er part is detached and judicial estimation of his work, a second part literary convention, and

rests upon him preserved him in the rout at Philippi, rescued him from the Sabine wolf, saved him from death by the falling tree and the waters of shipwreck. He will abide under its shadow wherever he may go,-to his favorite haunts in Latium, to the 071 far north where fierce Britons offer up the stranger to their gods, to the far east and the blazing sands of the Syri

ge; let no one

mly show of g

me, who shall

empty honor

ong men, ever springing afre

ronze nor pyr

ll outlive my

I build, to

n, nor raging

ng through the

troy. I shall

l have of me b

praise shall

7

iest and sile

steep, tongues

orace rose a

us's rushin

and where rustic

ht Grecian num

ure. Muse! th

I am thine til

lpomene, O

elphic bay gir

known. The Muse forbids him to attempt the epic strain or the praise of Augustus and Agrippa. In the face of grand themes like these, his genius is slight. He will not essay even the strain of Simonides in the lament for an Empire stained by

t, especially as he grows older and more philosophic, and perhaps less lyri

ride nor a

Theban ea

ith supre

e azure de

orld the poem that henceforth can never be recalled. The only inspiration he claims for Satire and Epistle, which, he says, approximate the style of spoken discourse, lies in the aptness and patience with which he fashio

with some secret pride, but surely with a philosophic resignation that is like good-humored despair, he sees that the path is pedagogical. In reproachful tones, he addresses the book of Epistles that is so eager to try its fortune in the big world: But if the prophet is not blinded by disgust at your foolishness, you will be prized at Rome until the charm of youth has left you. Then, soiled and worn by much handling of