should be coupled with birds, lambs with tigers.
In pompous introductions, and such as promise a great deal, it
generally happens that one or two verses of purple patch-work, that
may make a great show, are tagged on; as when the grove and the
altar of Diana and the meandering of a current hastening through
pleasant fields, or the river Rhine, or the rainbow is described.
But here there was no room for these [fine things]: perhaps, too,
you know how to draw a cypress: but what is that to the purpose, if
he, whe is painted for the given price, is [to be represented as]
swimming hopeless out of a shipwreck? A large vase at first was
designed: why, as the wheel revolves, turns out a little pitcher? In
a word, be your subject what it will, let it be merely simple and
uniform.
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The great majority of us poets, father, and youths worthy such a
father, are misled by the appearance of right. I labor to be
concise, I become obscure: nerves and spirit fail him, that aims at
the easy: one, that pretends to be sublime, proves bombastical: he
who is too cautious and fearful of the storm, crawls along the
ground: he who wants to vary his subject in a marvelous manner,
paints the dolphin in the woods, the boar in the sea. The avoiding
of an error leads to a fault, if it lack skill.
A statuary about the Aemilian school shall of himself, with singular
skill, both express the nails, and imitate in brass the flexible
hair; unhappy yet in the main, because he knows not how to finish a
complete piece. I would no more choose to be such a one as this, had
I a mind to compose any thing, than to live with a distorted nose,
[though] remarkable for black eyes and jetty hair.
Ye who write, make choice of a subject suitable to your abilities;
and revolve in your thoughts a considerable time what your strength
declines, and what it is able to support. Neither elegance of style,
nor a perspicuous disposition, shall desert the man, by whom the
subject matter is chosen judiciously.
This, or I am mistaken, will constitute the merit and beauty of
arrangement, that the poet just now say what ought just now to be
said, put off most of his thoughts, and waive them for the present.
In the choice of his words, too, the author of the projected poem
must be delicate and cautious, he must embrace one and reject
another: you will express yourself eminently well, if a dexterous
combination should give an air of novelty to a well-known word. If
it happen to be necessary to explain some abstruse subjects by new
invented terms; it will follow that you must frame words never heard
of by the old-fashioned Cethegi: and the license will be granted, if
modestly used: and the new and lately-formed words will have
authority, if they descend from a Greek source, with a slight
deviation. But why should the Romans grant to Plutus and Caecilius a
privilege denied to Virgil and Varius? Why should I be envied, if I
have it in my power to acquire a few words, when the language of
Cato and Ennius has enriched our native tongue, and produced new
names of things? It has been, and ever will be, allowable to coin a
word marked with the stamp in present request. As leaves in the
woods are changed with the fleeting years; the earliest fall off
first: in this manner words perish with old age, and those lately
invented nourish and thrive, like men in the time of youth. We, and
our works, are doomed to death: Whether Neptune, admitted into the
continent, defends our fleet from the north winds, a kingly work; or
the lake, for a long time unfertile and fit for oars, now maintains
its neighboring cities and feels the heavy plow; or the river,
taught to run in a more convenient channel, has changed its course
which was so destructive to the fruits. Mortal works must perish:
much less can the honor and elegance of language be long-lived. Many
words shall revive, which now have fallen off; and many which are
now in esteem shall fall off, if it be the will of custom, in whose
power is the decision and right and standard of language.
Homer has instructed us in what measure the achievements of kings,
and chiefs, and direful war might be written.
Plaintive strains originally were appropriated to the unequal
numbers [of the elegiac]: afterward [love and] successful desires
were included. Yet what author first published humble elegies, the
critics dispute, and the controversy still waits the determination
of a judge.
Rage armed Archilochus with the iambic of his own invention. The
sock and the majestic buskin assumed this measure as adapted for
dialogue, and to silence the noise of the populace, and calculated
for action.
To celebrate gods, and the sons of gods, and the victorious
wrestler, and the steed foremost in the race, and the inclination of
youths, and the free joys of wine, the muse has alotted to the lyre.
If I am incapable and unskilful to observe the distinction
described, and the complexions of works [of genius], why am I
accosted by the name of "Poet?" Why, out of false modesty, do I
prefer being ignorant to being learned?
