Imprimatur,
Roger L'Estrange.
Septemb. 10. 1665.
CARMINA DESVNT
The Poems of Horace Translated into English By several Persons.
THE POEMS OF HORACE, Consisting of Odes, Satyres, and Epistles, Rendred in ENGLISH VERSE BY SEVERAL PERSONS.
HOR. SAT. 3. Lib. 1.
Qui, ne tuberibus propriis offendat amicum
Postulat; ignoscat verrucas illius—
He that desires his Wens should not offend
His Friend, must wink at th' pimples of his Friend.
LONDON: Printed by E. Cotes for Henry Brome at the Gun in Ivy-lane, M.DC.LXVI.
To his honored Friend and Patron Sir William Backhouse BARONET,
SIR,
I Here present, or rather pay, what I have often promised you, and what you have a right to; The Poems of HORACE in the English tongue: To the Translation [Page] whereof my pleasant retirement and conveniencies at your delightsome Habitation, have liberally contributed.
And now according to the Custome of my Predecessors, having spoyled some paper with writing a bad Book, I am to waste more in a worse Preface, least I suffer under the imputation of being a heretick in Book-writing.
However, I will be so kind to you and my self, as to spare so much time and paper as might be employed in celebrating your Greatness, Virtues, and generous Inclinations towards me, being Themes for a higher Pen than [Page] dare pretend to, and only tell you how you came to be disturbed with these undertakings.
'Twas not because I understand this Author better than others do, nor because I thought I did. But the same temptation which induced our Grandame Eve to eat fruit, prevaild with me to read Horace, meerly because forbidden.
But the frequent Quotation of him by all sorts of ingenious men, and the Hault-goust which the wit and truth of his excellent sayings gave, made me languish till I had broken through all the difficulties which [Page] my imbecillity contended with, and thrown my self on this audacious adventure.
In the prosecution whereof I never blushd to ask the advice or take the assistance of any person whom I thought able to contribute either. And among the rest, of that indefatigable and eminently learned person with whom, by your indulgence and his own condiscension I had the honour and happiness to grow acquainted, whom I found so skill'd in all the difficulties of this Poet, that he was to me more then all the Voluminous Commentators.
[Page]Sir, For my speedier dispatch and your advantage, I made bold to take in all such parts of HORACE, as have been Englished by the Lord Embassadour Fanshaw; and what were omitted by him, I supplyed with such as have been done by Sir Thomas Hawkins, or Dr. Holiday, or both, for they are both the same; and whether of the two is the Author, remains to me undiscovered: What were not touched by these, I gathered out of Mr. Cowleys and other Printed Books; and such as were not Translated by others, my self and several friends of [Page] mine at my request have attempted: De Arte Poetica being long since Englished by that great Master thereof B. Johnson, I have borrowed to crown the rest.
So that you will easily finde, that as this Book consists of several men endeavors, so those several men went several wayes; but all studied to shun a nice Pedantical Translation, which Horace could not abide. By reading all which you are certain of two Pleasures, Liberty of censuring, and variety of matter.
And I have this felicity, that [Page] if any dislike what is done, it will not be safe for them to traduce it publickly, least they should reproach some of the Undertakers to their faces; for we are considerable for number and quality, consisting of many persons; and those either Right Honourable, Right Worshipfull, Reverend, or (which is as good) Well-beloved; and if I for my part have herein played the Fool, 'tis in very good Company.
Such as it is I expose it to publick perusal, with this becoming Confidence, that the excellence of the Author will [Page] make amends for the imperfections of the Translators; and having this in my prospect, that HORACE may chance to find as good fortune as his dear friend VIRGIL had, who being plundered of all his Ornaments by the old Traslatours, was restored to others with double lustre by those Standard-bearers of Wit and Iudgment, Denham and Waller. To which end I humbly commend this rude Essay, to those Persons whose Learning, Wit, and Leisure shall enable to do him such right as he serves. And for a president, I [Page] desire them to compare these lines of Phaer,
This end had Priams destinies, all this chance him Fortune sent,
When he the fire in Troy had seen, his Walls and Castles rent,
That sometimes over Peoples proud, and Lands had raign'd with fame
Of Asia Emperour great, now short on shore he lies with shame,
His head besides his shoulders laid, his corps no more of name.
with this done by Sir John Denham,
Thus fell the King who yet surviv'd the State,
With such a signal and peculiar fate,
Under so vast a ruine, not a grave,
Nor in such flames a funeral fire to have:
[Page]He whom such Titles swelled, such power made proud,
To whom the Scepters of all Asia bow'd;
On the cold earth lies this neglected King,
A headless Carcass, and a uameless thing.
By which they may perceive how highly Translations may be improved. And if any Gentlemen will be so industrious and kind, as to amend, or but to find out the faults in this Essay (which may easily be done) or furnish the Stationer with any better against the next Impression, they will be so far from disobliging me, that I invite them to it, conceiving it a work by which they may gratifie and oblige Posterity: And should rejoyce to see these rude and [Page] imperfect draughts, like the Athenian ship so often and throughly amended, that there shall not an old plank remain therein: That so these Poems which were so acceptable to Augustus in their native dress, might be so polish [...]d in our language, that they may be look'd on by a more indulgent and greater Prince than he was.
Perhaps it may be expected that I should have embellished (as they call it) this Address with Witty Passages, and Rhetorical flowers; but indeed Sir, they are grown quite out of fashion, and I am heartily glad that thereby I am freed from a task which I was so unfit for.
[Page]And now Sir, having tired you with this flat Narrative, to make you amends, I will make no Address to the Gentle Reader; only I declare to him and all the World, that I profess my self, and am what your Goodness has made me,
Honored Mecaenas,
Your very much obliged Servant, Alex. Brome.
THE LIFE OF HORACE▪
QUintus Horatius Flaccus was born at Venusium, formerly one of the best Cities in Italy, now called Venoso; of mean Parentage; his Father [Page] was one whom the Romans called Libertinus, viz. the Son of a Slave who had been made free; and by Profession he was a Praeco, or a Coactor, whose Imployment was to gather in Debts for Usurers. Of his Mother we find no mention; onely [...]tis agreed by all the Dutch Commentators, that he had one. He was born two years before Catalines Conspiracy, viz. the 6th. of the Ides of December; Cotta and Torquatus being Consuls. His Education was at Rome, where his Father finding him very pregnant, kept him at Schoole under [Page] Orbilius a whipping Schoole-Master; his Father also, being a very prudent man, had a severe and watchful eye over him, and instructed him in Virtue. Having attained to a good measure of Grammer learning at Rome, he was sent to Athens (then the most famous University in the World) and there studied Philosophy; in which, if he adhaered to any Sect, it was to the Epicuraeans. At first he was no great Zealot in Religion, but rather jeared than adored any of the Heathen Gods; of which nevertheless he afterwards repented [Page] and made an Ode professedly to testifie his Recantation. In the Civil Warr betwixt Augustus and Brutus and Cassius, he being the familiar Friend of Brutus, took his part in the battle at Philippi; in which he was a Tribune, which is equivalent to a Colonel here: but whether he fought or not, does not appear; onely by his being so great a Commander and so ingenious a person, 'tis probable that the Muses might inspire him with Wit enough to keep himself out of danger: Some have traduced him for running away, which if true, is [Page] excusable; for Valour and Wit are two spirits which possess onely some men, and that but at some times: So that the same Commanders who have proved Cowards in a just and honourable War, have afterwards in a Tavern dared to challenge such as call'd them so; and by the law a Souldier is no more bound to fight when he is out of his humor, then an Orator to speak when he is out of his wits: Nor is it prudent for a man of Wit and Learning to have his brains beaten out by one that has none. Augustus having won the Battle, it appeared that Horace [Page] had taken the wrong side, for which his great friend Mecaenas, a very rich noble man of Rome, and in great esteem with Augustus, obtained a pardon: And Augustus, like a good-natured Prince, not only pardoned, but rewarded him for being against him, and (if it had then bin in fashion there) would have Knighted him. Now being become a Courtier, and not old or bold enough to begg; and Augustus, so newly after a Warr, not rich enough to give; he (like others of his Order) wanted Money, and that put him upon [Page] making Verses, which he performed to admiration, and was the first that introduced the Lyrick Poëtry among the Romans: By which, and his great ingenuity and sweetness of Conversation, he grew so much in favour with Mecaenas, that he by his good will, would never have him out of his Company; and to encourage him in his Studies, and enable him to live without cares, bestowed on him a competent Estate among the Sabines, where he had a Country-house, to which he often retired, from the noise and [Page] bustle of Rome, to write and contemplate, and in which he took great delight and recreation. By Mecaenas he was preferr'd to a familiar acquaintance with Augustus, who offer'd to make him his Secretary of State: But Horace (like other great Wits) hated business. Augustus also considering what immortality Poets conferr on Princes and other great men, wrote a Letter himself, inviting him to come and live with him as his companion. And having read some of the Satyres, and found not himself concern'd, or his name mentioned therein, [Page] he complain'd of it, and asked him, Whether he thought it would be a disparagement to him to have it recorded to posterity, that Horace was a familiar friend to Augustus? As to his Stature, he was short and very fat, blear-ey'd, gray-headed in his youth, and bald in the forehead. And for his morals, he was a very good man, pious and grateful to his Father, whom being grown old and poor, he releived and kept at his Country house: much a Gentleman in his nature and demeanour; very merry and face [...]ious in company, soon angry [Page] and as soon pleased: As to his Diet, he was that which we by a grand mistake call an Epicure, for he loved and understood how to eat and drink well; and though he was very temperate and frugal generally, yet at a Treat, if he lik'd his Company, he would give nature a loose, and come up to Ohe! He had that good natured Vice (if it be one) which constantly adheres to great Wits, and is much indulged by high imagination; an inclination to women, which he is the less to be condemned for, because he was a Bachelour, and [Page] in his time and Country it was not esteemed a crime. He was well acquainted with, and highly valued by, all the eminent wits, and persons of quality in his time. By frequent Company-keeping, and strict observation, he informed himself of all the vices and humours of Rome, which he reproved and chastised in a way of raillery, whereby men were jear'd out of their ill manners and not offended: So considerable was he for his parts, and so eminent for his writings, that he deservedly won the applauses of divers of the greatest [Page] Schollars in their times, as Tibullus, Virgil, Ovid, Petronius, Persius, Quintilian Alex. Severus, St. Augustine Scaliger, and Bishop Iewel, who have all written in his Commendation, and are known to be neither Fools nor Flatterers. How long he lived, is not agreed on; some say 50, some 55, some 59, others 70 years; but when he finish'd his second Book of Epistles he was 44 years old. And he dyed soon after Mecaenas, namely (as the best Authors report) 5 Kal. Decemb. Censorinus and Gallus being Consuls, which was [Page] five years before the birth of Christ, having made Augustus his heir, to whom he left his Library, which was a good one; and a years provision, which he alwayes designed to keep before hand; and being a great contemner of wealth, and a derider of covetous men, he never aim'd at more. Being dead he was buried next to Mecaenas himself, in the Esquiliae; an honour which good Poets deserve, and which great Princes have in all times taken care to conferr upon them.
ODES.
BOOK I.
ODE I. By Sir R. Fanshaw. To MECOENAS.
That several Men affect several Things: That himself is delighted with the Study of Lyrick Verses.
MECOENAS, Thuscan Kings descent,
My Bulwark and sweet Ornament.
There are that love their Charets spoak
With rais'd Olympick dust should smoak:
And with hot Wheels the Goale close shaven,
And noble Palm, lifts Men to Heaven▪
One, if the fickle Peoples blast
Redoubled Honours on him cast:
Another that delights to teare
With Plough the Fields his Fathers were:
If in his private Barns He store
Whatever fruitful Africk bore;
The wealth of Croesus cannot gain
With trembling Keele to plough the Main.
[Page 2]Frighted with rough Icarian Seas,
The Merchant praises Home and Ease:
But His bruis'd Vessel repairs straight,
Impatient of a mean Estate.
There is that neither scorns to taste
Old Massique, nor half-days to waste
Under a shady Poplar spread,
Or at a Bubling Fountains Head.
Some Drums and Trumpets love, and War;
Which Mothers do as much abhorr.
The Huntsman in the cold doth rome,
Forgetting his poor Wife at home,
Whether his Hounds a Stagg have rowz'd,
Or Marsian Boar his Nets have towz'd.
Mee Ivy (Meed of learned Heads)
Ranks with the gods: Mee chill Groves, Treads
Of Satyrs with loose Nymphs, have show'd
A way out of the common Road;
Whilest kind Euterpe wets my Flute,
Whilest Polyhymnie strings my Lute;
Then write Mee in the Lyrick Role,
My lofty Head shall knock the Pole.
A Paraphrase upon the first Ode by S. W. Esq To MECOENAS.
MECOENAS, sprung from Royal blood,
My greatest Patron, just and and good!
There are, who in th' Olympick Games
Raise the light dust, but more their names:
When the Fleet Race, and noble prize,
E're death, the Victor Deifies.
[Page 3]Some in applause, that empty aire,
Place both their honour, and their care;
While others with a different minde
Would choose more solid wealth to finde,
And rich in what the Earth dos yield,
To the whole Sea preferrs one field;
The Sea'l not tempt them, or its store,
No not the World, to leave the shoare.
The Merchant when he sees the Skyes
Cover'd with storms, and Tempests rise,
Thinks none so happy live or well,
As those that on the Main-land dwell;
He prayses what he slights at home:
But when from a bad Voyage come,
Above the Earth he loves the Main,
And longs to be at Sea again.
The Fuddlecap, whose God's the Vyne,
Lacks not the Sun if he have Wine;
By th' Sun he only finds a way
To some cool Spring, to spend the day.
Shrill Flutes and Trumpets Souldiers love,
And scorn those fears that Women move.
The Huntsman, in the open Plains
Regardless of the Air remains;
A Dear makes him forget his Wife▪
And a fierce Boar despise his life.
But me the learned Lawrel give,
The Gods themselves by Poets live.
Give me a Grove, whose gloomy shade
For Nymphs and frisking Fawns was made,
Where from the Vu [...]gar hid, I'le be,
The Muses waiting all on me;
Here one my Harp and Lute shall string,
Another there shall stand and sing.
[Page 4]This one thing great Mecoenas doe,
Inroll me in the Lyhick Count,
A Lyrick Poet, and I'l mount
Above the skies, almost as high as you.
ODE II. By Sir R. F. To AUGUSTUS CAESAR.
That all the Gods are angry with the Romans for the killing of Julius Caesar: That the only hope of the Empire is placed in Augustus.
ENough of Hail and cruel Snow
Hath Iove now showr'd on us below;
Enough with Thundring Steeples down
Frighted the Town.
Frighted the World, lest Pyrrha's Raign
Which of new monsters did complain,
Should come again, when Proteus Flocks
Did climbe the Rocks:
And Fish in tops of Elm-Trees hung,
Where Birds once built their Nests, and sung,
And the all-covering Sea did bear
The trembling Dear.
We, Yellow Tyber did behold
Back from the Tyrrhene Ocean rowl'd,
Against the Fane of Vesta power,
And Numa's Tower;
Whilest the Uxorious River swears
He'l be reveng'd for Ilia's Tears;
And over both his Banks doth rove
Unbid of Iove.
[Page 5]Our Children through our faults but few,
Shall hear that we their Fathers slew
Our Countrymen: Who might as well
The Persians quell.
What God shall we invoke to stay
The falling Empire? with what Lay
Shall holy Nuns tire Vesta's Pray'r-Resisting
Ear?
To whom will Iove the charge commend
Of Purging us? at length descend
Prophetick Phoebus, whose white Neck
A Cloud doth deck.
Or Venus in whose smiling Rayes
Youth with a thousand Cupids playes:
Or Mars, if thou at length canst pity
Thy long plagu'd City.
Alas, we long have sported thee,
To whom 'tis sport bright Casks to see,
And grim Aspects of Moorish Foot
With Blood and Soot;
Or winged Hermes, if 'tis you
Whom in Augustus form we view,
With this revenging th' other Flood
Of Iulius Blood;
Return to Heaven late we pray,
And long with us the Romans stay:
Nor let disdain of that Offence
Snatch thee from hence.
Love here Victorious Triumphs rather;
Love here the Name of Prince and Father:
Nor let the Medes unpunisht ride,
Thou being our Guide.
A Paraphrase on the Second Ode by S. W. To AUGUSTUS.
Storms long enough at length have blown!
Iove hayl, fire, has darted down,
Has his own Temples overthrown,
And threatned all the Town.
Threatned the World, which now did fear
Another Deluge to be near;
When Proteus all his herds did drive
Upon the hills to live.
When highest trees with Fish were fill'd,
Those trees where birds were wont to build;
And staggs that could the wind out fly
Must take the Sea, or dye.
We Tiber saw, when seas withstood
His streams, and checkt with Seas his flood,
More heady, and unruly grown,
Not wash, but bear all down;
And swelling at his Ilias wrong
No more his banks did glide along,
But chose new Channels and a Sea,
To be reveng'd would be.
How our own swords those wounds did make
Which might have made the Persian quake,
These Civil Warrs, next age shall tell,
And fear what us befell.
When th' Empire thus begins to fall,
On what God shall poor Romans call?
In vain we hope our god will hear
When Vesta stops her ear.
[Page 7]To whom will Iove Commission give
To purge us, or our Plagues reprieve?
Descend Apollo cloth'd with light,
Thy beams must make us bright.
