us not omit this inscription in Gruter[9], which is not much
unlike the former.

VIVE, HOSPES, DUM LICET, ATQUE VALE.

"Be merry, landlord, and enjoy yourself while 'tis in your power, as for
the rest, adieu."

Martial says somewhere, "Be merry to-day, depend not on to-morrow."

Sera nimis vita est crastina, vive hodie.

Catullus expresses much the same sentiments in these beautiful verses:--

"Vivamus --------
Rumoresq; senum severiorum,
Omnes unius estimemus assis.
Soles occidere et redire possunt;
Nobis cum semel occidit brevis lux,
Nox est perpetua una dormienda."[9a]

"Let us be merry --------
And all the rigid cant of peevish age,
Count as poor straws that on the surface float.
The sun may roll his swift diurnal course,
And from the ocean raise again his head,
But when our glimm'ring lamp of life's expir'd,
One long perpetual night we then must sleep."

Horace, in several places, says how we ought (according to him) to
employ to the best advantage the little time we have to live; but
especially in one of his odes, which in English would run thus.

I.

"All things hereto invite. Come, come, away,
Let's seize the present hours, nor vainly care
For future time, but wisely, only fear
To lose of life one short uncertain day,
Or moment, which in death must soon decay,
No human force can her strict laws withstand:
Her cruel rigour no one spares,
The blooming cheek, and hoary hairs,
Alike submit to her victorious hand.
O'er all she bears unbounded sway,
All her impartial scythe relentless mows:
Th' ill-manner'd tyranness no difference shows,
Betwixt imperial and plebeian clay.

II.

When we the dark and dismal beach
Of dreaded floods below shall reach,
And vain cold phantoms quiv'ring stand,
In those sad gloomy shades of night,
No Cynthia's charms will then command,
Nor Iris with her angel's voice delight;
Nor Doris with soft dying languors move.
These dreary realms exclude, alas! for ever love.

III.

Nor are there any boon companions _there_,
To laugh, and sing, and make good cheer:
There shall we taste no more that wondrous juice,
That nectar which the blessed vines produce,
The height of all our joy, and wishes _here_.
Nor those sweet entertainments gay,
When by the glass inspir'd so many kings,
We tope, and speak, and do heroic things,
And count ourselves more happy far than t