That he can walk the streets without annoy:
Yet 'tis a puzzle, I confess, to me
How from that same affair he got off free."
Here is the poison-bag of malice, here
The gall of fell detraction, pure and sheer:
And these, I'swear, if man such pledge may give,
My pen and heart shall keep from, while I live.

But if I still seem personal and bold,
Perhaps you'll pardon, when my story's told.
When my good father taught me to be good,
Scarecrows he took of living flesh and blood.
Thus, if he warned me not to spend but spare
The moderate means I owe to his wise care,
'Twas, "See the life that son of Albius leads!
Observe that Barrus, vilest of ill weeds!
Plain beacons these for heedless youth, whose taste
Might lead them else a fair estate to waste:"
If lawless love were what he bade me shun,
"Avoid Scetanius' slough," his words would run:
"Wise men," he'd add, "the reasons will explain
Why you should follow this, from that refrain:
For me, if I can train you in the ways
Trod by the worthy folks of earlier days,
And, while you need direction, keep your name
And life unspotted, I've attained my aim:
When riper years have seasoned brain and limb,
You'll drop your corks, and like a Triton swim."
'Twas thus he formed my boyhood: if he sought
To make me do some action that I ought,