Or else thou fairest Queen of Love,
More needed here then thou'art above,
About whose neck the Graces fly,
And languish in thine eye.
Or Mars, if he hath any pity
For his despis'd and ruin'd City;
Though Mars has been so long at Rome
We need not wish he'd come.
Or you bright Hermes, proud to be
Augustus, more than Mercury,
Since in that shape you choose to breath,
And expiate Caesars death.
Let it be long ere you return
To heav'n, in love your Romans burn
For their old crimes, desire your stay,
Never to goe away.
Do you their Lives and Warrs command,
The Prince and Father of your Land,
Nor let our Enemies 'ore us ride,
While Caesar is our Guide.
ODE III. By Sir R. F.
He prayes a prosperous Voyage to Virgil, Embarqued for Athens: and takes occasion from thence to inveigh against the Boldness of Man.
SHip, that to us sweet Virgil ow'st
(With thee intrusted) safe
Convey him to the Attick Coast;
And save my better half:
So Helene's Brothers (Stellifi'd)
And Venus guide thy Sails:
And the Wind's Father, having tie'd
All up, but Vernal Gales.
Of Oak a Bosom had that man,
And trebble-sheath'd with Brass,
Who first the horrid Ocean
With brittle Bark did pass;
Nor fear'd the hollow Storms, that rore;
The Hyades, that weep;
Nor the South-wind, which Lords it ore
The Adriatick Deep.
What face of Death could him dismay,
That saw the Monsters fell;
And wracking Rocks, and swelling Sea,
With Eyes that did not swell?
In vain, the Providence of God
The Earth and Sea did part,
If yet the watry Pathes are trod
By a forbidden Art.
But Men (that will have all, or none)
Still things forbid desire:
Iapetus bold Son stole down
The Elemental Fire:
[Page 9]Whence Leanness over-spread the World,
And Feavers (a new Race)
Which creeping Death on Mortals hurl'd;
And bad him mend his pace.
Daedale the empty Air did cut
With wings not giv'n to men;
And Hercules the Gates unshut
Of Pluto's dismal Den.
Nothing is hard to sinful Man:
At Heav'n it self we fly;
Nor suffer Iove (do what he can)
To lay his Thunder by.
ODE IV. By Sir R. F. To L. SEXTIUS a Consular Man.
Proposeth the arrival of the Spring; and the common condition of Death, as Inducements to Pleasures.
SHarp winter's thaw'd with spring & western gales,
And Ships drawn up the Engine hales:
The Clown the Fire, the Beasts their Stalls forgo:
The Fields have cast their Coats of Snow.
Fair Venus now by Moon-shine leads a Dance,
The Graces after comely prance.
With them the Nymphs the Earth alternate beat,
Whilest Vulcan at his Forge doth sweat.
Now should we be with lasting Myrtle Crown'd,
Or Flowers late Prisners in the Ground.
Now should we sacrifice a Lambkins Blood
To Faunus in a sacred Wood.
Death knocks as boldly at the Rich mans dore
As at the Cottage of the Poore,
[Page 10]Rich Sextius: and the shortness of our days
Fits not with long and rugged ways.
Swift night will intercept thee, and the Sprights,
They chat so of in Winter Nights,
And Pluto's haunted Inn. Thou canst not there
Call for the Musick and good Cheer:
Nor in soft Chloris gaze away thy sight,
Her Sexes Envy, Our delight.
ODE V. By Sir R. F. To PYRRHA.
That those Men are miserable who are intangled in her Love: That he is escaped out of it as from Shipwrack by Swimming.
WHat Stripling now thee discomposes,
In Woodbine Rooms, on Beds of Roses,
For whom thy Auburn hair
Is spread, unpainted fair?
How will he one day curse thy Oaths,
And Heav'n that witness'd your Betroaths!
How will the poor Cuckold,
That deems thee perfect Gold,
Bearing no stamp but his, be maz'd
To see a suddain Tempest rais'd!
He dreams not of the Windes,
And thinks all Gold that shines.
For me my Votive Table showes
That I have hung up my wet Clothes
Upon the Temple Wall
Of Seas great Admirall.
A Paraphrase on the fifth Ode, by Dr. C.
1.
TO whom now Pyrrha art thou kind?
To what Heart-ravisht Lover
Dost thou thy golden locks unbind,
Thy hidden sweets discover,
And with large bounty open set
All the bright stores of thy rich Cabinet?
2.
Ah simple youth, how oft will he
Of thy chang'd faith complain?
And his own fortunes find to be
So airy and so vain,
Of so Camelion-like an hew,
That still their colour changes with it too.
3.
How oft alas, will he admire
The blackness of the skies?
Trembling to hear the winds sound higher,
And see the billows rise,
Poor unexperienc'd he,
Who ne're before alas had been at Sea!
4.
He enjoyes thy calmy Sun-shine now,
And no treath stirring hears;
In the clear heaven of thy brow,
No smallest cloud appears;
He sees thee gentle, fair, and gay,
And trusts the faithless April of thy May.
5.
Unhappy! thrice unhappy he,
T' whom thou untried dost shine,
[Page 12]But there's no danger now for me,
Since or'e Lorettoes shrine,
In witness of the shipwrack past,
My consecrated vessel hangs at last.
ODE VI. By C. C. Esq To AGRIPPA.
Argument.
Though Varius in Heroick stile
Agrippa's Martial Acts compile;
Yet Horace his low-pitched Muse
More humble Subjects best pursues.
VArius in living Annals may
To the admiring Universe
Voice out in high Maeonian Verse
Thy courage and thy conquests won,
And what thy Troops by Land and Sea,
Have through thy noble conduct done,
Our Muse Agrippa that does fly
An humbler pitch, attempts not these,
T'express Pelides rage; nor fly
Ulysses tedious Voyages:
Nor dips her Plume in those red Tydes
Flow from the bloody Parricides
Of Pelops cruel Family:
We nothing to such heights pretend,
Since Modesty,
And our weak Muse, who does aspire
No further than the jolly Lyre,
Forbids that we
Should in our vain attempts offend
[Page 13]And darken with our humble Layes
Thine, and great Caesars God-like praise.
Who to his worth can Mars display
When clad in Arms, whose dreadfull ray,
Puts out the day?
Or brave Meriones set forth,
When soyl'd in Trojan dust, or raise
Fit Trophies to Tydides worth
Who to th'immortal gods was made
A rival by Minerva's aid?
We sing of Feasting, and Delights,
Stout drinking, and the harmless fights
Of hot young Men, and blushing Maids,
Who when the Foe invades
Make a faint show
To guard what they'r content should goe.
These are the subjects of our Song
In nights that else would seem too long,
Did we not wisely prove
ODE VII. By Sir T. H. To MUNATIUS PLANCUS.
Some praise one City, some another, but Horace preferreth Tibur before all, where Plancus was born, whom he exhorteth to wash Care away with Wine.
SOme Rhodes, some Myt'l [...]ne, Ephesus doth please,
Or walls of Corinth, with its two-fold Seas:
Some Thebes, some Delian Delphos worth defend,
Other Thessalian Tempe's air commend.
[Page 14]There are, who make their sole, and fix'd design,
To mention Pallas City in each line,
And rather strive her Olive branch to grace,
Than any pull'd off from another place:
Yea some to honour Iuno, loud proclaim
Horse-racing Argos, and Mycenas fame.
Me, not the patient Sparta's pompous sights,
Nor fat Larissa field so much delights,
As do Albunea's Eccho-giving Groves,
And Anien's headlong stream that by it roves;
Or than Tiburnus woods, and Orchard-grounds,
Moystned with gliding brook which it arrounds.
As the South wind, the Heav'ns from dark Clouds scowrs
And doth not generate perpetual showers;
So (Plancus) with good Wine, be it thy strife,
To wash down sadness, and the toyls of life:
Whether thou to thy glittering Tents art ty'd,
Or dost in Tibur's shady Bowers abide.
When Teucer fled, Father, and Salamine,
He, (it is said) his Temples dew'd with wine,
And browes encircled with a Poplar wreath,
Did 'mongst his pensive friends these accents breath:
What way Fortune (more kind than Syres) shal show,
We, Friends, and dear Companions, will go.
Teucer, your Guide, Teucer Encourager,
Despair not any thing, admit no fear:
For we shall raise a second Salamine,
(Sayes wise Apollo) in another Clime:
Brave Spirits, who with me have suffer'd sorrow,
Drink cares away; wee'l set up fails to morrow.
ODE VIII. By Sir R. F. To LYDIA.
He notes obscurely a certain Young Man, whom he calls Sybaris, as undone with Love, and melted with Pleasures.
LIdia, in Heavens Name
Why melts young Sybaris in thy Flame?
Why doth he bed-rid lie
That can indure th' intemperate Skie?
Why rides he not and twits
The French great Horse with wringled bits?
Why shuns he Tybur's Flood,
And wrastlers Oyl like Vipers Blood?
Nor hath his Flesh made soft
With bruising Arms; having so oft
Been prais'd for shooting farre
And clean delivered of the Barre?
For shame, why lies he hid
As at Troy's siege Achilles did,
For fear lest Mans Array
Should him to Manly Deeds betray?
ODE IX. By Sir R. F. To THALIARCHUS.
That being Winter, it is time for Men to give themselves to Pleasure.
THou seest the Hills candied with Snow
Which groaning Woods scarce undergo,
And a stiff Ice those Veins
Congeals which Branch the Plains.
Dissolve the Frost with Logs pil'd up
To th' Mantle-Tree; let the great Cup
Out of a larger Sluice
Pour the reviving Juice.
Trust Iove with other things; when he
The fighting Winds takes up at Sea,
Nor speared Cypress shakes,
Nor aged Elm-Tree quakes.
Upon to Morrow reckon not,
Then if it comes 'tis clearly got:
Nor being young despise
Or Dancings, or Loves Joyes.
Till testy Age gray Hairs shall snow
Upon thy Head, lose Mask, nor Show:
Soft whispers now delight
At a set hour by Night:
And Maids that gigle to discover
Where they are hidden to a Lover;
And Bracelets or some toy
Snatcht from the willing Coy.
ODE X. To MERCURY.
Argument.
The Character of Mercury,
His Eloquence, and Progeny:
And various other Ornaments,
Our Poet in this Ode presents.
Mercuri facunde.
SWeet-tongu'd Cyllenius, son of May,
Who man's first rudeness didst allay
With Eloquence, and graceful parts
Of wrastling Arts;
I'le sing of thee, Heav'ns Messenger
By whom crookt Lyres invented were:
Crafty to hide what ere's bereft
By sportsome theft.
While thee (O youth) his threats affray,
Except thou his stoll'n Beefs repay:
With no shaft-bearing Quiver fraught,
Apollo laught.
Rich Priam too deserting Troy,
Th' proud Atreids scap'd with thy Convoy,
Thessalian watches, and each tent
'Gainst Trojans bent.
Thou in bless'd Mansions Ghosts imbowers,
And thy Caducean Rod 'ore-powers
Th' exiler Tribe; whom Gods above,
And lower love.
ODE XI. By Sir T. H. To LEUCONOE.
He exhorteth Leuconoe, that care omitted, she seek please her self, taking argument from the shortness life, and speed of death.
STrive not (Leuconoe) to know what end
The Gods above to thee or me will send:
Nor with Astrologers consult at all,
That thou may'st better know what can befall.
Whether, thou liv'st more winters, or thy last
Be this, which Tyrrhen waves 'gainst rocks do cast;
Be wise, drink free, and in so short a space,
Do not protracted hopes of life embrace.
Whilest we are talking, envious Time doth slide:
This day's thine own, the next may be deny'd.
A Paraphrase on the same Ode, by S. W. To LEUCONOE.
NEre strive Leuconoe, ne're strive to know
What Fates decreed for thee and mee, nor goe
To an Astrologer; 'tis half the cure,
When Ill, to think it will not long endure:
Whether Iove will another Winter give,
Or whether 'tis your last that now you live;
Be wise, and since you have not long to stay,
Fool not with tedious hopes your life away.
Time, while we speak on't flyes; now banish sorrow,
Live well to day, and never trust to morrow.
ODE XII. By Sir T. H. To AUGUSTUS.
The Gods, Demy-Gods, and some worthy men honoured, he descendeth into the divine praises of Augustus.
WHat man, or Hero (Clio) wilt thou praise
With shrillest Pipe, or Lyra's softer layes?
What God? whose name in sportive strain,
Eccho will chaunt thee back again?
Either in shady Heliconian Bowers,
High Pindus, or cold craggy Hemus Towers,
Whence leavy Groves by heaps confus'd,
To wait on tuneful Orpheus us'd;
Orpheus well skil'd from mothers artful lay,
Swift rivers glide, and speedy winds to stay,
And with his harps melodious song
Attentive Okes to draw along.
What shall I sing before the constant praise
Of Father Iove, who Gods, and Mortals swayes?
Yea, Land, Sea, World extended wide
With various seasons doth divide?
[...]rom whom there nothing springs, greater than he:
Like nothing lives, nor can a second be:
Yet shall next honours Pallas grace,
Though seated in a lower place.
Nor will I, warlike Bacchus, let thee goe,
Nor Dian, savage beasts eternal foe:
Phoebus shall likewise have a part,
Dreadful with unavoided dart.
With Hercules I Leda's sons must name,
Horse-service this, Foot-fight gives th'other Fame:
Whose brighter starre, when first in skie,
The wakeful Saylor doth descrie,
Down from the rocks impetuous waters flow;
The winds surcease, the clouds dispelled goe:
And threatning waves (so the Twins will)
Upon the Oceans brow are still.
These mention'd first, shall Romulus obtain
The next record, or Numa's peaceful raign?
Shall I the power of Tarquins state,
Or Cato's manly death relate?
Stout Regulus, the Scauri, Paulus, free
Of his great soul in Canna's victory;
Or shall my grateful tongue rehearse
Fabricius, in resplendent verse?
Who with the valiant Curius, rough in guise
And hair uncomb'd, did with Camillus rise
To high advancement, homely bred
In their poor Grand-Sires lands, and Shed.
Marcellus Fame is like a spreading Tree,
Which groweth still, although insensibly:
Each eye the Iulian Starre admires,
As Cynthia 'mongst the lesser fires▪
Great Father, and Protector of Man-kind
From Saturn sprung, to thee the Fates assign'd
The care of mighty Caesar; Reign,
And Caesar second place obtain.
He whether in full triumph lead along
The vanquish'd Parthians, who neer Latium throng.
Or Seres, and swart Indians tame,
That East-ward tremble at his name:
He less, but, Just, the spacious world shall guide;
Heav'n-shaking, thou in thund'ring Chariot ride,
And thy offended lightning cast
On Groves, which harbour the unchaste.
ODE XIII. By Sir R. F. To LYDIA.
He complains that Telephus is preferr'd before him.
THe Arms that Wax-like bend,
And every henge when you commend,
On which the Head doth turn
Of Telephus, ah, how I burn!
Madness my mind doth rap,
My Colour goes; and the warm sap
Wheesing through either Eye,
Showes with what lingring Flames I frie.
I frie; when thy white hue
Is in a Tavern brawl dy'd blew,
Or when the sharp-set Youth
Thy melting Kiss grinds with his Tooth.
[Page 22]Believe't, his love's not sound
That can such healing kisses wound;
Kisses which Venus hath
Made supple in a Nectar bath.
O their felicitie
Whom a firm cord of love doth tie,
Unbroke with wicked strife,
And twisted with their threds of Life!
OED XIV. By Sir T. H. To the Commonwealth preparing afresh for Civil-war.
O Ship, what do'st? fresh storms again
Will drive thee back into the Main;
Bravely recover Port, and shore.
See'st not th'art destitute of Oar?
Swift South-west windes invade thy mast,
Thy sail-yard cracks with every blast?
And cables scarce thy keel assure,
Those surly billows to endure?
Thy sails are torn, and thou a thrall,
No gods haste to invoke at all.
Though Pontique Pine (woods noble race)
Thou boast thy barren name and place;
The fearful Sailer (dangers tride)
Doth not to painted ships confide:
Take heed unless thou hast a minde
To be a sport unto the winde.
(Oh my desire and greatest care,
Earst horrour to my heart) Beware,
And flie in time chose shelfie Seas,
Which run betwixt bright Cyclades.
ODE XV. By Sir T. H. The Prophecy of Nereus concerning the destruction of Troy.
WHen in Idaean ships the trecherous swain,
With Hellen his Greek mistress crost the main,
Nereus, that [...]ll events he might presage,
Becalm'd with lazy rest the swift windes rage.
Thou her tak'st home with thee in an ill hower,
Whom Greece shall fetch again with armed power,
Conspiring to dissolve thy married state,
And Priam's antient Kingdome ruinate.
Alas! what toil for horse, for men what pain,
What direful funerals of Trojans slain.
See, Pallas, helm and target doth provide,
And will on her incensed Chariot ride.
In vain grown insolent with Venus grace,
Shalt thou thine hair dishevel, sleeke thy face:
In vain shalt thou, on harps effeminate string,
Soft tuned notes t' attentive women sing:
In vain, thou in thy chamber shalt decline
Sharp spears, and head of Cnossian javeline,
Loud noise, and Ajax, nimble to pursue,
Yet dust at last shall soil thy beauties hue.
Do'st thou not Nestor, nor Ulysses mind,
VVho for thy countries ruine art design'd?
