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tribute to the happiness of a free people, and are more consistent with the welfare of our neighbours.
This epistle will show the learned world to have fallen into two mistakes: one, that Augustus was the patron of poets in general; whereas he not only prohibited all but the best writers to name him, but recommended that care ev'n to the civil magistrate: Admonebat prætores, ne paterentur nomen suum obsolefieri, &c. The other, that this piece was only a general discourse of poetry; whereas it was an apology for the poets, in order to render Augustus more their patron. Horace here pleads the cause of his contemporaries, first against the taste of the town, whose humour it was to magnify the authors of the preceding age; secondly against the court and nobility, who encouraged only the writers for the theatre; and lastly against the emperor himself, who had conceived them of little use to the government. He shows (by a view of the progress of learning, and the change of taste among the Romans) that the introduction of the polite arts of Greece had given the writers of his time great advantages over their predecessors; that their morals were much improved, and the licence of those ancient poets restrained; that satire and comedy were become more just and useful; that whatever extravagances were left on the stage, were owing to the ill taste of the nobility; that poets, under due regulations, were in many respects useful to the state; and concludes, that it was upon them the emperor himself must depend, for his fame with posterity.
We may farther learn from this epistle, that Horace made his court to this great prince, by writing with a decent freedom towards him, with a just contempt of his low flatterers, and with a manly regard to his own character.
1 Clos'd their long glories with a sigh, to find
Th' unwilling gratitude of base mankind!
AN human virtue to its latest breath
2 Finds Envy never conquer'd but by Death.
The great Alcides, every labour past,
Had still this monster to subdue at last.
Sure fate of all beneath whose rising ray
Each star of meaner merit fades away!
Oppress'd we feel the beam directly heat,
Those suns of glory please not till they set.
To thee the world its present homage pays,
The harvest early, but mature the praise:
Great friend of liberty! in kings a name
Above all Greek, above all Roman fame *:
Whose word is truth, as sacred and rever'd,
'As Heavens own oracles from altars heard.
Wonder of kings! like whom, to mortal eyes
"None e'er has risen, and none e'er shall rise.
Just in one instance, be it yet confest
Your people, sir, are partial in the rest:
Foes to all living worth except your own,
And advocates for folly dead and gone.
Authors, like coins, grow dear as they grow old;
It is the rust we value, not the gold.
7 Chaucer's worst ribaldry is learn'd by rote,
And beastly Skelton heads of houses quote:
One likes no language but the Faery Queen;
A Scot will fight for Christ's Kirk o' the Green;
And each true Briton is to Ben so civil,
8 He swears the Muses meet him at the Devil.
Though justly Greece her eldest sons admires,
Why should not we be wiser than our sires?
In every public virtue we excel ;
We build, we paint, 10 we sing, we dance as well;
And " learned Athens to our art must stoop,
Could she behold us tumbling through a hoop.
If 12 time improve our wits as well as wine,
Say at what age a poet grows divine?
Shall we, or shall we not, account him so,
Who dy'd perhaps an hundred years ago?
End all dispute; and fix the year precise
When British bards begin t' immortalize?
1 Ploravere suis non respondere favorem
Speratum meritis. diram qui contudit Hydram,
Notaque fatali portenta labore subegit,
Comperit invidiam supremo fine domari,
3 Urit enim fulgore suo, qui prægravat artes
Infra se positas: extinctus amabitur idem.
4 Fræsenti tibi maturos largimur honores,
"Jurandasque tuum per numen ponimus aras,
Nil oriturum alias, nil ortum tale fatentes.
Sed tuus hoc populus sapiens et justus in uno,
*Te nostris ducibus, te Graiis anteferendo
Cætera nequaquam simili ratione modoque
Estimat; et, nisi quæ terris semota suisque
Temporibus defuncta videt, fastidit et odit :
7 Sic fautor veterum, ut tabulas peccare vetantes
Quas bis quinque viri sanxerunt, fœdera regum,
Vel Gabiis vel cum rigidis æquata Sabinis,
Pontificum libros annosa volumina Vatum,
8 Dictitet Albano Musas in monte locutas.
The life to come in every poet's creed.
Who now reads 10 Cowley? if he pleases yet, His moral pleases, not his pointed wit; Forgot his epic, nay pindaric art,
But still "I love the language of his heart.
"Yet surely, 12 surely, these were famous men !
