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But, I thank Heaven, I know, I feel I feel my innocence, my friend; and I would not part with that feeling for the world. For as long as I know I have never done, nor even designed, an injury to any being whatever, Pone me pigris ubi nulla campis Arbor aestiva recreatur aura, Quod latus mundi nebulae, malusque Jupiter urget.
Pone me, pigris ubi nulla campis Arbor aestiva recreatur aura Dulce ridentem Lagagen amabo Dulce loquentem. HOR. Lib. i. Ode xxii. 17. Place me where never summer breeze Unbinds the glebe, or warms the trees; Where ever lowering clouds appear, And angry Jove deforms th' inclement year: Love and the nymph shall charm my toils, The nymph, who sweetly speaks and sweetly smiles.
Vincla recusantum et sera sub nocte rudentum; cornua relatarum obvertimus antennarum. The beginnings of rhyme are here seen, and perhaps still more in the elegiac, debuerant fusos evoluisse meos; or Sapphic, Pone me pigris ubi nulla campis Arbor aestiva recreatur aura. Publ.
When I do, pone me pigris campis: smother me in a desert, or let Mississippi or Garonne drown me! At that comfortable tavern on Pontchartrain we had a bouillabaisse than which a better was never eaten at Marseilles: and not the least headache in the morning, I give you my word; on the contrary, you only wake with a sweet refreshing thirst for claret and water.
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