On the undaunted Salaminius flies;
Thee Sthenelus provokes, who bears the prize
Of armes, or horse to mannage with command
'Gainst thee likewise shall Meriones stand:
Fell Diomedes stronger than his fire,
For thee, with desp'rate fury shall enquire:
[Page 24]Whom as an hart that doth neglect his food,
Spying far off the wolf thirsty of blood,
Thou faintly shalt, and almost breathless flie,
Breaking thy vow to Hellen cowardly.
Achilles wrathful Fleet the hour shall slack
Of Phrygi [...]n matrons fall, and Ilium's wrack;
But Grecian fire in time determinate,
Shall Trojan buildings burn, and dissipate.
ODE XVI. By Sir T. H. To a Friend.
He recants: For he asketh pardon of a Maid, whom had wounded with Iambicks, transferring the fault up anger, the un [...]rid ed force whereof he describeth.
DAughter, than thy fair mother much more fair,
On my Iambicks fraught with spiteful air,
Do thou prescribe what doom thy self shalt please,
Either of flames, or Adriatique seas.
Not Dindymenian, nor the Pythian Priest,
Are with such fury by their Gods possest;
Not Bacchus, nor the Corybantes so,
VVhen on shrill brass they iterate their blow,
As baneful anger, which not Norique armes,
Nor the ship [...]wracking stormy Ocean charmes:
Not furious fire, nor Iove himself on high,
VVhen be with dreadful thunder rends the skie.
'Tis said, Pr [...]me [...]heus, resolv'd to make
M [...]n out of clay, did several parcels take
Dissected cunningly from every beast,
And put fierce lions wrath into our breast.
[Page 25]Anger Thyestes into ruine cast,
And unto cities ever was the last
Cause, why they fell, and that proud foes were seen
VVith hostile share to plough where walls had bee.
Bridle thy self. Me likewise heat of blood
Enrag'd in youth, and with distemper'd mood
Into Iambicks hurri'd: Now I seek
To change my rougher language into meek;
So wrongs recanted, thou more friendly be,
And love reciprocal return to me.
ODE XVII. To TYNDARIS.
Argument.
The Lyric Tyndaris invites
Vnto Lucretile. Recites
What profits and delights abound,
And in what Climate may be found.
Velox amaenum.
FRom mount Lyaeus, to sweet Lucretile,
Swift-footed Pan is flitting ev'ry while,
And is still my Goats defence
From storms, and Sols hot influence.
Dams from their noisom leaders stray'd away,
O're all the woods securely forrage may,
Seeking Thyme and VVildings there;
Nor do the Kids infolded fear
Green-speckled-snakes, nor wolfs to Mars assign'd.
VVhere e'r vales (Tyndaris) and the steep inclin'd
[Page 26]Mount Ustica's fleek Rocks bound,
Again the Pipes harmonious sound.
Me, Gods protect, and in my pietie,
And Lyric-Muse, they much delighted be:
Rural wealth here plenty grows,
And with a bounteous horn o'r-flows.
Here in Maeandrian-vale may'st thou decline
The Dog-stars heat; and chaunt in Teyan line Penelope, and Circe clear,
VVho both for one man anxious were.
Here may'st thou prostrate in a shadie bower▪
Bolls of unnauseous Lesbian-wine devour:
Nor shall Bacchus juice excite
Thee to outragious brawls and fight.
Nor shalt thou 'f jealous Cyrus fearful stand,
Lest he o'r-lay thee with lascivious hand,
Rending chaplets from thy crown,
And undeserv'dly tear thy gow [...] ▪
ODE XVIII. By Sir R. F. To QUINTILIUS VARUS.
That with moderate drinking of wine, the minde is exhilerated: with immoderate, quarrels begotten.
OF all the trees, plant me the sacred Vine
In Tybur's mellow fields, and let it climbe
Cathyllus walls: for Iove doth cares propound
To sober heads, which in full cups are drown'd.
Of want, or war, who cries out after wine?
Thee father Bacchus, thee fair Erycine,
[Page 27]Who doth not sing? but through intemp'rate use,
Least
Other names of Bacchus.
Liber's gifts you turn into abuse,Think of the Centaures braul, fought in their Cans,
With Lapithes: and to Sithonians
Heavy Evous, when their heated blood
Makes little difference betwixt what's good,
And what is not. No, gentle Bassareu,
I will not force thee; nor betray to view
Thy vine-clad parts: suppress thy Thracian hollow,
And dismal dynn: which blind self-love doth follow,
And Glory-puffing heads with empty worth,
And a Glass-bosome pouring secrets forth.
ODE. XIX. Of GLYCERA.
Argument.
How beauteous Glycera infires
His heart with amorous desires.
Mater saeva.
TYrannic Venus chargeth me,
And Bacchus th' heir of Theban Semele,
And wanton leisure bids me too,
Extinguisht flames of Cupid to renew.
Fair Glycer a inflames me sore,
Than any Parian Marble glitt'ring more:
Her pleasing coyness, and her face
Is over-ru [...]nating for a gaze.
The Q [...]een of love her Isle forsook,
Falling sore on me, nor will Scythians brook,
[Page 28]Nor stout back-darting Parthians
For my Pens theam, nor unconcerning strains.
Here (servants) green turf-altars rear,
Vervains, and sacred Frankincense place here.
A Boll of two-years wine, to these
A victime slain, she will her ire appease.
ODE XX. To MAECENAS.
Argument.
He prays Maecenas for a guest
Unto a plain and homely feast.
Vile potabis.
THou'st bouze cheap Sabine in small cup,
Which in Greek Butt my self daub'd up:
When Theaters with Ovations high
Rang in the skie.
Thy fames (thou of Equestrian rank
Maecenas) that thy Tiber's bank,
And the eccho toss'd thy praise again
From th' Vaticane:
Caecubian, and Calenian wines,
Shall be thy drink. No Falern vines,
Nor Grapes which crown the Formian knolls,
Flow in my bolls.
ODE XXI. By Sir T. H. Of Diana and Apollo.
He exhorteth youths and virgins to sing forth their praises.
YOu tender virgins, sound Diana's name,
(Boyes) be your song youthful Apollo's fame,
Latona likewise touch,
By Iove affected much.
(Maids) mention her, who loved rivers so,
And woods which on cold Algidus do grow,
On Erymant are spread;
Or Cragus verdant head.
(Boyes) with your notes delightful Tempe grace,
And Delos chaunt, Apollo's native place;
His shoulders, quiver-dight,
And harp of heavenly might.
He, with our prayers mov'd, shall banish far,
Sharp hunger, pestilence, and direful war
From Prince and people, to
Persian, and British foe.
ODE XXII. By Sir T. H. To ARISTIUS.
Integrity of life is every where safe, which he proveth his own example.
WHo lives upright, and pure of heart
(O Fuscus) neither needs the dart,
Nor bow, nor quiver, fraught with store
Of shafts envenom'd by the Moor:
Whether o're Libya's parched sands,
Or Caucasus that houseless stands,
He takes his journey; or those places
Through which the fam'd Hydaspes traces▪
For (careless) through the Sabin grove,
Whilest chaunting Lalage, I rove,
Not well observing limits due,
A wolf (from me unarmed) flew.
A monster such as all exceeds,
Which in huge words fierce Daunia feeds:
Or those that Iuba's kingdome hath,
The Desart-nurse of lions wrath.
Place me in coldest Champanies, where
No Summer warmth the trees do cheer:
Let me in that dull Climate rest,
Which clouds and sullen Iove infest:
Yea place me underneath the Carre
Of too near Phoebus: feared farre
From dwellings: Lalage Ile love,
Whose smiles, whose words so sweetly move.
A Paraphrase on the same Ode, By S. W. To FUSCUS ARISTIUS.
THe just man needs nor Sword nor Bow,
Those armes his fear, not safety show,
Who better has for his defence
Strong guards of innocence.
For if along rough shoars he coast,
Tempests and Seas on him are lost.
Or if he Caucasus pass by,
Tygers their rage deny.
A wolf that croft me in my grove,
As I walkt musing on my love
Beyond my bounds, and no armes had,
Was of my love afraid.
Away he fled, though Dauma yields
No greater monster in her fields:
Though Africa which Lions breeds,
None half so cruel feeds.
Put me where never Summer breeze
Kist the dull earth, or lifeless trees,
In that skirt of the world, where show'rs
Do number out the hours,
Or place me in the Torrid Zone,
Where never house or man was known,
If there my Lalage but smile
And sing, Ile love the while.
ODE XXIII. To CHLOE.
Argument.
CHloe adult: no cause now why
She should from mens embracements fly.
Vitas hinnuloe.
Chloe, thou shunn'st me like a wanton Fawn
Of tim'rous Dam forsook in pathless lawn;
Dreading with minde agast
Ev'ry bush, and every blast.
For as when Zephyrus trembling leaves doth shake,
Or green-speckt Newts make bramble bushes quake,
So tremulous is she,
Dith'ring both in heart and knee:
But I not to devour thee now pursue,
As Afric Lions, and wild Tygers do.
O leave thy Mother pray,
Now grown ripe for Venus play.
ODE XXIV. By Sir T. H. To VIRGIL.
Who immoderately bewailed the death of Quintilius.
MElpomene, whom Iove our Father daignes
Shril voice apply'd to harps melodious strains,
Tell in sad notes how far the bounds extend
Of love, and shame unto so dear a friend;
Shall then in endless sleep Quintilius lie?
As equal unto whom, pure Modesty,
And Justice' sister, Faith sincere and plain▪
Nor naked Verity shall ever gain?
Of many worthy men bemoan'd he fell,
But (Virgil) no mans grief can thine excell.
Thou (loving) dost (alas) the gods in vain
Quintilius, not so lent thee, ask again.
WHat if more sweet, than Thracian Orpheus wire,
You trees perswade to hearken to your lyre?
Yet can you not, return of life command
To shadow vain, which once with dreadful wand,
God Mercury, unwilling Fate t' unlock,
Hath forc'd to dwell among the Stygian flock.
'Tis hard, I grant; But patience makes that light,
Which to correct, or change, exceeds our might.
The same by Sir R. F. To VIRGIL.
Who lamented immoderately the death of Quintilian.
What shame, or stint in mourning ore
So dear a Head? Weep not but rore
Melpomene, to whom thy Sire
Gave a shrill voice, and twanging lyre.
B [...]t does Quintilian sleep his last?
Whose Fellow, Modesty, and fast
Faith, with her Sister Justice joyn'd
And naked truth, when will they find?
Bewa [...]l'd by all good men, he's gone:
But then Thee Virgil, more by none.
Thou begst back (ah! pious in vain)
Thee, not so lent, Quintilian.
If sweeter then the Thracian Bard,
Thou could'st strike tunes by dull Trees heard,
The blood would never more be made
To flow into the empty shade,
Which Hermes with his horrid wand
(Inflexible to countermand
Th' unevitable doom of Death)
Once drove to the black Flock beneath.
'Tis hard: But Patience makes that less,
Which all the World cannot redress.
ODE XXV. To LYDIA.
Argument.
He Lydia sc [...]ffs for Aged look,
And cause her Suiters her forsook.
Parcius junctas.
NOw froward youths rap not so sore
At thy shut casements as before,
To break thy sleep; thy gates love much
Their thresholds tou [...]h,
Which wont so 'ft on glib hinges run:
Thou'rt less and less now call'd upon▪
Ho Lydia! sleep'st all night while I
Thy lover die?
Thou, an ag'd Quean, again shalt moan
Thy scornful Paramours, all alone,
In narrow lanes: while North-winds range
'Bout Phoebe's change:
When fragrant love, and lustful flames,
Such as infuriates Horses dams,
Thy ulcer'd breast with rage impales,
Not without wails:
Cause youth likes verdant Ivy more,
Than Myrtle almost sabled o'r:
And gives to Heber's Wintry tide
Boughs wither-dry'd.
ODE XXVI. By Sir T. H. To his Muse concerning Aelius Lamia.
It is not fit for the lovers of the Muses to be subject to ca [...] and sadness. The Poet commendeth his Lamia to the Pimplean Muse.
I, Who the Muses love, sadness, and fear
Will to rought winds commit, that they may bear
Them to the Cretique sea, careless, who swayes,
And whom the far-North dweller most obeys:
Or what doth great Tirridates affright.
O my Pimplean Muse (my hearts delight;)
O thou who near pure Fountains [...]ittest down,
Wreath o'drous flowers for Lamia, wreath a crown.
Little without thee worketh my applause:
'Tis now become thine, and thy Sister's cause
Him, with unused strains to celebrate,
And with thy Lesbian lyre to consecrate.
ODE XXVII. By Sir R. F. To his Companions.
To his Companions feasting together, that they should [...] quarrel in their drink, and fight with the Cups them [...]selves, after the manner of the Barbarians.
WIth Goblets made for Mirth, to fight,
'Tis barbarous: leave that Thracian rite,
Nor mix the bashful blushing God
Of Wine, with quarrels and with blood.
[Page 37]A Cand-stick, and Quart-pot, how far,
They differ from the Cymitar?
Your wicked noise Companions cease,
And on your Elbows lean in peace.
Would you have me to share th' austere
Falernian liquor: Let me hear
Megella's brother, by what eyes,
Of what blest wound and shaft he dies.
No! then will I not drink: whatever
Venus tames thee, she toasts thy Liver
With fires thou hast no cause to cover,
Still sinning an ingenuous lover.
Come, thou may'st lay it whatsoere
It is, securely in my Ear.
Ah wretch! in what a Whirl-pool tane?
Boy worthy of a better flame,
What Witch with her Thessalian Rod
Can loose thee from those charmes? What God?
Scarce Pegasus himself can thee
From this three-shap'd Chimera free.
A Paraphrase on the same Ode, by Dr. P▪
VVHat? Quarrel in your drink, my friends? ye'abuse
Glasses, and Wine, made for a better use.
'Tis a Dutch trick; Fie, let your brawling cease,
And from your Wine and Olives learn both mirth and peace.
Your swords drawn in a Tavern, whilest the hand
That holds them shakes, and he that fights cann't stand,
[Page 38]Sheath 'um for shame, embrace, kiss, so away,
Sit down, and ply the business of the day.
But I'le not drink, unless T. S. declares
Who is his Mistress, and whose wounds he wears.
Whence comes the glance, from what sweet-killing-Eye,
That sinks his Hope so low, and mounts his Muse so high!
Wilt thou not tell? Drawer, what's to pay?
If you're reserv'd I'le neither drink nor stay:
Or let me go, or out w'it; she must be
Worth naming, sure; whose Fate it was to conquer thee:
Speak softly,—She! forbid it Heaven above!
Unhappy youth! unhappy in thy love;
Oh how I pity thy Eternal pain!
Thou never can'st get loose, thou never canst obtain;
Lets talk no more of love, my friends, lets drink again.
ODE XXVIII. By Sir T. H.
Architas, a Philosopher, and Geometrician, is presented, answering to a certain Mariner, that all wen must die, and intreating him, that he would not suffer his body to lie on the shore unburied.
THe poor gift of a little dust, confines,
And neer unto the Matine shore enshrines
Thee, now (Architas) who could'st measure well
The Sea, the Earth, and Sands, which none can tell.
[Page 39]Nor could it any help, or profit be,
Death being ready still to seize on thee;
Those airy mansions to have sought from hence,
And oft survey'd the Heavens circumference.
The fire of Pelops, who with gods did feast,
And aged Tython, shrunk at Deaths arrest:
And Minos, to Ioves counsels call'd, was slain,
And Panthois di'de, sent down to Hell again;
Though by the shield pull'd down, he proving well
That his First-birth in Trojane ages fell,
Affirm'd, that Death nought kill'd, but nerves & skin:
(No man in Natures power was better seen:)
But we into one self-same night do fall,
And must the paths of Death tread once for all.
The Furies some to games of Mars apply,
The greedy sailer drench'd in sails doth lie.
In death both young and old, by heaps do joyn;
Nor any head escapes sad Proserpine.
Me, the South-wind, crooked Orion's Mate
O're-whelmed in Illyrian waves of late:
But (gentle Friend) be pleas'd now I am dead,
In loose sands to interre my bones, and head.
Which done (so thou be safe) may th' Eastern-wind,
Which stirs Hesperian billows, be assign'd
To bluster lowdly in Venusium woods:
And may on ev'ry side, thy traffiqu'd goods
In plenty flow to thee from Ioves just hand,
And Neptune, who Tarentum doth command:
But if this fault of thine shall seem but slight,
(Which may upon thy harmless issue light)
I wish due punishment and proud neglect,
May on thy funeral Obsequies reflect:
Nor shall my prayers be poured forth in vain,
Nor vows have strength to set thee free again.
[Page 40]Yet if thou haste, no longer stay I crave,
But thrice to throw the dust upon my Grave.
ODE XXIX. by Sir T. H. To ICCIUS.
It is a strange thing, that Iccius the Philosopher intermitting his Studies, should become a man at Armes, out of the love of money.
ICcius, thou now the Arabs dost envy
Their golden treasure, and to warrs dost hie,
'Gainst the Sabean Kings unvanquished,
And nets prepar'st to snare the horrid Mede.
What Captive Damsel her beloved slain
Shall serve thee now? What youth of noble strain
Shall now annointed, on thy Cup attend,
Prompt, from his fathers Bow swift-shafts to send?
Who can deny but falling Rivers may
Run up steep hills, and Tyber backward stray:
When thou Panetius books on all sides sought,
And house of Socrates, where arts were taught,
Do'st into Steely Spanish armes translate,
With promise to thy self of better state.