A comic subject will not be handled in tragic verse: in like manner
the banquet of Thyestes will not bear to be held in familiar verses,
and such as almost suit the sock. Let each peculiar species [of
writing] fill with decorum its proper place. Nevertheless sometimes
even comedy exalts her voice, and passionate Chremes rails in a
tumid strain: and a tragic writer generally expresses grief in a
prosaic style. Telephus and Peleus, when they are both in poverty
and exile, throw aside their rants and gigantic expressions if they
have a mind to move the heart of the spectator with their complaint.
It is not enough that poems be beautiful; let them be tender and
affecting, and bear away the soul of the auditor whithersoever they
please. As the human countenance smiles on those that smile, so does
it sympathize with those that weep. If you would have me weep you
must first express the passion of grief yourself; then, Telephus or
Peleus, your misfortunes hurt me: if you pronounce the parts
assigned you ill, I shall either fall asleep or laugh.
Pathetic accents suit a melancholy countenance; words full of
menace, an angry one; wanton expressions, a sportive look; and
serious matter, an austere one. For nature forms us first within to
every modification of circumstances; she delights or impels us to
anger, or depresses us to the earth and afflicts us with heavy
sorrow: then expresses those emotions of the mind by the tongue, its
interpreter. If the words be discordant to the station of the
speaker, the Roman knights and plebians will raise an immoderate
laugh. It will make a wide difference, whether it be Davus that
speaks, or a hero; a man well-stricken in years, or a hot young
fellow in his bloom; and a matron of distinction, or an officious
nurse; a roaming merchant, or the cultivator of a verdant little
farm; a Colchian, or an Assyrian; one educated at Thebes, or one at
Argos.
You, that write, either follow tradition, or invent such fables as
are congruous to themselves. If as poet you have to represent the
renowned Achilles; let him be indefatigable, wrathful, inexorable,
courageous, let him deny that laws were made for him, let him
arrogate every thing to force of arms. Let Medea be fierce and
untractable, Ino an object of pity, Ixion perfidious, Io wandering,
Orestes in distress.
If you offer to the stage any thing unattempted, and venture to form
a new character; let it be preserved to the last such as it set out
at the beginning, and be consistent with itself. It is difficult to
write with propriety on subjects to which all writers have a common
claim; and you with more prudence will reduce the Iliad into acts,
than if you first introduce arguments unknown and never treated of
before. A public story will become your own property, if you do not
dwell upon the whole circle of events, which is paltry and open to
every one; nor must you be so faithful a translator, as to take the
pains of rendering [the original] word for word; nor by imitating
throw yourself into straits, whence either shame or the rules of
your work may forbid you to retreat.
Nor must you make such an exordium, as the Cyclic writer of old: "I
will sing the fate of Priam, and the noble war." What will this
boaster produce worthy of all this gaping? The mountains are in
labor, a ridiculous mouse will be brought forth. How much more to
the purpose he, who attempts nothing improperly? "Sing for me, my
muse, the man who, after the time of the destruction of Troy,
surveyed the manners and cities of many men." He meditates not [to
produce] smoke from a flash, but out of smoke to elicit fire, that
he may thence bring forth his instances of the marvelous with
beauty, [such as] Antiphates, Scylla, the Cyclops, and Charybdis.
Nor does he date Diomede's return from Meleager's death, nor trace
the rise of the Trojan war from [Leda's] eggs: he always hastens on
to the event; and hurries away his reader in the midst of
interesting circumstances, no otherwise than as if they were
[already] known; and what he despairs of, as to receiving a polish
from his touch, he omits; and in such a manner forms his fictions,
so intermingles the false with the true, that the middle is not
inconsistent with the beginning, nor the end with the middle.
Do you attend to what I, and the public in my opinion, expect from
you [as a dramatic writer]. If you are desirous of an applauding
spectator, who will wait for [the falling of] the curtain, and till
the chorus calls out "your plaudits;" the manners of every age must
be marked by you, and a proper decorum assigned to men's varying
dispositions and years. The boy, who is just able to pronounce his
words, and prints the ground with a firm tread, delights to play
with his fellows, and contracts and lays aside anger without reason,
and is subject to change every hour. The beardless youth, his
guardian being at length discharged, joys in horses, and dogs, and
the verdure of the sunny Campus Martius; pliable as wax to the bent
of vice, rough to advisers, a slow provider of useful things,
prodigal of his money, high-spirited, and amorous, and hasty in
deserting the objects of his passion. [After this,] our inclinations
being changed, the age and spirit of manhood seeks after wealth, and
[high] connections, is subservient to points of honor; and is
cautious of committing any action, which he would subsequently be
industrious to correct. Many inconviences encompass a man in years;
either because he seeks [eagerly] for gain, and abstains from what
he has gotten, and is afraid to make use of it; or because he
transacts every thing in a timorous and dispassionate manner,
dilatory, slow in hope, remiss, and greedy of futurity. Peevish,
querulous, a panegyrist of former times when he was a boy, a
chastiser and censurer of his juniors. Our advancing years bring
many advantages along with them. Many our declining ones take away.
