Plerumque gratæ divitibus vices,
Mundæque parvo sub lare pauperum
Cænæ sine aulæis et ostro

Sollicitam explicuere frontem.

Jam clarus occultum Andromedæ pater
Ostendit ignem ; jam Procyon furit
Et stella vesani Leonis,

Sole dies referente siccos.

Jam pastor umbras cum grege languido Rivumque fessus quærit et horridi Dumeta Silvani ; caretque

Ripa vagis taciturna ventis.

Thou, what befits the new Lord Mayor,
And what the city factions dare,
And what the Gallic arms will do,
And what the quiver-bearing foe,
Art anxiously inquisitive to know :
But God has wisely hid from human sight

The dark decrees of future fate,
And sown their seeds in depth of night;
He laughs at all the giddy turns of state ;
When mortals search too soon, and fear too late.

Enjoy the present smiling hour,

And put it out of fortune's pow'r :
The tide of business, like the running stream,
Is sometimes high, and sometimes low,
A quiet ebb, or a tempestuous flow,

And always in extreme.
Now with a noiseless, gentle course

It keeps within the middle bed;

Anon it lifts aloft the head,
And bears down all before it with impetuous force;

And trunks of trees come rolling down,

Sheep and their folds together drown:
Both house and homesteads into seas are borne ;

And rocks are from their old foundations torn,
And woods, made thin with winds, their scattered honours

Tu civitatem quis deceat status
Curas ; et urbi sollicitus times,
Quid Seres et regnata Cyro

Bactra parent Tanaisque discors.

PRUDENS futuri temporis exitum
Caliginosa nocte premit deus,
Ridetque si mortalis ultra

Fas trepidat. Quod adest, memento

Componere æquus : cætera fluminis
Ritu feruntur, nunc medio alveo
Cum
pace

delabentis Etruscum
In mare, nunc lapides adesos,

Stirpesque raptas et pecus et domos
Volventis una, non sine montium
Clamore vicinæque silvæ,

Cum fera diluvies quietos

Happy the man, and happy he alone,
He, who can call to-day his own :
He who, secure within, can say,
To-morrow do thy worst, for I have lived to-day.

Be fair, or foul, or rain, or shine,
The joys I have possessed, in spite of fate are mine,

Not Heav'n itself upon the past has pow'r, But what has been, has been, and I have had my hour.

Fortune, that with malicious joy

Does man her slave oppress,
Proud of her office to destroy,

Is seldom pleased to bless :
Still various and unconstant still,
But with an inclination to be ill,

Promotes, degrades, delights in strife,

And makes a lottery of life.
I can enjoy her while she's kind;
But when she dances in the wind,
And shakes her wings and will not stay,

I puff the prostitute away :
The little or the much she gave, is quietly resigned ;

Content with poverty, my soul I arm;
And virtue, though in rags, will keep me warm.

What is't to me
Who never sail in her unfaithful sea,
If storms arise, and clouds grow black ;
If the mast split, and threaten wreck;

Irritat amnes. . ILLE potens sui
Lætusque deget, cui licet in diem
Dixisse, Vixi: cras vel atra

Nube polum pater occupato,

Vel sole puro : non tamen irritum Quodcunque retro est efficiet; neque Diffinget infectumque reddet

Quod fugiens semel hora vexit.

Fortuna sævo læta negotio et Ludum insolentem ludere pertinax, Transmutat incertos honores,

Nunc mihi, nunc alii benigna.

Laudo manentem : si celeres quatit Pennas, resigno quæ dedit, et mea Virtute me involvo, probamque

Pauperiem sine dote quæro.