ODE XXX. To VENUS.
Argument.
He implores Venus to refrain
Her Cyprus, and her presence daign
At Glyc'ras consecrated Fane.
O Venus regina.
O Venus, Cnide's and Paphos Queen,
At Cyprus be less gracious seen:
To Glyc'ras beauteous Temple go,
Where odours flow.
Take with thee Cupid, ungirt graces,
The agile Nymphs with their swift paces,
Iuventas sullen without thee,
And Mercurie.
ODE XXXI. By Sir R. F. To APOLLO.
He askes not riches of Apollo, but that he may have a sound mind in a sound body.
WHat does the Poet Phoebus pray,
In his new Fane? what does he say,
Pouring sweet liquor from the cup?
Not give me fat Sardinia's crop.
[Page 42]Not hot Calabria's goodly Kye:
Not Gold, and Indian Ivory:
Not Fields which quiet Liris laves,
And eats into with silent waves.
Proyne, They that have them, Massick Vines:
In Golden Goblets carowse Wines,
The wealthy Merchant, which he bought
With Merchandise from Syria brought,
The Minion of the Gods: as he
That in one year the Altantick Sea
Three or four times, unpunish'd past.
Mine Olives, Endive my Repast,
And Mallows light. Latona's Son,
In Minde and Bodies health my own
T' enjoy; old Age from dotage free,
And solac'd with the Lute, give me.
The same by Sir T. H.
WHat doth thy Poet ask (Phoebus divine;)
What craves he, when he pours the bowles of wine?
Not the rich corn of fat Sardinia,
Nor fruitful Flocks of burnt Calabria,
Nor gold, nor Indian ivorie; nor the grounds,
Which silent Lyris with soft stream arrounds.
Let those whom Fortune so much store assigns,
Prune with Calenian hook their fertile vines:
Let the rich Merchant to the Gods so dear,
(For so I term him right, who every year,
Three, or four times, visits the Atlantique seas
From shipwrack free:) Let him his palate please;
And in guilt bowls drink wines of highest price,
Bought with the sale of Syrian Merchandice.
[Page 43]Loose Mallows, Succorie, and Olive-plant
Serve me for food. O (great Apollo) grant
To me in health, and free from life's annoy,
Things native, and soon gotten to enjoy;
And with a mind compos'd old Age attain,
Not loathsome, nor depriv'd of Lyrick strain.
ODE XXXII. To his Lyre.
Argument.
He bids his Lyre still ready be
To chear him up with Melody.
Poscimus si quid.
WE beg, if we supinely lane,
In shrouds with thee play'd ere a strain
Worth Fame's Record, ô Lyre display
In Latine Lay:
On which A [...]caeus first resounded,
Who (though with Mars fierce broyls surrounded,
Or that his shatter'd sail he ty'd
To th' Ocean side.)
Of Liber, Muses, Venus sung,
And th' youth that alwayes to her clung,
And Lycus for black eyes and hair,
Of presence rare.
O Lyre, Apollo't ornament,
Yielding Ioves banquets blest content,
My toils sweet solace, hail while I
Unto thee cry.
ODE XXXIII. To ALBIUS TIBULLUS.
Argument.
He Albius wills not lay't to heart,
Though undeservedly on his part,
Curst Glycera respecteth more
His Rival, and Competitour.
Albi, ne doleas.
ALbius, not too excessively condole
Harsh Glycera's unkindness: neither howl
Out mournful Elegies, though thy junior be
Perfidiously preferr'd to thee.
Lycoris, fam'd for narrow fore-head, burns
For Cyrus love; and Cyrus, loe he turns
Unto coy Pholoe: But e'r Pholoe erre
With that all-base Adulterer,
Goats with Apulian wolfs shall copulate:
So Venus, and dire Cupid please, who mate
Unequal forms, and diff'rent mindes together
Within a Brasen yoke and Tether.
[Page 45]But when a fairer Mistress courted me,
Myrtle me held in sweet captivity,
A Libertine, more fierce than Adrian Seas,
Which crooktly 'bout Calabria preaze.
ODE XXXIV. By Sir R. F. To himself.
Repenting that having followed the Epicureans, he had been little studious i [...] worshipping the Gods.
I' That have seldome worshipt Heaven,
As to a mad Sect too much giv'n,
My former wayes am forced to balk,
And after the old light to walk.
For Cloud-dividing, lightning-Iove,
Through a clear Firmament late drove
His thrundring Horses, and swift wheels:
With which supporting Atlas reels:
With which Earth, Seas, the Stygian Lake,
And Hell, with all her Furies quake.
It shook me too. God pulls the Proud
From his high Seat, and from their Cloud
Draws the obscure: Levels the hills,
Aud with their Earth the vallies fills:
'Tis all he does, he does it all:
Yet this, blind Mortals Fortune call.
ODE XXXV. By Sir. T. H. To Fortune.
He beseecheth her, that she would preserve Caesar going into Britany.
O Goddess, which beloved Antium swayes,
Still ready with thy powerful Arm to raise
Men, from the low degree of wretched thrals,
Or turn proud Triumphs into Funerals;
The poor and rustick Clown with humble plea
Solicites thee: The Lady of the Sea
He loudly invocates, who ere doth sweep
In Asian vessel the Carpathian Deep.
The Dacian rough, the wandring Scythian,
Kingdomes and Cities; the fierce Latian:
Thee Mothers of Barbarian Kings do fear,
And Tyrants, which bright Purple garments wear.
Let not a standing Pillar be o'rethrown
By thy offended foot: Nor be it known,
That troops of Warlike people now at rest;
Take Armes again, and Empire's peace infest.
Still, sharp Necessitie before thee goes,
Holden in Brazen hand, (as pledge of woes)
Tormenting beams, and wracks: and more to daunt,
Sharphooks, and molten lead do never want.
Thee, Hope, and simple Faith in white attire,
Much honour, and thy company desire;
How e're thou do'st another habit take,
And made a Foe to Great Men, them forsake.
But the false Multitude, and perjur'd Whore
Retireth back: yea friends, when vessel's store
[Page 47]Is to the dregs drunk up, away do flie,
Shunning the yoke of mutual povertie;
Preserve thou Caesar safe, we thee implore,
Bound to the worlds remotest Brittan shore,
And those new Troops of youth, whose dreadful sight,
The East and ruddie Ocean doth affright.
Fie on our broyles, vile Acts, and Brothers fall.
Bad Age! what mischief do we shun at all?
What youth, his hand for fear of Gods contains?
Or who from sacred Altar's spoil refrains?
Ah! rather let's dull swords new forge, and whet
Against th' Arabian and the Massaget.
ODE XXXVI. To POMPONIUS NUMIDA.
Argument.
Our Lyrick joy'd, exults amain
For Numida's return from Spain.
Et thure, & fidibus.
VVIth Frankincense and Lyric Lay,
And bullocks justly slaughter'd, let's allay
Great Numid's tutelary gods:
Who safe arriv'd from Spains remot'st abodes,
Gave's dear friends many a-kiss-salute,
But to sweet Lamia most did distribute:
Remembring how both served all
Their youthful dayes under one General.
[Page 48]And both their gowns together quit,
This beauteous day sign with a Chalky smit:
Let vast Wine-rundlets freely spout,
And Salian like incessant skip about,
Nor more let soaking Dam'lis bouze,
Than Bassus in a Thracian carrouze.
Let Roses, Parsley ever green,
And fading Lillies much at feasts be seen.
All shall their eyes with Lust infested
On Dam'lis cast, nor Dam'lis be wrested
From her new Paramour, who combine
Closer than any amorous Ivies twine.
ODE XXXVII. By Sir T. H. To his Companions.
Whom he exhorteth to be merry upon the Newes of the Actiaque victory.
NOw let us drink, now dance (Companions) now,
Let's Salian banquets to the Gods allow.
It might before this time be thought a sin,
To broach old Caecube wines, whilst the mad Queen
Prepar'd the ruine, and disastrous fall,
Both of the Empire and the Capitoll,
With her [...]cabb'd Troop of men effeminate,
Proud with vast hopes, & drunk with prosp'rous state:
But the scarce safety of one ship from fire
Less'ned [...]er fury, whilst great Caesars ire
To real fears enforc'd her to resign
Her minde enrag'd with Mareotique wine,
[Page 49]He pressed with swift vessels to enchain
This monster, flying Italy amain:
As Hawk the fearful Dove, or Hunter swift
Pursues the Hare th'row Aemon's snowie drift:
Whilst she, that she might die the nobler way,
Did neither as a woman fear the ray
Of brandish'd sword, nor laboured to flie,
With speedy flight in secret nooks to lie:
But with an eye serene, and courage bold,
Durst her dejected Palaces behold,
Handle the hissi [...]g Adder and the Snake,
And in her body their black poyson take;
Made the more fierce by death determined,
She (Noble Spirit) scorned to be led
In hostile vessels, as a private thrall,
To fill proud triumphs with her wretched fall,
ODE XXXVIII. To his Servant,
Argument.
He wills his Servant, rooms be dre [...]
With Myrtle onely at his Feast,
Persicos odi.
SErvant, all Persian pomp disdain,
From Teyl-rinde pleated Crowns refrain▪
Cease further scrutiny where grows
The [...]ardy Rose,
[Page 50]For nothing but plain Myrtles care,
They most beseeming Servants are:
And for my self too, tipling laid
In Vine-tree shade.
The end of the First Book.
ODES. BOOK II.
ODE 1. By Sir R. F. To C. ASINIUS POLLIO.
He exhorts him to intermit a while his writing of Tragedies, until he have finisht his History of the Civil War of Rome; Then extolls that Work.
THE Civil War from the first seeds,
The Causes of it, Vices, Tides
Of various Chance, and our prime Lords
Fatal Alliance, and the Swords
Sheath'd, but not yet hung up, and oyl'd,
The Quarrels fully reconcil'd:
Thou writ'st a work of hazard great,
And walk'st on Embers in deceit [...]
Full Ashes rak't. Let thy severe
Tragical Muse a while fo [...] bear
[Page 52]The Stage: This publick Task then done,
Thy Buskins high again put on,
Afflicted Clients grand support
And light to the consulting Court:
Whom thy Dalmatick triumph crown'd
With deathless Bayes. Hark how the sound
Of thy brac'd Drums, awakes old fears,
Thy Trumpets tingle in our ears:
How clattering armes make the Horse shog,
And from the Horse-man's face the blood.
Now, now amidst the Common Heard
See the great Generals fight, besmear'd
With glorious dust: and quel'd the whole
World, but unconquer'd Cato's Soul!
Iuno, and whatsoever Gods,
To Affrick Friends, yielded to th'odds
Of Rome; the Victors Grandsons made
A Sacrifice to Iugurth's shade.
What Field, manur'd with Daunian blood
Shews not in Graves, our impious Feud,
And the loud crack of Latiums fall,
Heard to the Babylonian wall?
What lake, what river's ignorant
Of the sad war? what Sea with paint
Of Latine slaughter, is not red?
What land's not peopled with our dead?
But wanton Muse, least leaving Toyes,
Thou should'st turn Odes to Elegies,
Let us in Dioneian Cell
Seek matter for a lighter Quill.
ODE II. By Sir R. F. To C. SALUSTIUS CRISPUS.
First, he praises P. for his liberality to his brothers: Then shews, that he who can repress his appetite, and despise money, is onely a King, onely happy.
SAlust, thou enemy of gold,
Mettles, which th' earth hath hoarded, Mould,
Until with moderate exercise
Their colour rise.
No Age the name of Pontius smothers,
For being a Father to his Brothers:
Surviving Fame on towring wings
His bounty sings.
He that restrains his covetous soul,
Rules more, then if he should controul
Both Land and Sea; and adde a West-Indies to th' East.
The cruel Dropsie grows, self-nurst,
The thirst not quencht, till the cause first
Be purg'd the veins, and the faint humour
Which made the tumour.
Vertue, that reves what Fortune gave,
Calls crown'd Phraates his Wealth's slave,
And to the Common People teaches
More proper speeches.
Giving a Scepter, and sure Throne,
And unshar'd Palmes to him alone,
That (unconcerned) could behold
Mountains of Gold.
ODE III. By Sir R. F. To DELLIUS.
That the minde should not be cast down with adversity, [...] puft up with prosperity: But that we should live merrily, since the condition of dying is equal to all.
KEep still an equal minde, not sunk
With stormes of adverse chance, not drunk
With sweet Prosperitie,
O Dellius that must die,
Whether thou live still melancholy,
Or stretcht in a retired valley;
Make all thy howers merry
With bowls of choicest Sherrie.
Where the white Poplar and tall Pine,
Their hospitable shadow joyn,
And a soft purling brook,
With wrigling stream doth crook;
Bid hither Wines and Oyntments bring,
And the too short sweets of the Spring,
Whilst wealth and youth combine,
And the Fates give thee Line.
[Page 55]Thou must forgoe thy purchas'd seats,
Ev'n that which golden Tyber wets,
Thou must; and a glad Heir
Shall revel with thy care.
If thou be rich, born of the Race
Of antient Inachus, or base
Lieft in the street; all's one,
Impartial death spares none.
All go one way: shak'd is the pot,
And first or last comes forth thy lot,
The Pass, by which thou'rt sent
T' Eternal banishment.
ODE IV. By Sir R. F. To XANTHIA PHOCEUS.
That he need not be ashamed of being in love with a Serving-maid: for that the same had befaln many a Great Man.
TO love a Serving-Maid's no shame;
The white Briseis did enflame
Her Lord Achilles, and yet none
Was prouder known▪
Stout Telamonian Ajax prov'd
His Captives Slave; A [...]rides lov'd
In midst of all his Victories,
A Girl his prize:
[Page 56]When the Barbarian side went down,
And Hect [...]s death rendred the Town
Of Troy, more easie to be carried
By Grecians wearied.
Know'st thou from whom fair Phillis springs?
Thou may'st be son in law to Kings;
She mourns, as one depos'd by Fate
From regal state.
Believe 't she was not poorly born:
Phoceus, such Faith, so brave a scorn
Of tempting riches, could not come
From a base womb.
Her face, round armes, and every lim
I praise unsmit. Suspect not him,
On whose loves wild-fire Age doth throw
Its cooling Snow.
ODE V. Upon Lalage.
Argument.
Since beauteous Lalage's unfit
For Hymens rites, or Venus yet;
He will with Continency's reign,
All wild Concupisence restrain.
Nondum Subacta.
AS yet with neck subdu'd she cannot 'bide
The yoke, nor answer th' office of a bride;
Nor sustain the eagerful,
Fierce rushes of a pondrous bull.
[Page 57]Thy heifer 'bout the Verdant medows roves;
Sometimes in brooks t' allay her thirst she loves;
And sometimes she's much rejoyc'd
To sport with Calves 'mongst Sallows moyst.
Restrain all longing for Grapes immature:
Straight gaudie Autumn deckt in Purple pure.
Will to thee ripe clusters send,
Straight she thy foot-steps will attend.
For fleet-heel'd Time with rapid motion flows,
And years subtracted from thy date bestows
On her. Straight with brazen brow
Will Lalage a husband wooe.
More lov'd than Cloris, or nice Pholoe:
Her candid shoulders glittering, like the Sea
In the night with Moon-shine dy'd;
Or Gyges sprung from th' Isle of Cnide:
Whom if thou rank'st among the Virgin Fyle,
His scarce-spy'd differnce eas'ly might beguile
Quick-ey'd strangers, for his Grace
Of shev'led hair, and dubious face.
ODE VI. By Sir T. H. To SEPTIMIUS.
He wisheth Tybur and Tarentum may be the seal of hi [...] old age, whose sweetness he praiseth.
SEptimius, ready bent, with me
Rude Cantabers, or Gades to see,
And those inhospitable Quick-sands, where
The Moorish seas high billows rear.
That be the place of my last day:
May it my limit be, of ease
From journeys, warfare, and rough seas.
But if the Sister-Fates deny,
I'le to rich fleec'd Galesus hie,
And thence down to Tarentum stray,
Earst subject to Phalantus sway.
That tract of land best pleaseth me,
Where not Hymettia's full fraught Bee
Yields better honey, and where grow
Olives, that equal Venafro;
Where the middle air yields gentle frost,
And a long Spring-tide warms the coast,
And Aulon fertile in rich vines,
Envieth not Falernian wines.
That place, with all those fruitful hills,
Me with desire of thee fulfils:
There let thy due-paid tears descend
O're the warm ashes of thy friend.
ODE VII. To POMPEIUS VARUS.
Argument▪
He gratulates that Pompey scome
In safety to his Native home.
O saepe mecum.
O' Thou reduc't oft to extremest thrall
With me, when Brutus was our General;
Who to Latiums liberty,
And Rural Lars restored thee
Pompey my chief'st associate? with whom I
Oft many long-day drunk Wine copiously,
My bright hair with unguents fill'd,
From rich Malobathrum distill'd.
I with thee bare th' brunt of Philps Field,
And flying basely flung away my shield,
When those foil'd souldiers swell'd
With boasts, to blood-drencht earth were fell'd;
Pay Iove then thy vow'd Junckets, and repose
Thy limbs out-tir'd with warfare's tedious woes
Under my Bay-shroud, nor spare
What hogsheads for thee destin'd are.
Let polisht Goblets freely flow about,
With mem'ry-thralling Massick wines: teem out
Sweet Oyles from capacious cup:
Who strives to pleat a chaplet up
Of Mirtle, or moist Parsley? Who's the guest,
Venus-throw signs Controller of the feast?
