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Anonymous translation from the Latin
From Satire XIII.
THE SPARTAN rogue who, boldly bent on fraud, | |
| Dared ask the god to sanction and applaud, | |
| And sought for counsel at the Pythian shrine, | |
| Received for answer from the lips divine,— | |
| “That he who doubted to restore his trust, | 5 |
| And reasoned much, reluctant to be just, | |
| Should for those doubts and that reluctance prove | |
| The deepest vengeance of the powers above.” | |
| The tale declares that not pronounced in vain | |
| Came forth the warning from the sacred fane: | 10 |
| Ere long no branch of that devoted race | |
| Could mortal man on soil of Sparta trace! | |
| Thus but intended mischief, stayed in time, | |
| Had all the mortal guilt of finished crime. | |
| If such his fate who yet but darkly dares, | 15 |
| Whose guilty purpose yet no act declares, | |
| What were it, done! Ah! now farewell to peace! | |
| Ne’er on this earth his soul’s alarms shall cease! | |
| Held in the mouth that languid fever burns, | |
| His tasteless food he indolently turns; | 20 |
| On Alba’s oldest stock his soul shall pine! | |
| Forth from his lips he spits the joyless wine! | |
| Nor all the nectar of the hills shall now | |
| Or glad the heart, or smooth the wrinkled brow! | |
| While o’er the couch his aching limbs are cast, | 25 |
| If care permit the brief repose at last, | |
| Lo! there the altar and the fane abused! | |
| Or darkly shadowed forth in dream confused, | |
| While the damp brow betrays the inward storm, | |
| Before him flits thy aggravated form! | 30 |
| Then as new fears o’er all his senses press, | |
| Unwilling words the guilty truth confess! | |
| These, these be they whom secret terrors try, | |
| When muttered thunders shake the lurid sky; | |
| Whose deadly paleness now the gloom conceals | 35 |
| And now the vivid flash anew reveals. | |
| No storm as Nature’s casualty they hold, | |
| They deem without an aim no thunders rolled; | |
| Where’er the lightning strikes, the flash is thought | |
| Judicial fire, with Heaven’s high vengeance fraught. | 40 |
| Passes this by, with yet more anxious ear | |
| And greater dread, each future storm they fear; | |
| In burning vigil, deadliest foe to sleep, | |
| In their distempered frame if fever keep, | |
| Or the pained side their wonted rest prevent, | 45 |
| Behold some incensed god his bow has bent! | |
| All pains, all aches, are stones and arrows hurled | |
| At bold offenders in this nether world! | |
| From them no crested cock acceptance meets! | |
| Their lamb before the altar vainly bleats! | 50 |
| Can pardoning Heaven on guilty sickness smile? | |
| Or is there victim than itself more vile? | |
| Where steadfast virtue dwells not in the breast, | |
| Man is a wavering creature at the best! | |
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