"O_h, what can match the green recess_,
W_hose honey not to Hybla yields_,
W_hose olives vie with those that bless_
V_enafrum's fields_?
"L_ong springs, mild winters glad that spot_
B_y Jove's good grace, and Aulon, dear_
T_o fruitful Bacchus, envies not_
F_alernian cheer_.
"T_hat spot, those happy heights desire_
O_ur sojourn; there, when life shall end_,
Y_our tear shall dew my yet warm pyre_,
Y_our bard and friend_."
And what numbers of men have taken to their hearts from the same ode the
famous
Ille terrarum mihi praeter omnes
Angulus ridet,--
Y_onder little nook of earth_
B_eyond all others smiles on me_,--
and expressed through its perfect phrase the love they bear their own
beloved nook of earth. "Happy Horace!" writes Sainte-Beuve on the margin
of his edition, "what a fortune has been his! Why, because he once
expressed in a few charming verses his fondness for the life of the
country and described his favorite corner of earth, the lines composed
for his own pleasure and for the friend to whom he addressed them have
laid hold on the memory of all men and have become so firmly lodged
there that one can conceive no others, and finds only those when he
feels the need of praising his own beloved retreat!"
To speak of sterner virtues, what a source of inspiration to
righteousness and constancy men have found in the apt and undying
phrases of Horace! "Cornelius de Witt, when confronting the murderous
mob; Condorcet, perishing in the straw of his filthy cell; Herrick, at
his far-away old British revels; Leo, during his last days at the
Vatican, and a thousand others," strengthened their resolution by
repeating _Iustum et tenacem_:
"T_he man of firm and noble soul_
N_o factious clamors can control_
N_o threat'ning tyrant's darkling brow_
C_an swerve him from his just intent_.
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