Have power to wean thee from the toils of life;
The whilst thy prying eyes the forum draws,
Thine ears the process, and the din of laws.
Small care be his of wrangling and debate
For whose ungather’d food the garners wait;
Who wants within the summer’s plenty stored,
Earth’s kindly fruits, and Ceres’ yearly hoard.
With these replenish’d, at the brawling bar
For others’ wealth go instigate the war.
But this thou mays’t no more: let justice guide,