To pots of buried gold would guide my share!’—
‘O that my ward, whom I succeed as heir,
Were once at rest! poor child, he lives in pain,
And death to him must be accounted gain.’—
‘By wedlock thrice has Nerius swelled his store,
And now—is he a widower once more!’”
The Second Satire concludes with these noble lines:—
“No; let me bring the immortal gods a mind,
Where legal and where moral sense are joined
With the pure essence; holy thoughts, that dwell