110 THE TUSCULAN DISPUTATIONS.XIX. Epicurus must admit these arguments, or he must

take out of his book what I just now said was a literal translation ; or, rather, he must destroy his whole book, for it is crammed full of pleasures. We must inquire, then, how we can ease him of his grief who speaks in this manner: My present state proceeds from fortune's stings ; By birth I boast of a descent from kings ; Hence may you see from what a noble height I'm sunk by fortune to this abject plight. What ! to ease his grief, must we mix him a cup of sweet wine, or something of that kind? Lo ! the same poet pre sents us with another sentiment somewhere else : I, Hector, once so great, now claim your aid. We should assist her, for she looks out for help : Where shall I now apply, where seek support ? Where hence betake me, or to whom resort ? No means remain of comfort or of joy, In flames my palace, and in ruins Troy ; Each wall, so late superb, deformed nods, And not an altar's left t' appease the Gods. You know what should follow, and particularly this : Of father, country, and of friends bereft, Not one of all these sumptuous temples left-, Which, while the fortune of our house did stand, With rich-wrought ceilings spoke the artist's hand. O excellent poet ! though despised by those who sing the verses of Euphorion. He is sensible that all things which come on a sudden are harder to be borne. Therefore, when he had set off the riches of Priam to the best ad vantage, which had the appearance of a long continuance, what does he add ? Lo ! these fill perish'd in one blazing pile ; The foe old Priam of his life beguiled, And with his blood, thy altar, Jove, defiled. Admirable poetry ! There is something mournful in the subject, as well as in the words and measure. We must drive away this grief of hers: how is that to be done?

Shall we lay her on a bed of down ; introduce a singer ;