I'le play Thracian: pleas'd amain
To rant, my friend return'd again.
ODE VIII. By Sir R. F. To BARINE.
That there is no reason why he should believe her when she swears: for the Gods revenge not the perjuries of hansome women.
IF any punishment did follow
Thy perjurie: if but a hollow
Tooth, or a speckled nail, thy vow
Should pass. But thou,
When thou hast bound thy head with slight
Untwisting oaths, are fairer by't:
And like a Comet spread'st thy rayes,
The publick gaze,
It boots thee to deceive the Ghost
Of thy dead Mother, and still boast
Of Heav'n with their eter [...] aboads,
And deathless gods.
Venus but laughs at what is done,
Her easie nymphs, and cruel son,
On bloodie whetstone grinding ever
His burning quiver.
New suitors daily are inrol'd,
New servants come, nor do the old
Forsake their impious Mistress dore,
Which they forswore.
Thee Mothers for their Fillies dread,
Thee gripple, Sires, and Wives new wed,
Least thy bewitching breath should fray
Their Lords away.
ODE IX. By Sir T. H. To VALGIUS.
That now at length he would desist to deplore his deceased Myste.
THe swelling Cloud, not alwayes powres
On rugged Fields, impetuous showres:
Nor Caspian Sea (Valgius belov'd)
With boystrous stormes, is ever mov'd:
Nor on Armenia's bordring shore,
Dull Isicles stand alwayes hore:
Or garden-groves with North-windes riv'd,
Or are Ash-trees of leaves depriv'd.
You still in mournful sort complain,
That death hath your dear Myste slain;
Your love sets not, if Vesper rise,
Nor when from Phoebus, Hesper flies:
But thrice-ag'd N [...]stor did not still,
Tears, for Antilochus distill:
Nor Parents, nor sad Sisters, ever
To wail young Troilus persever.
Cease then at length thy soft complant,
And in our songs, now let us paint
Great Caesars Trophies, and command,
And how conjoyn'd to conquer land,
The Median stream, and Nyphate strong,
In lesser channels run along,
And Gelons to less limits tide,
In far more straightned Fields do ride.
ODE X. By Sir R. F. TO LICINIUS.
That Mediocrity, and Equality of the Mind, in both Fortunes, are to be retained.
THe safest way of life, is neither
To tempt the Deeps, nor whilest foul weather
You fearfully avoid, too near
The shore to steer.
He that affects the Golden Mean,
Will neither want a house that's clean,
Nor swell unto the place of showres
His envy'd Towres:
The tempest doth more often shake
Huge Pines: and loftie Turrets take
The greatest falls: and Thunder lops
The mountain tops.
A mind which true proportion bears,
In adverse hopes, in prosperous fears
The other lot. Iove Winters brings,
And Ioves give Springs,
It may be well, if now 'tis ill:
Sometimes Apollo with his Quill,
Wakes his dull Harp, and doth not ever
Make use of's Quiver.
In boystrous Fortune ply thy Oar,
And using it stoutly to the shore;
Contract in too auspicious Gales
Thy swelling sails.
A Paraphrase on the same Ode, by S. W.
WOuld you a constant Fortune keep
Licinius? Trust not the false Deep;
And though black stormes begin to roar,
As little trust the shore.
The man who loves the golden mean,
Has his Herth neat, and house swept clean:
Below't, he envies not the Court,
Above 't, he cares not for't.
Winds oft'nest tear the lofty Pine,
While its low growth defends the Vine;
Huge Piles in greatest ruines fall,
And Thunder levels all.
A gallant brest hope [...] well at worst,
A change will come, though 't be long first;
And when 'tis come, he fears the best,
And dare not think of rest.
This Heav'n will teach us every year,
Winter has Summer in the rear;
And when the Ebbe doth run most low,
The Tide ere long will flow.
Though 'tis bad now, 'twill soon be spent,
Apollo's Bow 's not alwayes bent,
But sometimes he'l the Muse bid sing,
And touch a better string.
When Fates are cross, then courage show,
Be wise when gales more prosperous blow;
Strike sail, and put not too far out,
The Wind may turn about.
ODE XI. By Sir T. H. To QUINTUS HIRPINUS.
Cares laid aside, let us live merrily.
WHat the Cantalrian stout, or Scythian think,
Divided from us by rough Adria's brink,
(Quintus Hirpinus) do not thou enquire,
Nor for life's use, which little doth desire,
Be too solicitous. Sleek youth, apace
Hast's hence away, and with it beauties grace,
Dry-aged hoariness which furrows deep
Dispelling amorous fires, and gentle sleep.
The Summer Flowers keep not their Native grace▪
Nor shines the bright Moon, with a constant face.
Why dost thou vex thy minde, subordinate
Unto the counsels of Fernal Fate?
Why under this high Plain, or Pine-trees shade
In discomposed manner, careless laid
Anoint not we, and then to drink prepare?
Free Bacchus dissipates consuming care.
But (oh) what Boy Falernian wine's hot rage,
Will soon for me, with Fountain streams asswage?
Or, who will Lyde wish from close retire
Hlther to come? Boy, with her Ivory lire
[Page 65]Bid her make haste, and like Laconian maids
Tie her neglected hair in careless braids.
ODE XII. TO MAECENAS.
Argument.
Dire wars, and Tragick subjects, they
Incongruous are for Lyric lay.
Ly [...]m [...]ia's splendour Horace sings,
And such like amatorious things.
Nolis longa.
NOtedirous Wars on sierce Numantia's plain,
Nor hardy Hannibal, nor Scicilian main,
Purpled with Carthaginian blood, desire
Be warbled on soft Lyric wire:
Nor barbarous Lapiths, nor the liquor-swell'd
Hyleus, nor whom Alcides prowess quell'd,
That brood of earth, whose dismal terrour made
Ag'd Saturns glorious house afraid.
But thou (Maecenas) in the looser stile
Of an Historian, better canst compile
Great Caesars acts, and threatful Princes shown
Chain'd by the necks along the Town.
My Muse would treat of those melodious layes
Of thy dear Ladies, sweet Lycimnia's:
And of her clear refulgent eyes, and breast
With Flames of faithful love possest:
Whom neither dancing postures mis-became,
Nor jestful skirmish, nor in sportive game
[Page 66]Fair virgins with incircling armes t' inthral,
On famous Dians festival.
Would'st for the wealth rich Achaemenes ows,
Or all the riches fertile Phrygia shows,
Or th' Arabs houses which well furnisht are,
Exchange thy dear Lycimnia's hair?
While she for kisses wreaths her neck awry,
Or doth with gentle cruelty deny
What, then her love, she rather covets t'ane:
Straight she'l a [...]t [...]cipate again.
ODE XIII. By Sir R. F. To a Tree, by whose fall in his Sabine Villa, he was like to have been slain.
That no man can sufficiently understand what to avoid: From thence he slides into the praises of Sappho and Alcaeus.
A Planter with a ( [...]) was he
That with unhallowed hand set thee,
A trap for the succeeding race,
And ignominy of the place.
He might as well have hang'd his Sire,
Or practis'd all the Poysons dire
Medea temper'd, or have shed
His Guests blood sleeping in his bed:
Or if a worse crime may be found,
As to place thee upon my ground,
Unlucky wood; thee, stagg'ring trunk,
To brain thy Master when th'art drunk.
[Page 67]No man knows truly what to shun;
The Punick Sea-man fears to run
Upon some Shelf, but doth not dread
Another Fate over his head:
The Souldier, Shafts, and Parthian fight:
The Parthian chains and Roman might.
But Death had still, and still will have,
A thousand back-wayes to the grave.
How near was I Hells Jaundied Queen,
And Minos on the Bench t' have seen,
And the describ'd Elysian shades?
And Sappho, of her Countrey-maids
Complaining on Aeolian wire?
And the Alcaeus, with gold lyre
In fuller notes thundring a Fight,
Ratling a storm, fluttring a flight?
Both (worthy of a sacred pawse)
The pious Ghosts hear with applause:
But most the Fights, and Tyrants fears,
The shouldring throng drink with their ears.
What wonder, when th' infernal hound,
With three heads, listens to that sound:
The Furies snakes their curles unknit,
Nor finde revenge so sweet as [...]t.
'Tis Play-day too, with Pelop's sire,
And him that stole from heaven the fire.
Orion ev'n his hunting leaves,
And greater pleasure thence receives▪
ODE XIV. By Sir R. F. To POSTHUMUS.
That Death cannot be avoided.
AH Posthumus? the years of man
Slide on with winged pace, nor can
Vertue reprieve her friend
From wrinkles, age, and end.
Not, though thou bribe with daily blood
Stern Dis, who with the Stygian Flood
Doth Gerion surround,
And Titius Acres bound.
Sad Flood, which we must ferry all
That feed upon this earthly ball,
From the King to the poor
Beggar that howls at door.
In vain avoid we Mars's fury,
And breaking waves that kill and bury:
In vain the sickly falls,
Fruitful of funerals.
Visit we must the sootie shore
Of dull Cocytus, th' empry store
Of Daunus wicked stock.
And Sisyphs restless rock.
Thou must forgoe thy lands and goods,
And pleasing wife: Nor of thy woods
Shall any follow thee,
But the sad Cypress-tree.
Thy worthy heir shall then carowse
Thy hoarded wines, and wash the house
[Page 69]With better Sack, then that
Which makes the Abbots fat.
A Paraphrase on the same Ode, by S. W.
1.
Time (Posthumus) goes with full sail,
Nor can thy honest heart avail
A furrow'd brow, old age at hand,
Or Death unconquer'd to withstand:
One long night,
Shall hide this light
From all our sight,
And equal Death
Shall few dayes hence, stop every breath.
2.
Though thou whole Hecatomb's should'st bring
In honour of th' Infernal King,
Who Geryon and Tytio bold,
In chaines of Stygian waves doth hold:
He'l not prize,
But more despise
Thy sacrifice:
Thou Death must feel,
'Tis so decre'd by the Fatal Wheel.
3.
The numerous Off-spring of the Earth,
That feed on her who gave them birth;
Each birth must have its funeral,
The Womb and Urn's alike to all:
[Page 70]Kings must die,
And as [...],
As thou or I;
And though they have
Atchievements here, there's none in th' Grave.
4.
In vain we bloody battles flie,
Or fear to sail when wines are high;
The Plague or an infectious breath,
When every hour brings a new Death.
Time will mowe
What e're we sow;
Both weal and woe
Shall have an end,
And this th' unwilling Fates must send.
5.
Cocytus lake thou must waft o're,
Thy totter'd boat shall touch that shore;
Thou Sisypus ere long must know,
And into new acquaintance grow:
Shalt with life,
Leave house and wife,
Thy loves and strife,
And have no tree,
But the sad Cypress follow thee.
6.
Mean while thy heir shall nobly quaffe,
What thou with hundred locks kept't safe,
Caecuhan wines, and wash the Flore
With juice would make an Emperor rore:
[Page 71]'Twill be thy lot,
Question it not,
To be forgot
With all thy deeds,
E're he puts on his Mourning weeds.
ODE XV. By Sir R. F. Against the Luxury of his Age.
OUr Princely piles will shortly leave
But little lands for ploughs to cleave;
Ponds out-stretch Lucrine shores,
Unmarried Sycamores
Supplant the Elmes. The Vi'let, Rose,
With all the junkets of the Nose,
Perfume the Olive-yards,
Which fed their former Lords:
And Daphne twists her limbs to shun
Tne sons rude Courtship. Not so done
By Cato's Precedent,
And the old Regiment.
Great was the Commonwealth alone,
The private small. No wide Balcon
Measur'd with private square
Gap'd for the Norths cool air.
Nor the next turf might men reject;
Bid at the Publick Charge t' erect
Temples and Towns, alone,
Of beautiful new stone.
ODE XVI. By Sir R. F. To GROSPHUS.
That tranquillity of the mind is wisht by all: But that the same is not purchased by heaping up Riches, or obtaining Honours, but by bridling the desires.
QUiet! the trembling Merchant cries,
Into Egean seas driven far;
When the Moon winks, and he descries
No guiding st [...].
Quiet! in War the T [...]raian bold;
Quiet! the Medes with quivers dight;
Not to be bought with gems, nor gold,
Nor purple bright.
For 'tis not wealth, nor armed troops,
Can tumults of the mind remove,
And cares, which about fretted roofs
Hover above.
His little's much, whose thrifty board
Slunes with a salt that was his sires:
W [...]ose easie sleeps nor fears disturb,
Nor base desires.
Why in short life eternal care?
Why changing for another Sun?
Who, having shun'd his Native air,
Himself could shun?
Take horse, rude Care will ride behind;
Embarque, unto thy ship she crouds:
Fl [...]ter them Stags, and the East-wind
Chasing the Clouds,
[Page 73]Let minds of any joy possest,
Sweeten with that whatever gall
Is mixt: No soul that ere was blest,
Was blest in all.
The fam'd Achilles timeless dy'd,
Old Tyth [...]n did his bliss out-live,
And Chance, what she to thee deny'd,
To me may give.
A hundred flocks about thee bleat,
And fair Sicilian heifers low;
To thee large neighing Mares curvete:
In scarlet thou,
Twice-dipt, are clad. Indulgent fate
Gave me a Graunge; a versing vein;
A heart which (injur'd) cannot hate,
But can disdain.
ODE XVII. by Sir R. F. To MAECENAS sick.
That he will not live after him.
WHy dost thou talk of dying so?
Neither the Gods, nor I'm content,
Maecenas, that thou first shouldst go,
My Pillar and great Ornament.
If thee, the one half of my soul,
A riper fate snatch hence: alas!
What should I stay for, neither whole,
And but the dregs of what I was?
[Page 74]That day shall end us both: Come, come,
I've sworn't; and will not break it neither:
March when thou wilt to thy long home,
That journey we will make together.
Chimaera's flames, nor (were he rise
Again) Briareus hundred hands,
Should keep me back. 'Tis justice, this:
And in the Book of fate it stands.
Were I or under Libra born,
Or Scorpio my ascendant be
With grim aspect, or Capricorn
(The Tyrant of the Latian sea:)
Our stars do wondrously consent.
Benigner Iove repriev'd thy breath
When Saturn was malevolent,
And clipt the hasty wings of Death,
In frequent Theater when thee
Thrice the rejoycing people clapt,
A falling Trunk had brained me,
Between if Faunus had not slept,
The guardian of Mercurial men.
Pay thou an ample sacrifice,
And build the Chappel thou vowd'st then;
For me an humble Lamkin dies.
ODE XVIII. By Sir T. H.
He affirmeth himself to be contented with a little, while others are wholly addicted to their desires, and increase of riches, as if they should alwayes live.
NO guided roof, nor Ivory Fret,
For splendor in my house is set;
Nor are beams from Hymettia sought,
To lie a-thwart rich Colmns, brought
From Africk; nor I heir unkown,
Make Attalus his wealth, mine own.
No honest Tenants wives you see,
Laconian purples weave for me:
A loyal heart, and ready vain
Of wit I have, which doth constrain
Rome's richest men to seek the love
Of me, though poor: Nor gods above
Doe I invoke for larger store;
Nor of Maecenas ask I more.
To me my single Sabine field,
Sufficient happiness doth yield.
One day thrusts on another fast,
And new Moons to the wane do hast.
When Death (perhaps) is neer at hand,
Thou fairest Marbles dost command
Be cut for use, yet dost neglect
Thy grave, and houses still erect:
Nay would'st abridge the vast Seas shore,
Which loudly doth at Baiae rore:
Enriched little, less content,
With limits of the Continent.
[Page 76]Why often pull'st thou up the bounds,
T' enlarge the circuit of thy grounds,
Encroaching far from Confines known,
To make the neigbouring field thine own?
The husband, wife, and sordid brood,
With antient houshold gods, that stood
In quiet peace, must be expell'd:
Yet is not any Mansion held
For the rich Land-lord, so assur'd,
As deep in Hell to be immur'd.
Then whither do you further tend?
Th' indiffrent earth an equal friend,
As willingly opens her womb,
For Beggars grave, as Princes tomb.
Gold could of Charon not obtain,
To bear Prometheus back again.
Proud Tantalus, and all his stock,
Death, with the bands of fate doth lock:
And call'd, or not call'd ready stands,
To free the poor from painful bands.
ODE XIX. Upon BACCHUS.
Argument.
He fill'd with Bacchus power, assayes
T' ebuccinate his fame and praise.
Bacchum in remotis.
ON Rocks remote I Bacchus chanc'd t'espy,
Teach verse (ô trust me ye posterity)
Listning Nymphs, and Satyrs there
With Goat-feet, and erected ear.
My heart appall'd with sudden horror, I,
Of Bacchus full, shout Evohe on high:
Forbear Liber, ô forbear,
So dreadful for thy horrid spear.
I may have stubborn Thyads for my theam,
A fount of Wine, and rivers running Cream,
Chaunt again how honey drils,
And from the hollow stem distils,
I thy blest consorts glorious constellation,
I Pentheus Palace brought to desolation,
I may sing the dismal fate
Of Thracian Lycurgus state.
Thou turn'st Rivers, and the Indian Main,
Thou (soak'd with wine) on distant mountains l [...]'ne,
Do'st Thrace womens tresses plait
In V [...]per-wreaths without deceit:
Thou, when those impious Gyants climb'd on high,
To Ioves Court Royal through the boundless sky,
[Page 78]Flung'st down Rhaecus with the claws
Of Leo, and his horrid jaws:
Although more prone to dances, sports, and playes
Thou wert esteem'd, nor fit for Martial frayes:
Yet did either war or peace
Indifferently thy genius please.
