Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, EPISTLE 1.5, by QUINTUS HORATIUS FLACCUS


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

EPISTLE 1.5, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: Stuff'd now and stunn'd so long, with feast and riot
Last Line: And slink in triumph through the postern porch.
Alternate Author Name(s): Horace


STUFF'D now and stunn'd so long, with feast and riot,
If you can pass an humble hour, in quiet,
From bows, and thanks, and compliments descend,
To talk plain friendly language with a friend;
Why then I give you joy, and all is right,
If you agree to sup with us to-night.
For wine to foreign lands we seldom roam;
Our patriot bowls with British porter foam:
Porter, with which not Whitbread would find fault,
Or the best he that deals in hops and malt;
However, lest your nicer taste should mock it,
Bring of your own a bottle in your pocket.
Come then; the ready plates your hand require,
And briskly burns for you the evening fire.
Leave bills and bonds, and let the law-suit cool,
And the pert fop forget, and pedant fool.
Now slipt from cold Futurity's embrace
The youthful months begin their jovial race:
Now games and mirth the tedious night beguile,
Now the glass sparkles, now the muses smile;
And I, untouch'd with critick's blame or praise,
Hail the new year and you, in porter and in lays.
What cannot porter's mighty power dispose,
What art not teach, what secret not disclose?
Porter with hope the anxious bosom warms,
Porter impels the cowardly to arms.
Whom like bland porter does the wretch commend,
So sure a comforter, so firm a friend?
What miser tastes, but scorns the sordid ore,
Opes his old purse, and buys a bottle more?
Is there a spell, by witch or poet sung,
That tips with eloquence the coachman's tongue,
And makes him, high on alehouse bench reclined,
With Europe's interest swell his opening mind;
Makes him, with fist and mug, elate in hope,
Knock down the French king, and drink down the Pope;
And fill the coffers of the coming year
By taxing claret, and exempting beer?
No: these high deeds, to antient art unknown,
Porter, thy power performs, and thine alone.
Obsequious to your wish, my willing care
Shall smooth your napkin, and shall dust your chair,
And lay your knife and fork and luncheon snug,
And make each plate a mirror, and each mug.
No spy askance our homely supper views,
No prating idler full of lies and news.
Here all are friends, pleased, and intent to please,
By chearful confidence, and careless ease;
Who let a neighbour's conduct pass unknown,
And spare his errors, as they feel their own;
Who wish you every joy to mortals given,
Content, health, peace, and, long hereafter, heaven.
Haste then; leave your attorney in the lurch,
And slink in triumph through the postern porch.





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