That the parts [therefore] belonging to age may not be given to
youth, and those of a man to a boy, we must dwell upon those
qualities which are joined and adapted to each person's age.
An action is either represented on the stage, or being done
elsewhere is there related. The things which enter by the ear affect
the mind more languidly, than such as are submitted to the faithful
eyes, and what a spectator presents to himself. You must not,
however, bring upon the stage things fit only to be acted behind the
scenes: and you must take away from view many actions, which elegant
description may soon after deliver in presence [of the spectators].
Let not Medea murder her sons before the people; nor the execrable
Atreus openly dress human entrails: nor let Progue be metamorphosed
into a bird, Cadmus into a serpent. Whatever you show to me in this
manner, not able to give credit to, I detest.
Let a play which would be inquired after, and though seen,
represented anew, be neither shorter nor longer than the fifth act.
Neither let a god interfere, unless a difficulty worthy a god's
unraveling should happen; nor let a fourth person be officious to
speak.
Let the chorus sustain the part and manly character of an actor: nor
let them sing any thing between the acts which is not conducive to,
and fitly coherent with, the main design. Let them both patronize
the good, and give them friendly advice, and regulate the
passionate, and love to appease those who swell [with rage]: let
them praise the repast of a short meal, and salutary effects of
justice, laws, and peace with her open gates; let them conceal what
is told to them in confidence, and supplicate and implore the gods
that prosperity may return to the wretched, and abandon the haughty.
The flute, (not as now, begirt with brass and emulous of the
trumpet, but) slender and of simple form, with few stops, was of
service to accompany and assist the chorus, and with its tone was
sufficient to fill the rows that were not as yet too crowded, where
an audience, easily numbered, as being small and sober, chaste and
modest, met together. But when the victorious Romans began to extend
their territories, and an ampler wall encompassed the city, and
their genius was indulged on festivals by drinking wine in the
day-time without censure; a greater freedom arose both, to the
numbers [of poetry], and the measure [of music]. For what taste
could an unlettered clown and one just dismissed from labors have,
when in company with the polite; the base, with the man of honor?
Thus the musician added now movements and a luxuriance to the
ancient art, and strutting backward and forward, drew a length of
train over the stage; thus likewise new notes were added to the
severity of the lyre, and precipitate eloquence produced an unusual
language [in the theater]: and the sentiments [of the chorus, then]
expert in teaching useful things and prescient of futurity, differ
hardly from the oracular Delphi.
The poet, who first tried his skill in tragic verse for the paltry
[prize of a] goat, soon after exposed to view wild satyrs naked, and
attempted raillery with severity, still preserving the gravity [of
tragedy]: because the spectator on festivals, when heated with wine
and disorderly, was to be amused with captivating shows and
agreeable novelty. But it will be expedient so to recommend the
bantering, so the rallying satyrs, so to turn earnest into jest;
that none who shall be exhibited as a god, none who is introduced as
a hero lately conspicuous in regal purple and gold, may deviate into
the low style of obscure, mechanical shops; or, [on the contrary,]
while he avoids the ground, effect cloudy mist and empty jargon.
Tragedy disdaining to prate forth trivial verses, like a matron
commanded to dance on the festival days, will assume an air of
modesty, even in the midst of wanton satyrs. As a writer of satire,
ye Pisos, I shall never be fond of unornamented and reigning terms:
nor shall I labor to differ so widely from the complexion of
tragedy, as to make no distinction, whether Davus be the speaker.
And the bold Pythias, who gained a talent by gulling Simo; or
Silenus, the guardian and attendant of his pupil-god [Bacchus]. I
would so execute a fiction taken from a well-known story, that any
body might entertain hopes of doing the same thing; but, on trial,
should sweat and labor in vain. Such power has a just arrangement
and connection of the parts: such grace may be added to subjects
merely common. In my judgment the Fauns, that are brought out of the
woods, should not be too gamesome with their tender strains, as if
they were educated in the city, and almost at the bar; nor, on the
other hand; should blunder out their obscene and scandalous
speeches. For [at such stuff] all are offended, who have a horse, a
father, or an estate: nor will they receive with approbation, nor
give the laurel crown, as the purchasers of parched peas and nuts
are delighted with.