At thee gold-horn'd, F [...]end Cerberus did look
With harmless eye, and fawningly he shook
His tail, and with triple-head
Thy feet toucht, when thou didst recede.
ODE XX. By Sir T. H.
HORACE turned into a Swan, will fly all ever the world, whence he promiseth the immortality of hi [...] Poesie.
A Two-fold Poet, through the liquid skie,
I with a strong unusual wing will flie:
No longer shall I of the Earth partake,
But out of Envies reach the World forsake.
I am not issued of ignoble strain,
Nor whom Maecenas pleaseth to retain
Under the title of belov'd shall die,
Or in the Stygian lake forgotten lie.
Now, now, upon my legs a rugged skin
Is over-spread, and I a Swan am seen
Upward transform'd; a light and downie plume,
My fingers, and wing'd shoulders now assume.
And now a shrill-tune Bird become, Ile soar
And much more swift then Icarus, explore
[Page 79]The Lybian Syrtes, and the murmuring sand
Of Bosphor straights, and Hyperborean land.
Me, Colchos, and the Dacian, who doth faign
Fear of the Marsian's armes shall entertain,
Gelons remote, and they who on the brink
Of I [...]er dwell, or Rhodanus do drink.
Banish from my thin Hearce your fun'ral mones,
Your ill bemoaning tears, complaints, and groans:
Clamour forbear, or fondly to confer
The needless honour of a Sepulcher.
The end of the second Book.
ODES. BOOK III.
ODE I. By Sir R. F.
That a happy man is not made by Riches or Honours, but by tranquillity of the minde.
I Hate lay-Vulgar: make no noise,
Room for a Priest of Helicon:
I sing to noble Girls and Boyes
Such verses as were never known.
Fear'd Kings command on their own Ground;
The King commanding Kings is Iove:
Whose Arme the Giants did confound,
Whose aweful brow doth all things move.
One man may be a greater Lord
Of land then other: this may show
A nobler Pedegree: a third
In parts and fame may both out-go:
[Page 81]A fourth in Clients out-vie all.
Necessity in a vast Pot
Shuffling the names of great and small,
Draws every one's impartial lot.
Over whose head hangs a drawn sword,
Him cannot please a Royal feast:
Nor melody of lute or bird,
Give to his eyes their wonted rest.
Sleep, gentle sleep, scorns not the poor
Abiding of the Plough-man: loves
By sides of Rivers shades obscure:
And rockt with West-windes, Tempe Groves;
That man to whom enough's enough,
Nor raging seas trouble his head,
Nor fell Arcturus setting rough,
Nor fury of the rising Kid:
Not hail-smit Vines and years of Dearth;
Sometimes the too much wet in fault,
Sometimes the stars that broil the earth,
Sometimes the Winter that was nought.
The Fish fear stifling in the sea,
Damm'd up. The Master-builder and
H's men, the Land-sick Lord too, he
Throws rubbish in with his own hand.
But fear and dangers haunt the Lord
Into all places: and black Care
Behind him rides: or, if on board
A ship, 'tis his companion there.
If Marble keep not Feavers out,
Nor purple rayment help the blind,
Nor Persian Oyntments cure the gout▪
Nor Massick Wines a troubled mind:
[Page 82]With envied posts in fashion strange
Why should I raise a stately pile?
My Sabine vale why should I change
For wealth accompani'd with toyl?
ODE II. By Sir T. H. To his Friends.
Boyes are to be enured from their tender age, to poverty, warfare, and painful life.
LEt th'able youth, himself enure
By sharp wars raught, want to endure:
And mounted on his horse, with spear,
Confront bold P [...]rthians, free, from fear:
Let him expos'd to open air,
Live, and attempt the hard'st affair:
Whom when some warlike Tyrants Queen,
Or Virgin-marriage ripe hath seen,
Afar from hostile walls, may cry
With sighs, which from sad passion flie;
O, that my Royal Lord, untrain'd
In Martial feats, would be restrain'd,
Not by fierce Combats fatal stroke,
That wrathful Lion to provoke,
Whom bloody Anger's direful rage,
In thickest slaughters doth engage.
It is a sweet, and noble gain,
In Countreys quarrel to be slain▪
[Page 83]Death the swift flying man pursues
With ready steps: Nor doth he use
To spare from unavoided wrack,
Youths supple hams, or fearful back,
Vertue, that ne're repulse admits,
In taintless honours, glorious sits,
Nor takes, or leaveth Dignities,
Rais'd with the noise of vulgar cries.
Vertue (to worth Heav'n opening wide)
Dauntless, breaks through wayes deny'd.
And (taught) the Rabble to despise,
Forsaking earth to heaven flies,
Yea trusty silence is not barr'd,
From having a deserv'd reward.
He, who to blab the holy Rites
Of secret Ceres phane delights,
Under the same roof shall not be,
Nor in frail Vessel sail with me.
Oft Iove neglected makes the just
To smart with those are stain'd with lust▪
Seldome Revenge, though slow of pace,
Leaves ill fore-going men to trace.
ODE III. By Sir R. F.
A Speech of Inno at the Council of the Gods, concerning the ending of the war of Troy, and the beginning which the Roman Empire should take from the Trojans.
AN honest and resolved man,
Neither a peoples tumults can,
[Page 84]Neither a Tyrants indignation,
Un-center from his fast foundation;
Nor storms that from the bottome move
The Adrian sea, nor thundring Iove:
If the crackt Orbes would split and fall,
Crush him they would, but not appall.
Pollux, and wandring Hercules,
Gain'd Heaven by such wayes as these:
'Mongst whom Augustus, leaning, sips
Immortal Nectar with red lips.
This way deserving Bacchus clomb
The high Olympus, with his own
Tam'd Tygers, which Ambrosia feed,
And Romulus on Mars his steed:
Pleas'd Iuno speaking a good word
On his behalf, at Council-board.
Troy, Troy, (through mine, and Pallas grudge)
A fatal and adultrous Iudge,
And forraign woman overthrew,
With its false King and damned Crew,
Because Laomedon forsook
The Gods, and brake the Oath he took.
The Spartan Strumpets famous guest
Is now no more jewell'd and drest:
No more doth Priams Perjur'd house
Resist bold Greeks by Hectors prowes:
And wars, which I inflam'd, are done;
My wrath then, and the Trojan Nun
's Abhorr'd Off-spring, here I give
To his father Mars that he should live
In bowres of light, suck Nectar-bowls,
And be transcrib'd into the rolls
Of quiet Gods, I will abide.
So long as spacious seas divide
On Priamus and Paris breasts
Insult, and (undisturb'd) the wild
Whelp in their tombes; let the exil'd
Reign great in any other land:
The Capitol refu'gent stand;
And awful Rome with seven proud heads
Give Laws to the triumphed Medes:
Rouzing her self, left her extend
Her dreadful name to the worlds end;
Where mid-land seas part Africks soyl
From Europe, to the floods of Nyle;
More valiant to despise hid gold,
(Which wisely Nature did with-hold)
Then force it to mans use, by sack
Of Temples, or by Natures wrack.
Whatever corner would impeach
Her progress, that, let her Sword reach:
Visit the stores of snow and hail,
And where excessive heats prevail.
Yet warlike Romans destiny,
On this condition I decree,
That they (too pious, and grown high)
Shall not re-build their Mother Troy.
VVith Troy! Troy's fate shall be reviv'd,
And all her ominous birds retriv'd,
VVhen second wars our self will move,
The Sister and the VVife of Jove.
If Phoebus harp a Brasen wall
Should thriee erect, thrice it should fall
(Raz'd by my Greeks) the wife, in chain,
Thrice mourn her sons and husband slain.
But whether saucy Muse? These things
Agree not with the Lutes soft strings.
[Page 86]The words of gods cease to repeat,
And with small voice matters so great.
ODE IV. By Sir R. F.
The Poet saith, That he hath been delivered from many dangers by the help of the Muses; And that it hath gone ill with all who have attempted any thing against the Gods.
DEscend Thalia with a song
From Heaven; my Queen, I'de have it long
To the shril pipe or to the flute,
The viol or Apollo's lute.
Do 'st hear? or do I sweetly rave?
I hear in yonder trees, which wave,
Thy rustling robe, and in that spring
The tuning of thy silver string.
Me, am'rous turtles (Poets theam)
As by my native Aufids stream,
A child opprest with sleep and play,
Under a Mountain side I lay,
Fearless (for what hath he to fear,
Who from his birth was Heavens care?)
With sacred Bayes and Mirtle boughs,
On which no Beast did ever browse,
Covered, least Snake or ugly Bear,
Should do me hurt as I slept there;
Which set the neighb' ring Fields at gaze,
As wondring what should be the cause.
[Page 87]Whether I mount the Sabine hill,
Or with cold springs Preneste chill,
Or me the healing Bath allures;
Where ere I am: Muses, I'me yours.
Friend to your springs, with your songs rapt,
At lost Philippi Field scap't;
The fall of my own cursed Tree,
And shipwrack in Sicilian Sea.
Go you with me, I'le (dreadless) try
The Bosphorus that threats the skie,
And (travelling) defie the thirsty
Syrian sands to do their worst.
Visit the Brittains, fierce to strangers,
The horse-fed Thracians bloody mangers,
The Scythians, whom no Sun doth warm,
And none of them shall do me harm.
Great Caesar, you with Martrial toil
Tir'd out, and glad to breath a while
In Winter quarters with his men,
Refresh in the Pierian Den.
You give him mild advice; And well
From you he takes it. We can tell,
The Giants selves for all their troop
Of monstrous Bulkes, were Thunder-strook
By him that towns, and dreary ghosts,
Immortal Gods, and mortal hoasts,
The stupid Earth, and restless Main,
Doth govern with one equal raign.
The horrid band and brotherhood,
Who (whilst upon their terms they stood)
Pelion to heap on Ossa strove,
Gave not a little care to Iove.
But what could Mimas, and the strong
Typhaeus, what Porphyrion long,
[Page 88]What Rhaecus, and with hurled trunk
(Torn up by th'roots) the fury-drunk
Enceladus, rushing against
Minerva's ringing shield advanc't?
Here the devouring Vulcan stood,
There Matron Iuno, and the god
That never layes his Quiver by,
Bathes in pure dews of Castaly
His dangling locks, haunts Delian woods,
Patros, and Rhodes, and Xanthus floods.
Uncounsil'd force with his own weight
Is crusht; a force that's temperate
Heaven it self helps: and hates no less
Strength that provokes to wickedness.
This truth Orion understands,
And Gyges with the hundred hands:
He, purposing chast Dians Rape,
Could not her Virgin-arrows scape.
The Earth on her own Monsters thrown,
(Thundred to endless night) doth grone
Over her sons: Aetna doth rore,
Burning, and not consum'd. No more
Can Tytiu's heart in Vulters claw,
Or wast it self, or fill her Mawe.
Offended Proserpine restrains
Perithous in three hundred chains.
ODE V. By Sir R. F.
The praises of Augustus, the dishonour of Crassus, the constancy of Regulus, and his return to the Carthaginians.
JOve governs Heaven with his nod:
Augustus is the earthlie God;
Bold Brittains to the Empire bow'd,
And Persians, with late trophies proud.
Could Crassus souldier lead his life
Yoakt basely with a barbarous wife?
And with Foe Father-in-law grow gray
In Armes, under a Medians pay!
(O fathers! and degenerate shame!)
His blood forgotten and his name,
Eternal Vesta, and the Gown,
Whilest there was yet a Iove, and Rome!
This fear'd wise Regulus his mind,
And so the base Accord declin'd,
Weighing the consequence, unless
The Captive Youth dy'd pitiless.
I saw (quoth he) our Ensigns stuck
In Punick fanes, without a stroke
Souldiers disarm'd, Citizens
Their free hands bound behind with chaines.
And the Ports open, and that field
Which Romans had incampt on, till'd.
All this I saw. Redeem'd with gold
They'l grow, belike, in fight more bold.
Buy not iniquity. As stain
White wooll 'twill never white again:
[Page 90]So, if true Vertue fall, despair
To stop her till the lowest stair.
A Hind out of the Tramels free,
And make her fight, then so will he
That rendred to a faithless foe,
And Carthaginians overthrow
In second War; That tamely took
The lash, and (Death but named) shook.
Why these (forgetting whence they came)
Confounded war with peace, O shame!
Great Carthage! thou hast overcome
The vertue (more then troops) of Rome.
His chast wife's kiss, and his small fry
Of Babes, he's said to have put by,
(As being a slave) and not t'have took
From Earth his stern and manly look:
Till he th' unwilling Senate brought
To vote the thing that he had sought:
Then through his weeping friends he went
Into a glorious banishment.
Though well he knew what torments were
Ready prepared for him there
By Barbrous men. Yet brake through all
His Kindred, and the crouded Hall
To beg of him he would not go,
No otherwise then he would do
From Clyents swarms, after the end
Of a long Term, going to spend
In sweet Campania the Vacation,
And give his mind some Relaxation.
ODE VI. By Sir T. H. To the Romans.
Of the corrupt manners of that Age.
ROman, resolve, thou shalt desertless taste
Sins scourge, for Vice of Predecessor past,
Until thou do'st again repair
Decaied Temples, and make fair
The falling houses of the Gods disgrac'd,
And cleanse their images, with smoak defac'd.
To think thee less than Gods, thy power commends;
Hence take beginnings, hither aim thy ends.
The Gods neglected, many woes
On Italy distressed, throws.
Twice Pacorus, and twice Moneses hand,
Our inauspicious armed troops disband:
Who with a plentious prey made glad,
To little chains more links do adde.
The Dacian and the Ethiop fierce in wars,
Hath almost raz't the City, rent with jars:
One with his Navy formidable,
With darts the other better able.
This age in vice abounding, first begins
Chast stocks, and Nuptials to pollute with sins;
The woes which from this fountain flow,
People, and Countrey over-throw.
The Maid for marriage ripe, much joyes to learn
Ionick dances, and can well discern
With art to sain, and quickly prove,
The pleasures of unlawful love.
[Page 92]Straight made a wife, in midd'st of husbands cups,
She with young Gallants and Adult'rers sups;
Nor cares to whom she yields by stealth,
(When lights are out) loves lawless wealth.
But ask'd doth rise, her knowing husband by,
To prostitute her marriage-modesty;
At Factors call, or Pilots hire,
Of lustf [...]l shame, a costly buyer.
That youth came not from such Fore-fathers strain,
Who did the sea with Punick blood distain:
Not by such hands did Pyrrhus fall,
Antiochus, nor Hannibal.
But in those dayes a brave and manly race
Of rustick souldiers lived in this place,
Well skill'd in Plough and Sabine Spade,
And so to strict obedience made,
That if sharp Mothers bade, at their return
They on their shoulders brought logs hew'd to burn,
When Phoebus changed had the mountains shade,
And weary unyoak'd Oxen homeward made,
And that night gave their toil dispense,
Chasing the Suns bright chariot hence.
What wasteth not with Times devouring rage?
Our fathers life, much worse than Grandsires age,
Sees us more wicked, to produce
An Off-spring fuller of abuse.
ODE VII. By Sir R. F. To ASTERIE.
He comforts her, being sad and solicitous for the absence of her husband.
ASterie, Why dost thou mourn
For Gyges, shortly to return
On wings of Vernal air,
Rich in Sicilian War?
More rich in faith. He by a blast
After long stormes, on Epire cast
His Widow'd nights, steeps there
In many a watchful tear.
Yet Chloe's subtil messenger,
Shewing what sighs it pulls from her,
Whilest in thy Flame she fries,
A thousand wayes him tries.
She tells how the false Woman wrought
On credulous Pretus, till she brought
A cruel death upon
Too chaste Bellerophon.
Of Peleus near his fatal hour,
Whilest he shuns love, that's arm'd with power:
And (cunning) rakes from dust
All precedents for lust.
In vain: For deaf as Rocks to prayer,
He's yet unmov'd. But take thou care
Enipeus at next door
Do not thy love procure.
Though none with better skill be seen
To weild a Horse in Mars his green;
[Page 94]Nor with more active limbs
In Tyburs Channel swims.
Shut to thy gate before it darken,
Nor to his whining Musick hearken:
And though he still complain
Thou'rt hard, still hard remain.
ODE VIII. To MAECENAS.
Argument.
No reason that Maecenas should
It for an admiration hold,
He should Mars Calends celebrate,
Although he live in single state.
Martiis coelebs.
HOw I a Batch'lour spend my hours
On Mars his Calends, what mean flowers▪
And Incense-bolls, and coals on green
Turf-altars seen,
Th'admir'st, O thou profoundly skill'd
In either tongue. I almost kill'd
With falling tree, sweet Cates devote,
And white He-goat.
He yearly on this very day
Will fling the Rosin'd Can away,
To soak Wine, old as Tullus date
Of consulate.
Maecenas bouze the hundreth Cup
To thy friends health; Night-lamps set up
Upon fair day; from hence retire
All noise and ire.
Let pass all civil cares for Rome,
For Dacian Cottison's o'rcome:
Now Scyths with Bow unbended yield,
And quit the Field.
Heed not though Vulgars toil sustain;
Though private, publick care refrain,
And using what time present brings,
Shun serious things.
