HORACE. The best of Lyrick POETS.
Containing much morality, and Sweetnesse.
Together with Aulus Persius Flaccus HIS SATYRES.
Translated into English By BARTEN HOLYDAY Somtime Student of CHRIST-CHURCH in OXFORD.
LONDON Printed for W. R. and J. W. 1652.
[...]
To the Reader.
FRiendly, and generous Reader, I present not Horace to thee, in his native lustre, nor Language. Take these rather (if so thou please) for a reflection, from that brighter body of his living Odes. Behold in them Moralitie touched, and Vertue heightned, with clearenesse of Spirit, and accuratenesse of Judgement. These have I selected amongst many, not with desire to prescribe the same choise to others, as a rule; nor yet with any diffidence in my own election. Abundat quis (que) suo sensu. When in a Garden we gather a Coronet of Flowres, wee intend not the totall beautie of that faire piece of prospective, but particular ornament, and entermingled delight. These supply both. But many (no doubt) will say, Horace is by mee forsaken, his Lyrick softnesse, and emphaticall Muse maymed: That in all there is a generall defection from his genuine Harmony. Those I must tell, I have in this Translation, rather sought his Spirit, then Numbers; yet the Musique of Verse not neglected neither, since the [Page]English eare better heareth the Distick, and findeth that sweetnesse, and ayre in these proportions, which the Latine affecteth, and (questionlesse) attaineth in Saphick or Iambick measures. Some will urge again, why were not these Wreathes of morall, and serious Odes, for the more varietie, and generall entertainement of most, mixed with his wanton and looser straines of Poesie? These I answer, and with it conclude. The Translatour of these, had rather teach Vertue to the modest, then discouer Vice to the dissolute. The streames of Helicon, are cleare, and Chrystalline. Drinke thou goodnesse from these purer Fountain [...]. Whilest such take unhappy draughts, from the troubled and muddy waters of Sensuality.
ODES OF HORACE.
The First Booke.
Ode. I. To MAECENAS. All things please not all men. HORACE most especially affecteth the name of a Lyrick. Poet.
‘Maecenas atavis.’
MAEcenas) sprung from Gransire Kings descent.
O, my defence, and sweetest ornament.
There are, who in their Chariots speedy flight,
To rayse Olympique dust, doe take delight:
And having with chaft'd wheeles, the goale declin'd
For conquest's meed, have stile of Gods assign'd.
This man, if wavering Citizens contend,
His worth, with threefold honours to commend:
That other, if he in his Garnier stores,
What ever hath been swept from Lybian ores,
From painefull Tillage, and the Countreys love,
The wealth of Attalus can never move,
That be a marriner in feare of losse,
With Cyprian Barke Myrtöan Seas should crosse.
When Southwest winds. Icarian waves do raise,
The Marchant rest, & Countrey grannge doth praise;
Straight his torne Vessell, he repayres againe,
The force of want unable to sustaine:
S [...]me others use, old Massique Wines to ply,
Nor from, the day some part to take deny;
Now, seeking under Arbutt's shade to cling,
Now neere the soft head of some gentle Spring.
In Tents, and Trumpets Eccho some delight,
Mixt with the Flute, and Warres that Mothers fright
In Fields the Hunter on the coldest day,
Forge full of his tender Wife, doth stay:
Whither his faithfull doggs, have viewd the Hinde,
Or, Marsyan Bore his round netts have untwin'd.
Me, Ivy the reward for learned Browes.
A place among supernall gods allowes.
Light quires of wood Nymphes, that with Satyres bide,
And shady groaves from Vulger me divide:
So that my pipe Euterpe not restraine,
Nor Polyhimne to tune my Lute refraine.
But if you me, 'mongst Lyricks will account,
My raysed crest above the Starres shall mount,
Ode II. To AUGUSTUS CAESAR. Many stormes are powred upon the People of Rome in revenge of Julius Caesar slain. The only hope of the Empire is placed in the safty of Augustus.
‘Jam satis terris.’
I Ove, now on Earth, sufficient,
Of Snow, and direfull Hayle hath sent;
Who snaking Towers, with fiery hand,
Affrighted made the City stand:
He Nations scarr'd, lest Pirrah's Raigne
New Monsters should produce againe;
As earst when Proteus drave his Flock,
To feed on Cliffe of steepy Rock,
Then to the Elme's Tope Fishes clave,
Which Turtels us'd for seat to have
And Does, whom sodaine frights disease,
Swam boldly over swelling Seas.
Our eyes have yealow Tybers Flood
Beheld, by Tyrrhen shores withstood
With violence; run downe to beate,
The Tombes of Kings, and Vest'aes seat.
While Iliae much to him complaines,
He vowes revenge: though Jove disdaines
His wandring, and uxorious wave,
Upon the Citty banke, should rave.
Succeeding Youth, through Parents crimes,
Impayr'd shall heare that passed times,
Have sharp'ned swords; shall heare of bralls,
Wherewith the Persian better falls.
To which god, shall wee Vowes assigne,
Now, that our State affaires decline?
What prayer shall holy Virgin Saints,
To Vesta yeeld, made deafe to plaints?
To whom shall Jove, the power dispense,
Of expiating Sinnes offence?
(Divining Phebus) come wee pray,
Whose shoulders white the Clouds array.
Or if thou please (smoth Venus) hy
About whom sport and pleasure flye.
Or founder Mars, if Stocke, or Kinne,
Thou Love, which have neglected bene.
O, thou that cloyed art with fight,
Whom clamour, and smoth Helmes delight:
And Mauritanian's visage bold,
When his sterne Fo, he doth behold.
Or, mayst thou (gentle Maias Sonne)
With winged speed be hither wonne.
Augustus figure chang'd in thee,
Caesar's revengefull friend to be.
Oh, mayst thou (late) to heaven retyre;
Be present long, to Rom's desire:
Nor may the speedy blast of Time,
Take thee offended with our Crime.
Heere Triumphs seeke, and lasting fame,
Instil'd with Prince and Fathers name;
Nor suffer Caesar (thou our Guide)
The Medians unreveng'd to ride.
Ode XXII. To ARISTIUS. Integrity of life is every where safe, which he proveth, by his owne example.
‘Integer Virae.’
FUscus) the man whose lif's entire,
And free from sinne, needs not desire;
The Bow nor dart from Moore to borow,
Nor from full Quiver poys'ned Arow:
Whither o're Libya's partched Sands,
Or Caucasus, that houslesse stands,
He takes his journey; or those places,
By which the fam'd Hydaspes traces.
For I, while in the Sabine Grove,
My Lalage doe chaunting rove,
Fom me not marking limits dew,
A Wolfe (though I unarmed slew.
A Monster such, as all exceeds,
Which in large woods fierce Daunia feeds:
Or those which Iuba's Kingdome hath,
The Desert nourse of Lyons wrath.
Place me in coldest Champaines, where,
No Sommer warmth, the Trees doth cheere:
Let me in that dull Climate rest,
Which Cloudes and sullen Jove infest:
Yea place me underneath the Carre
Of too neere Phebus: seated farre
From dwelling Lalage, Il'e love,
Whose smiles, whose words so sweetly move.
Ode XXIV. TO VIRGILL. Who immoderatly bemoned the death of Quintilius.
‘Quis desiderio sit.’
MElpomene) on whom great Jupiter
Did shrillest voice to tunefull Harpe conferre:
Declare in mournefull Notes; what shame, or let
Should on the love of such a friend beset.
Shall then Quintilius sleepe eternally?
An equall unto whom, pure Modestie
And Justice Sister, Faith sincere and plaine,
And naked Veritic, shall never gaine?
Of many Worthy men bemoan'd he fell:
But (Virgill) no mans griefe can thine excell.
Thou (loving) doest (alas) the gods in vaine
Quintillius, not so lent thee, aske againe.
What if more sweete, then Thracian orpheus wyre,
You Trees perswade, to hearken to your Lyre;
Yet can you not, returne of Life command,
To shadow vaine; which once with dreadfull wand,
God Mercury, unwilling fate t'unlocke,
Hath forced to dwell among the Stygian flocke.
'Tis hard I grant "But Patience makes that light,
Which to correct, or change, exceeds our might.
Ode XXVIII. Architas, a Philosopher and Geometrician is presented, answering to a certaine Marriner, that all men must dye, and entreating him, that bee would not suffer his body to ly on the shore unburied.
‘Te Maris, & Terrae’
THee, who the Sea, Earth, Sands, that none can tell
To bound with measure, knew'st (Architas) well.
The poore gift of a little dust confines,
And neere unto the Matine shore enshrines:
Nor could it any helpe, or profit bee:
Death being ready still to call for thee;
Those ay'rie mansions to enquire from hence,
And search in mind the Heavens circumference.
The Syre of Pelops, who with Gods did feast,
And aged Tython, shrunke at Deaths arrest:
And Minos, to Joves Councell call'd was slaine,
And Panthois dyed let out of Hell againe,
Though he with Shield affixed, proving well
That his first Birth in Trojan ages fell,
Affirm'd that death nought kill'd, but nerves, & skin:
(Noe man in Natures power was better seene:)
But wee into one selfe same night doe fall,
And must the pathes of Death tread once for all,
The Furies some to games of Mars apply
The greedy, Sayler drencht in Seas doth lie.
In death both young and old by heaps do joyne;
Nor any head escapes sad Proserpine.
Yea, the South wind, croocked Orions mate,
Or'whelm'd me in Illyrian waves of late;
But be thou pleased (gentle) Marriner,)
My bones, and head, in loose sand to interre.
Which done (so thou be safe) may th' Easterne wind,
That move, Hosperian billowes be assign'd,
To bluster lowdly in Venusium woods:
And may on ev'ry side, thy traffick'd goods,
In plentie slow to thee, from Joves just hand,
And Neptune, who Tarentum doth command:
But if to frustrate me thou be not nice,
Which may thy guiltlesse issue prejudice;
I wish due punishment, and pround neglect,
May on thy Funerall Obsequies reflect:
Nor may my Prayers be powred forth in vaine,
Nor vowes have strength to set thee free againe.
Yet if thou hast, no longer stay I crave,
Then, thrice the dust be throwne upon thy grave.
Ode XXXI. TO APOLLO. He desireth not riches of Apollo, but that hee may have a sound mind in a healthy body.
‘Quid dedicatum poscit.’
VVHat doth thy Poet aske (Phoebus divine?)
What craves he, when he powres thee bowls of wine,
Not the rich corne of fat Sardinia,
Nor gratfull flocks of burnt Calabria?
Nor Gold, nor Indian Ivory; nor the grounds,
Which silent Lyris, with soft streames arrounds:
Let those whom Fortune so much store assignes,
Dresse with Calenian hooke, their fertile Vines:
Let the rich Marchant to the Gods so deare,
(For so I terme him right, who every yeare
Th [...]ee or foure times, visits th' Atlantique Seas,
From shipwracke free:) Let him his palate please,
And drinke in guilt bowles, wines of higest price,
Bought with the sale of Syrian Marchandise.
Loose Mallows, Succory and Olive plant
Serve me for food. O (great Apollo) grant,
To me in health, and free from lifes anoy,
Things native and soone gotten to enjoy;
And with a mind compos'd old age attaine,
Not lothsome, nor depriv'd of Lyrick straine.
Ode XXXIV. TO HIMSELFE. Who repenteth, that having followed the Epicurean Sect, he thereby hath negligently honored the gods.
‘Parcus Deorum cultor.’
I, Of the Gods a tardy worshipper,
Whilest (skill [...]d) in franticke wisdome I do erre,
Now backward forced am my sayles to raise,
And to seeke out againe forsaken wayes.
For Jupiter, who light to day inspires,
Dividing sable clouds, with shining fires,
Hath through the cleare skie oft ordain'd his drift,
With thunder breathing horse and chariot swift,
Wherewith dull earth, and wandring rivers quacke,
The Stygian Fenne, and horrid Seat doth shake
Of hatefull Taenerus, and Atlas bounds.
'God in exchang the high with low confounds:
"Hee abject basenesse on the highest flings,
"And casteth lustre on obscured things.
Hence restlesse Fortune, height from one man takes,
With shrillest noyse, and great another makes.
Ode XXXV. TO FORTUNE. Hee beseecheth her, that shee would preserve Caesar going into Brittany.
‘O diva gratum.’
O Goddesse, which beloved Antium swayes,
Still ready with thy powerfull arme to raise,
Men from the low degree of wretched thralls,
Or turne proud triumphs into funeralls.
The poore, and rustick Clowne, with humble plea
Sollicites thee: Thee Lady of the Sea,
Hee lowdly invocates; who e're doth sweepe
In Asian vessell the Carpathian deepe.
The Dacian rough, the wandring Scythian,
Cities, and Kingdomes; The fierce Latian;
Thee Mothers of Barbarian Kings doe feare,
And Tyrants, which bright purple garments weare.
Let not a standing pillar bee or'ethrowne
With thy offended foot; nor bee it knowne,
That people apt for armes, yet now at rest,
Take armes againe, and Empires peace infest.
Thee sharpe Necessitie, doth still fore-goe,
Holding in brazen hand, as pledge of woe,
Tormenting beames, and racks: and more to dant,
Sharpe hookes, and molten lead doe never want.
Thee Hope, and simple Faith in white attire,
Doth honour and thy company desire,
How e're another habit thou dost take,
And made a foe, great houses thou forsake.
But the false multitude, and perjur'd whore
Doth backe retire; yea friends when vessells store,
Is to the dregges drunke up; Away they flie,
Shuening the yoke of mutuall povertie.
Preserve thou Caesar safe, wee thee implore,
Bound to the world's remotest: Brittan shore,
And the late raysed troupes of youth most able,
To Easterne parts, and red Sea formidable.
We at our scarres doe blush, Sinne, Brothers fall.
(Vile Age) what mischefes doe we shun at all?
What youth, his hand, for feare of gods containes?
Or who himselfe from Altars spoyle restraines?
Ah wouldst thou now our blunted swords new frame
Th' Arabians, and the Massagetes to tame.
The end of the first Booke.
ODES OF HORACE.
The Second Booke.
Ode. II. To C. SALUSTIUS CHRISPUS. Hee prayseth Proculejus for liberalitie towards his brothers. Onely contempt of money maketh a man happie.
‘Nullus Argento color.’
NO colour is in Golden vaine,
(Oh Salust, enemy of gaine)
Hidden within a greedie Mine,
Unlesse with temperate use it shine.
Never shall Proculcjus die,
Mongst Brothers mark'd for pietie:
Surviving Fame with daring flight,
Shall yeeld his name eternall right.
In larger circuit thou dost raigne,
If greedy humour thou restraine.
Then if thou Gades to Lybia joyne,
Or both the Carthages were thine.
The selfe-indulgent Dropsie growes,
Nor doth the palates thirst unlose,
Till man from vaines, the sicknesse cause,
And pallid watry faintnesse drawes.
Vertue, that vulgar doth oppose,
Not in the ranke of happy, chose
Phraat with Cyrus throne indude.
And doth forbid the multitude
False acclamations to make;
And rule, and Seepter safe partake,
And Bayes to him alone apply,
Who viewes huge heapes with carelesse eye.
Ode III. TO DELIUS. Prosperous, and adverse Fortune are to be moderately borne, since one, and the selfe same condition of death, hangeth over every man.
‘Aequam memento.’
IN adverse chaunce, an equall mind retain,
As in best fortunes tempred, free from vaine
Of mirth profuse: For (Delius) thou must dy.
Whither in sadnesse, thou doest ever ly;
Or, on Feast dayes retyrd to grassie shade,
Thou with close Falerne wine art happy made:
Where the white Poplar, and the loftie Pine,
Their friendly shade in mutuall branches twine:
And Rivers swiftly gliding strive, apace
Bout chrooked bankes, their trembling streames to chase.
Bring hither Wine, and od'rous Unguents. Bring
The dainty Rose, a faire, but sading thing.
While Fortune, age, and wealth yeeld seasons sit:
And the three Sisters sable loomes permit:
Thou from thy house must part, and purchasd woods,
And village lav'd, with yellow Tybers floods.
And thy high hoarded heaps of wealths accesse.
An Heire (perhaps) ungratefull shall possesse.
No matter tis, whether thou rich art borne,
Of Argive Kings; or low, exposd to scorne,
Sprung from poore Parents, liv'st in open fields;
Thou art Deaths sacrifice, (who never yeelds,
We all are thither brought, 'tis he that turnes,
And winds our mortall lif's unceraine Urnes.
Sooner or later each man hath his lot,
And exild hence, embarques in Charous Boat.
Ode IX. TO VALOIUS. That now or length he would desist, to deplore his deceased Myste.
‘Non semper imbres.’
The swelling cloud, not alwayes powers,
On rugged fields impetuos showres.
Nor Caspian Sea (Valgius belov'd)
With tossing stormes is ever mov'd.
Nor on Armenia's bord'ring shore,
The sluggish ice stands all waies hore:
Or Gargan groves, with North-winds riv'd,
Or Ash-trees are of leaves deprivd.
You still in mournfull sort complaine
That death, hath dearest Myste slaine.
Your love not failes, if Vesper rise,
Nor when bright Hesper, Phoebus flies.
But thrice-ag'd Nestor, mournd not still,
That death Antilochus did kill:
Nor Parents; nor sad Sisters, ever
To waile young Troilus persever.
Cease then at length, thy soft complaine;
And in our Songs, now let us paint,
Grat Coesars Trophics, and command,
And how conjoynd to conquerd land,
The Median streame, and Nyphate strong,
Doe in lesse Channels, runne along;
And Gelons to lesse limits tyde,
In farre more straightned fields do ride.
Ode X. TO LICINIUS. Mediocritie to be used in either Fortunes.
‘Rectius vives Licini.’
YOur safer course (Licin ius) count,
Not alwayes on the Maine to mount:
Nor whilst you (wisely) stormes abhorre,
Too much to trust the shelfie shore:
Hee that affects the golden meane,
Lives safe from Cottages uncleane,
And (sober) doth as much dispise,
In envy-breeding Courts doe rise.
