2. [Ausonius. Epist. Xxiii. 30-1; Xxv. 5-9, 14, 17.]

How could that paper sent, That luckless paper, merit thy contempt? Ev'n foe to foe--though furiously--replies, And the defied his enemy defies. Amidst the swords and wounds, there's a salute, Rocks answer man, and though hard are not mute. Nature made nothing dumb, nothing unkind: The trees and leaves speak trembling to the wind. If thou dost fear discoveries, and the blot Of my love, Tanaquil shall know it not.