While witlings learn'd with empty sound
Like crows pursue their ceaseless round,
That through the airy plains above
Track the majestic bird of Jove. 158155
Then take, my soul, thy fearless aim—
Drawn from the quiet storehouse say
To whom thine arrows wing their way
Along the path of fame?
Far as proud Agrigentum's height160
Should they direct their devious flight,
If sworn to truth, I will declare
That in the hundred years whose course hath fled
O'er her imperial head,
No heart more friendly, no more liberal hand165
Than Theron's, who now sways the subject land,
Hath held dominion there. 173
Yet Insolence her voice will raise
Unjust to thwart the monarch's praise,
And Envy's rancorous tongue invade,170
Casting his merits into shade.
Howe'er the base malignant crew
His name with violence pursue,
If thou wouldst all his generous deeds explore,
As soon the sandy grains thy tongue shall number o'er.[1] 180175
- ↑ So Catullus: (ad Lesbiam;)—
"Quam magnus numerus Libyssæ arenæ
Laserpiciferis jacet Cyrenis,
Oraclum Jovis inter æstuosi,
Et Batti veteris sacrum sepulchrum:
******
Quæ nec pernumerare curiosi
Possint."
