ARCHYTAS.
Horace
The [want of the] scanty present of a little sand near the Mantinian
shore, confines thee, O Archytas, the surveyor of sea and earth, and of
the innumerable sand: neither is it of any advantage to you, to have
explored the celestial regions, and to have traversed the round world in
your imagination, since thou wast to die. Thus also did the father of
Pelops, the guest of the gods, die; and Tithonus likewise was translated
to the skies, and Minos, though admitted to the secrets of Jupiter; and
the Tartarean regions are possessed of the son of Panthous, once more
sent down to the receptacle of the dead; notwithstanding, having retaken
his shield from the temple, he gave evidence of the Trojan times, and
that he had resigned to gloomy death nothing but his sinews and skin; in
your opinion, no inconsiderable judge of truth and nature. But the game
night awaits all, and the road of death must once be travelled. The
Furies give up some to the sport of horrible Mars: the greedy ocean is
destructive to sailors: the mingled funerals of young and old are
crowded together: not a single person does the cruel Proserpine pass by.
The south wind, the tempestuous attendant on the setting Orion, has sunk
me also in the Illyrian waves. But do not thou, O sailor, malignantly
grudge to give a portion of loose sand to my bones and unburied head.
So, whatever the east wind shall threaten to the Italian sea, let the
Venusinian woods suffer, while you are in safety; and manifold profit,
from whatever port it may, come to you by favoring Jove, and Neptune,
the defender of consecrated Tarentum. But if you, by chance, make light
of committing a crime, which will be hurtful to your innocent posterity,
may just laws and haughty retribution await you. I will not be deserted
with fruitless prayers; and no expiations shall atone for you. Though
you are in haste, you need not tarry long: after having thrice sprinkled
the dust over me, you may proceed.
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