A long syllable put after a short one is termed an iambus, a lively
measure, whence also it commanded the name of trimeters to be added
to iambics, though it yielded six beats of time, being similar to
itself from first to last. Not long ago, that it might come somewhat
slower and with more majesty to the ear, it obligingly and
contentedly admitted into its paternal heritage the steadfast
spondees; agreeing however, by social league, that it was not to
depart from the second and fourth place. But this [kind of measure]
rarely makes its appearance in the notable trimeters of Accius, and
brands the verse of Ennius brought upon the stage with a clumsy
weight of spondees, with the imputation of being too precipitate and
careless, or disgracefully accuses him of ignorance in his art.
It is not every judge that discerns inharmonious verses, and an
undeserved indulgence is [in this case] granted to the Roman poets.
But shall I on this account run riot and write licentiously? Or
should not I rather suppose, that all the world are to see my
faults; secure, and cautious [never to err] but with hope of being
pardoned? Though, perhaps, I have merited no praise, I have escaped
censure.
Ye [who are desirous to excel,] turn over the Grecian models by
night, turn them by day. But our ancestors commended both the
numbers of Plautus, and his strokes of pleasantry; too tamely, I
will not say foolishly, admiring each of them; if you and I but know
how to distinguish a coarse joke from a smart repartee, and
understand the proper cadence, by [using] our fingers and ears.
Thespis is said to have invented a new kind of tragedy, and to have
carried his pieces about in carts, which [certain strollers], who
had their faces besmeared with lees of wine, sang and acted. After
him Aeschylus, the inventor of the vizard mask and decent robe, laid
the stage over with boards of a tolerable size, and taught to speak
in lofty tone, and strut in the buskin. To these succeeded the old
comedy, not without considerable praise: but its personal freedom
degenerated into excess and violence, worthy to be regulated by law;
a law was made accordingly, and the chorus, the right of abusing
being taken away, disgracefully became silent.
Our poets have left no species [of the art] unattempted; nor have
those of them merited the least honor, who dared to forsake the
footsteps of the Greeks, and celebrate domestic facts; whether they
have instructed us in tragedy, of comedy. Nor would Italy be raised
higher by valor and feats of arms, than by its language, did not the
fatigue and tediousness of using the file disgust every one of our
poets. Do you, the decendants of Pompilius, reject that poem, which
many days and many a blot have not ten times subdued to the most
perfect accuracy. Because Democritus believes that genius is more
successful than wretched art, and excludes from Helicon all poets
who are in their senses, a great number do not care to part with
their nails or beard, frequent places of solitude, shun the baths.
For he will acquire, [he thinks,] the esteem and title of a poet, if
he neither submits his head, which is not to be cured by even three
Anticyras, to Licinius the barber. What an unlucky fellow am I, who
am purged for the bile in spring-time! Else nobody would compose
better poems; but the purchase is not worth the expense. Therefore I
will serve instead of a whetstone, which though not able of itself
to cut, can make steel sharp: so I, who can write no poetry myself,
will teach the duty and business [of an author]; whence he may be
stocked with rich materials; what nourishes and forms the poet; what
gives grace, what not; what is the tendency of excellence, what that
of error.
To have good sense, is the first principle and fountain of writing
well. The Socratic papers will direct you in the choice of your
subjects; and words will spontaneously accompany the subject, when
it is well conceived. He who has learned what he owes to his
country, and what to his friends; with what affection a parent, a
brother, and a stranger, are to be loved; what is the duty of a
senator, what of a judge; what the duties of a general sent out to
war; he, [I say,] certainly knows how to give suitable attributes to
every character. I should direct the learned imitator to have a
regard to the mode of nature and manners, and thence draw his
expressions to the life. Sometimes a play, that is showy with
common-places, and where the manners are well marked, though of no
elegance, without force or art, gives the people much higher delight
and more effectually commands their attention, than verse void of
matter, and tuneful trifles.
To the Greeks, covetous of nothing but praise, the muse gave genius;
to the Greeks the power of expressing themselves in round periods.
