Epistles, Book 1, IV
Albi, nostrorum sermonum candide iudex,
quid nunc te dicam facere in regione Pedana?
Scribere quod Cassi Parmensis opuscula uincat,
an tacitum siluas inter reptare salubris,
curantem quicquid dignum sapiente bonoque est? 5
Non tu corpus eras sine pectore; di tibi formam,
di tibi diuitias dederunt artemque fruendi.
Quid uoueat dulci nutricula maius alumno,
qui sapere et fari possit quae sentiat, et cui
gratia, fama, ualetudo contingat abunde, 10
et mundus uictus non deficiente crumina?
Inter spem curamque, timores inter et iras
omnem crede diem tibi diluxisse supremum;
grata superueniet quae non sperabitur hora.
Me pinguem et nitidum bene curata cute uises, 15
cum ridere uoles, Epicuri de grege porcum.
Tibullus, sincere judge of my Satires, what shall I
Say you're doing in your native country at Pedum?
Writing something to outdo Cassius of Parma's pieces,
Or creeping about silently in healthy woodland,
Thinking of all that belongs to the wise and good?
You were never just a body, lacking in feelings:
The gods gave you beauty, wealth, the art of enjoyment.
What more would a nurse desire for her sweet darling
Than wisdom, the power to express what he feels,
With a generous share of kindness, health and fame,
An elegant mode of life, and no lack of money?
Beset by hopes and anxieties, indignation and fear,
Treat every day that dawns for you as the last.
The unhoped-for hour's ever welcome when it comes.
When you want to smile then visit me: sleek, and fat
I'm a hog, well cared-for, one of Epicurus' herd.
Original text: Latin Library: Q. HORATIVS FLACCVS
Translation: A.S. Kline, Poetry in Tranlation: Horace