What boy but hears the saying of old Ben?
In all 3 debates where critics bear a part,
Not one but nods, and talks of Jonson's art,
Of Shakespeare's nature, and of Cowley's wit;
How Beaumont's judgment check'd what Fletcher
How Shadwell hasty, Wycherley was slow;
But, for the passions, Southerne, sure, and Rowe.
These, only these, support the crowded stage,
From eldest Heywood down to Cibber's age.”
All this may be; 15 the peoples voice is odd,
It is, and it is not, the voice of God.
To 16 Gammer Gurton if it give the bays,
And yet deny the Careless Husband praise,
Scriptor ab hinc annos centum qui decidit, inter
Perfectos veteresque referri debet, an inter
Viles atque novos? excludat jurgia finis.
Est vetus atque probus, 'centum qui perficit annos.
Quid? qui deperiit minor uno mense vel anno,
Inter quos referendus erit? 2 veteresne poetas,
An quos et præsens et postera respuat ætas ?
Iste quidem veteres inter ponetur 3 honeste,
Qui vel mense brevi, vel toto est junior anno.
Utor permisso, caudæque pilos ut quinæ
Paulatim vello: et d mo unum, demo et item
Dum cadat elusus ratione 'ruentis acervi, [unum;
Qui redit in fastos, et virtutem æstimat annis,
Miraturque nihil, nisi quod Libitina sacravit.
In the dry desert of a thousand lines,
Or lengthen'd thought that gleams through many
Has sanctify'd whole poems for an age.
"I lose my patience, and I own it too,
When works are censur'd, not as bad, but new ;
While, if our elders break all reason's laws,
These fools demand not pardon, but applause.
10 On Avon's bank, where flowers eternal blow, If I but ask if any weed can grow; One tragic sentence if I dare deride,
| Which " Betterton's grave action dignify'd,
Or well-mouth'd Booth with emphasis proclaims,
(Though but, perhaps, a muster-roll of names)
How will our fathers rise up in a rage,
And swear, all shame is lost in George's age!
You'd think 12 no fools disgrac'd the former reign
Did not some grave examples yet remain,
Who scorn a lad should teach his father skill,
And having once been wrong, will be so still.
He, who to seem more deep than you or I,
Extols old bards, 13 or Merlin's prophecy,
Mistake him not; he envies, not acnires,
And to debase the sons, exalts the sires.
Ut nihil anteferat, nihil illis comparet; errat:
Si quædam nimis' antique, si pleraque 2 dure
Dicere credit eos, ignave multa fatetur ;
Et sapit, et mecum facit, et Jove judicat æquo.
Non equidem insector, delendaque carmina Livi
Esse reor, memini quæ plagosum mihi parvo
sed emendata videri
Pulchraque, et exactis minimum distantia, miror :
Int qua verbum emicuit si forte decorum,
Si versus paulo concinnior unus et alter;
Injuste totum ducit venditque poema.
Indignor qui quam reprehendi, non quia crasse Compositum, illepideve putetur, sed quia naper; Nec veniam antiquis, sed honorem et præmia posci.
10 Recte neene crocum floresque perambulet Attæ Fabula, si dubitem; clamant periisse pudorem Cuneti pene patres: ea cum reprehendere coner, Qua gravis Esopus, quæ doctus Roscius egit. Vel quia nil rectum, nisi quod placuit sibi, ducunt;
Vel quia turpe putant parere minoribus, et quæ
Imberbi didicere, senes perdenda fateri,
Jam Saliare Numa carmen qui laudat, et illud,
Quod mecum ignorat, solus vult scire videri;
Ingeniis non ille favet plauditque sepultis,
Nostra sed impugnat, nos nostraque lividus odit
Had ancient times conspir'd to disallow What then was new, what had been ancient now? Or what remain'd, so worthy to be read By learned critics, of the mighty dead?
In days of ease, when now the weary sword
Was sheath'd, and luxury with Charles restor❜d;
In every taste of foreign courts improv'd,
"All, by the king's example, liv'd and lov'd.”
Then peers grew proud 'in horsemanship t' excel,
Newmarket's glory rose, as Britain's fell;
The soldier breath'd the gallantries of France,
And every flowery courtier writ romance.
Then marble, soften'd into life, grew warm,
And yielding metal flow'd to human form:
Lely on animated canvas stole
The sleepy eye, that spoke the melting soul.
