unfrequented, of kings he only knows by name, of war he's only seen in books and of many other things that are foreign to him?<hr>
       Poets, Maecenas, are like painters, they cannot accurately represent what they cannot see. That's why it is essential that the great princes have them at their side, so that their actions can be immortalised through works that will transcend time. How can we think that those who are given everything to complain about would willingly praise those they secretly accuse of being the cause of their precarious situation?<hr>
How can we distinguish those who praise to obtain favours from those who do it out of sincere gratitude? No, Maecenas, it is impossible that it could be so. Just like dreams that generally reflect the thoughts of the day, these reflections that poetry offers to those who dedicate themselves to it lose all their brightness because of the sorrow of their authors when they are not happy. They always feel the anxieties of poverty and loneliness. Even if they make every possible effort to distance themselves from these feelings, they will find them everywhere. They carry their sorrow into the hearts of the heroes whose lives they write about, and they write verses that their hearts secretly disapprove of.<hr>
       Finally, Maecenas, I am persuaded that a rich poet living in a beautiful palace will be more comfortable detailing poverty and loneliness than a poor man living in a hut to describe the magnificence of court, the qualities of kings, politics and all these other things that can only be learned in the company of men and in abundance. There is a difference between the rich and the poor, the former can be solitary when they wish, they have rocks and huts when they want, while the latter cannot stay in a palace and their solitude is obligatory. It can be understood that poetry, which is the most eminent expression of the imagination, needs beautiful objects to excite, divert or relieve it. Those who attributed the woods and the rocks to the Muses certainly agreed with this view, without contradicting mine. They spoke of forests and rivers, for these universal beauties are accessible to all. However, it does not prevent that these same Muses who frequent the woods cannot stroll in a cultivated garden. Art does not spoil nature, it perfects it, and trees planted regularly do not prevent poets from working in their shadow with pleasure and dignity. Indeed, Maecenas, these nine beautiful sisters, from whom our Muses originate, inhabit only the woods and mountains, and amuse themselves near the fountains. But these woods, these mountains and these fountains belong to them. Parnassus is part of their domain, the eternal waters too, and Apollo and the Muses ask nothing from the other deities because their possessions are plentiful.<hr>
After all, Maecenas, it is the greatness of princes not only to know how to conquer their enemies in war, to know how to rule in times of peace, to be feared by their neighbours, to be loved by their subjects, but also to be more generous than all other men. They should give as masters of the universe, they should consider their offerings as more<hr>
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