ODE IX. By Sir. R. F. A Dialogue of Love and Jealousie, betwixt Horace and Lydia.
Hor.
WHilst I possest thy love, free from alarms,
Nor any Youth more acceptable arms
About thy Alablaster neck did fling,
I liv'd more happy then the Persian King.
Lyd.
Whilst thou ador'st not more another face,
Nor unto Chloe Lydia gave place;
[Page 96]I Lydia, soaring on the wings of Fame,
Eclipst the Roman Ilia with my name.
Hor.
Me, Thracian Chloe now, rules absolute,
Skill'd in sweet Layes, and peerless at her Lute:
For whom to die I would not be afraid,
If Fates would spare me the surviving Maid.
Lyd.
Me, Calys, rich Ornitho's heir, doth scorch
With a reciprocal and equal torch:
For whom I would endure to die twice over,
If Fates would spare me my surviving Lover.
Hor.
What if old Venus should her Doves revoke;
And curb us (stubborn) to her Bra [...]en yoke:
If bright-trest Chloe I would henceforth hate,
And to excluded Lydia ope the Gate?
Lyd.
Though he be fairer then the Morning-star;
Thou, lighter then a Cork, and madder far
Then the vext Ocean, when it threats the Skie,
With thee I'de gladly live, I'de willing die.
A Paraphrase on the same Ode, by J. W. Esq.
Hor.
WHilest I alone was dear to thee,
And onely chief in thy embrace,
No Persian King liv'd life to me,
Or half so blest or happy was.
Lyd.
Till thy love roul'd, and did prefer
Chloes new face, 'fore Lydia,
In fame, I (far surpassing her)
Was greater than Romes Ilia.
Hor.
Chloes the Saint I pray to now,
Sweetly she sings, and playes o'th' Lute▪
For whom, would Destiny allow,
My life should be a substitute.
Lyd.
[Page 97]The same's young Calais (Orthniu's heir)
To me, for whom I should be glad
If I might die, though twice it were,
Would the same Fates but spare the Lad▪
Hor.
But say! if as before I burn?
Say I once more put on my chain?
Chloe shak'd off, and I return
To my first Lydia again?
Lyd.
Though he's more glorious then a Star,
Thou then a Cork more fickle be,
Or pettish then the Sea, I swear
Once more to live and die with thee.
ODE X. Against LYCE.
Argument.
Harsh Lyce Advertised here
She would hard-heartedness forbear▪
And some commiseration grant
To him, her humble supplicant▪
Extremum Tanaim.
LYce hadst drunk of remote Tanais tide,
Or to some Barbarous Scythian been a bride;
Yet, me prostrate before thy doors, thou should
Bewail t'expose to Northern cold.
[Page 98]Hear'st how the Gates crack? how the woods resound
'Mongst beauteous structures placed all around?
And how the air conglaciates the snow,
When all the Heavens serenely show?
All pride ingrateful unto Lovers shun:
Least Fortunes wheel should retrogradely run.
No Tyrrhene father hath begotten thee
O [...] hard-to-wo Penelope.
Although with thee nor Gifts, nor prayers avail,
Nor Lovers violet tinctures mixt with pale,
Nor thy Mate Love-struck with Pierian whore;
O spare thy suppliants I implore:
Thou more relentless than a rigid tree,
And Maurian Serpents not so cruel be,
My tender sides not alwayes can sustain
At thy hard doors down-syling rain.
ODE XI. By Sir R. F. To MERCURY.
That he would dictate to him a song, wherewith to bend Lyde. The Fable of Danaus Daughters.
O Mercury (for taught by [...]ou
Deaf stones by th'ears Amphion drew)
And Shell, whose hollow Belly [...]
[...] seven strings.
Once mute and graceless, now the tongue
Of Feasts and Temples: lend me a song
To thrid the maze of Lyde's prayer
Resisting ear.
Who like a three years Colt doth fetch
A hundred rings, and's hard to catch;
Free from a husband, and not fit
For backing yet.
Thou mak'st stiffe Forrests march, retreat
Prone rivers: Cerberus the great
Porter of Hell to thee gave way,
Stroak'd with a Lay▪
Though with a hundred Snakes he curl
His head, and from his nostrils hurl
A filthy stream, which all bedrops
His triple chops.
Ixion too with a forc't smile
Did grin. The tubs stood dry a while,
Whilest with thy Musick thou didst please
The Belides.
Tell Lyde that; that Virgin-slaughter,
And famous torment, the vain water
Coozning their Urnes through thousand drains,
And Posthume pains.
For cruel Maids laid up in store,
Cruel. For what could they do more,
That could with unrelenting steel
Their Lovers kill?
One onely worthy Hymens flame,
And worthy of immortal Fame,
Her perjur'd father (pious child)
Bravely beguil'd:
Who said to her young Husband; Wake,
Least an Eternal sleep thou take,
Whence least thoo look'st: deceive my Sire,
And Sisters dire:
Who like so many Tygers tear
(Alas!) the prey: I (tenderer)
Will neither slay, nor keep thee thus
I'th Slaughter-house.
Me let my Savage father chain,
Because my Husband is unflain,
Or into farthest Africa
Ship me away.
By Land or Sea take thou thy flight,
Cover'd with wings of Love and Night:
Go, go, and write when thou art safe
My Epitaph.
ODE XII. To NEOBULE.
Argument.
They live in miserable thrall
Whom no refreshments chear at all:
Stout Heber wounds with amorous dart
His Sweet-heart Neobule's heart.
Miserarum est.
THey'r wretched, who in love ne're recreate,
Nor with sweet Wines their maladies abate,
With fear of Uncles sharp reproof dismay'd.
Thy basket, Neobule, Cupid takes,
And Liparean Hebrus lustre makes
Thee leave thy web, and painful Pallas trade.
He than Bellephron can better ride
At hand-fights, foot-course still victorious try'd,
When his oyl'd limbs are bath'd in Tybers flood:
He cunning is to chase a roaming Hart,
O'r Champains, and transfix him with his dart,
And surprize Bores skult in the bushy wood.
ODE XIII. To the Fountain of Blandusia.
Argument.
He to Blandusia's Chrystal Spring
A Kid for Sacrifice will bring:
And doth the sweet delights recount,
Of that refriegerating Fount.
O fons Blandusiae.
BLandusian Spring, tralucenter than glass,
Worthy wine-offerings, deck'd with flowry grass,
I'le slay to thee to morn
A Kid crown'd with youthful horn,
Choosing his mate, and conflicts, all in vain:
For a lascivious Off-spring shall distain,
And file thy frigid flood
With mixture of Purple blood.
Thou'rt free from Dog-stars servent influence.
Thou do'st thy sweet refreshing streams dispence
To Bullocks tired out,
And Heards roving all about.
Ev'n thou shalt be a far-renowned Spring,
Whilest I of Rocks crown'd with the Ilex sing:
Whence the loud waters rush
Down head-long with vi'lent gush.
ODE XIV. By Sir T. H. To the Roman people.
This Ode containeth the praises of Augustus returning out of Spain, after his Conquest over the Cantabrians.
GReat Caesar who is said to go,
Like Hercules against his foe,
To purchase Bayes by death, again
Victorious is return'd from Spain.
The Wife that's with one husband pleas'd,
Let her come forth, the Gods appeas'd.
Octavia, Caesars Sister, haste,
And mothers with your daughters chaste.
Attir'd in modest veil appear,
And sons returned safe draw neer:
You Boyes, and you now married train
Of wives from evil words abstain.
From me this new made Holy-day
Black sullen cares shall take away:
Nor fear I in great Caesars reign
By force or tumult to be slain.
(Boy) crowns, and unguents now prepare,
And vessel kept, since Marsian war,
If any such conceal'd hath been
By wandring Sportacus not seen.
Let hither shrill Neaera hie,
And hair perfum'd in tresses tie:
But if the Porter make delay
With churlish answer, haste away.
White hoary hairs temper the mind,
To brawls, and quarrels earst inclin'd:
This in youths heat I could not brook,
When Plancus charge of Consul took.
ODE XV. Against CHLORIS.
Argument.
That Chloris (now well stept in Age)
Should Lust and Wantonness asswage.
Uxor pauperis.
AT length, poor Ibicu's wife,
Affix a period to thy vicious life,
And unto thy reproachful trade.
And now that Death so near approach hath made,
'Mongst Maids leave playing, nor enshroud
Those fulgent stars with thy obscuring cloud.
Nor Chloris think that seemeth thee,
Which gracefully becomes thy Pholoe.
Thy daughter breaks ope young mens doors
Better, like Thyas rag'd when Tim [...]r [...]l rores:
[Page 105]Renown'd Luceria's Fleeces grace
The more when old, than any Lyric layes,
Or crowns with roses deckt about,
Or hogsheads to th' extreamest dregs drunk out.
ODE XVI. By Sir. R. F. To MAECENAS.
That all things fly open to Gold: Yet HORACE is contented with his own condition, in which he lives happy.
DAnae in Brazen Tower immur'd,
From night-adulterers, doors barr'd,
And of fierce dogs a constant ward
Would have sufficiently secur'd,
If Iove and Venus had not fool'd,
The Goaler of the cloyster'd Maid,
(Though of his own shadow afraid)
Turning his Godship into Gold.
Gold loves to break through armed Guards,
And Castles that are Thunder-proof,
The Grecian Augur's sacred roof
Was undermined by rewards.
Gifts were the Macedons Petar,
With which he blew up City-gates,
Subverted Rival Kings and States,
And laid aboard their Men of War.
[Page 106]With growing riches cares augment,
And thirst of greater. I did well
To shrink my head into my shell,
Maecenas Knight-hoods ornament.
The more a man t' himself denies,
The more indulgent Heaven bestowes.
Let them that will side with the I's:
I'me with the Party of the No's.
A greater Lord of a small store,
Then if the fruitful Crops of all
Appulia I mine own did call:
In midst of so much plenty poor.
My little wood, and my pure stream,
And corn that never fails; makes me
A man more truly blest, then he
That wears rich Africks Diadem.
Though neither Crossick Bees produce
Honey to me, nor cloathing fine
Segovian flocks: nor Massick wine
Mellow in barrels for my use:
Yet [...] Poverty's away.
Nor, wisht I more, wouldst thou deny't.
Who, with contracted appetite
May easier my tribute pay,
Then if deputed Egypts King.
Large issues follow large supplies.
He, to whom Heaven nothing denies,
Owes an account of every thing▪
ODE XVII. To AELIUS LAMIA.
Argument.
He Lamia's regal stem displayes
Forth in Encomiastic Layes:
Wills him his Genius to chear,
Against the presag'd storm appear.
Aeli, vetusto.
O Aelius, sprung from Lamus antient name,
From whose stem all precedent Lamias came,
And thy family and tribe,
Which nothing Registers describe:
Thou from his loyns draw'st thine original,
Who reigned first within the Formian wall,
And whose amply spread command
Raught Liris, laving Maric's strand.
An Eastern tempest shall with furious roar,
Fling leaves in woods, and leaves upon the shore:
If the aged Cow decry
A true presaging augury.
Lay, while thou canst, dry faggots on the fire:
With lushious Wine to morrow feed desire,
A Pig fat, and tender slay,
And let thy Hindes keep Holy-day.
ODE XVIII. By Sir T. H. To FAUNUS;
Who being an infernal pestilent VVood-god, he prayeth that passing thorow his Fields, he would be favourable to him and his.
FAunus, who after Nymphs dost range,
Through my precincts, and fruitful Graunge
Pass gently, and propitious be
To flocks, and me.
A tender Kid the year shall end,
Full Cups of Liquor (Venus friend)
We'l pay; Fumes shall on Altars flie
In odours high.
Beasts, when Decembers Nones appear
In grazy grounds make sportive chear:
The jocund Clown in Meads doth feast;
The Oxe doth rest.
The Wolf 'mongst frearless Lambs doth stray,
Woods strew thee leafs upon this day;
The Ditcher joyes with measur'd mirth
To tread the Earth.
ODE XIX. To TELEPHUS.
Argument.
At Telephus he scoffs, who whiles
He Histories obsolete compiles,
Of things which chiefly constitute
An happy life is wholly mute.
Quantum distat.
THe space 'twixt Inachus his reign,
And Codrus bravely for his Country slain,
And Aeacus his Kin, and fights
Fought under Sacred Ilium thou writes:
But of a Choan hogsheads price,
And who with fire cold water qualifies,
In whose house, and what hour t' allay
Pelignian cold, thou not one word dost say.
Boy, quick bring Cups for Cynthia's rise,
And for Mid-night, bring th' Augurs Cup likewise,
Murena's, and corrouze off Wine,
No less then three healths, no more then nine.
A Poet, who th' unequal Tribe.
Of Muses loves, let him nine Jugs imbibe.
The Graces with nak'd Sisters joyn'd,
Let them, for fear of brawlings, be confin'd,
And drink three Cups off, and no more;
O, how I love to frolick it, and roar!
[Page 110]Why sounds not still the Phrygian Flute?
Why Pipes and Harps permitted to be mute?
I parsimonious hands despise.
Strew Roses, and let out wild frantick noise
Arrive to envy'd Lycus ears,
And neighbour Maid unfit for Lycus years.
Mature-grown Chloe courts thee now,
Tel'phus grac'd with rank locks of comely shew,
And bright as radiant Vesper: I,
I wasting ardour for my Glyc'raes fry.
ODE XX. To PYRRHUS.
Argument.
How dangerous a thing 'twould prove
T'abstract Nearchus from his love.
Non vides quanto.
PYrrhus, how dang'rous 'tis, confess,
To take Whelps from a Lioness:
Straight thou scarr'd Ravisher wilt run,
When battel's done.
When she through crouds of youthful men
Shall to Nearchus turn again,
Great question 'tis who bears away
The greater pray.
As thou prepar'st thy speedy piles,
She whets her dreadful Tusks the whiles:
He (th' Umpire) trampled down, they say,
The Victors Bay.
And wafted his sweet shiveled hair
With gentle blasts: like Nireas fair,
Or Ganymede snatcht up from fountfull
Ida's Mount.
ODE XXI. To His VVine-vessel.
Argument.
He speaks t'his Rundiet to effuse,
For Corvine's sake, choice Massick juyce:
Thence takes occasion to define
The praises and effects of VVine.
O nata mecum.
KInd vessel, coaetaneous with my date,
Compos'd when Manlius bare the consulate,
Whether thou invite to weep,
Or jest, or brawl, or love or sleep,
Where'r mark thy choice Massick liquors hide,
Well-worthy broaching on some sacred Tide:
Now Corvinus thee injoyns,
Come down, and tap thy mellow Wines.
[Page 112]He, though well studied in Socratic books,
Contemns thee not with sour and rigid looks;
And grave Cato as is fam'd,
Was oft with Bacchus gift inflam'd.
Thou sometimes sett'st upon a gentle rack
Severe wits: Thou the wiser pates canst make
With thy mirth creating juyce,
Even all their secrets thought; effuse.
Thou dost the Forelorn with hope fortifie,
And mak'st the poor man lift his horns on high,
Who drunk, nor the Scepters fears
Of Kings incens'd, nor Souldiers spears.
For Bacchus, (Venus if in merry cue)
And graces loth to break the social Crew,
And lamps lighted, shalt thou run,
Till Stars decline the orient Sun.
ODE XXII. Upon DIANA.
Argument.
He Diana's offices relates,
To whom his Pine he dedicates.
Montium custos.
O Tripple Queen of Woods and Hills,
Who freest parturient wombs from ills
At three Orizons, and dost ever
Them safe deliver.
[Page 113]Accept the Pine that shrouds my Farm,
Which yearly Ile imbrew with warm
Bores blood, that sacrificed strike
With tusks oblique.
ODE XXIII. By Sir T. H. To PHIDILE.
The Gods are to be honoured with pure hands, and the testimony of a well spent age.
IF Rural Phidile, at the Moons arise,
To Heaven thou lift thy hands in humble wise:
If thou with Sacrifice thy Lars wilt please,
Or with new fruit and greedie swine appease,
Thy fertile Vineyard shall not suffer blast
From pest'lent South, nor parching dew be cast
Upon thy Corn, nor shall thy children dear,
Feel sickly Fits in Autumn of the year.
It is the long vow'd victime, which is fed
'Mongst Holmes, and Okes on snowie Algids head,
Or which in fat Albanian pastures grew,
That shall the Priests sharp axe with blood imbrew.
To thee, who petty Gods dost magnifie,
With Mirtle branch, and sprig of Rosemary,
It nothing appertains their feasts to keep
With frequent slaughters of the fattest sheep.
If thy hand, free from ill, the Altar touch,
Thou shalt th' offended Gods appease as much
With gift of sparkling Salt, and pious meal,
As if thou vows with costly victimes seal.
ODE XXIV. by Sir R. F.
He inveighs against covetous men, who continually joyn houses to houses, building in the very Sea it self: when in the mean time no buildings can free them from the necessity of dying. He saith the Scythians are happy, who draw their houses in waggons, and till the fields in common. Moreover, denies that corruption of manners, and license of sinning to be amongst these, which is amongst the Romans. But for the rooting out of these evils, together with the depraved desire of increasing riches, affirms, there is need of a more rigid Discipline.
THough richer then unpoll'd
Arabian wealth, and Indian Gold,
Thou with thy works should'st drain
The Tyrrbene and whole Pontick Main;
Thou could'st not, when Death layes
On Thee his Adamanti [...]e mace,
Thy minde from terrour free,
Nor body from mortality.