No wonder then, when all was love and sport,
The willing Muses were debauch'd at court:
On each enervate string they taught the note
To pant or tremble through an eunuch's throat.
But Britain, changeful as a child at play,
Now calls in princes, and now turns away.
Now Whig, now Tory, what we lov'd we hate;
Now all for pleasure, now for church or state;
Now for prerogative, and now for laws;
Effects unhappy! from a noble cause.
Time was, a sober Englishman would knock His servants up, and rise by five o'clock, Instruct his family in every rule,
And send his wife to church, his son to school.
To worship like his fathers, was his care;
To teach their frugal virtues to his heir;
To prove that luxury could never hold;
And place, on good 10 security, his gold.
Now times are chang'd, and one " poetic itch
Has seiz'd the court and city, poor and rich:
Sous, sires, and grandsires, all will wear the
Our wives read Milton, and our daughters plays,
To theatres and to rehearsals throng,
And all our grace at tables is a song.
I, who so oft renounce the Muses, lie,
Not's self e'er tells more fibbs than I;
1 Quod si tam Græcis novitas invisa fuisset, Quam nobis; quid nunc esset vetus? aut quid haberet,
Quod legeret tereretque viritim publicus usus?
Ut primum positis nugari Græcia bellis
Cœpit, et in vitium fortuna labier æqua ;
Nunc athletarun studiis, nunc arsit equorum:
* Marmoris aut eboris fabros aut æris amavit;
Suspendit picta vultum mentemque tabella;
Nunc tibicinibus, nunc est gavisa tragœdis:
Sub nutrice puella velut si luderet infans,
Quod cupide petiit, mature plena reliquit.
Quid placet, aut odio est, quod non mutabile cre-
Hoc paces habuere bonæ, ventique secundi.
Rome dulce diu fuit et solemne, reclusa Mane domo vigilare, clienti promere jura; Scriptos nominibus rectis expendere nummos; Majores audire, minori dicere, per quæ Crescere res posset minui damnosa libido. Mutavit mentem populus levis, " et calet uno Scribendi studio: puerique patresque severi Fronde comas vincti cœnant, et carmina dictant. Ipse ego, qui nullos me affirmo scribere versus, Invenior Parthis mendacior; et prius orto Sole vigil, calamum et chartas et scrinia posco. VOL XIL
When sick of Muse, our follies we deplore,
And promise our best friends to rhyme no more;
We wake next morning in a raging fit,
And call for pen and ink to show our wit.
'He serv'd a 'prenticeship, who sets up shop;
Ward try'd on puppies, and the poor, his drop;
Ev'n Radcliffe's doctors travel first to France,
Nor dare to practise till they've learn❜d to dance.
Who builds a bridge that never drove a pile?
(Should Ripley venture, all the world would smile)
But those who cannot write, and those who can,
All rhyme, and scrawl, and scribble, to a man.
Yet, sir, reflect, the mischief is not great; These madmen never hurt the church or state : Sometimes the folly benefits mankind;
To cheat a friend, or ward, he leaves to Peter;
The good man heaps up nothing but mere metre,
Enjoys his garden and his book in quiet;
And then-a perfect bermit in his diet.
Of little use the man you may suppose,
Who says in verse what others say in prose:
Yet let me show, a poet 's of some weight,
And (10 though no soldier) useful to the state.
"What will a child learn sooner than a song?
What better teach a foreigner the tongue?
What's long or short, each accent where to place,
And speak in public with some sort of grace.
I scarce can think him such a worthless thing,
Unless he praise some monster of a king:
Or virtue, or religion turn to sport,
To please a lewd or unbelieving court.
Unhappy Dryden !-In all Charles's days,
Roscommon only boasts unspotted bays;
And in our own (excuse some courtly stains)
No whiter page than Addison remains;
He 12 from the taste obscene reclaim's our youth,
And sets the passions on the side of Truth,
Forms the soft bosom with the gentlest art,
And pours each human virtue in the heart.
Let Ireland tell, how wit upheld her cause,
Her trade supported, and supplied her laws;
And leave on Swift this grateful verse engrav'd,
"The rights a court attack'd, a poet sav'd."
