C.D. Warner, et al., comp. The Library of the World’s Best Literature.
An Anthology in Thirty Volumes. 1917.
“We Twa”
By Persius (34–62 A.D.)
I
As the Muse bids me—unto you to sift.
It is my joy to show, O sweet my friend,
To you, how large a part of me is yours.
Strike, and with caution test how much rings true,
What is mere plaster of a varnished tongue.
A hundred voices I might dare to crave,
That I in clearest utterance might reveal
How in my heart’s recesses you are fixed.
So might my words all that unseal which lies,
Not to be uttered, in my heart-strings hid….
Just where the path of life uncertain grows,
And cross-ways lead the doubtful mind astray,
I gave myself to you. My tender years
To your Socratic bosom you received,
Cornutus….
I remember well
How the long summer suns I spent with you,
And with you plucked the early hours of night
For our repast. One task there was for both;
Our rest we took together, and relaxed
Our graver fancies at our frugal meal.