The blustring windes more often farre,
Gainst loftie Pines do threaten warre:
Brave Towers with greater ruine fall,
And Thunder highest hills enthrall:
Each Fortune, minds prepar'd doth glad,
They feare in good, and hope in bad.
Jove brings in horrid Winters rage,
And sodainly doth it asswage.
If with thee now, it bee but ill,
Thinke that it cannot be so still.
Sometimes Appollos silent Muse,
Speakes in His Harpe; nor doth he use,
Alwayes to bend his angry Bow;
In crosses strength, and courage show.
And let your sayles with prosperous wind
Too much advanced, be declin'd.
Ode XI. TO QUINTUS HIRPINUS. Cares layd aside, let us live merily.
‘Quid bellicos Cantaber.’
VVHat the Cantabrian stout, or Scythian thinke:
Divided with opposed Adria's brinke,
(Quintus Herpinus) doe not thou enquire,
Nor for lif [...]s use, which little doth desire,
Beo thou too carefull. Smooth-fac'd youth, apace
Doth bacward flie, and with it beautie's grace.
Dry aged hoarinesse with furrowes deepe,
Dispelling amerous fires, and gentle sleepe.
The Summer flowers keepe not their native grace,
Nor shines the bright Moone with a constant face.
Why dost thou tire thy mind, subordinate
Unto the Councels of eternall Fate?
Why under this high Plane, or Pine-tre's shade
In discomposed, manner carelesse layd,
Our hoary hayre perfum'd with fragrant Rose,
And odours which Assyria doth disclose.
Doe wee (annoynted) not to drinke prepare?
Free Bacchus dissipates consuming care.
But (oh) what Boy, Falernian wines hote rage,
Will soone for me, with gliding streames asswage?
(Ah) how retyred Lyde will require,
Hither to come. Boy with her Ivory Lyre,
Bid her make hast, and heire to tie not shame,
In carlesse knot, like a Laconian Dame.
Ode XIV. TO POSTHUMUS. Life is short, and Death is necessary.
‘Eheu fugaces posthume.’
AH Posthumus, swift yeare doe passe,
Nor can religiouse Zeale (alas)
To wrinckles, or decrepit dayes,
Or Death untamed brings delayes:
Not, if thou to harsh Plutoes shrine
Each day three hundred Bulls assigne:
Who Geryon, and Tytius bound,
With sable River doth surround.
A streame on which each man must sayle.
From Royall Scepter to the flayle.
Wee bloody Mars decline in vaine,
Or broken waves of Adrian maine:
And (needlesse feare in Autumne rife,
The South wind's hurtfull to our life.
Wandring Cocytus Flood, with slow
And heavy Current, thou must know.
And Danäus infamous traine,
And Sysiphus with endlesse paine.
Thou House, Land, lovely Wife must want,
Nor of the Trees, which thou dost plant,
(Thou dead) will any wayte on thee,
But the dispised Cypresse Tree.
Thy worthier Heire, drinkes precious wine.
Which thou with hundred keies did'st shrine;
And with it the rich pavement dewes;
None such the high Priest Banquet shewes.
Ode XV. Against the excesse of that Age.
‘Jam pauca aratro.’
MAgnifique buildings will leave shortly now,
Few Akers of firme land, unto the Plough;
Now many are beheld huge Pooles to make
Of much more wide extent, then Lucrine Lake.
The solitary Plane, the Elme supplants,
And now no sort of od'rous flowers wants,
As Roses, Violets, and Venus-Mittle,
Where th'Olive grew, to former Lords so fertile.
The Lawrell now, to Phoebus piercing eye,
Through his thick branches passage doth denie.
No such Praescript did Romulus exact,
Nor Elders, nor rough Cato did enact.
Private Revenues, then, were short, and low,
And each man sought to make the publique flow.
Proud Galleries no private man, then made,
Of ten foot wide to let in Northerne shade.
Nor did our Lawes, then suffer us, disdaine,
A casuall Turse, for pillow to retaine;
Commaunding townes to build, at publique charge,
And the gods Temples with new stone enlarge.
Ode XVI. TO GROSPHUS. All men desire tranquilitie of mind which can neither with Riches, nor Honours bee acquired, but onely with bridleing our Appeties.
‘Otium Divos rogat.’
SOone as black clouds have hid the Moones bright eyes
And Pilots cannot best knowne Stars espy,
The Marriner toss'd in Aegcan Sea,
Straight to the gods for rest makes humble plea.
The Thraecians fierce in warre doe ease require,
And Quiver-bearing Medes repose desire,
Repose, which not with gemms, purple, or gold,
(Beleeve me Grosphus) will be bought, or sold.
No Wealth, nor Consulls Lictors that make way,
Can from the heart disturbed tumults fray,
Nor cares which round about gilt roofes do fly.
Hee with a little liveth happily,
Who having on his homely Table plac'd
His Fathers Cup, and Salt kept undefac'd,
So lives, that feare, nor sordid lucre keepe
His waking eyes from soft, and gentle sleepe.
Why doe wee (boldly) many things propose
In short liv'd age, which Time doth quickly close?
Why lands with other Sonne enflamed change?
Who from himselfe, though far from home can range?
Strong Ships are boarded by consuming Care:
Nor doth she bravest troupes of Horsemen spare:
More swift she is, then the light-footed Hind,
Or tempest-raising stormes of Easterne wind.
The mind in present cheerefull, hates to care
For what beyond it lies; And doth prepare
To temper bitter things with laughter free.
"Nothing in all respects can happy bee.
Death quickly snatched brave Achilles hence,
Nor did with Tythou's long liv'd age dispense:
And that (perhaps) of time I may obtaine,
VVhich thy expecting hopes shall never gaine.
You many fertile flocks of sheepe command,
Sicilian Kine about you lowing stand.
Your Mares for Chariot fit, are hard from farre,
Lowdly to neigh: Nor garments wanting are,
Of Purple cloth, dipp'd twice in Affrick Dy;
VVhile a poore state, by upright destiny,
To me is giv'n; mix'd with a slender name,
Of Greckith Muse, and scorne of vulgar Fame.
Ode XVII. TO MAECENAS being sicke. Whom hee resolveth not to survive.
‘Cur Mc querelis.’
WHy kill you mee with your laments?
It neither gods, nor mee contents,
Maecenas (first) should yeeld to Fate,
The Grace, and Piller of my State.
But if a speedier stroke of death,
Rob thee (my soules best part) of breath?
VVhy stay I in the other, Sole,
Not pleasing to my Selfe, nor whole?
One day shall see us perish both:
I have not sworne an idle oath.
Goe, when you please, I will not stay,
But be your partner in the way.
Chimera's spirit breathing fire,
Nor hundred handed Gyas, Ire;
Shall this my fixed vow abate;
Thus Justice hath it pleas'd, and Eate.
Though Libra in his full aspect,
And feared-Scorpius, direct,
My Horoscope with rage infest,
Or, Capricorne, that rules the VVest;
Our Constellations both agree
In admirable sort. And thee
Ioves radiant lustre, hath exempt,
From Saturnes Beame malevolent,
And slack'd the wings of speedy death;
VVhat time the people with lowd breath,
Thrice in the Theater did sound
That gladsome newes: Ev'n then a wound,
By a tree's fall, my skull had broke.
But VVood-god Faunus, from the stroke,
Mee then did happily assist,
(Patron of each Mercurialist.)
Then pay thy vowes, thy temple build,
And I a tender Lambe will yeeld.
Ode XVIII. Hee affirmeth himselfe content with little, while others are wholly addicted to their desires, and encrease of riches, as if they should alwayes live.
‘Non ebur, neque aureum.’
NO guilded roofe, nor Ivory fret,
For splendor in my house is set;
Nor beames are from Hymettia sought,
To lye athwart rich Columnes, brought
From Affrick; nor an heyre unknowne,
Attalus wealth, make I mine owne.
No honest Clyents wives you see,
L [...]conian Purples weave for mee:
A loyall heart, and gentle vaine,
Of wit I have; which doth constraine
Rome's richest men, to seeke the love,
Of mee but poore: Nor gods above,
Doe I invoke for larger store;
Nor of Moecenas aske I more.
To mee, my onely Sabine field,
Sufficient happinesse doth yeeld.
"One day thrusts on another fast,
And new Moones to the Wane doe hast.
When death (perhaps) is neare at hand,
Thou fayrest Marbles dost command
Be cut for use, yet dost neglect
Thy grave, and houses still erect,
And wouldst abridge, the vast Seas shore,
Which loudly doth at Baia rore:
Enriched little, lesse content,
With limits of the Continent.
Why often pull you up your bounds,
T [...]large the Circuit of your grounds,
And greedily your list extend
[...]eyond your neighbour straightly penn'd?
Both man, and wife with sordid brood,
And ancient houshold gods, that stood
[...] quiet peace, must bee expeld;
Yet is no habitation, held,
[...]r the rich Land-lord, so assur'd,
[...]s in deepe Hell to bee immur'd.
Then whither doe you further tend?
[...] 'indifferent Earth, and equall friend,
[...]s willingly opens her wombe,
For Beggers grave, as Prince's Tombe.
[...]old could of Charon not obtaine,
To beare Prometheus backe againe.
Proud Fantalus, and all his stock,
[...]ee, in the bands of Fate did lock.
And call'd, or not call'd still is prest,
To give the labouring poore man, Rest.
The end of the second Booke.
ODES OF HORACE.
The Third Booke.
Ode. I. Life is made happy, not with Riches but Mind's Tranquilitie.
‘Odi profanum Vulgus.’
I Hate and from me doe exclude,
The most illiterate Multitude.
You knowing Spirits, favor bring
To me the Muses Priest, who sing
To Boyes, and spotlesse Virgins, Verse
Which none did ever yet rehearse.
Kings awfull, their owne Subjects sway,
And Kings them selves doe Jove obay:
Who famous for the Gyants fall,
With brow austere doth mannage all.
Say on, more large in furowes plant
Trees, which an other man doth want
What though one boast an nobler straine,
Affected honours to attaine:
[...]e better life, and Fame pretends,
[...]other hath more troups of friends:
With equall Law, ne're fayling death,
[...]e rich, and poore deprives of breath:
[...]sting that name, from forth his Urne,
[...]ch next by lot to death must turne.
[...]hun, who o're his wicked head,
[...]drawne sword sees in twine of thread,
[...] than Feastes, with dainties grac't,
[...]ocure noe Palat-pleasing tast;
[...]chaunt of Birds, nor charme of Lyre,
[...]n [...]o his eyes, soft sleepe enspire:
[...]cious sleepe, noe whit disdaines,
[...]he homely Cortages of Swaines:
[...]or shady bankes, nor Tempe grove,
[...]hare Zephyrus doth gently rove.
[...]ee who desires, but what's enough,
[...]ares not the Ocean billows rough:
[...]or sterne Arcturus force, that sets,
[...]or rising Kid, who stormes begets:
[...]s Vines, nor ruin'd, are with hayle,
Nor doe his crops in Harvest faile:
His fields, now blaming water-falls,
Now parching Starres now winter-thrales,
Yea Fishes fele the Seas growne straight,
With Bulwarks rais'd of wondrous waight:
Here the Surveyor, with his traine,
And Lord himselfe, fill'd with disdaine;
Of his firme Land's to narrow ring,
Building materials frequent bring:
But angry threats, and restlesse Feare,
Goe with their Master every where.
[...]lack Care, in ship, with him abides,
And sits behind him when he rides.
[...]
[...]
But if, nor Phrygian Columnes, can,
Nor use of Purples brighter, than
Heavens Lights, disturbed minds content,
Nor Falerne Vine, nor Persian Sent.
Why Pillars proud, should I erect,
Or Gall'ry of new Architect?
Why should I Sabine's Countrey Grange,
For much more busie wealth exchange?
Ode II. To his FRIENDS. Boyes are to bee enured from their tender age, to poverty, warfare, and painfull Life.
‘Angustam amici.’
LEt able Youth, it selfe enure,
By warres sharpe use, want to endure,
And mounted on his Horse, with Speare,
No whit bold Parthians valour feare:
Let him expos'd to open ayre,
Live, and attempt, the hard'st affaire.
Whom wife of Tyrant, us'd to warre,
Viewing, from hostile walls afarre;
And Mayd for marriage ripe may crie,
With sighes, which from sad passion flie.
Oh, that my royall Love, untrain'd
In martiall feats, would be restrain'd,
Not to fierce Combats fatall stroke,
That wrathfull Lyon to provoke,
Whom bloody angers direful rage,
In thickest slaughters doth engage.
"It is a sweet, and noble gaine,
"In Countreys quarrell to be slaine.
Death, the swift flying man pursues
With ready steps: Nor doth he use,
To spare, from unavoyded wrack,
Youth's supple hammes, or fearefull back,
Vertue disdaining base neglect,
Doth shine with taintlesse honours deckt:
Nor takes, or leaves she honour's choyce,
To please the people's ay'ry voyce.
Vertue, unlocking Heav'n to praise,
Doth dauntlesse try, denied wayes.
Vulgar assemblies doth despise,
And leaving Earth, to Heaven flies.
Yea, trusty Silence is not barr'd,
To have a merited reward.
Hee, who to blab the holy Rites,
Of secret Ceres Phane delights,
Under, the same roofe shall not bee,
Nor in fraile Vessell sayle with mee.
"Jove oft neglected, makes the Just
"To smart with those are stayn'd with lust;
"Seldome Revenge, with halting pace,
Leaves bad fore-going men lo trace.
Ode. III. A man with vertue adorned, feareth nothing. Juno's Oration of Troy's overthrow, and the end of that warre. And how the Romane Empire shall take beginning from the Trojans.
‘Justum & tenacem.’
HEe, that is just, and of resolved mind,
No voyee of of Citizens to bad enclind,
Nor angry brow of hastie Tyrants threat,
Can shake his solid thoughts from Vertue's seat.
Not the South winde, which doth rough Adria stir,
Nor potent hand of thundring Iupiter;
Yea, should the world dissolved perish quite,
The sodaine ruines would him not affright.
VVith this same Art, the wandring Hercules,
And Pollux, did the fi'ry Turrets seaze.
Twixt whom Augustus plac'd with rosie lips
Nectar, the Gods eternall liquor, sips.
With this god Bacchus, high this worth did reare,
By Tygers drawne, untaught the yoke to beare.
VVith this Art Romulus on Mars his steeds,
Leaves Acheron, and to Heav'ns glory speeds.
VVhat time the gods consulting. Iuno sayd
In gratefull accents this; Troy, Troy, betray'd,
A fatall, and incestuous Judge hath burn'd
And a strange woman unto Ashes turn'd
Ev'n from that time, that Priams wayward Sire,
Bereft the righteous gods their promis'd hire,
Which Troy by mee, and Pallas once contemn'd,
VVith Prince and people, were to flames condemn'd.
Now the knowne guest, of that adult'rous Dame
Which fled from Greece, no more shall merit fame;
And Priams perjur'd stock-with Hector's ayd,
No more shall make the warlike Greeks dismaid.
The fatall warres, which our seditions fed,
Are now compos'd, and angry stormes are dead.
Henceforth to Mars my fury will I leave,
And Vesta's off-spring unto grace receive:
Him I to Heav'ns bright mansions will admit,
To drink of Nectar, and with Gods to sit:
While the vast Sea, twixt Troy, and Rome is found
Raigne happy banish'd men on any ground:
Whilst heards or'e Priams tombe, & Paris stray.
And beasts preserve their yoūg frō hunters pray,
Let the bright Capitoll it's glory spread,
And Rome give Laws unto the conquer'd Mead.
Yea let her, her far dreaded name extend,
And with the Earth's remotest confines end:
Where the Mid stream, Europe frō Africk bounds,
Or swelling Nilus, watreth fertile grounds.
Rome abler far, to scorne gold, yet unfound,
(Which best is plac'd, when deepest under grūd)
Then to extract it thence for humane use,
Each hand things sacred foyling with abuse.
What limit of the world, so e're contend,
Let thither Rome, her armes victorious send.
Glad to behold, where the burnt Zones doe stand,
Or clowdy Poles, which showry dewes command.
But to the most unvanquish'd Roman State,
On this condition I prescribe this Fate,
Lest they, too pious, and indulgent yeeld,
The ruin'd walls of ancient Troy to build.
Yet if that Fortune by unhappy chance,
Should once againe decayed Troy advance
I Wife, and Sister of Jove, Heavens King,
With armed troups, would new destructiō bring.
If thrice a Brazen wall, by Phebus hand
Should reared bee, it thrice by my command,
The Greeks should raze, & thrice the captive wife
Her child, and husband mourne, depriv'd of life.
But these things nothing fit my sportive Lyre:
Muse whither go'st thou? Ah! doe not aspire,
The gods discourse, thus boldly to relate
Or great things with low Layes extenuate.
Ode VI. To the ROMANS. Of the corrupt manners of that Age.
‘Delicta majorum.’
(ROmane) resolve, thou shalt desertlesse tast,
Sinn's scourge, for vice of Predecessor past,
Vntill thou dost againe, repaire
Decayed Temples and make fayre,
The falling houses of the gods, digrac'd,
And cleanse their Images, with smoke defac'd.
To think thee lesse thē gods, thy power cōmends;
Hence take beginnings, hither ayme thy ends.
The Gods neglected, did impose
On sad Hesperia many woes.
Twice Pacorus, and twice Monaeses hand,
Our inauspicious forces did disband:
Who with a plenteous prey made glad.
To little chaines new links did add.
The Dacian, and the Aethiop fierce, in warres,
Hath almost raz'd the Citie, rent with jarres.
One with his Navy formidable,
With darts, the other better able.
This Age in vice abounding did begin,
Chast Stocks, & Nuptials to pollute with sinne:
The woes which from this fountain flow,
People, and Countrey overthrow.
The Mayd for Mariage ripe, much joyes to learne,
Ionick Daunces, and can well discerne,
With art to faine, and quickly proue,
The plesures of unlawfull love.
Straight made a wife in midst of husband's cups,
Shee with young Gallants, and adulterers sups,
Nor doth she care, to whom by stealth,
(Light's out) she yeeld loves lawlesse wealth.
But asked, doth rise (her knowing husband by)
To prostitute her Marriage modestie:
At Factors call, or Pilot's hyer,
Of lustfull shame, a costly buyer.
