Horace: Book I, Ode 13.
"Tu ne quoesieris, scire nefas—"
It is not right for you to know, so do not ask,
Leuconoe,
How long a life the gods may give or ever we
are gone away;
Try not to read the Final Page, the ending
colophonian,
Trust not the gypsy's tea-leaves, nor the
prophets Babylonian.
Better to have what is to come enshrouded
in obscurity
Than to be certain of the sort and length of
our futurity.
Why, even as I monologue on wisdom and
longevity
How Time has flown! Spear some of it!
The longest life is brevity.
That For Money!
AD C. SALLUSTIUM CRISPUM
Horace: Book II, Ode 2
"Nellus argento color est avaris."
Sallust, I know you of old,
How you hate the sight of gold—
"Idle ingots that encumber
Mother Earth"—I've got your number.
Why is Proculeius known
From Elmira to Malone?
For his money? Don't upset me!
For his love of folks—you get me?
Choke the Rockefeller yen
For the clink of iron men!
Happiness it will not mint us,
Take it from your Uncle Quintus.