The Roman youth learn by long computation to subdivide a pound into
an hundred parts. Let the son of Albinus tell me, if from five
ounces one be subtracted, what remains? He would have said the third
of a pound.—Bravely done! you will be able to take care of your own
affairs. An ounce is added: what will that be? Half a pound. When
this sordid rust and hankering after wealth has once tainted their
minds, can we expect that such verses should be made as are worthy
of being anointed with the oil of cedar, and kept in the
well-polished cypress?
Poets wish either to profit or to delight; or to deliver at once
both the pleasures and the necessaries of life. Whatever precepts
you give, be concise; that docile minds may soon comprehend what is
said, and faithfully retain it. All superfluous instructions flow
from the too full memory. Let what ever is imagined for the sake of
entertainment, have as much likeness to truth as possible; let not
your play demand belief for whatever [absurdities] it is inclinable
[to exhibit]: nor take out of a witch's belly a living child that
she had dined upon. The tribes of the seniors rail against every
thing that is void of edification: the exalted knights disregard
poems which are austere. He who joins the instructive with the
agreeable, carries off every vote, by delighting and at the same
time admonishing the reader. This book gains money for the Sosii;
this crosses the sea, and continues to its renowned author a lasting
duration.
Yet there are faults, which we should be ready to pardon: for
neither does the string [always] form the sound which the hand and
conception [of the performer] intends, but very often returns a
sharp note when he demands a flat; nor will the bow always hit
whatever mark it threatens. But when there is a great majority of
beauties in a poem, I will not be offended with a few blemishes,
which either inattention has dropped, or human nature has not
sufficiently provided against. What therefore [is to be determined
in this matter]? As a transcriber, if he still commits the same
fault though he has been reproved, is without excuse; and the harper
who always blunders on the same string, is sure to be laughed at; so
he who is excessively deficient becomes another Choerilus; whom,
when I find him tolerable in two or three places, I wonder at with
laughter; and at the same time am I grieved whenever honest Homer
grows drowsy? But it is allowable, that sleep should steal upon [the
progress of] a king work.
As is painting, so is poetry: some pieces will strike you more if
you stand near, and some, if you are at a greater distance: one
loves the dark; another, which is not afraid of the critic's subtle
judgment, chooses to be seen in the light; the one has pleased once,
the other will give pleasure if ten times repeated.
O ye elder of the youths, though you are framed to a right judgment
by your father's instructions, and are wise in yourself, yet take
this truth along with you, [and] remember it; that in certain things
a medium and tolerable degree of eminence may be admitted: a
counselor and pleader at the bar of the middle rate is far removed
from the merit of eloquent Messala, nor has so much knowledge of the
law as Casselius Aulus, but yet he is in request; [but] a mediocrity
in poets neither gods, nor men, nor [even] the booksellers' shops
have endured. As at an agreeable entertainment discordant music, and
muddy perfume, and poppies mixed with Sardinian honey give offense,
because the supper might have passed without them; so poetry,
created and invented for the delight of our souls, if it comes short
ever so little of the summit, sinks to the bottom.
He who does not understand the game, abstains from the weapons of
the Campus Martius: and the unskillful in the tennis-ball, the quoit,
and the troques keeps himself quiet; lest the crowded ring should
raise a laugh at his expense: notwithstanding this, he who knows
nothing of verses presumes to compose. Why not! He is free-born, and
of a good family; above all, he is registered at an equestrian sum
of moneys, and clear from every vice. You, [I am persuaded,] will
neither say nor do any thing in opposition to Minerva: such is your
judgment, such your disposition. But if ever you shall write
anything, let it be submitted to the ears of Metius [Tarpa], who is
a judge, and your father's, and mine; and let it be suppressed till
the ninth year, your papers being held up within your own custody.
You will have it in your power to blot out what you have not made
public: a word ice sent abroad can never return.
Orpheus, the priest and Interpreter of the gods, deterred the savage
race of men from slaughters and inhuman diet; once said to tame
tigers and furious lions: Amphion too, the builder of the Theban
wall, was said to give the stones moon with the sound of his lyre,
and to lead them whithersover he would, by engaging persuasion. This
was deemed wisdom of yore, to distinguish the public from private
weal; things sacred from things profane; to prohibit a promiscuous
commerce between the sexes; to give laws to married people; to plan
out cities; to engrave laws on [tables of] wood. Thus honor accrued
to divine poets, and their songs. After these, excellent Homer and
Tyrtaeus animated the manly mind to martial achievements with their
verses. Oracles were delivered in poetry, and the economy of life
pointed out, and the favor of sovereign princes was solicited by
Pierian drains, games were instituted, and a [cheerful] period put
to the tedious labors of the day; [this I remind you of,] lest haply
you should be ashamed of the lyric muse, and Apollo the god of song.