That youth came not, frō such forefathers strain,
Who did the Sea with Punick blood distaine.
By such hands, Pyrrhus did not fall.
Antiocus, nor Hanniball.
But in those dayes, a brave and manly race
Of rustick Shouldiers lived in this place,
Well skill'd in Plough, and Sabine spade,
And so strict obedience made.
That if sharpe mothers bad, at home returne,
They on their sholders broght logs hewd to burn:
Soon, as the Sun, did change the mountains, shade,
And weary unyoak'd Oxen home-ward made,
Night gave their labours free dispense,
Chasing the Sun's bright Chariot hence.
"What wasteth not with Times devouring rage?
"Our fatherslife much worse the grandsire's age,
"Sees us more wicked, to produce
"An off-spring fuller of abuse.
Ode IX. TO LYDIA. A Dialogue of his passed Loves, and renuing of them againe.
This Ode, though lesse morall then the rest, I have admitted, for Jul. Scaliger's sake, who much admireth it.
‘Donec gratus eram.’
Horace.
WHilst I was pleasing in thy ey,
Nor any to thy heart more nigh,
Clasp'd, that white neck in amorous Ring,
More bless'd I liv'd, then Persia's King.
Lydia.
Whilst you no other Fire embrac'd,
Nor Chloe before Lydia plac'd.
I Lydia then with honour sign'd,
More then the Roman Illia shin, d.
Horace.
Now Thracian Chloe I obey,
Skilfull, and prompt in Musick's lay:
For whom I will not feare to dy,
So Fate to her the same deny.
Lydia.
Calais Ornithus sonne doth fire
My heart with flames of like desire.
[Page 33]For whom I twice to die, will dare
So Fates, the youth surviving spare.
Horace.
But what if ancient Love returne,
And us with mutuall passion burne;
If I shake off bright Chloe's hope,
And doores to scorned Lydia ope?
Lydia.
Though he be brighter then a Starre,
And lighter thou, then Corke by farre.
More angry then rough Adria; I
With thee would live, with thee would die.
Ode XIV. To the ROMAN PEOPLE. This Ode containeth the praises of Augustus returning out of Spaine, after his Conquest over the Cantabrians.
‘Herculis ritu.’
AS Hercules, sometimes was thought
Bayes with life's hazard to have sought;
So Caesar now, to us restores,
Our houshold Gods from Spanish shores.
The wife that with one husband pleas'd,
Let her come forth, the gods appeas'd.
Octavia Caesar's Sister, hast,
And Head with humble veyle embrac't,
Now Mothers with your Virgins deare,
And sonnes (late) safe return'd, appeare.
Now Boyes, and you new maried trayne
Of wives, from evill words abstaine.
From mee this new made holy day
Black sullen cares, shall take away.
Nor feare I in great Caesars raigne,
By force, or tumult to bee slaine.
(Boy) Crownes, and Unguents now prepare,
And vessell kept, since Marsian warre:
If any such conceal'd hath been,
By wandring Spartacus not seene.
Let shrill Neaera here bee found,
With golden hayre in tresses bound.
But if the Porter, make delay
With churlish answer; Hast away.
White hayres doe mollifie my mind,
To brawles, and quarrells earst inclin'd
This in Youths heat, I could not brooke
When Consull Plancus, Office tooke.
Ode XVI. TOMAECENAS. All things lye open to Gold, but Horace is content with his owne Fortune, whereby hee is made happy.
‘Inclusam Danaën.’
DOores strongly fenced, and a Brazen Tower,
With carefull gard of waking dogs had power
Fayre Danaë in stony walls immur'd,
From night-A dulterers to have secur'd:
Did not both Iove and Venus then deride
Acrisius, who the Mayd with feare did hide.
For they the way knew free, and safe the hold,
Were but the god once turned into gold
Gold abler, armed tropes to passe, then thunder,
The strongest Fortresses doth rent assunder.
The Argive Augur's house, with all his State,
Desire of gaine did wholly ruinate.
With gifts the Macedonian did subdue,
Strong Citie gates, and proud Kings overthrew.
Sea-men are snar'd with gifes, and golden store;
'Care, growing welth pursues with thirst of more.
Then (deare Maecenas) well may I detest,
To vaunt my selfe with elevated crest,
"How much the more, man doth himselfe deny,
"So much the more, the gods will him supply.
I poore in state, seeke those that nought desire,
And, flying, doe from rich mens tents retire,
And better live, Lord of a slender store,
Then, were I sayd to hold upon my flore,
What the Apulian painfully hath till'd,
And in great wealth bee poore, and never fill'd.
My streame of waters pure, my little Copps;
My certaine hope of happy fruitfull crops,
From him his hidden in my better chance,
Who Empire in rich Affrick doth advance.
Though mee Calabrian Bees, no Honey give,
Nor wines in Loestrigonian Flaggons, live
till age make good the tast, though no man knows
That my rich fleece in fertile Gallia growes.
Yet from me, craving povertie doth flie;
Nor should I aske you more, will you denie.
I, better will with limitted desire,
Pay Caesar little tributes, then aspire
By greatnesse, to unite the Phrygian plaine,
To Alliatts ample state, and royall raigne.
"Who much desire, want much: He richly lives
"Whom God, with sparing hand sufficient gives.
Ode XXIV. Against covetous rich men.
‘Intact is opulentior.’
ALthough you richer be by farre,
Then th' Arabs Mines untouch't, or Indies are:
Though you with deep pyles, land would gaine,
Ev'n from the Tyrrhene, and large Pontique Main
If, on your head sad Fate prevayLes,
Transfixing it with Adamantine nayles,
Yet can you not your minde set free,
Or life, from snares of death exempted see.
The savage Scithyans better live,
(Who in their Cates, unconstant dwelling drive)
And rigid Getes, whose common ground
Doth in full store of Corne and Fruits abound.
And love their tillage to extend,
No longer, then the yearly season's end:
So as whilst one man weary lies,
A Substitute, him with like paines supplies.
The Step-dame, there in peacefull aw,
Commands her mother wanting sonne in law:
Nor wife, though rich, her husband swayes,
Or, to Adult'rer spruce, her selfe betrayes.
"Vertue of Parents is great Dower,
"And Chastitie restrain'd to Wedlocks power,
"Fearefull of others touch; that knowes
"The breach is sin, & Death the payment owes,
Oh, he that would quite take away
All impious slaughters, and each civill fray:
If he the Citie's Father, care
On statues to be stil'd: Ah? let him dare,
(So shall he future glory gaine)
Loose libertie with bridle to restraine.
But vertue (living) we despise,
And much admire it, taken from our eyes.
But what need sad complaints be spent,
If vice be not cut off with punishment?
What profit Lawes in vaine compos'd,
Without good lives? If neither Climes expos'd,
To parched heats: Nor Northerne starre,
Nor snow hard crusted, can the Merchant scarre:
Wise Marriners, through rough Seas flie,
The greatest imputation (Povertie)
Bids us doe that, or suffer this,
Yet doth the painfull way of Vertue misse.
Then goe we to the Capitall,
Where vulgar voice, & troups of friends do call:
Or, in the nearest Sea be bold,
Our gems, & precious stones, with fruitles gold.
The root of many ills to cast.
If thou wilt fully sinnes repentance tast,
Let this first scope thy thoughts inspire,
To raze the Elements of foule desire:
And in minds tender, apt to ill,
To seek the sharpest studies to instill:
Youth nobly borne, as yet untride,
Feares hunting sport, and speedy horse to ride:
Farre better skill'd Greek [...]ops to ply,
Or Dice, which ancient Romane Lawes deny:
Whilst his false Syre, with cunning wiles;
His fellow neighbour, and his guest beguiles,
And all this, that he may prepare
Great heaps of riches, for his worthlesse heyre.
"Thus, though vile riches grow: yet will
"Somewhat to our weake state, be wanting still.
Ode XXVIII. To LYDE. Heeperswadeth Lyde, to spend the day dedicated to Neptune, pleasantly.
‘Festo quid potius die.’
WHat doe we else on Neptune's Feast?
Bee therefore (Lyde) ready prest,
To broach Caecubian Wines, enclos'd;
And let strong wisedome bee oppos'd.
Thou seest, 'tis mid-time of the day,
And yet, as if swift time did stay,
A Butt, thou spar'st, was Cellar-stall'd,
When Bibulus was Consull call'd.
With mutuall Songs, weele Neptune please,
And the greene-hayrd Nercides.
On crooked Lyre, sing thou with art,
Latone, and swift Cynthia's dart:
Whilst our last straine, her praise unfolds,
Who Cnidos, and bright Cyclads holds:
And Paphos with payrd swans doth view;
Yet (Night) weele pay thee Verses due.
Ode XXIX. TO MAECENAS. Hee inviteth him to a merry Supper, laying publique cares aside.
‘Tyrrhena regum.’
OH my Maecenas, sprung from royall straine,
Of Tyrrhene Kings; Behold, I doe retaine,
Long since by mee reserved, to be thine,
A vessell, yet unbroach'd of milder wine;
Soft rosie flowers, for thee I will prepare,
And supple Unguents, pressed for thy haire.
Then free thee from delay: Nor alwayes yeeld,
To view from farre AEsulus hanging field,
Moyst Tybour's Site. Nor let thy eyes abide,
On hills of Telegon, the Parricide.
Leave off to see, successefull Rome rejoyce,
In smoaky hopes, much wealth, and vulgar voyce.
To great men, changes oft-times gratefull are:
And under humble roofes, neat frugall fare,
Without rich hangings, or gay purple state,
Doth the most busie brow to mirth dilate.
Now bright Andromeda's refulgent Sire,
Shewes to this under-world, his hidden fire:
Now Procyon, and the raging lyon swayes,
Pheabus reducing drie, and parched dayes.
The Shepherd tyr'd with his faint flok doth hie,
To find coole shades, or trembling current nigh,
And rough Silvanus thickets: while the shore,
Becalmed stands, from wind's tumultuous rore.
Meane time the good of Rome, in mind you bear [...]
And of her much sollicitous, doe feare
What Scres plot, or Bactria Cyrus state,
Or, Tanais warlike dweller perpetrate.
All knowing God, with cloudy night doth close,
Events of future times, and laughs at those,
Who beyond reason feare: Thy present state,
See then with equall mind thou moderate.
All other things, like to a River's source,
Who in the middle Channell of his course,
Now to the Tyrrhene Sea in silence straye;
But when fierce Deluges, calme Rivers raise,
He then in heaps rowls down with dreadful soūd
Stones billow gnawn, & trees torn frō the groūd
With house, and cattell borne along the flood,
Frighting the hill with noyse, & neighboring wood,
He after of himself, lives merry daies,
Who (this day I have liv'd) and truly saies;
To morrow (Iove) with black clouds heav'n imbrac
Or let the Sun shew forth his golden face.
Yet notwithstanding God will not agree
That what is passed once shall frustrate be
Nor what the once swift sliding hour hathwroght
Will he unfashion'd leave, or bring to nought,
Fortune in adverse chances, sportive ever,
And bold in scornfull pastime to persever
Transferreth her uncertaine honours: Now
To me propitious, instantly to you.
I praise her, while she stayes; but if she shake
Her fleet wings, I restore what I did take:
And me with my own vertue, doe invest;
Making thin honest povertie my guest.
Tis not for me, in prayer time to wast,
When wracking Southern wind hath rēt the Mast
And bargain with the gods, that the vast floods,
May to their wealth, not add my Tyrian goods:
When I into such dangerous hazard fall,
The Wind, and Pollux with his brother, shall
Me with a poore two oared Vessels ayd,
See, safely through Aegean stormes convayd.
Ode XXX. TO MELPOMENE, Horace hath obtained eternall glory, by writing of Lyrick Verses.
‘Exegi Monumentum.’
A Monument by me is brought to passe,
Out-living Pyramids, or lasting brasse,
The Sepulchre of Kings; with eating raine,
Nor the fierce Nottherne tempest can restraine:
Nor Yeares though nūberlesse:) nor Times swift start,
I will not wholly die; my better part,
Shall scape the sullen hearse: bright fame shal raise
My memory renew'd, with future praise:
While in the Capitoll the Priest ascends,
With Vestalls pure, whom silence so commends.
I (though) of humble straine will be declar'd
The first, and able most, that ever dar'd,
Unto Italian Proportion's use,
Aeolian antique Measures to reduce.
Where Aufidus with wrathfull streame doth roar
Or Daunus poore in waters, reigneth or'e
Rough barbarous Nations. Take to thee a name,
Which best (Melpomene) may sute thy fame.
And (willingly thy Poet doth request,
My haire with Delphick Lawrell thou invest.
The End of the third Booke,
ODES OF HORACE.
The Fourth Booke.
Ode III. TO MELPOMENE. Horace is borne to Poetry, by whose ayd, hee hath obtained immortall glory.
‘Quem to Melpomene.’
ON whom (Melpomene) with mild aspect,
Thou shalt thy favour at his Birth reflect,
Him, Istmian Labour shall not higher reare
With Wrastlers title, nor swift horses beare
By Grecian Chariot drawne, for Victors mee'd
In pompous triumph; nor for warlike deed,
A Captaine in the Capitoll bee made,
And deck'd with Delian Bayes, who durst invade:
And breake the swelling threats of hostile Kings:
But rather those soft-falling gentle Springs,
Which wash fat Tybur, & Groves thickly grown,
Shall make his worth in Lyrick Verse be shown.
Rome Queene of Cities, doth no whit disdaine
Mee for the muses sake to entertaine,
Amongst the Poets, loved Quires to sit,
So that I now, am lesse with Envy bit.
(Oh thou Pierian) which with Harpe of gold,
Dost in sweet notes harmonious ayre unfold;
(Oh thou) who if thou please, to Fishes mute,
The Swan's delicious Song canst attribute:
It wholly is a gift deriv'd from thee,
That by each finger, which doth passe by me,
The Romane Lyrick Harper they designe.
That I doe breath, and please (if please) is thine.
Ode V. TO AUGUSTUS. That now at length he would returne into the City.
‘Divis orte bonis.’
(CAEsar) thou from the gods propitious sprong,
Our best preserver; stay'st away too long.
Wee promise of thy quicke returne require,
Made to the sacred Senate: Oh retire,
(Good Caesar) on thy Countrey light reflect,
For where thy Spring-like face doth beames eject,
More joyfull to the people are the dayes,
And better doth the Sunne, transfuse his rayes.
Like as a Mother (when the Southerne wind,
Her sonne with envious tempest hath confin'd,
Beyond the billowes of Carpathian Straights
More then a yeare: (His home returne awaights
With vowes, and prayers; And the gods implores,
Her eye not stirring from the crooked shores.
So strucken with their faithfull heart's desire,
Thy Countrey Caesar) doth thy selfe require.
Behold the Oxe, safe, wandreth up and downe;
Ceres, and bright Felicitie doe crowne,
And feed the Land. The Seas are calmer fram'd
For Saylers use. Faith feareth to be blam'd.
No chaft house, with Adulteri's defil'd;
Custome and Law, hath spotted sin exil'd.
For Sons like Syres, the Mothers we commend.
"Companion punishment doth vice attend.
Who feares the Parthian now, or Scythian bold;
Or Monsters, which rough Germany doth hold.
Or Caesar being safe, who will regard,
That fierce Iberia stands for armes prepar'd?
Each man in his own hills, doth close the day,
And Vines about the widow Elme display.
Then frolike to his banquet he retires,
And thee a god, in second Cups admites.
With many prayers, he doth his Vows enflame,
And powres full goblets out unto thy name;
Thy Godhead seeking with his Lars to please,
As Greece their Castor and great Hercules.
(Good Caesar) render long repose we pray,
To glad Hesperia: This we (sober) say
When day first breaks: This moystned, when to rest
The Sun invites us, waning in the West.
Ode VII. To LUCIUS MANLIUS TORQUATUS. Since time changeth all things, let us live merily.
‘Diffugere nives.’
NOw snows are quite dissolv'd, fresh grasse we see
To fields return'd, and leaves to every tree.
The earth with various change each season ranks,
And falling Rivers glide within their banks.
Aglaia dareth (naked) on the ground,
With Nimphs, and her two sisters dance a-round.
The yeare us warnes immortall things to doubt,
And Hower, which circumvolves the day about.
Soft Western winds, on Winter mildnesse bring,
Soone wither'd Summer, weareth out the Spring,
Then mellow Autumne, powres his fruits amain,
And instantly dull Winter turne [...] againe.
Yet speedy Moones celestiall harmes restore
To after times: when we are gone before,
Where Tullus, good Aeneas, Ancus trade,
Nought are we else (alas) but dust, and shade.
Who is it knowes, whether the heavenly powers,
Will add to this daies summe to morrows howers.
Your greedy heire in nothig shall have part,
Which you in life shal give with bounteous heart.
But when you once are dead, and powers divine,
To you, an equall sentence shall assigne,
Then (oh Torquatus) blood, nor eloquence,
Nor pietie, can life againe dispense:
For neither chast Hypolitus, was free
By Dian set, from Hells obscuritie;
Nor were Laethean bands, by Theseus
Dissolved, for his deare Pyrithôus.
Ode VIII. To MARTIUS CENSORINUS. There is nothing which can more immortalize men, then Poets Verses.
‘Donarem pateras.’
TO friends I would give freely (Censorine)
Pieces of richest Plate, and Bowles for Wine,
Three footed Tables, (Valiant Greeks reward:)
Nor from my choycest gifts should you be barr'd
Where I with artfull figures richly sped,
Which Parrhase drew, or Scopas pourtrayed
In colours one, in stone the other bold,
A man sometimes, sometimes a God to mould.
But I have not this power: Nor doe suppose,
Your wealth, or wish, wants such delights, as those.
You Verses love; for Verse we make a shift,
And know what price to set on such a guift;
No Marbles with deep Characters engrav'd,
By which to valiant Captaines life is sav'd,
And spirit after death: Not speedy slight,
Nor threats of Hanniball, rejected quite:
Nor flames of Carthage better sound his praise,
Who did his name from conquer'd Africk raise,
Then Ennius Muse: Nor can reward be wonne,
If paper tell not, what was bravely done.