Behold the hand that wrought a nation's cure,
Stretch'd to relieve the idiot and the poor,
1 Navem agere ignarus navis timet: abrotonum ægro
Non audet, nisi qui didicit, dare: quod medicorum Promittunt medici: tractant fabrilia fabri: [est, 3 Scribimus indocti doctique poemata passim.
4 Hic error tamen et levis hæc insania, quantas Virtutes habeat, sic collige: vatisavarus Non temere est animus: versus amat, hoc studet unum ; 7
Detrimenta, fugas servorum, incendia ridet;
Non fraudem socio, puerove incogitat ullam
Pupillo? vivit siliquis, et pane secundo;
10 Militiæ quanquam piger et malus, utilis urbi;
Si das hoc, parvis quoque rebus magna juvari;
11 Os tenerum pueri balbumque poeta figurat :
Torquet ab obscœnis jam nunc sermonibus aurem ;
Mox etiam pectus præceptis format amicis,
Asperitatis, et invidiæ corrector, et iræ;
Recte facta refert; "orientia tempora notis
Proud Vice to brand, or injur'd Worth adorn,
And stretch the ray to ages yet unborn.
Not but there are, who merit other palms;
Hopkins and Sternhold glad the heart with psalms:
The boys and girls whom charity maintains
Implore your help in these pathetic strains:
How could Devotion 3 touch the country pews,
Unless the gods bestow'd a proper Muse?
Verse cheers their leisure, Verse assists their work,
Verse prays for peace, or sings down 4 pope and Turk.
The silene'd preacher yields to potent strain,
And feels that grace his prayer besought in vain ; The blessing thrills through all the labouring throng, And Heaven is won by violence of song.
Our rural ancestors, with little blest, Patient of labour when the end was rest, Indulg'd the day that hous'd their annual grain, With feasts, and offerings, and a thankful strain: The joy their wives, their sons, and servants share, Ease of their toil, and partners of their care: The laugh, the jest, attendants on the bowl, Smooth'd every brow, and open'd every soul: With growing years the pleasing licence grew, And taunts alternate innocently flew. But times corrupt, and Nature ill-inclin'd, Produc'd the point that left a sting behind; Till, friend with friend, and families at strife, Triumphant Malice rag'd through private life. Who felt the wrong, or fear'd it, took th' alarm, Appeal'd to law, and Justice lent her arm. At length by wholesome dread of statutes bound, The poets learn'd to please, and not to wound: Most warp'd to flattery's side; but some, more nice, Preserv'd the freedom, and forbore the vice. Hence satire rose, that just the medium hit, And heals with morals what it hurts with wit. "We conquer'd France, but felt our captive's charms;
Her arts victorious triumph'd o'er our arms;
Britain to soft refinements less a foe,
Wit grew polite, and 12 numbers learn'd to flow.
Instruit exemplis ; inopem solatur et ægrum.
Castis cum pueris ignara puella mariti
Disceret unde3 preces, vatem ni Musa dedisset?
Poscit opem chorus, et præsentia numina sentit;
Celestes implorat aquas, docta prece blandus;
Avertit morbos, metuenda pericula pellit;
Impetrat et pacem, et locupletem frugibus annum.
"Carmine Di superi placantur, carmine Manes.
6 Agricolæ prisci, fortes parvoque beati,
Condita post frumenta, levantes tempore festo
Corpus et ipsum animum spe finis dara ferentem,
Cum sociis operum pueris et conjuge fida,
Teilurem porco, Silvanum lacte piabant,
Floribus, et vino Genium memorem brevis ævi,
Fescennina per hunc inventa licentia morein.
'Versibus alternis opprobria rustica fudit;
Libertasque recurrentes accepta per annos
Lusit amabiliter: donec jam sævus apertam
In rabiem cœpit verti jocus, et per honestas
Ire domos impune minax. doluere cruento
Dente lacessiti: fuit intactis quoque cura
Conditione super communi: quin etiam lex
Pœnaque lata, malo quæ nollet carmine quenquam
Describi. vertere modun, formidine fustis
Ad 10 bene dicendum, delectandumque redacti.
"Græcia capta ferum victorem cepit, et artes
Intulit agresti Latio. sic horridus ille
Defluxit 12 numerus Saturnius, et grave virus
And full in Shakespeare, fair in Otway shone:
But Otway fail'd to polish or refine,
And fluent Shakespeare scarce effac'd a line.
