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It is just the description that Horace makes of such a finished piece; it appears so easy, "Ut sibi quivis Speret idem, sudet multum, frustraque laboret, Ausus idem." And besides all this, it is your lordship's particular talent to lay your thoughts so chose together that, were they closer, they would be crowded, and even a due connection would be wanting.
King Lycaon, grandson by the spindleside of Oceanus, after passing through all the stages I have mentioned, becomes the ancestor of the werwolf. Ovid is put upon the stand as a witness, and testifies to the undoubted fact of the poor monarch's own metamorphosis: "Territus ipse fugit, nactusque silentia ruris Exululat, frustraque loqui conatur."
Ergo hominum genus incassum frustraque laborat Semper, et in curis consumit inanibus aevum. Lucret. 'Tis midnight! Round the lamp which o'er My chamber sheds its lonely beam, Is wisely spread the varied lore Which feeds in youth our feverish dream The dream the thirst the wild desire, Delirious yet divine-to know; Around to roam above aspire And drink the breath of Heaven below!
He may succeed, and present to a wondering world a consummate musician, painter, poet, or philosopher; for even blind chance may sometimes hit the mark, as truly as the most perfect skill. But he will probably fail. Sudet multum, frustraque laboret. And, if he is disappointed, he will not only feel that disappointment in the ultimate result, but also in every step of his progress.
P. S. I teach young Gentlemen the whole Art of Gallanting a Fan. N. B. I have several little plain Fans made for this Use, to avoid Expence. No. 103. Thursday, June 28, 1711. Steele. ... Sibi quivis Speret idem frusta sudet frustraque laboret Ausus idem ... Hor.
Vane Ligur, frustraque animis elate superbis, Nequicquam patrias tentasti lubricus artes.
Ergo hominum genus incassum frustraque laborat Semper, et in curis consumit inanibus aevum. Lucret. 'Tis midnight! Round the lamp which o'er My chamber sheds its lonely beam, Is wisely spread the varied lore Which feeds in youth our feverish dream The dream the thirst the wild desire, Delirious yet divine-to know; Around to roam above aspire And drink the breath of Heaven below!
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