What would become of Mars, and Illa's brood,
If spightfull silence, Romulus withstood?
The strength, and grace of Poets powerfull wit,
Makes Aeacus in fields Elizian sit,
Snatched from Stygian floods. "Muses denie,
"A man deserving praise should ever die.
"Muses give heav'n: So dauntlesse Hercules,
In Ioves wish'd Banquets doth his palate please:
Castor and Pollux bright Starre doth redeeme,
Storm-beaten Vessels, which doe shipwrakt seem.
God Bacchus brow, adorn'd with verdant Vine,
Doth happy end, unto our vowes assigne.
Ode XIII. TO VIRGILL. He describeth the reproach of the Spring, and inviteth Virgil under condition to a Banquet.
‘Jam veris comites,’
SOuthwinds, the Spring attending still,
Now Seas doe calme, and Sayles doe fill:
Now Frosts doe not make Meadowes hore,
Nor Winter-Snow, swolne Rivers rore.
The lucklesse Bird, her nest doth frame,
Bewayling Itis, and the shame,
Of Cecrops house; and that so ill,
On Kings rude lust, she wrought her will,
The Shepheards of rich Flocks rehearse,
And to their Pipes chaunt rurall Verse:
And seek his God-head to appease,
Whom flockes, and hills Arcadian please.
These times doe thirstie Seasons send.
But if (thou Virgil) Caesar's friend,
With press'd Calenian Liquor hie,
For Wine, thou shalt sweet unguents buy.
And purchase with a little Box,
Wine, which Sulpitius safely locks,
New hopes most powerfull to create,
And bitter cares to dissipate,
Unto which comfort, if thou hast,
Come hither with thy Unguents fast.
Ile not (free cost) my cups carrouse,
As rich men in a plenteous house.
Then leave delayes, and Gaine's desire.
And mindfull of black Funerall fire,
"Short folly mixe with Councells best.
"Tis sweet, sometime to be in jest.
Ode XIII. Against LYCE. Who being old, is become a scorne to young men.
‘Audivêre Lyce.’
THe Gods have (Lyce) heard my vow,
My vow is heard. Th'art old, yet thou.
Faine would'st (forsooth) be counted faire,
And quaffe, and wanton with the ayre:
And (drunk) with trembling voyce invite
Slow Cupid; who takes more delight,
O [...] Ohia's rosie cheekes to stay,
Both young, and skill'd in Musick's lay.
For he, delay not booking, flies
From wither'd Okes; and from thee hies,
Whom rotten teeth, and wrinckled face,
And head of snowy haire, disgrace.
N [...]w cannot Coân Purple's use,
Nor b [...]ightest gemms, the Time reduce,
Which once swift wing [...]d Age hath clos'd
In publique Calenders dispos'd.
Where is thy beauty fled? (Ay me)
Thy colour fresh, and motion free?
What hast thou of that, that entire,
Which earst inspired amorous fire?
And did me from my selfe divert;
Next Cynaras, thou happy wert,
For pleasing beauty, and sweet grace,
Discov'red in a lovely face.
But Fates to Cynaras did owe,
Short life, and Lyce like the Crowe;
They heere surviving longer hold,
That fervent young men may behold.
Not without laughter, and much scorne,
A flaming torch to ashes worne.
Ode XV. The prayses of Augustus.
‘Phoebus volentem.’
MY Muse by Phebus was rebuk'd of late
For singing warres, and vanquish'd cities fate
Like those, who in the Tyrren Ocean's rage,
Doe little Sayles advance. (Caesar) thy age,
Affordeth plenteous fruits, unto the fields,
And to Ioves Capitoll our Ensignes yeelds,
From Parthian Pillars snatch'd, and after jarres
Hath closed Ianus Temple free from warres.
Confusion hath with Order rectifi'd,
And wandring Libertie in fetters ty'd.
Hath antique arts recall'd: By which tis knowne
Hesueria's strength and Latine name hath grow.
Imperiall pompe hath spred, and glory wonne,
Stretcht from the rising, to the setting Sunne.
While Caesar is our Guardian, civill warre,
Nor violence, our peacefull rest [...] shall marre.
Nor anger, which swords sharpnerh, & confounds
Cities, unhappy made with mutuall wounds.
Not they for thirst, that drink in I ster deep,
Shall once refuse, the Iulian Lawes to keep.
Not Scres, faithlesse Persians, nor the Getes,
Nor those, which neere to Tanais have their seats
And we on holy Eeves, and holy Dayes,
Amongst free Cups, to merry Bacchus prayse:
With wife, and children, standing in our sight,
(First Gods invoking with Religious Rite)
Will gladly (as our Grandsires did) rehearse,
(And tuning Lydian Pipe to various Verse,)
Heroique Captaines, Troy, Anchises gone,
And brave Aeneas, Cytherea's sonne.
The end of the fourth Bohke.
CERTAINE EPODS OF HORACE.
Epod. I. TO MAECENAS. Horace will travell with Maecenas going to the Actiack warres against. M. Anthony.
‘Ibis liburnis.’
IN low built Barkes, thou wilt not fayle,
'Monst loftie towring Ships to sayle;
And dost (Maecenas) much encline,
To make great Caesar's perill thine.
What shall we doe? Whose life is blest,
If thou survive: If not, distrest.
Shall we (commanded) idle bee:
Repose is toyle, if not with thee.
Or shall we undergoe these paines,
With minds which no soft ease restraines?
We will? And through the Alpes ascent,
And Caucasus, where none frequent:
Yea to the utmost Westerne parts,
Will follow thee, with constant hearts.
You'le aske; How can thy labour please
Untrain'd in armes, and weake with ease?
"In company, Feares little seeme,
Which men in absence, great esteeme.
As Bird, her plumelesse young ones, left,
More feares to find by Serpents reft;
Not that she can with presence, bring
Force able to resist the sting.
This warfare will I undertake,
Or any other, for thy sake.
Not that my many Ploughs are found,
With Oxen more, to till the ground.
Or Beasts to Lucan Meads are sent,
Calabrian fervors to prevent.
Nor Tusculum, my Village cleare,
May to Circaean walls, come neare.
Thy favour me enough hath stoar'd,
Which I, as Chremes will not hoard
Within the earth, nor ever shall
Spend like a wastfull prodigall.
Epod. II. The praise of the Countrey life.
‘Beatus ille qui procul negotiis.’
HE happy is, who far from busie toyle,
(As elder ages) tills the soyle
With his owne Cattle, which his father left,
From thralling interest bereft.
He is not mov'd, when warlike Drums doe bear,
Nor feares the angry Ocean's threat.
He Pleas, and Suits abhorres, and doth refuse,
The grace of mighty men to use.
But either doth to tallest Poplats twine,
The tender off-springs of the Vine.
And cutting branches off, which uselesse were,
Graft those, which better fruit may beare.
Or, vieweth in some winding valley's maze,
His wandring Heards of Cattle, graze.
Or, doth press'd honey in pure vessels keep,
Or, sheare his wooll o're burdned sheep.
But when with mellow fruit ripe Autumn crownd
His head upreareth from the ground.
How he to tast the grafted Peare delights,
And grape, that with the Purple sights.
Which to Priapus, as a gift redounds,
Ot, old Silvanus, God of Bounds.
Now under aged Oke, he howres doth passe,
And now reposeth on the grasse.
While gentle Rivers from high banks doe glide,
And Birds their warbling notes divide:
Small streames, on purling pibbles murmur keep,
To summon soft, and easie sleep.
But when lowd Jove, rough Winter sends below,
In stormy showres, and chilling snow.
Then he the hardy Bore, from place to place,
With Fleet Hounds, into Toyles doth chace:
Or else, the fearefull Hare, and forraine Crane
With pleasing spoyle, in grinns are ta'ne.
Ah! who in thought, 'mongst such delights retaines
Least sense, of love's disturbing paines?
But if (in part) a modest wife direct
The house, and children deare affect.
As Sabine earst, or swift Apulian's dame,
Parched with tawney Phebus flame,
With old dry wood, a bless'd fire make to burne,
'Gainst weary husband's wish'd returne:
And folding gladsome flocks in woven grates,
Dryes up their dugges, which milke dilates;
And broaching new wines kept in vessells faire,
And (unbought) Supper doth prepare.
The Lucrine Oyster (sure) nor Guilthead bright,
Nor Turbot, yeeldeth more delight;
If Winter such, when Easterne tempests rore,
Doe drive upon our Terrhene shore.
Ionick Partriges, nor Africk Quaile,
Upon my palate more prevaile,
Then doth the unctious Olive choicely cull'd,
From fertile Branches newly pull'd:
Or Sorrell that in Meadowes doth abound,
And Mallowes, bodies making sound.
Or Lambe, on Terminus his Feast that dies,
Or Kidd-redeem'd, from Wolfe's surprise.
Amongst these dainties, what content it yeelds,
To see the fed flocks leave the fields.
To see the weary Oxe with neck worne bare,
Dragging the turned plough and share:
And Hinds (the plenteous houshold swarme)
'Bout shining Lars to sit, and warme.
'This said, rich Alphius that money lends,
To lead a Countrey life intends;
And in the Ides his Debts call'd in amaine,
But in the Calendo lent againe.
Epod VII. To the people of ROME. An Execration of the civill warre, raised, on the one side by Brutus, and Cassius; on the other, by Octavian, M. Anthony, and Lepidus the Roman Consulls.
‘Quo, quo scelesti.’
AH Traytors, whither hast you? To what end,
Do your right hāds, to shethed swords descēd?
Is there so little yet, of Latine blood,
Powr'd on the Champain fields, or Ocean flood?
Not that the Roman should with flames abate,
The Towers of Carthage, envious of our state:
Or Britton should (unconquered to this day)
Be taught, in chaines to tread the sacred way.
But that (which now the Parthian would demād)
This Citie should be raz'd by civill hand.
'Mongst Wolves, and Lyons never was this use,
But beasts, whom nture diff'rent doth produce.
Doth Fury blind? Or greater power command?
Or sinne's offence? Oh let me understand?
They silent are: Their cheeks are paler made,
And feares their horror-strucken minds invade
Tis so: Sowre Fates doe Rome with fury staine,
And tyrannous offence of brother slaine.
Which on ensuing ages layd the guilt.
When Remus harmlesse blood on earth was spilt.
Epod XIII. To his merry friends, that they should passe the Winter pleasantly.
‘Horrida tempestas.’
ROugh tempests have the brow of heaven bent,
And showres, and snowes, cause thickned ayr's descent.
Now Thracian North winds, Sea, & woods affray
Friends, let us take occasion, from the day;
While strength is fresh, and us it well becomes,
Let Age be lightned, which the brow benummes.
Boy, see you broach those elder wines were press'd
When Torquate first, the Consul's place possess'd.
Speake not of other things. God will perchance,
These to their seat, with happy change advance,
Unguents of [...]ersian Odours, now delight;
Cares d [...]iving with Cylenian Harpe to flight;
As noble Chiron to Achilles sang,
Unvanquish'd Mortall, that from Thetis sprang,
Thee Troy expects; which Simois rowling Tyde,
And small Scamander's colder streames divide,
Whence to returne, so Fates thy thread undoe,
Thou canst not back with thy blew Mother goe,
All Sorrow there, with wine, and Song depresse,
(Sweet comforts, of deformed heavinesse.)
The Ende of the Epods.
On the day of judgement. Mat. chap. 24. V. 29.30.31.
WHen the last Trumpet with a dreadfull call
Resounding farre and near, shall summon all,
To leave Deaths pitchy dung'on, and awake
Before Jehovah their account to make.
Refulgent Titan must put out his light,
And flee for succour to the sable Night.
While his unharnes'd Steeds, with gilded heeles,
Gallop about this Globe, burning the fields
With flames ejected, when their fury ope's
The flaming Caverns of their burning throats.
The silver Moon with black shades must infol'd,
Her Ebon Chariot and be headlong rowl'd
From her Enamel'd Throne, while sullen mist
Rap's up her curled flames; those hils which kist
The Skies with their ambitious height, must now
Their stately Necks below the Center bow,
Mountaines shall fall upon their knees, as though
They beg'd pardon for aspiring, Seas shall flow
With floods of crimson hue; loud roaring thūder
With sense confoūding cracks, hal split in sunder
Ioves lofty Pallace [...] falling Starres shall crush
Earth with their painted burden, while they rush
In pale affrighted Troopes, and joyntly try
Which shall amongst them most dejected lye.
The bright sphears stāding stil shal cease to chime
Supposing now that all consuming time
Should in Eternitie be quite involv'd,
And the whole Fabrick of the world dissolv'd.
Then heavens Monarch in a Carre of gold
Shall ride triumphant, sacred truth shall hold
Over his head a Crowne, and Cherubs bright
Display their checberds wings effusing light
From their refulgent faces, Crowned quires
Oft skie-borne Choristers with sounding Lyres.
Shall chalk forth Hallalujah's, on each hand
Martyrs and Saints in flaming troops shall stand.
A Cloake enchast with Starres and spangl'd over
With sparkling Diamonds shall closely cover
His glittring Members; thus in Majestie
The large Tribunall shall be plac'd on hye.
Then shall his People heare that lovely voice
Of come yee blessed, and in this rejoyce
That you shall dwel where floods of Nectar flow
And endlesse blisses doe for ever grow
But those (alas) whom his revewing ire,
Shall deeply plung'd in everlasting fire,
Those shall find Night in flames, and alwaies lye
As dayly dying and yet never dye.
A briefe Meditation on Mans frailty.
HOw frayle is man? Oh how his fortune reels
On giddy Hinges, and unstable Wheeles?
Just as a Flower, when the Meadows gay
D'on checquer'd Garments in the month of May
Layes o'pe its varnisht pride against the Sunne,
While perfum'd Zephyr through the fields doth run
In Aromatick gusts, and oft doth play
With wanton Cloris prostrate in his way.
But when the Dog with scorching heat is stung
Lapping up Rivers with his blazing toungue;
Then the Inamel'd stem hangs drooping down
And sheads his leaves upon the painted ground.
Thus fade our Dayes, thus all our joyes are gone
Almost before they can be thought upon.
An Elegy on the thrice Renowned Sir PHILIP SYDNEY.
OH let me to some dismall Cypresse turne,
That thus transform'd I might for ever morn
Over thy Tombe, thou brave Heroick spirit,
Whose choice perfections claimed to inherit
All hearts that knew thee, and whose vertue shall, beds
Survive the Relicks of thy Funerall.
You watry Nymphs which makes those mossy
Where Tame and Isis rest their silver heads.
Don sable weeds, and in your Cristall bowres
Playing at drop teares spend the winged houres.
You shepheards all which the Arcaedian plaines
With Oaten reeds chant forth melodious straines
Let brinish teares flow from your dropping eyes,
And bath your Muse in weeping Elegies,
Sydney is gone, you wanton Faun that trip
About the enameld Greene, and gently sip
The crystall of cleere Brooks let sorrows make
Your jollity to cease, and shreiks awake
Echo from the Embroidred Vales, let Philomel
Prepare no more her own sad rape to tell,
But may that melancholy Bird with sighs let fall
Dirges bewayling Sydneys funerall.
Natures whole Fabrick seems still to deplore
His fate, fields smile not as they did before.
Gay Lillies fade, nor can the purple Rose
Her gawdy shop to mortall eyes expose.
For loe her Damask leaves halfe witherd flye
To kisse Earths Bosome, and there drooping dye.
But if they yet their crimson dye retaine
They blush at Sydneyes scarrs, Weep, weep amaine
Bright Venus with thy winged Boy, oh shall now?
With Nectar dropping pens such furrows plow,
In which the scatter'd seed of growing fame,
Could bring forth Harvests of a lasting Name.
Who shall record Loves triumphs? Who shall find
New fained stories, to delight the mind
Of all greene sicknesse Girles? Or who shall bee
The Prop to stay declining Poetry?
Death hath put out this radiant Lamp of light,
And left the world wrapt up in pitchy night.
But stay, why weep I thus? by this he's come
To trace the fields of blest Elisium:
There shall he comfort those which spend their houres
In melancholy Groves and Mertill bowers.
Rest Honourd Ashes in your marble Tombe
Maugre all malice, while Earths teeming wombe.
Layes open Flora, s Wardrope to adorne
Thy hearse with pleasing flowres, such as mourne.
Strowes in the Easterne windows, when the dawn
Appeares like Roses overspread with Lawne.
Thy soule shall flie on fames high soaring wings
Above the glory of triumphant Kings.
The Book shall live, till time shall be no more.
Till Skies shall want a Sun, and Seas a shore,
FINIS.
Aulus Persius Flaccus HIS SATYRES.
Translated into English, By BARTEN HOLYDAY Dr of Divinity, and late Student of CHRIST-CHURCH in OXFORD.
And now newly by him reviewed, amended, and enlarged.
Hinc trahe quae dicas. mensámque relinque Mycenis Cum capite & pedibus —
The fifth Edition.
LONDON, Printed for the Author. 1650.
To the Author his most loved Friend, Dr BARTEN HOLYDAY.
WHat None have Dar'd, Thou hast; and might'st againe
With praise, were it undar'd. Did'st thou abstaine
Yet longer, none would dare Thee to Prevent;
If any, what would breed thy more Content
Then, when by victory, thy glory should
Be doubled? yea, although recall some could,
From field of rest, thy PERSIUS to consult:
Yet would no lesse praise from thy lines result,
Then that unparalel'd, which now is due
From those that read thee. Who when they shal view
How truly with thine Author thou dost pace,
How hand in hand yee goe, what equall grace
Thou dost with him observe in every terme:
They cannot, but, if just, justly affirme;
That did your times as do your lines agree,
He might be thought to have translated Thee,
But that he's Darker, not so strong; Wherein
Thy greater Art more clearely may be seene:
Which dost thy Persius clowdy stormes display
With lightning and with thunder; Both which lay
Couched perchance in him, but wanted force
To breake, or light from darknesse to divorce:
Till Thine Exhaled skill compress'd it so,
That forc'd the clowds to breake, the lïght to shew,
The thunder to be heard. That now each child
Can pratle what was meant: whil'st thou art stil'd
Of all, with titles of true dignity,
For lofty Phrase, and perspicuity.
