#Dying light trainer 1.101 free

Not unduly does life demand of us our few remaining days, when fame has as much as is sufficient. Let another earn the grand and wild Bravo! Do you pity such happy ones, and enjoy without pride true delight, while your friend Sura is crowned with applause. The pale criminal will not break your deep sleep, but all the morning long you will enjoy your slumber. Far away will be the ill-favoured Liburnian porter and the grumbling client far away the imperious demands of widows. The crescent-adorned boot will be nowhere to be seen, nowhere the toga and garments smelling of purple dye. The huntsman will be invited to your table, and many a guest called in from the neighbourhood will come to you. The neighboring wood will come down into your very hearth, surrounded as it will be with a troop of uncombed children. There you will despatch hinds caught in your supple toils, and native boars and you will tire out the cunning hare with your hardy steed the stags you will leave to your bailiff. But when hoar December and the furious solstice shall resound with the hoarse blasts of the north-wind, you will again seek the sunny shores of Tarraco and thine own Laletania. The serene summer heat you will disarm by bathing in the golden Tagus, hidden beneath the shades of trees your greedy thirst the fresh Dercenna will appease, and Nutha, which in coldness surpasses snow. There Voberca herself will supply for your meals animals which may be brought down close at hand. You will breast the gently-flowing water of the warm Congedus and the calm lakes of the Nymphs, and your body, relaxed by these, you may brace up in the little Salo, which hardens iron. O you, whose name must not be left untold by Celtiberian nations, you the honour of our common country, Spain, you, Licinianus, will behold the lofty Bilbilis, renowned for horses and arms, and Catus venerable with his locks of snow, and eased Vadavero with its broken cliffs, and the sweet grove of delicious Botrodus, which the happy Pomona loves.

It appears to me that I shall do only what I have a right to do, if I close my address with the following verses:. Let not Cato enter my theatre or, if he do enter, let him look on. Epigrams are written for those who are accustomed to be spectators at the games of Flora. If any assumes to be so scrupulously nice, however, that it is not allowable to address him, in a single page, in plain language, he may confine himself to this address, or rather to the title of the book.

#Dying light trainer 1.101 free

Let the ill-natured interpreter, too, keep himself from meddling with the simple meaning of my jests, and not write my epigrams for me.1 He acted honourably who exercises perverse ingenuity on another man's book: For the free plainness of expression, that is, for the language of epigram, I would apologize, if I were introducing the practice but it is thus that Catullus writes, and Marsus, and Pedo, and Getulicus, and every one whose writings are read through. For me let fame be held in less estimation, and let such talent be the last thing commended in me. I trust that, in these little books of mine, I have observed such self-control, that whoever forms a fair judgment from his own' mind can make no complaint of them, since they indulge their sportive fancies without violating the respect due even to persons of the humblest station a respect which was so far disregarded by the authors of antiquity, that they made free use, not only of real, but of great names.