Ev'n copious Dryden wanted, or forgot,
The last and greatest art, the art to blot.
Some doubt, if equal pains, or equal fire,
The humbler Muse of comedy require.
But in known images of life, I guess
The labour greater, as th' indulgence less."
Observe how seldom ev'n the best succeed:
Tell me if Congreve's fools are fools indeed?
What pert low dialogue has Farquhar wit!
How Van wants grace, who never wanted wit!
The stage how loosely does Astræa tread,
Who fairly puts all characters to bed!
And idle Cibber, how he breaks the laws,
To make poor Pinkey 10 eat with vast applause!
But fill their purse, our poets' work is done,
Alike to them, by pathos or by pun.
O you! whom 12 Vanity's light bark conveys On Fame's mad voyage by the wind of praise, With what a shifting gale your course you ply, For ever sunk too low, or borne too high; Who pants for glory finds but short repose, A breath revives him, or a breath o'erthrows. 13 Farewell the stage! if, just as thrives the play, The silly bard grows fat, or falls away.
14 There still remains, to mortify a wit, The many-headed monster of the pit;
A senseless, worthless, and unhonour'd crow'd: Who, to disturb their betters mighty proud,
Nam 'spirat tragicum satis, et feliciter audet:
Sed turpem putat inscite metuitque lituram.
Creditur, ex medio quia res arcessit, habere
Sudoris minimum; sed habet comœdia tanto
Plus oneris, quanto venke minus.' aspice, Plautus
Quo pacto partes tutetur amantis ephebi,
Ut patris attenti, lenonis ut insidiosi:
Quantus sit Dossennus edacibus in parasitis;
Quam non 10
astricto percurrat pulpita socco.
Gestit enim nummum in loculos demittere: post
Securus, cadat an recto stet fabula talo.
Quem tulit ad scenam 12 ventoso gloría curru,
Exanimat lentus spectator, sedulus inflat:
Sic leve, sic parvum est, animum quod laudis ava-
Subruit, ac reficit: 13 valeat res ludicra, si me
Palma negata macrum, donata reducit opimam.
14 Sæpe etiam audacem fugat hoc terretque poetam
Quod numero plures, virtute et honore minores
Indocti, stolidique, et depugnare parati
Clattering their sticks before ten lines are spoke,
Call for the farce, the bear, or the Black-joke.
What dear delight to Britons farce affords!
Ever the taste of mobs, but now 2 of lords;
(Taste, that eternal wanderer, which flies
From heads to ears, and now from ears to eyes.)
The play stands still; damn action and discourse,
Back fly the scenes, and enter foot, and horse;
Pageants on pageants, in long order drawn,
Peers, heralds, bishops, ermin, gold and lawn;
The champion too! and, to complete the jest,
Old Edward's armour beams on Cibber's breast.
With laughter sure Democritus had dy'd,
Had he beheld an audience gape so wide.
Let bear or elephant be e'er so white,
The people sure, the people are the sight!
Ah luckless poet! stretch thy lungs and roar,
That bear or elephant shall heed thee more;
While all its throats the gallery extends,
And all the thunder of the pit ascends!
Loud as the wolves, on Orca's stormy steep,
Howl to the roarings of the northern deep:
Such is the shout, the long-applauding note,
Át Quin's high plume, or Oldfield's ' petticoat;
Or when from court a birth-day suit bestow'd,
Sinks the 10 lost actor in the tawdrey load.
Booth enters-hark! the universal peal!
"But has he spoken?" Not a syllable.
What shook the stage, and made the people stare?
"Cato's long wig, flower'd gown, and lacquer'd chair.
Yet, lest you think I rally more than teach,
Or praise malignly arts I cannot reach,
Let me for once presume t' instruct the times,
To know the poet from the man of rhymes:
"Tis he 12 who gives my breast a thousand pains,
Can make me feel each passion that he feigns;
Enrage, compose, with more than magic art;
With pity, and with terrour, tear my heart;
And snatch me, o'er the earth, or through the air,
To Thebes, to Athens, when he will, and where.
Si discordet eques, media inter carmina poscunt
Aut'ursum aut pugiles: his nam plebecula gau-
Verum equitis quoque jam migravit ab aure vo-
Omnis, ad incertos oculos, et gaudia vana.