W. CARTWRIGHT.
To his loving Friend Master B. H. upon PERSIƲS translated.
THis work me thinks makes my conjecture bold
T'affirme th' Athenians paradox is true,
When by yeares revolution I behold
Men dead revive; things long since old grow new:
For should dead Rome awake, & those loose times
Which feard and felt this scourging Satyrist,
She might againe in us review her crimes;
As fertile is Our age, Nor hath it mist
The worst of all her ills. Vainly we thought
Thy ashes (Persius) Slept within thine urne;
Feard not thy lash: hop't negligence had wrought
Thy lines worse funerall: & at length would turne
All to obscurity; For how few did strive
T' enlighten thy darke phrase, unlesse some vice
Made an acute bad comment: So to thriue
And purchase perspicuity, is a price
Thou would'st have griev'd to give. Yet since in ill
We have or' [...]ane past times: I must rejoyce
That constant industry should get such skill
As tell us our bad in Persius voyce:
Whom now all understand: all may endure
To read, but such as would their crimes obscure.
T. GOFFE.
Dark Persius Ambrose threw thy book on ground
With indignation, 'cause 'twas so profound:
But now in Fathers roome a Child is sprung,
That reads thy Satyres in a vulgar tongue,
No Ambrose, yet with ambrose to be fed,
That could so wisely track, where thou couldst tred,
He takes away thy vaile, and makes that line
Transalpine, which the Romans would confine:
Now let thy wandring shadow freely rove,
And seeke great place in the Elisian grove,
Where since there's store of Bay, for him one knit,
That makes the looser Britaines feare thy wit.
Needs must his owne invention radiant be,
That cast such beames through thy opacitie.
Hence-forth (bright HOLYDAY) to change refuse
Thine owne Terpsichore, with translated Muse.
IN Latio latuit Saturnum filius: Aulum
Sic poterat soboles ista latere suum,
Ante tuas (HOLYDAY) faces; hâc luce refulget
Pluribus, & caeco, tectior ante, parri.
Gymnaf [...]archa puer, festivus ludat u [...]erque:
Per Festum vobis otia quanta Diem?
Nunquam Pegaseas libavit Persius undas,
Aut clausit docto lumina pigra jugo,
Nempe tibi, fontem laticés (que) & cu [...]mina Phoebus
Servarat: pleno dum satur ore mades. *
Quidve Aulus traheret? cum sic Helicona refundas,
Vt natet Angligenis Itala Musa labris,
[...]
[...].
JOHN WALL D. D.
Upon the happy Translation of the most difficult Satyrist, performed by his friend Master B. H.
I Sing the Conquest, which an English rime,
With all its force nere won before this time.
Who thought that there would extant be the man
That such stiffe, sullen, hardy Romans can
Subdue, and with an hand learnedly fierce,
Binde in the fetters of a Brittaine Verse?
Yet here is one that doth: But not as those
For to translate, with lines a mile in length,
Or Paraphrase that tyres, Such is his strength
And strictnesse, he his Author without wrong
Lodges in prisons but of five foot long.
Some I have knowne, that did attempt the same
Which that they Durst, it was their greatest fame,
But it was he, that could disdaine to stay
At this praise Margent, onely to Assay:
He with impetuous and all-conquering wit
That onely had the power to finish it.
For had they don't, I know they must have left
Their graver studies, and have filcht with theft
Guilty of too much sacriledge, more houres,
Then time would lose; or else those sister powers
Invoke to lend them Other lives, to plucke
A vessell with such Remora's bestucke
To wished shore. But as for Him with strange
And easie haste, he did his Roman change
Without complaint of time: No serious part
Of learning murmur'd, that he did impart
Houres to the worke. For all this was begot,
(I speake my conscience) when it was his lot
To be at Truce with studie. Then judge you
That shall upon his happy paines, a view
Bestow, that ne're the Muses Holy dayes,
Or times of leasure, were with greater Praise,
Or Thrift, or businesse spent: and likewise since
He conquer'd hath so fierce a Latin Prince
Vnto the Rimes and Phrases of Our tongue:
Decree that Bayes unto his brow belong.
A. WHITE.
To his kinde Friend Master B.H. Vpon his PERSIUS.
AS if in travailes farre ingag'd at last
Return'd, I gratulate thy labours past.
But when unto thy wayes I turne mine eye,
Dangers obscur'd with dangers I espy,
I think't a taske too great for humane sleights,
Vngraveld or undasht to passe those streights.
Admiring thy chaste notes, in which unharm'd
The Syrens lustfull language thou hast charm'd,
That Art I love, when as 'gainst faith of sense
By sense of faith I see things flow from thence.
Nor do I (like to his ore wheeling braine)
PERSIUS still a cloud, imbrace in vaine;
This's the substance gives Vice the fatall blow,
The others thunder few to feare do know.
On envie, summon all the vices spight:
Better they should be conquer'd then not Fight.
R. WELDON
Aulus Persius Flaccus. HIS SATYRS The Prologue.
ARGUMENT.
Need and not Inspired skill
Makes our Author trie his quill.
MY lippes did never touch the spring
Of the wing'd horse: nor can I bring
to minde, that ere I dream'd upon
Two-topt Parnassus, that thereon
I might b' Inspir'd and So Vp-start
A Poet by Infused art.
And all the Muses that doe dwell
'Bout pale Pirene, and the Well
Of Helicon, to Those I leave.
Vnto whose statue's browes doth cleave
The Ivy-greene incircling Crowne.
In humblenesse I halfe a Clowne
Doe onely bring this my rude line,
Vnto Apollo's sacred shine.
Yet blame me not for my bold deed:
Alas! I write enforc'd by * need.
Who taught the Parrot his kinde Haile?
Who taught the Pie to so prevaile
To frame our words? 'Twas but to fill
Their belly, master of their skill;
Which skilfull is to make them reach
Ʋoices, which Nature cannot teach.
Nay; of there chance to shine but some
Hope, of deceitfull Gaine to come:
Crow [...] Poets and poetique Pies
You'd thinke did chaunt sweet ayries;
And make (when as they harshly Crie)
A Pegaseian Melodie.
THE FIRST SATYRE. IN FORME OF A DIALOGUE.
The Speakers PERSIUS. MONITOR.
ARGUMENT.
Inspired Poets Art and Pride
Our Satyrist doth here deride.
P. O Cares of men! O emptie Vanitie
Of things! M. Who'l read these Wondring Satyrs?
a P Why? Dost thou say so my Friend?
M. Futh I thinke none.
P. How saist thou? M. Perchance some two, or. P. None?
And dou [...]e Troians should preferre the asse
Is but a trifle. If disturbed Rome
Proudly sleight any thing, scorne to descend
To Their Vaine censures: neither strive to mend
The tongue of thy false ballance in their scale
Which is as vvrong: but if thou'dst never faile
Know This: To trie thy secret innocence,
The surest witnesse is thy conscience,
For Who is Not at Rome? O that I might
But freely speake, yet speake no more! then Right!
And So I May, Then, when I cast mine eye
On those vvhose Faces promise Gravitie:
On our sad Stoickes: on the things vve doe
Since vve left off to play vvith nuts: and vievv
Our actions, vvhen vve labour much to be
Sterne Ʋnckles. Then! then! But, oh, pardon me,
I will not touch. Yet can I hold my peace
Urg'd Thus? and from revenge so just, Thus cease?
I'me of a Scoffing spleene. I Love to Flout
At Hypocrites: therefore it now Must out.
Then Thus.
Being immur'd from each mans sight
[...] some obscure retired place, vve vvrite
[...]ome, eu'n-pac'd numbers; Some freefooted prose,
Some vveighty thing, vvhich th' Author strongly blovves
From his large-vvinded lungs. For he rehearses
Vnto the people straight his vvel-pen'd verses;
His haire being first kemb'd smooth, and then he dight,
In a faire comely garment fresh and vvhite,
Wearing some precious jevvell, vvhich some friend,
On's birth-day to him for a gift did send,
With moyst'ning syrrope having clear'd his throat
Apt novv to sound it in a various note.
Then is he reading in a seat on high,
Dissolv'd unto a lustfull Acting eye.
Where thou ma [...]st see ev'n those that beare the name
Of Rome's brave Titi (but unto their shame)
To shake with trembling lust, and to rejoyce
Obscenely, vvith a broken skteaking voice
When a levvd line their invvard loynes doth pierce,
And touch them vvith a lust provoking verse.
But thou old Dot [...]rd, dost Thou striue to feed
Other men's eares? nay, Theirs vvho vvithout heed
Or moderate discreation praise thee so,
That (skinne-peel'd Asl [...]!) thy selfe dost first cry, Hoe?
d Why did I learne unlesse this leaven here
Inbred, this strong vvild-figtree should appeare?
And from its seat the liver breaking forth
Shevv to the world its ovvn, though unknovvne vvorth?
P. O see ambitious palenesse! see Old Age!
At such corrupted times Who could not rage?
Think'st thou, thou nothing know'st, if it be so,
That others knowe not, that thou this dost knowe?
e O but tis brave to heare men cry, See, see?
And pointing vvith their fingers, say, That's she,
Say you 'had a Poeme which so smoothly runs,
That 'tvvere for lectures read to great mens sons,
Brave lads vvith curled locks, like gold so yellow?
Would not you thinke your selfe a pretty fellow?
P. O that's not all! See, our Romulidans
Prophane our sacred poems vvith foule hands!
Reading, amidst their bovvels, poems divine,
Being full up to the throat vvith flesh and vvine.
Where if forsooth one clad in purple cloth's,
Su [...]tile some mustre stuffe through's muffling nose
Me [...]ing forth faire Hypsipyle's sad song
Or Phillis fortune vvith a most'ned [...]ong
Or some such tales vvhich poetrie affordes
His daintie palate tripping forth his vvords,
The men assent! And are not th'ashes then
Of this rare poet bless? This man of men
Hath he no [...] novv a f lighter mole of earth
Gently pressing his bones? A gen'rall mirth
Ensues, the guests vvith hands and voyces vvring
His due applauses And shall there not novv spring,
E [...]'n from his Manes, from the hollovv vvombe
Of his [...]rice-happy urne-inclosing tombe
Sweet Violets? But, Oh, sates one, you touch
Too scoffingly, wrinkling your nose Too much:
For doth there breath a man that can reject
A generall praise? and his ovvne lines neglect?
Lines vvorth immortall Cedars recompence,
Nere fearing nevv-sold Fish or Frankincense?
Well, vvhosoe're thou art vvhom I did make
But novv, the Adverse part to undertake;
When J my selfe doe vvrite, if from my braine
Doe flovv by greatest chance some happy straine
(For ris by chance) My heart is not so hard
So hornie, as to feare the due revvard
Of deseru'd fame. Only J doe denie
The scope of vertuous actions to lie
In thy O brave! O fine! for search but this
Thy O fine! and vvithin it What not is?
No; in These papers knovv thou shalt not finde
Labe'os helle borated lines confinde
To superstitiously to Words: nor vveake
Love-elegies, such as Rome's Nobles speake:
Whose judgement, like their overcharged mavv,
Wants strong concoctions heat, and is yet ravv,
Briefly vvhatse're on g Citrean beds is vvrit,
We hence exclude as th'exerement of vvit.
Thou dost some dish of good hot meat provide
For some poore vvretch (vvhose belli's his tongs guide)
Or to thy quaking follo'r thou dost cast
Thy thread-bare cloake (vvhich could no longer last)
Then thus thou speak'st. You knovv eu'n from my youth
J hated lies, novv therefore tell me true
Of me (P. Can He tell truth? Wilt let me speake?
Thou triflest (bald [...]pare alse!) and thy skill's vveake.
Seeing a fat-hog trough-panch before thee struts
Full eighteene inches vvith a load of guts.
O blessed Janus! happy is thy luck!
Behinde h thy bac [...]e, vvhom never Storkes bill strucke
At vvhom no nimble finger'd hand being fram'd
Lik [...] asses vvhite eares, ever yet vvas aim'd:
Nor so much tongue thrust forth in a base flout
As an Apulian bitch for thirst his out.
Yo O Patrician blood vvhose heads are blinde
I' th' hinder part, prevent a scorne behinde,
What doe men say? i That novv your verses flovv,
Jn a soft number'd pace both svveet and slovv,
Whose vvell [...] smooth'd parts are so exactly joyn'd
That the severest naile can never finde
The least unev'nesse. O saies one, he makes
A verse, as he that his true levell takes,
Shutting one eye, for to direct his line,
Which dravving, vvith red-oaker he doth signe,
Whether he scourge vvith his deep-vvounding rimes
The delicate soft manners of the times,
Or th' impious banquets of revenging Kings:
Our Poets Muse can vvell expresse great things.
P. J, You shall see a fellovv dare assay
To vvrite Heroicke acts, vvho th'other day
But trifle'd out some Fables of small vvorth
Jn scarce true Greeke: vvhose skill cannot paint forth
A pleasant selfe-describing Groue's delights;
Nor praise the full stor'd Country that eu'n vvrites
The story of its ovvne abundant store;
Where fruits and fire, vvood and the fat [...]ned Boare
Are never vvanting, vvh [...]re the shepheards feast
Sacred to Pales is, t'expell he beast
That hates the lambe: vvhere shepheards on that day
Are purged in a fire of smoaking hay.
And vvhere thy plovv-share vvas in surrovves vvorne;
When as thy vvife trembling vvith joy and feare,
Made thee the great Dictators robes to vveare
Before thine Oxen, and to leave them novv,
Making the Lictor carry home thy plovv.
Behold then this brave Poet!
Some there are
To vvhom l Brisean Labeo's book seemes rare:
Whose lines svvell like full Veines. Others desire
Pacuvius, vvhom much they doe admire,
And love often to read, and eu'n to stay
Upon this knottie harsh Antiopa;
Whose vvofull heart vvas nourished vvith greefe,
The Depth of sorrovv yeelding some releefe,
When thou shalt see the bleare-eyd father teach
His sonne those things; canst thou not quickly reach
To know the cause hovv this our vile disgrace,
This hissing frying-pan of speech tooke place
First, in our tongues? And yet vvherein our smooth
m Trossulians vainely themselves doe sooth,
And ev'n leap in their seats, vvhen as they heare
Old vvords, vvhich please their th [...]ck false-judging eare.
When th'art accus'd art not asham'd to be
Not able thy novv-Aged head to free
From feare o'th'lavv, but love the luke-vvarme cry
Of all thy hearers crying, De [...]ently?
Pedius saies one, unto thy charge I lay
The guilt of these. What novv doth Pedius say?
Jn smooth Antitheta's his fault he vveighes,
And for his learned Figures, vvinnes much praise,
O neat! O neat? Jn judging thou dost fayle,
Base favvning Romane, dost thou vvag thy taile?
For think'st thou, if some ship-vvrach'd vvretch should sing,
He e're from me one Halfe-penny should vvring?
Dost Sing, vvhen at thy shoulder thou dost vve are
Thy selfe and shippe, vvhich the sharp rocks did teare?
His teares shall be express'd through's Miserie;
Not Studi'd for by Night, that vvould move Mee
To pitie. M. Yet in Numbers, O, there shines
Beauteous composure added to those lines
Which vvere before but ravv. P. I, so it seemes.
For one, this as the only skill esteemes
To end his verse (But, O ridiculous!)
With Berecinthian Atys; or else, thus.
The Dolphin which did out Cerulean Nereus.
Ex'lent! and this our Romans count most serious?
So thus another dravves his numbered line,
We drew a ribbe from the long Appenine.
To terme this frothy, fat-back'd. P.O no, spare
Your too-quick censure, and dissolve your brovv.
This Poem as an aged vvell-grovvne bough
Season'd vvith time is vvith the vvarme Sunnes heat
Well boyld in its ovvn barke; grovvne strong and great.
M. What then doe you terme soft, and to be read
With a loose bending neck, and bovv'd dovvne head?
P. Their writh'd hornes the Mimallones did fill
With sounds, and Bassari [...] about to kill
The scornefull calfe, snatching from him his head,
And Moenas as the spotted Lynx she lead
With Ivy-bridles, oft did Euion sound
The reparable Eccho did rebound.
These, these are brave! But Oh, should such lines be,
Jf any veine of old Nobilitie
Did live in us? These vveake lines in the Brimme
Of ev'ry mouth, in th' utmost spittle svvimme.
Moenas and Atys or some foolish songs
Are alvvaies in the moisture of their tongues.
They never buffeted a Deske for these,
Or bit their Nailes such lines are vvrit vvith ease.
M. Grant this be true yet Sir You have no need
With biting truth to make their soft eares bleed.
Well, look you to't; J feare; be not too bold,
Lest great mens thresholds tovvards you grovv cold.
Me thinks, th'are touched already, and I heare
The doggish letter R sound in mine eare,
P. Nay, Sir, rather then so, all's vvhite and free:
All, all is admirable vvell for Mee.
I vvill not hinder't. Novv y'are pleas'd I think,
You'l say, Let no man make my verses stinke,
Making a place for o urine, in a scorne,
Among my papers. P. See then you adorne
Your booke, and paint too p Serpents on't; Boyes, None,
Must urine in this Sacred place: be gone;
And Ile goe first.
Yet did Lucius cut
Levvd Rome, and thee, O Lupius, that didst glut
Thy appetite, and thee (Mutius) grovvne vveake
With lust, and did on you his Javv-tooth breake.
So subtile Horace laughing vvith his friend
Would cunningly his vices reprehend,
And lying in his bosome, in his heart,
Would biterly deride him vvith great art,
Skilfull he vvas basely t' esteeme the rout,
Yet neere vvrinkled his nose, or seem'd to flout:
And may not J then Mutter? not to th'q Dust?
Not though alone? No vvhere? J vvill. J must
Digge here, eu'n here, (My [...]ooke) J speake to Thee,
J'ue seene, J say, J'ue seene, (my tong's borne free)
Who has not Asses eares? Thou shalt not buy
This my obscure concealed mysterie,
This my deare scoffe, my Nothing, for vvhole miliade
Of any base Poets long-vvinded Iliads.
