As for myself, a freedman's son confessed;
A freedman's son, the public scorn and jest,
That now with you I joy the social hour,--
That once a Roman legion owned my power;
But though they envied my command in war
Justly, perhaps, yet sure 'tis different far
To gain your friendship, where no servile art
Where only men of merit claim a part.
Nor yet to chance this happiness I owe;
Friendship like yours it had not to bestow.
First my best Vergil, then my Varius, told
Among my friends what character I hold;
When introduced, in few and faltering words
(Such as an infant modesty affords),
I did not tell you my descent was great,
Or that I wandered round my country seat
On a proud steed in richer pastures bred;
But what I really was I frankly said.
Short was your answer, in your usual strain;
I take my leave, nor wait on you again,
Till, nine months past, engaged and bid to hold
A place among your nearer friends enrolled.
An honor this, methinks, of nobler kind,
That, innocent of heart and pure of mind,
Though with no titled birth, I gained his love,
Whose judgment can discern, whose choice approve.
The poet here pays a glowing tribute of filial affection to his father,
to whose faithful care and instruction he owes it that he has been
shielded from the grosser sins and defects of character.
If some few venial faults deform my soul
(Like a fair face when spotted with a mole),
If none with avarice justly brand my fame,
With sordidness, or deeds too vile to name;
If pure and innocent, if dear (forgive
These little praises) to my friends I live,
My father was the cause, who, though maintained
By a lean farm but poorly, yet disdained
The country schoolmaster, to whose low care
The mighty captain sent his high-born heir,
With satchel, copy-book, and pelf to pay
The wretched teacher on th' appointed day.
To Rome by this bold father was I brought,
To learn those arts which well-born youth are taught;
So dressed and so attended, you would swear
I was some senator's expensive heir;
Himself my guardian, of unblemished truth,
Among my tutors would attend my youth,
And thus preserved my chastity of mind
(That prime of virtue in its highest kind)
Not only pure from guilt, but even the shame
That might with vile suspicion hurt my fame;
Nor feared to be reproached, although my fate
Should fix my fortune in some meaner state,
From which some trivial perquisites arise,
Or make me, like himself, collector of excise.
For this my heart, far from complaining, pays
A larger debt of gratitude and praise;
Nor, while my senses hold, shall I repent
Of such a father, nor with pride resent,
As many do, th' involuntary disgrace
Not to be born of an illustrious race.
But not with theirs my sentiments agree,