Thou wilt go, my friend Maecenas, with Liburian galleys among the
towering forts of ships, ready at thine own [hazard] to undergo any of
Caesar's dangers. What shall I do? To whom life may be agreeable, if you
survive; but, if otherwise, burdensome. Whether shall I, at your
command, pursue my ease, which can not be pleasing unless in your
company? Or shall I endure this toil with such a courage, as becomes
effeminate men to bear? I will bear it? and with an intrepid soul follow
you, either through the summits of the Alps, and the inhospitable
Caucus, or to the furthest western bay. You may ask how I, unwarlike and
infirm, can assist your labors by mine? While I am your companion, I
shall be in less anxiety, which takes possession of the absent in a
greater measure. As the bird, that has unfledged young, is in a greater
dread of serpents' approaches, when they are left;--not that, if she
should be present when they came, she could render more help. Not only
this, but every other war, shall be cheerfully embraced by me for the
hope of your favor; [and this,] not that my plows should labor, yoked to
a greater number of mine own oxen; or that my cattle before the
scorching dog-star should change the Calabrian for the Lucanian
pastures: neither that my white country-box should equal the Circaean
walls of lofty Tusculum. Your generosity has enriched me enough, and
more than enough: I shall never wish to amass, what either, like the
miser Chremes, I may bury in the earth, or luxuriously squander, like a
prodigal.
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