Thou vvhoso'ere thou art, that art inspir'd
With bold Cratinus, or vvith zeale art fir'd
Like angry Eupolis, and art grovvne pale
With' that old man, vvhose stile vvith a full saile
Beares strong against foule vice, vouchsafe a glance
On these my Salyres also, vvhere by chance
If any thing more perfect thou shalt heare,
Among my lines, grovv hot vvith a purg'd eare.
But him vvith deepest scorne J doe detest
That basely loues to breake a jest
At a Philosophers poore Shooe, and vvinkes
At him, vvhose sight is bad, calling him Blinkes.
Counting himselfe no meane man, bearing some
Italian honour at Aretium,
Cause, being Market-Clarke (such vvas his pleasure)
He brake their earthen vessels lesse then measure.
Nor love I him that counts the counting-table
Of deepe Arithmeticians but a fable.r
Nor him that scoffes at Figures made in ſ dust
By sound Geometry. Such are unjust,
And Enemies to th' Arts. They much delight
To see the bold-fac'd queane Norania fight
With a good honest Cynicke, and vvill grinne
If that she pull his beard off from his chinne.
These, in the morning next their hearts Jle send
To study the Edicts lest they offend,
Yet after dinner (for they'le turne no more
From vice) unto Callirhee their Whore.
THE SECOND SATYRE, VNTO HIS FRIEND PLOTIUS MACRINUS.
ARGUMENT.
Profane desires: true sacrifice:
Bold sinnes: our Poet here descries;
SIgne This day (Macrine) vvith a purer stone,
Which doth present to thee times long since gone.
Povvre vvine into thy Genius, for thy care
Js not to vvinne Iove vvith a Bribing prayer.
Nor crav'st thou, vvhat thou sham'st to name for feare'.
Excepts Iove's dravvne aside that none may heare.
Though no small part of Rome's chiefe Nobles can
Sacrifice vvith a Lovv-voic'd incense-pan.
Tis not an easie thing to take avvay
The murmur'd vvhispering of those that pray
From the Gods Temples. Tis no easie thing
To live vvith knovvne desires.a They use to sing
Alovvd, that strangers and the standers-by
May heare'hem, vvhen they pray for honesty
Or a good minde, good fame. But for the rest
Of their desires, invvardly th'are supprest
Under their murmuring tongues, such as are these
Profane requests, O that some strong disease
Would make my Uncl's brave rich funerall
To bubble up, O that my take vvould fall,
As I vvere vvorking, on some sounding pot
Of silver,b Hercules blessing my lot.
Or would I might expunge this yong rich Ward,
By vvhom from great possessions I am bar'd!
Being the next heire, for he's vvith scabs perplext,
And is vvith svvelling choller sharply vext.
There's Nereus too, has bu [...]'d yee three vvives,
And I scarce—! O such men lead happy lives!
That these things thou religiously maist crave
Of Iove, in svvelling Tybers silver vvave
Early thou vvashest tvvice or thrice thy head,
Purging thec night pollutions of thy bed.
Dost h [...]a [...]? ansvver n [...]e this, and but disclose
Thy thought in one small question Ile propose.
What thinkst of Iove? thinkst he may be preferd
'Fore some? Whom? be'rev'nd Staius, art afeard?
And doubtst thou vvhether is the fittest Guard
And juster judge for a yong guidlesse Ward?
This then, vvhere vvith thou dar'st to prest Iove's eare,
Tell but to Status, vvould he not ev'n feare
To hears thee speake? and casting up his eye
Crie, O good Iove! and shall not Iove then crie
Unto himselfe for vengeance? What? dost think
Thou art forgiv'n, because he's pleasd to Wink
At thy black deeds, and sooner strikes a Tree,
With horrid Sulphure, then Thy house and Thee,
When vvith his roaring thunders he doth chide
The provvd high-mounting aire? Dar'st thou deride
The povv'r of Heav'n, and play vvith Ioves fond Beard?
As if th' hadst leave, because thou ne're vvast fear'd
With some strange judgement? or ne're yet did'st lie
A vvofull spectacle to each mans eye,
Unholy, to be shunn'd in some sad grove.
Then ceasing to be sacred unto Iove,
Or th' other Gods, untill vvith sacrifice
Th' Aruspex great Ergenna purifies
The same, by offring th' ent [...]als of tvvo sheep?
Or else, vvhat ift? vvith vvhat revvard dost keepe
The bribed eares of the corrupted Gods
That they should only give indulgent nods
At thy vast crimes? ift thy fair offering
Which their sacred altars thou dost bring?
Novv you shall see some grandames, or fond Aunts,
Whom vvomens Fury Superstition haunts,
Take up a tender infant in their armes,
And being skilfull to depell the harmes
Of ane effascinating eye, they'le spet
Upon their middle finger, and then vvet
With this their purging spettle, the childs brovv
And prettie lips. Then vvith a humble vovv
Dauncing him in their armes, they'lk vainely spend
Their poore leane hope, in praying Iove to send
This babe in time to some such happinesse
As once vvealthy Licinius did possesse
In fruitfull lands: or such as Crassus held,
Who for brave houses, Rome chiefe Lords excelle'd
They vvish that Kings and Queenes may be at strife
To make ev'n their best daughter His blest vvife.
And as for Maides (say they) Yee Gods above!
O let 'hem strongly, strangely fall in love
With his rare beaune [...] and that vvhereso'ere
He treads, a crimson rose may spring up there.
Brave! brave! But yet I vvill not bid my nurse
Pray so [...] or if shee doe; then good Iove curse
Her Prayers, though cloth'd-White she strongly cry,
Yet for thine Owne sake, strongly still deny.
Thou vvishest for firme nerves, and for a sure
Sound body, that vvould healthfully endure
Untill old age; vvhy be it, that thy vvish
Is granted by the Gods; yet thy large dish
And full fat sasage make the Gods delay
To blesse thee, and doe force good Jove to stay.
Thou'd'st faine grovv rich: yet dost thou sacrifice
An Oxe, (is that the vvay in vvealth to rise?)
Then upon Mercurie the God of gaine
With this thy offering, thus thou cri'st amaine,
Let my domesticke Gods (great Mercury)
Make all things happy in my familie!
Blesse thou my heards of beasts, blesse thou my lambs,
And make my tender Yewes the happy damm's
Of many young ones. Mad [...]man! vvilt thou see?
This is impo [...]sible! it cannot be?
When as so many Heyfers fats doe frie
In flames of sacrifice. Yet doth he crie,
And vvith his Entrals and his daintie Cake
Strives to o'recome, and formerly will make
The Gods to heare; nor yet will hold his peace.
Now doth my field, now doth my fold increase:
Now 'twill be giv'n: now, now, untill at last
Deceav'd, his great hope proving but a blast:
His money in his chest may make its mone
For want of company; yet sigh alone.
If for a gift to Thee some friend presents
A silver goblet, or rich ornaments
Curiously graven in a massie bovvle
Of purest gold: straight vvay thy very soule
Is touch'd vvith a strong passion: and thou shak'st
Ev'n Drops from thy left brest (Vaine heart that quak'st
Thus with a trembling joy!) Now because gold
Thus pleaseth Thee, hence 'tis that thou dost hold,
The Gods are pleas'd so too, and overla [...]'st
Their statues faces (that thereby thou maist
Procure their favour) with gold purchased
From th'enemie, which was in triumph led.
For thosef brasse-brother-Gods that send a dreame
Most true, and purg'd from thick, corrupted fleame,
Whereby in sleep men are disturb'd, or feard,
Let those be chiefe, and we are a golden beard.
Gold hath the pots of earth, and brasse disdain'd,
Though us'd when Numa, and good Saturne raign'd
Gold likewise hath expeld the Vestall Urne:
Gold doth the Thuscan Earth to Gold novv turne.
Base stooping soules, that groovle on the earth,
In whom there's nothing testifies their birth
To be from Heav'n!
Yet, doth not this suffice?
But we must bring these our iniquities,
To the Gods Temples, vvhere their pow'rs divine
Doe dvvell, and ev'n profane their holy Shrine?
As if there could be any thing in these
Infected Carcases, the Gods to please?
This flesh of ours makes us in vaine to spoile
Sweet Casia, by mixing it with oile
To make us oyntments. This doth make us straine
The soft Calabrian fleece in purple graine,
This makes us vvith much art to pollish vvell
Mother of Pearle, dravvne from the fishes shell.
This from th' unpurged earth made us desire
To straine out veines of gold by purging fire.
This sin, and sinnes, yet perseveres in sinne.
But you great Priests tell, what doth gold within
The holy Temple? sure, no greater thing
Theng puppets, which to Ʋenus Virgins bring.
No, let us strive to bring to th' Gods, that vvhich
Messala's bleare-eyed of-spring, from his rich
Large incense-bason neere could give, a mind
By Law and by Religion well confin [...]d;
A retir'd soule, a heart not stained by
Foule lust, concoct in Noble honestie.
This let me bring to th' Gods, and Ile obtaine
Offring but a Small Cake of some Course graine.
THE THIRD SATYRE.
ARGUMENT.
Young Gallants Sloth, & their Neglec [...]
Of Arts, this Satyre doth detect.
VVHat Ev'ry day thus long? Fie, fie arise:
See how the cleere light shamefully descries
Thy sloth: and through thy vvindovves shining bright
Srretcheth the narrovv chinks vvith his broad light,
We snort till thea fift shadow touch the line,
Enough ev'n to digest strong Falerne vvine.
Novv vvhat dost doe? The furious dog-stars heat
Upon the parched corne hath long since beat
With its herce scolding influence, and made
The beasts to seeke the spreading Elmes coole shade.
Thus the companion of some slothfull youth
Does freely chide him. Then saith he, in truth
And ist so late? indeed? some body then
Come presently and reach my clothes: why then?
If then no body come: Oh how he swels,
And breaks withb glasse-like choller; and then yels
With such a foule loud noise, that you would say
Surely some great Arcadian asse did bray.
At last, with much ado [...] he doth begin
To take his booke in hand and some faire skin
Of smoothc two-colourd parchment he takes then
Some paper and his knottie reed-like pen.
Then he complaines how that his inke doth stick
In clots at his pens nose, it is so thick.
Povvre vvater then to his blackd Sepian juice,
He cries, novv us too vvhite. Ha's a device
For ev'ry thing. So sometimes he doth plead
His pen writes double, or his inke doth spread.
Wretched, unhappy man! yet grovving still
More vvretched! Think'st vve'are borne to take our fill
Of sloth? Why dost not then like the soft Dove
Or great mens little children, rather love
In delicatest vvantonnesse to lappe
Some soft svveet spoone meat, as a little pappe?
Or angry vvith the teat, why dost not cry,
Refusing to be stild vvith Lu [...]labie?
e Why, can I study, sir, with such a quill?
Alas? whom dost thou mock? why pleadst thou still
Such vaine ambages? wretched man to flout
Thy selfe! Th'art broken! loe, thou leakest out!
And knovv thou shalt be scornd! strike but a pot
Of some ravv earth halfe-boyld, and vvill it not
Tell its ovvn fault, yeelding a dull crazd sound?
Well; Yet th'art soft moist clay, and maist be vvound
To any forme: Novv therefore, novv make haste
To vertue: present time must be embrac'd.
Novv like the Potters clay, novv thou must feele
Sharp disciplines effigiating vvheele.
f But, oh, thy father left thee land enough,
And a cleane salt-seller, vvith houshold stuffe
Sufficient, needst thou then feare any thing?
Soth hast a secure pan vvherein to bring
Incense to thy protecting Lares. Well;
But think'st thou this enough? wil't therefore swel,
And break thy lung [...] with an ambitious vvinde,
Because that thou the thousandth off, dost finde
Thy branch to be perchance dravvne from a tree
Of some high Thuscan true nobilitie?
Or that because clad in thy purple graine
Meeting Romes Censor with his pompous traine
Thou canst salute him, by the name of Cuzze,
And arrogantly aske him how he does?
Avvay: goe pranse before the multitude
In these thy trappings: seeke not to delude
My judgement; for I knovv my soule vvithin,
And see thy faults vvrit in thy outmost skin,
Art not ashamd to live like dissolute
Loose Natta? but (alas!) he's destitute
Of sense! he stands amazd in vice! the deepe
Fat bravvne of sin makes his heart soundly sleep
That novv he doth not sinne! No, he's so grosse,
So stupid, that hee's senselesse of his losse!
And sunk dovvne to the depth of vice, h [...]le svvim
No more againe up to the vvaters brim!
Great father of the Gods! vvhen cruell lust
Touch't with in flaming venome, moves th' unjust
Corrupted disposition of fierce Kings,
To act unvvorthy and unkingly things:
Punish them only thus: Le them but see
Faire vertue, and their lost felicitie.
Then shall their bowels yearne, and they shall crie
In secret, and wax pale, and pine and die.
Did ever the Sicilian brazen bull
Roare out his torments with a throat more full?
Or did the sword hung by a slender thread
Up in the golden roofe over the head
Of the g crovvn'd flatterer, more terrifieg Damocles
His soule, then vvhen a man shall truly cry
Unto himselfe, I fall, Oh, I doe fall
Downe head-long, and shall knovv he's past recall?
And invvardly grovv pale (O vvretched life!)
Which he's afeard to tell his neere deare wife?
Indeed, vvhen I vvas young, I like a foole
Would' noint my eyes vvith oyle to stay from schoole▪
When I'de not learne, through sloth, the stately part
Of dying Cato, though' [...]vvere penn'd vvith art.
And my too carefull Master prais'd it much:
And my glad father being mov'd vvith such
His praises, brought his friends to heare his boy
Bravely act Cato, and vvould svveat for joy.
For then I car'd nor to know any thing,
Except hovv much the lucky Sice vvould bring,
Or what the losing Ace vvould scrape away
Or that my fellow might not put false play
Upon me, nearly cogging forth a die
Out of the small neck'dh casting [...] box. This I
Did learne: and for the scourge-stick I did strive,
That none his Top vvich greater art might drive.
But novv, Thou art not at this age to learne
Betvveene good and bad manners to discerne,
No; thou hast learn'd the precepts that are taught
In the vvise porch, vvhere curiously are vvrought
By Polygnotus skill, the conquer'd Medes
In their short stops, vvhose story overspreades
The Walls, and vvhere in searching hidden truths
The little sleeping close-shorne sto [...]ck Youths,
That feed on huskes and a course barly cake,
Early and late industriously doe vvake.
And unto thee thei Samian letter Y
Whose spreading branches [...]ach Philosophy,
Hath marked out ev'n as it vvere vvith chalke
The high rear'd right-hand [...]a [...]h, vvherein to vvalke
And snort'st thou Yet? What? is thy head grovvne slack?
Art javv falne? Doth their frame beginne to crack?
Lyest yovvning, to evaporate th'excesse
Of yesterdaies oppressing drunckennesse?
Hast thou propos'd thy selfe a certaine end [...]
And vvith thy best endeavour dost thou bend
Thy hovv at that? Or, carelesse of thy hurt,
Dost throvv at crovves, vvith stones and clots of durt
Neglecting vvhere thou runst? hast thou no drift,
But only for the present hovv to shift?
Well, yet be provident, vvhen our sick skin
Doth vvith the puffing dropsie once begin
To svvell, tis then, thou knovv'st, but vaine to cry
For Hellebore, vvhen a disease dravves nigh,
And yet but threatens thee; then, then prevent
And meet a danger that is eminent.
But if thou doe delay, il't be too late
And that thy sicknesse once grovv desperate,
Then vvould'st thou give Craterus halfe thy vvealth
Yet can he not restore thee to thy health.
Learne then, O vvretched youths, the mystery
Of Nature in profound Philosophy.
Learne vvho vve are, vvhy vve vvere borne, th' estate
Wherein vve're set, and knovv that not by fate
But vvisdome, vve may turne our ship vvith ease
About high-vertues marke plac'd in the seas
Of this our life. Temperately desire
Silver: learne vvhat 'tis lavvfull to require
In prayer: and the perfect use, aright
Of money: for vvhich, men so sharply fight:
What likevvise to thy Country thou dost ovve,
And vvhat to thy deare kinsmen; Learne to knovve
And state of life, he here hath placed thee.
Learne: neither envie thou at thy full store
Of the greas'd Lavvyer, though he have much more
Provision, then his family can spend
Whil'st it is svveet: vvhich the fat Vmbrians send,
As gifts to bribe his tongue. Nor grutch to see
His Marsian Client bring him for a fee,
Pepper, gammons of bacon, or such kinde
Remembrances. Nor let it vex thy minde,
Because he hath fresh P [...]lchers to him sent,
Before the former barrell be quite spent.
But here, me thinks, I heare some boistrous rough
Centurion say; Tush, I have vvit enough
To serve mine ovvne turne; and Ile never care
To be Arcesilas, or to impaire
My health, like Solon: vvho doe leane avvry
Their heads, pearcing the earth vvith a fixt eye:
When by themselves they gnavv their murmuring
And furious silence, as 'tvvere ballancing
Each vvord upon their out-stretcht lip: and vvhen
They meditate the dreames of old sick men,
As, Out of nothing, nothing can be brought:
And that which is, can ne're be brought to nought.
Is it for this they're pale? and that they misse
Their dinner oftentimes, is it for this?
Why yet they are but scorn'd ev'n by the rout,
The people, and our lusty Lads but flout
Them, and vvith crisped noses a loose off,
Strongly ingeminate a trembling scoff.
m Yet scorne not learning: lest thy falling state
Prove such, as this vvhich here J vvill relate.
One said to his Phys [...]tian, pray Sir see:
Me thinks J am not as I use to be.
My heart doth qu [...]ke as if it boaded death,
And my sick javves send forth a loathsome breath,
Pray good Sir feele my pulse: and play your part.
Well, the Physitian us'd his chiefest art,
And bid him rest foure daies. But vvhen each veine
Began composedly to flovv againe,
On the third night, he bid his servant take
An little thirsting flaggon, and straight make,
All speed to the great house of such a friend,
And tell him, he de [...]'d him for to send
Some of his milde Surrentine vvine, and so
Having drank that, unto the Baths he'd go.
