Along the Sacred Road I strolled one day, Deep in some bagatelle (you know my way), When up comes one whose name I scarcely knew: “Ah, dearest of dear fellows, how d’ye do?” He grasped my hand: “Well, thanks; the same to you.” Then, as he still kept walking by my side, To cut things short, “You’ve no commands?” I cried. “Nay, you should know me; I’m a man of lore.” “Sir, I’m your humble servant all the more.” All in a fret to make him let me go, I now walk fast, now loiter and walk slow, Now whisper to my servant, while the sweat Ran down so fast my very feet were wet. “Oh, had I but a temper worth the name, Like yours, Bolanus!” inly I exclaim, While he keeps running on at a hand-trot About the town, the streets, I know not what. Finding I made no answer, “Ah, I see You’re at a strait to rid yourself of me; But ’tis no use; I’m a tenacious friend, And mean to hold you till your journey’s end.” “No need to take you such a round; I go To visit an acquaintance you don’t know. Poor man, he’s ailing at his lodging, far Beyond the bridge, where Cæsar’s gardens are.” “Oh, never mind; I’ve nothing else to do, And want a walk, so I’ll step on with you.” Down go my ears in donkey-fashion, straight; You’ve seen them do it, when their load’s too great. “If I mistake not,” he begins, “you’ll find Viscus not more, nor Varius, to your mind; There’s not a man can turn a verse so soon, Or dance so nimbly when he hears a tune; While, as for singing--ah, my forte is there; Tigellius’ self might envy me, I’ll swear.” He paused for breath. I falteringly strike in: “Have you a mother? Have you kith or kin To whom your life is precious?” “Not a soul; My line’s extinct; I have interred the whole.” Oh, happy they! (so into thought I fell) After life’s endless babble they sleep well. My turn is next: despatch me, for the weird Has come to pass which I so long have feared, The fatal weird a Sabine beldame sung All in my nursery days, when life was young: “No sword nor poison e’er shall take him off, Nor gout, nor pleurisy, nor racking cough; A babbling tongue shall kill him; let him fly All talkers, as he wishes not to die.” We got to Vesta’s temple, and the sun Told us a quarter of the day was done. It chanced he had a suit, and was bound fast Either to make appearance or be cast. “Step here a moment, if you love me.” “Nay, I know no law; ’twould hurt my health to stay. And then, my call.” “I’m doubting what to do, Whether to give my lawsuit up, or you.” “Me, pray!” “I will not.” On he strides again. I follow, unresisting, in his train. “How stand you with Mæcenas?” he began; “He picks his friends with care--a shrewd, wise man. In fact, I take it, one could hardly name A head so cool in life’s exciting game.