It has been made a question, whether good poetry be derived from
nature or from art. For my part, I can neither conceive what study
can do without a rich [natural] vein, nor what rude genius can avail
of itself: so much does the one require the assistance of the other,
and so amicably do they conspire [to produce the same effect]. He
who is industrious to reach the wished-for goal, has done and
suffered much when a boy; he has sweated and shivered with cold; he
has abstained from love and wine; he who sings the Pythian strains,
was a learner first, and in awe of a master. But [in poetry] it is
now enough for a man to say of himself: "I make admirable verses: a
murrain seize the hindmost: it is scandalous for me to be
outstripped, and fairly to Acknowledge that I am ignorant of that
which I never learned."
As a crier who collects the crowd together to buy his goods, so a
poet rich in land, rich in money put out at interest, invites
flatterers to come [and praise his works] for a reward. But if he be
one who is well able to set out an elegant table, and give security
for a poor man, and relieve when entangled in glaomy law-suits; I
shall wonder if with his wealth he can distinguish a true friend
from false one. You, whether you have made, or intend to make, a
present to any one, do not bring him full of joy directly to your
finished verses: for then he will cry out, "Charming, excellent,
judicious," he will turn pale; at some parts he will even distill
the dew from his friendly eyes; he will jump about; he will beat the
ground [with ecstasy]. As those who mourn at funerals for pay, do
and say more than those that are afflicted from their hearts; so the
sham admirer is more moved than he that praises with sincerity.
Certain kings are said to ply with frequent bumpers, and by wine
make trial of a man whom they are sedulous to know whether he be
worthy of their friendship or not. Thus, if you compose verses, let
not the fox's concealed intentions impose upon you.
If you had recited any thing to Quintilius, he would say, "Alter, I
pray, this and this:" if you replied, you could do it no better,
having made the experiment twice or thrice in vain; he would order
you to blot out, and once more apply to the anvil your ill-formed
verses: if you choose rather to defend than correct a fault, he
spent not a word more nor fruitless labor, but you alone might be
fond of yourself and your own works, without a rival. A good and
sensible man will censure spiritless verses, he will condemn the
rugged, on the incorrect he will draw across a black stroke with his
pen; he will lop off ambitious [and redundant] ornaments; he will
make him throw light on the parts that are not perspicuous; he will
arraign what is expressed ambiguously; he will mark what should be
altered; [in short,] he will be an Aristarchus: he will not say,
"Why should I give my friend offense about mere trifles?" These
trifles will lead into mischiefs of serious consequence, when once
made an object of ridicule, and used in a sinister manner.
Like one whom an odious plague or jaundice, fanatic phrensy or
lunacy, distresses; those who are wise avoid a mad poet, and are
afraid to touch him; the boys jostle him, and the incautious pursue
him. If, like a fowler intent upon his game, he should fall into a
well or a ditch while he belches out his fustian verses and roams
about, though he should cry out for a long time, "Come to my
assistance, O my countrymen;" not one would give himself the trouble
of taking him up. Were any one to take pains to give him aid, and
let down a rope; "How do you know, but he threw himself in hither on
purpose?" I shall say: and will relate the death of the Sicilian
poet. Empedocles, while he was ambitious of being esteemed an
immortal god, in cold blood leaped into burning Aetna. Let poets
have the privilege and license to die [as they please]. He who saves
a man against his will, does the same with him who kills him
[against his will]. Neither is it the first time that he has behaved
in this manner; nor, were he to be forced from his purposes, would
he now become a man, and lay aside his desire of such a famous
death. Neither does it appear sufficiently, why he makes verses:
whether he has defiled his father's ashes, or sacrilegiously removed
the sad enclosure of the vindictive thunder: it is evident that he
is mad, and like a bear that has burst through the gates closing his
den, this unmerciful rehearser chases the learned and unlearned. And
whomsoever he seizes, he fastens on and assassinates with
recitation: a leech that will not quit the skin, till satiated with
blood.
THE END
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