Yes, I did say Lucilius’ verses ran on stumbling
Feet. Who’s so absurd a fan of Lucilius not to
Admit it? Yet on the same page the same man’s praised
For scouring the City with all the salt of his wit.
Still, granting him that, I wouldn’t admit all the rest,
Or Laberius’ mimes would have to be called fine poetry.
It isn’t enough for your listener to crack his jaws
Laughing: though there’s a virtue still in achieving that:
Conciseness is needed, so that the thought can run on,
Un-entangled by words that weigh heavy on weary ears:
And you need a style sometimes serious, often witty,
Suiting the role now of orator now of poet,
At times the urbane man who husbands his strength
And parcels it out wisely. Ridicule usually
Cuts through things better, more swiftly, than force.
It was the mainstay of those who wrote Old Comedy,
In it, they should imitated: those whom pretty
Hermogenes never reads, nor that ape whose art
Is only his skill in singing Catullus and Calvus.
‘But it was a great achievement to blend Greek and Latin.’
O tardy students, if you think it’s wonderful
Or hard to do what Pitholeon of Rhodes achieved!
‘But a style harmoniously mixing both languages
Is more delightful, like Chian and Falernian wine.’
When you’re writing verse, I’ll ask you, or also
When you’re pleading Petillius’ long hard case?
Would you really prefer to forget home and country,
And while Pedius Publicola and Corvinus sweat
Over their cases in Latin, mingle foreign words
With your own, like the twin-tongued Canusians?