Quatuor ant plures aulæa premuntur in horas;
Dum fugiunt equitum turmæ, peditumque ca-
Mox traditur manibus regum fortuna retortis;
Esseda festinant, pilenta, petorrita, naves;
Captivum portatur ebur, captiva Corinthus.
4Si foret in terris, rideret Democritus; seu
Diversum confusa genus panthera camelo,
Sive elephas albus vulgi converteret ora.
Spectaret populum ludis attentius ipsis,
Ut sibi præbentem mimo spectacula plura :
Scriptores autem narrare putaret asello
Fabellam surdo. nam quæ pervincere voces
Evaluere sonum, referunt quem nostra theatra?
*Garganum mugire putes nemus, aut mare Tuscum.
Tanto cum strepitu ludi spectantur, et artes,
'Divitiæque peregrinæ: quibus 10 oblitus actor
Cum stetit in scena, concurrit dextera lævæ.
Dixit adhuc aliquid? nil sane. Quid placet ergo?
"Lana Tarentino violas imitata veneno.
Ac ne forte putes me, quæ facere ipse recusem,
Cum recte tractent alii, laudare maligne :
Ille per extentum funem mihi posse videtur
Ire poeta ; 12 meum qui pectus inaniter angit,
But not this part of the poetic state
Alone, deserves the favour of the great:
Think of those authors, sir, who would rely
More on a reader's sense, than gazer's eye.
Or who shall wander where the Muses sing?
Who climb their mountain, or who taste their
How shall we fill a library with wit, [spring?
When Merlin's Cave is half unfurnish'd yet?
My liege! why writers little claim your thought,
I guess; and, with their leave, will tell the fault:
We 'poets are (upon a poet's word)
Of all mankind, the creatures most absurd!
The season, when to come, and when to go,
To sing, or cease to sing, we never know;
And if we will recite nine hours in ten,
You lose your pati nce just like other men.
Then too we hurt ourselves, when, to defend
A single verse, we quarrel with a friend;
Repeat unask'd; 'lament, the wit's too fine
For vulgar eyes, and point out every line;
But most, when, straining with too weak a wing,
We needs will write epistles to the king;
And from the moment we oblige the town,
Expect a place, or pension from the crown;
Or, dubb'd historians by express command,
T'enroll your triumphs o'er the seas and land,
Be call'd to court to plan some work divine,
As once for Louis, Boileau and Racine.
Yet'think, great sir! (so many virtues shown)
Ah think, what poet best may make them known?
Or chuse at least some minister of grace,
Fit to bestow the 10 laureat's weighty place.
"Charles, to late times to be transmitted fair,
Assign'd his figure tó Bernini's care;
And great Nassau to Kneller's hand decreed
To fix him graceful on the bounding steed;
So well in paint and stone they judg'd of merit :
But kings in wit may want discerning spirit.
Irritat, mulcet, falsis terroribus implet,
Ut magus; et modo me Thebis, modo ponit Athenis.
'Verum age, et his, qui se lectori credere malunt,
Quam spectatoris fastidia ferre superbi,
Curam impende brevem: si munus Apolline dignum
Vis complere libris; et tatibus addere calcar,
Ut studio majore petant Helicona virentem.
3 Multa quidem nobis facimus mala sæpe poetæ, (Ut vineta egomet cædam mea) cum tibi librum 4 Solicito damus, aut fesso: cum lædimur, unum Si quis amicorum est ausus reprendere versum : Cum loca jam recitata revolvimus irrevocati! Cum lamentamur non apparere labores Nostros, et tenui deducta poemata filo:
Cum speramus eo rem venturam, ut, simul atque
Carmina rescieris nos fingere, commodus ultro
Arcessas, et egere vetes, et scribere cogas.
Sed tamen est operæ pretium cognoscere, quales
Edituos habeat belli spectata domique
Virtus, 10 indigno non committenda poetæ,
"Gratus Alexandro regi magno fuit ille
Chœrilus, incultis qui versibus et male natis
Rettulit acceptos, regale numisma, Philippos.
Sed veluti tractata notam labemque remittunt
Atramenta, fere scriptores carmine fœdo
| Splendida facta linunt. idem rex ille, poema Qui tam ridiculum tam care prodigus emit, Edicto vetuit, ne quis se præter Apellem Pingeret, aut alius Lysippo duceret æra Fortis 12 Alexandri vultum simulantia. quod si | Judicium subtile videndis artibus illud