PERSIUS, SATIRE V
12Here I live, heedless of the mob, or of what trouble the baleful Auster may be brewing for my herd, untroubled because that corner of my neighbour's field is richer than my own—ay,[1] and though men of baser birth than I were growing rich, I should still refuse, on that account, to be bent double and grow thin with vexation, or to dine without a savoury, or explore with my nose the seal of a bottle of vapid wine. Others may think differently; one horoscope will bring forth twins of diverse temperament. One man, on birthdays only, moistens his dry cabbage with a brine which, knowing dog that he is, he has bought in a cup, sprinkling the sacred pepper over the platter with his own hand; another is a lordly youth who runs through[2] a whole estate in gormandising. Enjoy what I have, say I; being neither grand enough to feed my freedmen upon turbots, nor yet epicure enough to distinguish the fine flavour of a hen thrush.
25Use up your crop, and grind out your granaries, as is right. Why need you be afraid? harrow again, and a second crop is in the blade. "But duty," you say, "has a call on you; a poor shipwrecked friend is clutching hold of the rocks of Bruttium, all his goods and his unheeded prayers sunk in the Ionian Sea; he himself lies upon the shore, the great Gods from the ship's poop beside him; the gulls are by this time flocking to the shattered timbers." Well then, break off a bit from your green turf, and bestow it on your needy friend, that he may not have to roam the country with his picture on a sea-green plank. But your heir, you say, will be wrathful that you have curtailed your property; he will stint the funeral feast, and will commit your bones unscented to the urn,