When being there, thither did come by chance
His ovvn Physitian, vvho straight cast a glance?
On this his patient, and to him said,
Why You are pale, and are you not afraid?
Tush man, saith he, that's nothing. Yet bevvare,
Said his Physitian, and pray have a care.
What ere this nothing is. For I doe see,
Your yellovv sickly skin svvels secretly.
Well, prethee novv, said he, doe not thou raile
At me: for thou thy selfe dost looke more pale
And vvorse, be not a Tutor unto me,
One J have had, and buri'd; novv for thee,
Thou yet remainst. On then, and doe not cease.
Said his Physitian, and Ile hold my peace.
This gallant then svvelling vvith daintie cheere,
Bathes his pale belly, and without all feare:
His throat halfe stopt vvith grosse corrupted fleame,
Leasurely breathing a sulphureous steame
But midst his vvines a suddaine trembling seaz'd
Upon each joynt of him, that his diseas'd
Weake hand could not his luke-vvarme bovvle retaine:
And his uncover'd teeth ev'n gnasht againe,
And then through his loose lips, his fine oild meat
He vomits; which he greedily had eat.
Then vvere prepared for his funerall
Theo Trumpet, and the Lights, and last of all,
This seeming-happy man that vvould not doubt,
His health, being composedly laid out
On his high bed, h [...]s b [...]ere; and novv daub'd o're
And ev'n bedurted vvith th' abundant store
Of ointments; stretcheth tovv'rd the Citie-gate
His cold dead heeles; and those vvhose best estate
But yesterday, vvas but to be his slave,
p Novv vveare their caps, and beare him to his grave.
q What? then belike y' apply this same to me?
But (vvretched foole!) th'art out. For knovv, J'me free.
Touch but my ve [...]nes, feele hovv my heart doth beat.
There's but a vvonted moderated heat.
Or feele the bottomes of my feet, or hold
My hands, thou shalt perceive they are not cold.
r Tis true. But knovv, seduced man, there stick
Diseases in thy soule, us that is sick
For if thou see by chance much gold, or spie
Thy neighbours smooth-cheek'd vvench to cast an eye
Upon thee, smiling vvith a vvanton glance
Speake true, doth then thy heart orderly daunce?
There's set before thee on thy boord, to eat,
In a cold dish hard hearbs, somevvhat rough meat;
And course bread sifted in the peoples scarce;
Lets try your chaps. O are yee novv averse?
In thy soft mouth there's hid a putrid soare,
Which touch'd vvith Common hearbs, vvould make thee roar
So thy heart's cold, vvhen pale feare doth affright
Thy haire like eares of corne standing upright.
Againe, fierce anger makes thy blood grovv hot;
Ev'n as a fire-brand doth a see thing pot;
And then thy flaring eyes sparkling forth fire,
Thou sai'st and dost so in thy furious ire;
That mad Orestes dares svveare, such a fact
None but a man starke mad, ere durst to act.
THE FOVRTH SATYRE,
ARGUMENT.
Yong Rulers: The complaint of Lust
On Avarice, unfit though just.
ART thou a common-vvealths chiefe Governour?
(Suppose the bearded grave
Socr.
Philosopher,Whom the cold draught of hemlock fo [...]c'd to die,
Thu [...] to demand) on vvhat dost thou relie?
What are thy grounds? speake Alcibiades,
Pupill unto the famous Pericles.
Oh, vvit and grave discretion, J have heard
Indeed, doe many times prevent a beard!
And so thou knovvst no doubt, though th' art but yong.
Both vvhen to speak and vvhen to hold thy tongue.
When therefore the [...]ext multitude grovv hot.
With choler, and their duty have forgot,
Thou dost but lift up thy majestick hand,
And straight a generall silence dost command
Ore the tumultuous rout, Then vvhat dost say?
J think this is not just that's done by you,
Nor this, 'tvvere better if you thus did doe.
For thou canst vveigh truth in the double scale
Of the most doubtfull ballance. If it faile,
Straight vvaies thou knovv'st it, yea, though hid it lie
Betvveen a double crooked falsitie.
Or if a rule (so perfect is thy sight)
Measure not ev'ry thing exactly right.
And the blackc Thera signe of deadly shame
Thou canst prefixe' fore an offenders name.
Thou canst doe this. Oh, tvvere a crime to doubt.
Come, come. Thou being faire only vvithout
And in the skin in vaine, leave off to shake
Thy taile, before the flattering rout, or make
Suit for great offices, till age and cares
Have made thee fit to manage such affaires.
Thou being fitter yet to drinke good store
Of pure unmixt braine-purging Hellebore.
Wherein consists thy last, thy greatest vvish?
d In having ev'ry day a full fat dish.
Then vvith svveet oile to' noint thy skin, and lie
In the Sunnes pleasant vvarmth till it be drie.
Why hadst thou vvith the selfe same question tri'd
This poore old vvoman; she had so repli'd,
Goe novv and boast hovv thy Nobilitie
Comes from th' illustrious Dinomache.
Puffe out thy vaunts and say, I'me comely, [...]aire,
To grant thee such vaine praises J le not care.
When ragged g [...]an' ame Baucis, that does crie
Unto the looser servants, Will yee buy
Any sweet hearbes, has as much vvit as thee
That thus dost boast of thy vaine pedegree.
That no man vvill descend to his ovvn heart,
And search the secrets of that hidden part!
No man! But have their eyes fixt ever more
Upon his back and bagge that goes before!
For doe but aske a man, by chance, D'yee knovv
Vectidius farmes? He'le say, Vectidius? Who?
The Chuife of Cures, he vvhose grounds they say
A Kite can scarce flie o're in a vvhole day?
H [...]m ev'n the Gods oppose and the sure fate
Of an unluckie Genius. Who (the date
Of time, bringing againe the Plovv-mense feast
When from their painfull labours they have ceas'd,
And novv hung up their vveary Oxens yoke
By the vvorne path (upon some aged oke)
When he should freely laugh, and make good cheere
For other plovv-men (tis but once a yeare)
Most basely fearing to pull off the clay
From his small vvine-vessell; hee'le fight, and say,
Pray Iove, that this my prodigalitie
Bring me not in the end, to beguerie!
A coated oignion then vvith salt he eats;
(His servants much applauding such brave meats:
Nay and rejoycing for their happy lot
And for the ba [...]ly-pudding in the pot)
Then sparingly he sups instead of beere,
The cloathy dregges of dying Viniger.
But straight replies the other, if thou noint'st
With supple oyle thy foule lubberly joynts
And ly'st in the hot Sun letting it beat
Upon thy skin, vvith its strong parching heat:
There's one vvhom thou scarce knovv'st stands here hard by
Ev'n at thy elbow, that could likevvise cry
Against thy manners, and thy levvder art,
The depilation of thy modest part,
And of thy longs, to prostitute thereby
Unto a barren lust thy pathick thigh:
Thy Cheekes bearing a [...]emb'd, oil'd beard: Elsevvhere
f Where dost thou too-unjustly smooth appeare?
Scrape on, but though five lustie vvrastlers vvould
Root up these springing plants: yea though they should
vvith crooked pinsers, by their tugging oft.
Weaken thy parts of shame, though first made soft,
With Barbers soapie vvater, so to yeeld
The better, to the plovvers of this field:
Yet this o're spreading fearne vvill never bovv
Unto the deepest furrovv-making plovv.
Thus vve vvound others and doe yeeld agen
Our thighs unto the da [...]s of other men.
And thus vve knovv [...]ns life pursu'd to be
By this too much assumed Libertie.
g Yet some mens faults, because they hidden lie
From the enquirie of their Enimie,
Are not objected to them; yet are knovvne
To him, to vvhom they cry, We are thine ovvne.
Thou hast a secret vvound under thy side;
But thy broad gold-boss'd girdle doth it hide:
So though thou make men say, th'art vvell (in vaine)
Will thy side say so too, that feeles the paine?
Thou'lt here perchance reply, What? vvhen as all
My neighbours Me an exc [...]lent fellovv, call;
And say, J am not as your common men,
Shall J, ah, can I not beleeve [...]hem then?
h Alas, blinde vvretch! if at the sight of gold
With avaricious love thou vvaxest cold
And pale, if ev'ry thing thou likevvise doe,
Which griefe-procuring lust provokes thee to,
If on the table of thy Usurie,
By most oppressing heavie crueltie,
As by a strong deep-vvounded scourge, thou make
Many a sure-imprinted grievous strake,
To the false praising people thou maist lend.
Thy spungie, sucking cares; but to no end.
Seeme not more then thou art, neither believe
The ignorant applause base Cobblers give.
The curtail'd store of thy bare povertic.
THE FIFT SATYRE. IN FORME OF A DIALOGUE.
The Speakers PERSIUS. The Speakers CORNUTVS.
ARGVMENT.
Corni [...]tus prayse: Philosophie:
Oppos'd desires: true libertie.
P. OUr Poets use to vvish they had large lungst
And a vvhole hundred voices, mouthes, and tongues:
When they vvould vvrite a buskin'd Tragoedie,
To be yavvn'd out vvith the sad Majestie
Of a Tragoedian: or describe the high
Brave-minded Parthian pulling from his thigh
A hook like bearded dart
C. Why speak'st Thou thus
And he [...]pest up such vast robustious
And svvelling lines, that thou thy selfe dost need
A hundred throats, if thou'dst attaine indeed
The end vvhich such endeavours tend to? Rather
Let them, vvho'se vvrite some lof [...]ie matter, gather
Clouds off of Helicon, to vvhom he pot
Of Progne, or Thyeste, shall grovv hot;
Of vvhich, the fond Trag [...]dian Glyco must
Oft make his supper. But thou neither dust
Pusse from thy mouths full bellovves much vaine vvinde
The vvhil'st the matter boyling in thy minde,
Thy forge: nor vvith an invvard murmuring
Hoarsly crovv-like cavv'st out some idle-thing,
I knovv not vvhat: nor dost thou strive to stuffe
Th [...] svvelling cheekes, to breake them vvith a puffe.
Thy vvords are vvords of peace, and accurate
Thy stile: thy mouth not svvolne, but moderate
Smooths out thy numbers; thou canst touch to th' quicke,
Pale manners: and vvith an ingenious tricke
Strike a crime through; and hence indeed from crimes
Doe th [...]u dravv still the subject of thy rimes:
And leave the feast made vvith the feet and head
Of Plysthenes vvofully murthered,
At sad Mycenae: and doe thou descrie
Thy peoples banquets full of luxurie.
P. Surely, I strive not that my leafe may rise
With [...]vvelling bubbles of vaine fopperies,
Fit to give vveight to smo [...]ke. We speake retir'd:
And invvardly I by my muse inspi [...]'d
Here offer ev'n my secret heart to bee
By thee tri'd fully. For I'de have thee see
Cornutus, dearest friend, hovv great a part
Of my deare, yet divided soule thou art.
Knock on my brest: for thou hast skill to knovve
What soundeth solid, and the cover'd shovv
Of a guilt tongue. And oh here I could crave
A hundred voices; that hovv much I have
Fixt thee vvithin my many-seated brest,
In a pure fluent stile might be express't:
And that vvhich novv ineffable doth dvvell
Within my heart, in vvords I here could tell.
When first I did begin to leave to feare
Under a Master: and left off to vveare
My purple-Coat, and still preserved free
From violation my vveake infancie:
And vvhen my golden Bosse I nevvly had
Hung up to mya succinct House-Gods: when bad,
And flattering companions guarded me:
When novv my vvhite Shield granted l [...]b [...]rtie
Unto mine eyes freely to rove throughout
The levvd Sabutra, vvhen I vvas in doubt
Which vvay to take: and vvhen my trembling minde
Was by pernicious errour almost blinde.
Mis-led into divided paths: I then
Offer'd my selfe to thy instruction. When
Thou straight vvay didst embrace my tender youth
In thy Socratique basome: and the truth
Of thy rule vvell-appli'd, skilfull to dravv
Feeble inclining minds to reasons lavv,
Shevv'd me intorted manners: and thy minde
Was press'd by reason, thoroughly confin'd
To learned precepts, strove to be o'recome;
And tooke a faire forme from thy skilfull thombe.
For I remember oft I vvith delight
Have spent long daies vvith thee: and of the night
Have borrovv'd the first houres, feasting vvith thee
O [...] the choice dainties of Philosophie.
One vvorke vve vvrought, vve rested both one rest:
Mixing severenesse, vvith a modest jest.
For doubt not, both our birth-daies joyn'd in one
Sure league, dravvne from one constellation:
Or the unchanged Parca vveight'd our time
With an ev'n ballance, [...]hit first, that prime
Birth-houre of us [...]rue [...]o [...]os did blessedly
Place our embracing fates in Gemini,
And heavie Saturnes sterne malignitie
Was broke by our good Ioves benignitie
I knovv no [...] vvhat, but sure some starre J see,
Which invvardly disposes me tovv'rds thee.
Yet there's a thousand sorts of men, and strange
Varietie doth humane actions change.
Each hath his sev'rall vvill, nor doe all live
With one desire. For, one his minde doth give
To Merchandizing, and vvith care doth runne
Out to the East under the rising Sunne;
To get rough peper, and pale Cummin seed
For Roman vvares. Another loves to feed.
His paunch, and then svvell vvith destelling sleep:
A third doth Mars-field vvrastlings duly keep;
A fourth turnes bank-rupt by the desp'rate dye;
A sift grovves rotten by damn'd Venerye.
But vvhen the knottie hand-gout has once broke
Their joynts, as th' boughs of some decayed oke,
Anger and griefe doe then begin a strife
Within them, for their base and durtie life
Novv spent, vvhen novv, but novv too late, they looke
Upon the life they vvretchedly forsooke
But thou in learned vvritings dost by night
Grovv pale. Thou makest it thy cheefe delight
To sovv young purged eares vvith fruitfull truths,
With good Cleanthes fruit dravv hence yee youths,
Yee old men, for yourselves, some certaine end,
Some helps from cares your old age to defend.
b To morrow wee'le doe this. b Alas! you'le doe
The same, to morrow,c Why aske vve of you
So much, to wit, onely day; c But vvhen
The third day comes, vve have consumed then
To-morrovv Yesterday: and thus to borrovv
Of time, though yet to come, still one to-morrovv;
Will secretly drive out our yeares at last;
When ev'ry day a nevv day vvill be past,
Never to be recover'd. For thou vvheele
Which dost about the second Axle reele
Hindermost, maist in vaine strive to or' take
The first still turning forvvard, vvhich doth make
Like hast, vvith equall svviftnesse, though thou be
Hard by it plac'd under the selfe same tree.
Whos' eyer then true libertie vvould gaine,
Let him embrace Philosophie, for vaine
Is other freedome; such, to vvit, vvhereby
Any nevv Publius may familiarity
In his (the Ʋeline) tribe coorse corne demand
By bringing but his token in his hand.
O men barraine of truth, that think they can,
Make vvith a turning, a Quiritian!
Here's Dama a base horse-keeper, not vvorth
Three halfe-pence, a meere sot that can't took forth
From out the mist of Ignorance, and one
Who'le lie ev'n for the least occasion,
For horse-bread; vvhom if's Master turne about,
I' [...]h' moment of the vvhirling he goes out
S [...]raight, Marcus Dama. The Gods! Darst deny
To trust one, Marcus being suretie?
O [...], Marcus being judge, art pale vvith feare
Of vvrong? Marcus said it, then thou maist svveare
Tis true. Now Marcus seale the Bond. Oh, here's
Brave Libertie and true, vvhich our Cap vveares
As vvell as vve!d Why is there any free,
Ba [...] he, the vvhich doth live at libertie?
J live at libertie, and am not J
More free then Brutus then? Oh here stands by
A vvell-taught Stoicke e, vvhose more purged eare
Is vvash'd, as 'tvvere▪ vvith Truths sharp vineger,
That [...]a [...]s, J grant the first; but vvhere you say,
I live at libertie, take that avvay.
f Why? since J came from th' Pretors tod mine owne
Free man, Ile novv be subject unto none;
And vvhy may n't J doe vvith full libertie
Whats'e reg Masurius doth not deny?
h Oh, learne: but this thy anger first depose,
And let fall from thy too-much-vvrinkled nose,
Thy rugged scoffe? vvhilst from thy lungs J pull
These old vvives tales, of vvhich thy brest's yet full,
It vvas not in the Prators povv'r to give
Pure wisdome unto fooles, or make them live
By reasons rule. No; thou shalt sooner fit
Unto the harp, a rough rude souldiers vvit.
'Gainst vvhich reason doth stand, and secretly
Whispers him in the eare, and saies, Fie, Fie;
Never attempt vvh [...] thou canst ne're reach to,
And only spoile, vvhilst thou dost strive to doe.
The lavv of man and nature both denie
Weake ignorance the privilede to trie
Forbidden things. Dost thou mixe Hellebore
For a sick patient, vvho ne're trid'st before
To vveigh't exactly to a dramme? The art
Of Physick bids thee not dare act this part.
If a rude high-shoo'd clovvne offer to steere
A ship not knovving his guide Lucifer,
The Sea-God Melicerta may exclaime,
The brow of modesty has lost all shame?
Has vertues ar [...] taught ther [...]to vvalke upright?
And canst thou vvith a per [...]p [...]rous sight
Discerne the shevv of truth from truth? Dost knovv
Counterfeit gold by the sound? and canst thou shevv
What things to follovv, vvhat things to decline,
The first vvith chalke, the last vvith coale to signe?
Art of confin'd desires? hast thou a small
And pretty vvell-trim'd house? art kinde to all
Thy friends? canst vvisely sometimes shut thy store,
Sometimes open thy garners to the poore?
And vvith a pure affection unhurt
Canst thou passe over moneyi fixt [...] the durt?
Nor as a greedy glutton, love to lick
Mereuriall spittle, vvhich doth use to stick
Vpon the lippes of Nig [...]ards? When as all
These things thou ma [...]st thine ovvn most truly call;
Then, Oh or vvise, enjoy true liberty,
The Praetors yea, and great love blessing thee,
But Thou but th' other day of our degree,
Retaining still thy old skinne, being free
Only in a smooth brovv, that outvvard part,
Deepe sub [...]ty lu [...]k [...]ng in thy foule heart:
The liberty l [...]g [...]e thee, I againe
Recall, and doe [...]ye sh [...]rrer novv thy chaine.
