In the meantime the true poets were
they who made the best markets: for they had wit enough to yield the
prize with a good grace, and not contend with him who had thirty
legions. They were sure to be rewarded, if they confessed themselves
bad writers, and that was somewhat better than to be martyrs for
their reputation. Lucan's example was enough to teach them manners;
and after he was put to death, for overcoming Nero, the emperor
carried it without dispute for the best poet in his dominions.
No man was ambitious of that grinning honour; for if he heard the
malicious trumpeter proclaiming his name before his betters, he knew
there was but one way with him. Maecenas took another course, and we
know he was more than a great man, for he was witty too: But finding
himself far gone in poetry, which Seneca assures us was not his
talent, he thought it his best way to be well with Virgil and with
Horace; that at least he might be a poet at the second hand; and we
see how happily it has succeeded with him; for his own bad poetry is
forgotten, and their panegyrics of him still remain.
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