For Reason unto thee doth nothing len [...]:
Lift but thyk Finger [...]p, thou dost offend;
And vvhat's so s [...]all? But thou shalt ne're obtaine
By any fr [...]nke [...] use that the least Grame
Of vvisedome shall e [...]e rest vv [...]h [...]n a foole:
To mix these Tvvo, is against Natures rule.
Nor shalt thou, thou remaining a Clovvne still,
Ere daunce three measures vvith Bathyllus s [...]ll.
Being invassal'd to the vvorst subjection?
Knovvst thou to other M [...]ter, but he vvhom
The Manum [...]ting rod d [...] free thee from?
Indeed if Novv, one say imperiously
To's slave, Goe, S [...]rra, carry presently
This linnen to Crispinus Bathes; dost stand
Sill, Lazie knave? This his severe command
Doth move thee nothing: because novv no vvhip
May scourge Thy Lazie sides, to make Thee skip.
But if vvithin, in thy sick lungs doe spring
Head-strong desires, art Thou in any thing
Lesse servile then, than is such a poote knave,
Whom th'vvhip and feare of's Master made a slave?
Thou lying long in bed, avarice cries,
Vp, Vp, No [...] yet, saist thou [...] For shame arise,
Cries shee; I can't thou dost reply: Why so,
Sa [...]es thee againe? Rise, Rise; dost thou not knovv
What thou should'st doe? Why goe to th'Sea, bring thenre
Fish, Beaver [...]o [...]le, flaxe, Eben, frankincense,
And loos [...]g vvines of Co, and be the first
To fetch from th'Camel, vvhilest he yet doth thirst,
Fre [...]h pepper exchange somevvhat, and forsvveare
For Ga [...]e. O but (alas!) then Iove vvill heare.
Why, foole, if thou vvilt dvvell vvith Iove, thou shalt
Striving but to get out one tast of salt,
Boare a hole through thy oft-lick'd salt-seller.
Well; being got up, thou dost (not to deferre
To execute her vvill) provide thy men
Bagges for to lay their clothes in, and then
La [...]'st in vvine, vvith such other things thou knowst
Are fit for Navigation: then straight go'st
To shippe, vvhere nothing hinders thee to saile
O're the Aegaean See vvith a full gaile,
But Luxurie. That doth seduce thy vveake
Unstayednesse, and thus vvith Art doth speake,
Whither, Oh vvhither madman, dost thou run?
Whither? What lackst thou? What vvould'st thou have done?
(m And novv thy hot brest vvith strong ire doth svvell,
Which a vvhole po [...] of Hemlo [...]k can scarce quell.)
Wilt thou passe one the Seas? Wilt thou ere eate
Thy Supper, making a Stretch'd Rope thy seate?
Shall a broad-bottom'd tankard that does stinke
Of [...]tch fume out the vvine, that Thou must drinke?
Nay, vile ruddie Veientane vvine? striv'st thou
To make thy la [...]'ring money svveat forth novv
Elev'n in tvvelve, the vvhich did heere obtaine
Ne're above Five in Tvvelve; a modest gaine?
Come, come: cherish thy Genius: let's be f [...]ee
T'enjoy a full delight: for vvithout Me
Life is Not: and remember that ere long,
Thou shalt be but a Ghost, dust, and the song
O'th' People. Think hovv thou by death shalt passe
Avvay, like Time. This vvhich I'ue spoke, it vvas.
What dost thou novv? Tvvo hookes a double vvay
Novv dravv thee; Wilt thou this, or this obey?
Thou must be slave to both alternately:
Novv serving Avarice, novv Luxurie.
Not maist thou, if thou dost for Once vvithstand
Their instant and importunate command,
Say straight, I'ue broke their bands; For loe,
A dogge by tugging breaks his knot, just so,
Who, though he runne avvay and bite and straine,
Yet at his neck doth traile much of his chaine.
Chaerestratus in serious meditation
B [...]ting his naile to th' quick through deep vexation
Saies to his man; Davus, J novv intend
All my fore passed griefes and Love to end;
Beleeve mee. For shall I be still a sname,
Unto my sober carefull friends good name?
Shall I spend all my stock vvith infamy
At the levv I threshold of a Stevvs? Shall I
Drunke before Chrysis nointed moist doores stand
Singing, my torch extinguish'd in my hand?
And offer up a lambe in sacrifice,
To thy protecting Gods.o But dost believe
Danus, if I forsake her, that sheele grieve?
p Dost trifle, Idle boy? Then she shall breake
Thy pate vvith herred pantofle, and wreake
Her spight upon thee, that thou shalt not dare
To quake, nor bite her fast-entangling snare.
Th'art Novv averse ad violent, but vvhen
She shall perchance but call thee: thou'lt say then;
I come straight vvares, for, vvhy? vvhat should I do [...]!
Shan't I goe to my Love, vvhen Shee doth Woo,
And sends for me? But if thou canst Novv, Novv
Redeeme thy selfe All and Entire, Thou, Thou
Art that thrise happy man, that only He
Whom only, We judge to be truly free,
Not he, o're vvhom the foolish Lictor vvagges
His rod; and of him, as his Freeman bragges.
For, Oh, can he be truly call'd his ovvne,
Whom Candidate Chaulk [...]e ambition
Dravves gaping to her lure? To vvhom she cries,
q Vnto thy Chems salutations rise
By time, and give a lib call doale of pease
Vnto the scrambling multitude: that these
Our large Floralia may be made the talke
Of Aged men hereafter as they vvalke
In the vvarme Sunne; For vvha can be more brave?
r And art not Superstitious to have
On Hereds birth-day, many candles plac'd
In order i'th'oild vvindovv much defac'd
By the far clovvd the vvhich they vomit out,
Though vvith svveet violets th'are deck'd about;
And t'have a Tunies ta [...]e, as 'twere to svvimme
In a red dish, thy vvhite bovvle full to th'brimme
vvith vvine, yet dost not fall till night, and pray
All the Iewes circumcised Sabbath-day?
Then vvith Hobgoblins, and the feigned feare
Of danger from a crack [...] egge, and th'a [...]st [...]re
Grave Priests of Cybill, and the one-eyed maid
Of Isis vvith her umbrell, th'art dismaid.
And thinkst the Gods vvill puffe vvith some disease
Thy svvelling skinne: if thou shalt them displease:
Refusing by their grave rules to be led,
To tast each morne three times a Garlick-head.
And saist thou yet, thou liv'st at liberty,
Being subject to th'extremest vanity?
Yet speake this, vvhich the Gods doe know, is true,
Mongst ful-veind souldiers: vvhat vvould straight ensue?
Some vast Volpenius vvith a full deep throat
Would bellow out a laugh, in a base note:
And ten times tenne Philosophers of Greece
Would scarcely prize at a clipt Ten-groats peece.
THE SIXT AND LAST SATYRE, TO HIS FRIEND CAESIUS BASSUS a Lyrique Poet.
ARGUMENT.
The pining Niggards fruitlesse care,
To feed the lust of his lewd heire.
NOW, Bassus, hath the cold made thee retire
Thy selfe, this vvinter, to the Sabine fire?
Doe thy ovvn harpe and strings live to thee still,
Sounding lovvd musick vvith a stiffer quill?
Great vvorkman! vvhose blest Muse svveet lines affords
F [...]ll of the Native beauty of Old vvords:
And on the Roman harpe vvith happinesse
Of skill, a masculine, strong sound t'expresse:
Novv playing yong mens sports, novv playing some
Brave Old mens actions, vvith an honest thombe.
The vvarme Ligurian shoare grovves hot to Mee:
And I'me novv vvintered at my native Sea;
Where the rocks yeeld a shoare to them that saile;
And where the haven into a large vale
Retites it selfe. Tis fairely worth the sight,
The [...]ort of Luna full of much delight.
Thus sa [...]d vv [...]se Ennius Aft'r h' [...] ad dreamed he vvas
Homer, the [...]ift form'd by Pythagoras
His Peacocke soule. Here [...]en'd live free
From ca [...]ing what the People think of me:
And vvhat th'unluck e Sou [...]h-wind doth prepare
For Cattle; Nor do [...] I take griefe or care
If that my neighbours field's more fat then mine.
Let all poore-borne grow rich, He never pine
With stooping age; for That or vvant good cheere:
Or touch the signe of dreggy sealed beere
In a hoat'd flaggon. Y [...]t another may
Dissent from this. For oft the same birth-day
Hath an Ascendent strongly influent
Producing ev'n in tvvinnes a different
Yea an opposed Genius, For the one
Warily vvith great circumspection,
And on his Birth-day, only dips his drie
Coorse hearbs in brinish sauce, vvhich he doth buy
In a small cup, His Ovvn selfe sorinkling
His dish vvith Pepper as a Holy thing.
The other a brave boy couragiously
Spends his large portion in luxury
On his consuming tooth, But as for Mine,
He Use it: yet ne're let my Freedmen dine
With Turbe [...]s: nor be curious-mouth'd to know
But by the tast, if' [...] be a Thrush or no.
Proportion thy expences by thy gaine:
And grind out freely (for thou maist) thy graine
Laid up vvithin thy barnes. What shouldst thou feare [...]
But harrovv, and behold straight vvill appeare
Another harvest.a Why, J would thus spend,
But dutie hinders me. For my poore friend,
His ship being split, h [...]ld by the 'Brutian
Sharp [...]ocks; and bur [...]'d in th' Ionian
Rough vvaves all his estate, and his deafecties
Neglected by the Gods, and himselfe lies
Upon the shoare vvi [...]h his great Gods, vvhich he
Caught from his broken ship, vvhose ribs novv be
Expos'd unto the Cormorant.b Nay, Novv
Give him some of thy Land, and doe not thou
Think thou canst be too free, Let him not lack,
Wandring vvith agreene* Table at his back.
But if thou impaire thy vvealth, thy angred heire
Of thy last funerall [...]east vvill take small care;
And vvith neglect into thy urne vvill throvv
Thy bones vvithout perfumes, carelesse to knovve
Whether he buy dull-smelling Cinnamum,
Or C [...]ssi [...] corrupt vvith Cher [...]y-gumme▪
Hee'le say, What dost thou [...]dly spend thy vvealth,
My portion, being in thy perfect health?
But more; l' me sure the [...]'s thriftie Bes [...]us
Doth presse your learn'dst Graecian Doctors, thus;
Thus 'tis, since your fond Liberalitie,
Ratherc emasculate soft Luxurie,
With pepper, dares, and other vvare hath come
From your levvd Greece unto our Citty Rome,
Our very Movvers doe vvith too much oile
Their ancient vvholsome meate savvcily spoile
d But fear'st these things beyond thy grave? Dravv neere;
Thou vvhosoe're shalt be my heire, and heare:
And that into our talke none may intrude,
Let us retire from the thick multitude
My friend, knovv'st not the nevves? Caesar hath sent
A Laurell for a signe and ornament
Of his great conquest over Germanie:
And the cold ashes vvhich before did lie
Upon the Altars, are novv svvept avvay:
And vvith great care and joye Caesonia
Fixeth the conquer'd Kings arm out of proofe
And all their vveapons to the temples roofe,
Clads all the Captives in a durt-brovvne freize,
Placeth the Rheni of a huge vast size;
And orders all their coaches; Wherefore I
Will bring for this so happy victory
f Toth' Gods and our great Captaines Genius
An hundred paire of fencers. I being thus
Freely dispos'd, vvho doth forbid? Dar'st thou?
Woe; if thou yeeld'st not. Say, that I' me pleas'd novv
Upon the people to bestovv a doale
Of oile and flesh pies; dost thou dare controule?
Speake out, and plainly. Why, your land, thou'lt say,
Is not so fat, so bonelesse, but I may,
For any cause J see, not greatly care,
Whether or no, you doe make me your heire.
Well then, scorne thou my love; yet thus much knovv;
Enough vvill be my heire; and thanke me too.
For vvere none of my fathers sisters left;
No cousin-germane; or vvere J bereft
Of all my Unkle's neeces daughters, say,
My mothers sister had di'd barren, nay,
That none sprung from my grandame did survive.
Briefly, that not one kinsman vvere alive.
Of Virbius, vvhere standeth ready still,
Poore Mannius; he shall be my heire.h What he?;
A sonne o'th' earth? obscure? h Why aske of me,
Who vvas my fourth Forefather, J cann't vvell
And readily declare, though J can tell.
But if you'de knovv his Father, and againe
That fathers father, sure you must remaine
Satisfied thus; that he did dravv his birth
Immediatly from his Mother earth;
And so at last you'le finde Mannius to be
By right of kinne great Unkle unto me.
Yet vvhy at all should'st thou indeed desire
To be my heire, vvhen thou might'st be my Sire
For age? and vvhy should'st thou demand of me
My torch, vvhen J ini course runne after thee?
Yet if thou be my heire, me thinks, thou ought'st
To be content, vvith vvhat thou never bought'st
I'me Mercury, and come, to Thee, a God,
As he isk Painted. With a churlish nod
Scorn'st my free offer? Wilt not thou be glad
For vvhat is left? Why, heres not all you had
Ma [...]h J did spend on my ovvn proper need.
But, briefly, this is all is left, vvhich all
I'le give to thee; and doe not thou novv bravvle?
Unkindly vvith me, neither aske me vvhere
Is that vvhich Tadius left me, and ne're
Give me hard vvords, as fathers dravving nigh
Their end, doe give their sonnes before they die:
Saying, See thou put out the Principall,
And spend but of the Use, let that be all.
m But yet, What's left?m What's left? Novv lib'rally
Povv're boy, povv're oyle upon my hearbs. Shall I
Upon a high festivall day, be fed
With asod ne [...]tle, and a leane svvines head
Hung up [...]'th' smoake by th' eare; unto the end
This levvd knave may my goods hereafter spend?
And fill'd vvith dainty jiblets, vvithout shame
Levvdly embrace a soft Patrician Dame;
When as his vvayvvard, full svvolne, chiding veine;
With an uncertaine lust doth sob againe?
Shall I be like the vvarpe of bare cloath, that
To him a strutting panch may quag with fat?
n Oh, sell thy soule for gaine, to leave thy heire
Wealthy, and so thou gettest by thy vvare.
Ne're care hovv honestly. Sift ev'ry coast;
Of the vvhole vvorld, that that thou maist truly boast,
No man feeds fatter Cappadocian knaves
In a rough cage, then are thy lustie slaves.
Double thy vvealth.o Tis done; nay't has increas'd
Three, foure, ten-fold as much. Yet scarce is ceas'd.
And novv, vvhere likewise J may rest, designe,
Chrysippus, thou that didst thyp heap confine.
The end of PERSIUS.
To the Author his very good Friend, D. BARTEN HOLYDAY
RE [...]living Persius, daies birth, heir of fame;
I wrong not Persius, giving thee his name;
If any, I wrong thee, for what He did
Had'st thou him not illustred, had beene hid.
This being but thy Pedestall of prayse.
Oh what a Pyramis will thy Next worke rayse?
True Laureat, with blest O mens goe thou on;
All-imitable, imitating none.
I speake not this (nor need'st thou it) of Favour:
But as one conscious of thy Great works labour.
My tongue was never oy'ld i' th' base claw-art.
In Others read thou Wit, in Me my Heart,
W. WEB.
To my learned Friend D. BARTEN HOLYDAY upon his iudicious translation of PERSIUS.
WHat lay imprison'd, and confin'd alone
Only to deeper apprehension;
Thy more benigne, sublimd, transcendent wit
Hath reach [...], and conquer'd, and imparted it.
And givn't to all, which makes it more thine own
Since all are heires of that invention,
Nor doth one iot, so sweet congruity,
Adulterate the Latine chastity,
All things conserv'd, so terse, so nothing lost,
As if thou didst consult with th' Authors Ghost;
Such height, such sacred indignation
As seemes a Persius, no Translation.
On, learned Quill; thus vindicate thy name
From times proud Injury, Traytor to fame:
Nor suffer yet, that Italy so long
Should make her Vice speak [...] English, not her tong:
Whip back her bastards, send them home to Rome;
Let her that was their Parent, be their tombe.
Meane while I dare Congratulate our Crimes
Made happy that they could produce these Rimes.
BRIAN DUPPA. Bishop of Sarum.
AN APOSTROPHE OF THE Translator to his Author PERSIVS,
THou art Redeem'd; Nor has the Fate of Time
And Vice seiz'd on thy glory, the worst crime
Which does o'recloud the guilty, addes to Thee
A Lustre which out shines obscurity.
Who thought not, that the Great-borne Spirit of Rome
Had lien o'rewhelm'd in her Last Brutus tombe?
Yet did it not: but did at last bring forth
Thee the Example of her Ancient worth.
In whom, had Vesta's fire by which Rome stood
Been out, there might have yet been found as good.
Mount then, thou purer fire, and let thy heate
Strongly exhale from their infectious sente
Th' invenom'd foggs of vice; And then inflame
Them, that they may be lights to their Own shame;
Which, as a Comet, may affright the earth
With horror; at its own prodigious birth;
And, with its darting taile threatning dread
Ʋengeance, point-out to wrath each guilty head,
Be thou the Vestal fire thy Priest Ile be,
And consecrate my vigilance to Thee.
Be thou th' enlivening Sunne, Ile be the Earth,
And offer up to thee this gratefull birth
Of thanks: which thus now giv'n, though straight it Die,
It has liv'd Ages in its Infancy.
Action, not Time, does number Age. Who gives
A just praise to great Virtues Patrone, lives
Himselfe by his iust gratitude. Let Spight
Then doe its worst, and with eternall night
Labour to clowd my name. Obscure to lie
With Virtue, is an immortalitie.
Barten Holyday.
THis lash has but Six knots: but see thou mend
Or peradventure else I shall intend
(Although my angry Muse saies Shee will be
No more thus Wit-bound, thus Tongue, tied, not Shee
To come in Fury; and thee Naked strip;
And Scourge thee with a Sixteen knotted whip.
FINIS.