Wiser the Scythians,
Whose houses run on wheels like Waines;
And frozen Getes, whose Field
U [...]ounded doth free Ceres yield:
Nor is't the custome there,
To sow a land above a year;
And when that Crop is born,
The [...] it each by turn.
There women mingle not,
For Son-in-Law's a poyson'd pot;
Presuming, [...] adultrers pow'r.
Their [...] to be well bred:
And Chastity, flying the Bed
Of others, their own trust
Perswading, and the price of Lust.
Oh! he that would asswage,
Our blood-shed and intestine rage,
If he would [...] have
His Countries Father on his grave;
Let him not fear t'oppose
Unbridled licence to the nose:
So shall he gain great praise
In after times; since (wome dayes!)
We envy living worth,
But miss it when 'tis laid in earth.
For what do our laws stand,
If punishme [...] [...]eed not [...] land?
What serves vain preaching for.
Which cannot cure our lives? if nor
Those lands which flames imbrace;
Nor where the neighb'ring Boreas,
Shuts up the Ports with cold,
And snows fast nail'd to the free hold,
The Mariner repell?
If crafty Merchants learn to quell
The horridst Seas? the fear
Of that crime Want making them bear,
And do all things, and balk
Severer vertues narrow walk▪
Would Heaven we'd carry all
Our wealth into the Capitoll!
Or in the next Sea duck
Our jewels and pernicious muck,
[Page 116]Fewel of all that's [...]!
If we repent as we ought,
Strike at the root of ills;
And mould we our too pliant wills
To rougher arts: the childe
Of noble linage cannot wield
A bounding horse of war,
Nay fears to hunt, more skill'd by far
to stride off the Greek bowl,
Or the forbidden D [...]ce to trowl,
The whilest his perjur'd Father
Deceives his partners trust, to gather
For one that hath no wit.
So ill got wealth grows fast, and yet
Something still short doth come,
To make it up an even sum.
ODE XXV. Upon BACCHUS.
Argument.
The Lyric of God Bacchus craves,
T' induct him to his Bowers, and Caves.
Wherewith his influence repleat,
He may Augustus praise repeat.
Quo me Bacche.
WHere dragg'st me (Bacchus) with thy power
Repleat, to what Grove, or obscure Bower
Am I hal'd, with transform'd mind!
In what Reciuses is my Muse confin'd,
[Page 117]While Caesars endless honour I
Advance to heaven, and rank with Iove on high:
I'le sing a glorious, and new verse,
Such as no man did ere before reherse.
Just so layes Evias in a Muse
Awak'd on lofty Mountains, where he views
Cold Hebers streams, and snowy Thrace,
And Rhodope where barbarous people trace.
O how do I a wandrer love,
T' admire the crags and solitary groves!
King of Flood-nymphus, and Bacchae's, who
Can with your hands tall Ash-trees overthrow:
No petty Theam in humble phraze,
No mortal subject shall my Muse deblaze.
Bacchus, sweet danger 'tis to chase.
A God, whose crest green Vine-branch Crownets grace.
ODE XXVI. To VENUS.
Argument.
The Poet now well struck in years,
His Lyre, and amorous Theams forlears:
And prayes the Cyprian Queen to dart
One love-shaf [...] at proud Chloes heart.
Vixi puellis.
I Lately with young Virgins did comply,
And was in Cupids camp renowned high:
Now my Engins (wa [...]s at end,)
And Lute I'le on this wall i [...]spend,
[Page 118]Bord'ring on Sea-born Venus'es left hand
Here, be [...]e let my enlightning Tapour stand,
With my leavers and my bow,
That borr'd-up doors can open throw,
Thou who do'st o'r blest Cyprus Isle preside,
And M [...]mphis where no Thracian snow can bide,
O Q [...]een, with [...]ar fetched stroke
Once haughty Chloes ire revoke.
ODE XXVII. By Sir R. F. To Galatea going to Sea.
He deters her principally by the example of Europa.
LEt ill presages, guide the Ill,
A screecning Owl, or from a hill
A She-wolf mad upon the Flocks,
Or pregnant Fox,
And a Snake shaft-like shot athwart
Their horses way to make them start,
Their journey stop. What place is here
For provident fear?
Before the tempest boading foul,
Descend into the standing Pool,
My prayer shall from the Orient steer
The Kings Fisher.
Be blest, whereever thou wouldst be,
And Galatea think of me;
No ominous Pye thy steps revoakes,
No Raven croaks.
Yet pale Orion sad descends;
I know too well what it portends,
When black I see the Adriatick,
Or white the Iapick.
Let our foes wives, and all they love
The rising Kids blind anger prove,
And the vext Ocean when it roars,
Lashing the shores.
Europa so, trusting her soft
Side to the ticing Bull, shriekt oft,
The Rocks and Monsters to behold,
Though she was bold.
She that late pickt sweet flowers in M [...]es,
And wore meet Ga [...]l [...] N [...]mphs heads,
In a clear night could nothing spy
But Sea and Sky.
In pepulous [...]rete arriv'd soon after,
O Sire, (quoth she) left by thy Daughter
And [...] my feeble brest
By love opprest,
Whence whether rapt? One death's too small
to expiate a Virgins fall.
Do I (awake) true crimes lament,
Or (innocent)
Doth some false Dream put me in pain?
Was't better through the horrid Main
To rove far off: or with my Father
Fresh Flowers to gather?
Had I that naughty Bull now here,
How with my nails I could him tear,
And break the horns about that pate
So lov'd of late!
Shameless I left my Sires aboads:
Shameless I pawse on death; ye Gods,
(If any hear) show me the way
Where Lions stray.
Ere my fair skin grow tand and loose,
And of the tender prey the juice
Run out; whilst I am plump I wou'd
Be Tigers food.
Die hase Europa (whispers me
My Sire) behold you beckning tree!
The Zone from thy chaste waste unknit
To thy neck fit.
Or if sharp Rocks delight for speed,
This hanging cliff will do the deed:
Unless (being come of Royal kin)
Th'adst rather spin,
And be a barbrous Mistress thrall,
Her husbands trull. Venus heard all,
And Cupid falsely laughing now
Wi [...] tunbent bow;
At length she said, This rage forbear;
That naughty Bull thou shalt have here:
Prepare thy self 'gainst he returns
To break his horns.
Iove is thy Bull. These Fountains dry;
Learn to use greatness moderately:
Thy Thirds oth' World shall called be
Europe from thee.
ODE XXVIII. By Sir T. H. To LYDE.
He perswadeth Lyde to spend the Day dedicated to Neptune, pleasantly.
ON Neptunes feasts what else do we?
Straight (Lyde) broach, and bring to me
Caecubian Wines laid up in store,
And let strong wisdome sway no more.
Thou seest 'tis Mid-time of the day,
And yet, as if swift hours did stay,
A But thou spar'st, was Cellar-stall'd,
When Bibu [...]us was Consul call'd.
With mutual songs wee'l Neptune please,
[...] [...]he green-hair'd Nereides.
On crooked Lyre sing thou with art,
L [...]tona, and swift Cynthia's dart:
Whilest our last strain her praise unfolds,
Who Cnidos, and bright Cyclads holds:
And Paphos with payr'd Swans doth view;
The night shall likewise have his due.
ODE XXIX. By Sir. R. F. To MAECENAS.
He invites him to a merry Supper, laying aside public [...] cares.
OFf-spring of Tyrrhene Kings; I have,
Waiting thy leisure in my Cave,
Of mellow Wine an unbroacht But,
With Spicknard and Rose buds, to put
Upon thy hair. Break off delay:
Do not moist Tybur still survay,
And Aesulaes declining hill,
And his that did his Father kill.
Leave fulsome plenty, and thy proud
Palace whose head is in a cloud:
Respite the love of smoak, and noise,
And all that wealthy Rome enjoyes.
Rich men are mostly pleas'd with change,
And cleanly meals in a poor grange,
Without their Tapestries, unplough
The furrows of a careful Brow.
Andromed now peeps with his star,
Now Procyon shews the Dog not far,
He barks, and Phoebus kindling Raies
Hasle to bring back the sultry daies.
The Shepherd now with his faint Flock
Looks, panting, for a gushing Rock,
The horrors of a gloomy wood;
And no air stirs to crisp the flood.
Thou mind'st affairs of State, and
With fears for Rome) busiest thy thought fraught
And those that distant Tanais drink.
Wise God hath wrapt in a thick cloud
What is to come: and la [...]ghs aloud
When Mortals fear more then their share.
Th [...]ngs present manage with due care:
The rest are carried like a stream,
Which now runs calm as any dream
[...]to the Tyrr [...]ene sea▪ anon
(Beyond all limits overflown)
Sweeps with [...] herds, and flocks,
And trees intire, are broken rocks,
Making the woo [...] and mountains roar.
That man has [...]
For a hard [...], that can say
Into his Soul, [...] to day.
To morrow [...] or rain,
Yet cannot or [...] vain,
[...]
[...]That which wa [...] yesterday nioy'd.
Fortune that knows the [...] part,
To use her [...] with proud art,
Her fickle [...], now bestows
[...], now on another throws.
If she stay, [...] if she will pack,
[...] gave her all her presents back,
(Like Wo [...]ers when a match is broke)
[...] wrapping me in my old cloak,
My vertue, marry the next hower
[...] Povertie with out a Dower.
When North winds bellow, 'tis not I
[...] scar'd to wretched prayers, and cry
Let not my Spice, my Silks increase
The riches of the greedie seas.
[Page 124]When men may be in Oars convaid
Through Pontick stormes, then I will trade.
ODE XXX. By Sir R. F.
By writing Lyricks, he saith, He hath provided better for the Immortality of his Name, then if he bad procured Brazen Statues, and Pyramids to be e [...]ected to him. And intimates that his chief praise would be. That he was the first of the Latins, who in this kind of Verse imitated the Greeks.
A Work out-lasting Brass, and higher
Then Regal Pyramids proud Spire,
I have absolv'd. Which storming windes,
The Sea that turrets undermines,
Tract of innumerable daies,
Nor the rout of time can raze.
Totally I shall not die,
And much of me the Grave shall flie.
Posterity my name shall boast,
When Rome her self in Rome is lost.
Where like a King loud Aufid reigns,
Where Daunus (poor in stream) complains
To neighb'ring Clowns: I shall be sed
The man, that from an humble head
T'a Torrent fwoln did first inspire
A Roman Soul in Grecian Lire.
I labour with deserved praise;
Crown, crown me (willing Muse) with Baies.
The End of the Third Book.
ODES. BOOK IV.
ODE I. To VENUS.
Argument.
Arriv'd to Fifty nox, he should
His Pen from amorous Theams with-hold:
Yet night and day doth Ligurine
his heart to fervent love incline.
Intermissa Venu:
THou Venus dost commence again
Thy long suspended wars. O pray refrain:
I am not as I wont to be,
While gracious Cynera ruled over me.
Dire mother of sweet loves forbear
Me, now obdur'd and at my Fiftieth year,
[Page 126]T'incline to thy soft [...]
Where fair-teng'd young mens flattries court the to
In Paulus M [...]ximus [...],
Thou drawn with [...] more fitly shalt corrouze,
And want on it: if thou desire
T'inflame thy flagrant Liver with loves Fire,
He, noble, and of Comely, race,
And a good pleader in his Clients case,
And for an hundred arts renown'd,
Shall spread thine Ensigns through the ample round▪
And when he laughs, more prevalent
Than those large gifts his Rival did present,
He under Cypress-roof shall make
Thee alli of Marble nigh the Albane lake.
There copious store of Fra [...]kincense
Shalt thou snuff up, to recreate thy sense,
And lyve, with Phrygian pipe, and fl [...]te,
All shall thine ears prom [...]scuously salute.
There Youths and tender Virgina, they
Thy sacred power advancing, twice a day,
Shall with their candid feet rebound,
Like Pries [...]s of Bacchus three times from the ground,
No woman, nor young youth love I,
Nor am I prone to vain credulity,
Nor in carro [...]z [...]g to c [...]test,
Nor with f [...]sh Flowers my temples to invest▪
But why, [...] Lygurinus, why
Glide [...] tears thus slowly from my eye?
Why in the midst of language trips
My eloquent tongue with unseemly slips?
I, when surpriz'd with gentle sleep,
Do thee (methinks) in my imbracements [...]e [...]p:
Now o'r woode and Mars his plain,
O hard of heart / thee prosecute amain.
ODE II. By Sir R. F. To Antonius Julus, the son of Mark Anthony, the Triumur.
That it is dangerous to imitate the ancient Poets.
WHo thinks to equal Piudar, tries
With waxen wings to reach the Skies,
Like him that (falling) a name gave
T' his watry grave.
As a proud stream that swoln with rain,
Comes pouring down the hills amain,
So Pindar flows, and fears no drouth,
Such his deep mouth:
Worthy the Bayes, whither he powre
From unexhausted Springs a showre
Of lawless Dytherambs, and thunders
In bolder numbers:
Or sings of Gods, and Heroes (seed
Of Gods) whose just swords did outweed
The Centaures, and Chimera stout
Her flames put out:
Or mourns some youth, from his sad spouse
Unkindly torn, whose strength and prowes
And golden mind he lists to th' skie,
And lets not die.
This Theban Swan, when he will sing
Among the clouds, raises his wing
On a stiff gale. I like the Bee
Of Calabrie,
Which (toiling) sucks beloved Flowers
About the Thymie Groves, and Skowrs
[Page 128]Of Fount-well Tyber, frame a terse
But humble verse.
Thou Anthony in higher strains
Chaunt Caesar, when he leads in chains
Fierce Germans, his victorious brows
Crown'd with Bay-boughs▪
Then whom a greater thing, or good,
Heaven hath not lent the earth, nor shou'd
Though it refin'd the age to th'old
Saturnian gold.
Thou shalt sing to the publick playes
For his return, and Holy-dayes
For our prayers heard, and wrangling pleas
Bound to the peace.
Then I (if I may then be heard)
Happy in my restored Lord,
Will joyn ith' close, and ô! (Ile say)
O Sun-shine day!
And (thou proceeding) we'l all sing,
Io Triumph! And agin
Io Triumph! At each turning
Incense burning.
A Hecatomb's requir'd of thee,
And weaned Calf excuses me,
In high grass fat and frisking now,
To pay my vow.
Resembled in whose shining horns,
The increasing Moon his brow adorns;
Save a white feather in his head
All sorrel red.
A Paraphrase on the same Ode, by A. C.
1.
PIndar is imitable by none;
The Phoenix, Pindar, is a vast species alone;
Who er'e but Dedalus with Waxen wings could flie,
And neither sink too low, nor soar too high?
What could he who follow'd claim,
But of vain boldness the unhappy fame,
And by his fall a Sea to name?
Pindars unnavigable song,
Like a swoln Flood from some steep mountains pours along▪
The Ocean meets with such a voice
From his enlarg'd mouth, as drowns the Oceans noise.
2.
So Pindar does new words and figures roul
Down his impetuous Dithyrambique tide,
Which in no Channel daignst' abide,
Which neither bankes nor dikes controul,
Whither th' immortal Gods he sings
In a no less immortal strain,
Or the great acts of God-descended Kings,
Who in his numbers still survive and raign
Each rich Embroidred line,
By his Sacred hand is bound;
Which their triumphant brows around,
Does all their Starrie-Diadems out-shine.
3.
Whither at Pisa's race he please
To carve in Polisht verse, the Conqueror [...] [...] ▪
[Page 130]Whither the swift, the skilful, or the strong,
Be crown'd in his nimble artful vig'rous song,
Whither some brave young mans untimely Fate,
In words worth dying for, he celebrate
Such mournful, and such pleasing words,
As joy to his Mothers, and his Mistress grief assords.
He bids him live, and grow in fame,
Among the Stars he sticks his name;
The Grave can but the dross of him devour,
So small is Deaths, so great the Poets power.
4.
Loe, how the Obsequious wind and swelling air,
The Theban Swan does upwards bear
Into the welks of Clouds; where he does play,
And with extended wings opens his liquid way:
Whilst, alas, my timerous Muse,
Unambitious tracts pursues,
Does with weak unballast wings,
About the massie brooks and springs,
About the trees new blossom'd heads,
About the Gardens painted beds,
About the Fields and flowry Meads,
And all inferiour beauteous things,
Like the laborious Bee,
For little drops of honey flee;
And there with humble sweets, contents her industry.
ODE III. By Sir. R. F. To MELPOMENE.
That be is born to Poetry, and by the benefit thereof, hath obtained immortality and glory.
WHom thou Melpomene
Hast smil'd on in his infancie,
Him neither Isthmian game
Shall ever for a wrestler fame;
Nor stout Olympick steeds
Victorious draw; nor Martial deeds
Shew to the Capitoll
A Lawrel-crowned General
For faming Kings: but floods
Which wash rich Tybur, and green woods
Their bushy locks grown long,
Make big with an Aeolian song.
Queen Rome hath noted me
Of her own sacred Quire to be,
Where sweet-tongu'd Poets sing;
And now I fear not envies sting.
O Muse! whose sugard words
Are married to the golden Chords:
Who, if thou touch their tongues,
Giv'st to mute Fishes Swan-like songs:
Tis (all) thy Boon, that I
Am pointed at as I pass by
Romes Lyric: thine it is,
I live, and please, if I do this.
ODE IV. By Sir. R. F.
He celebrates the Victories of Drusus Nero (who was Son-in-law to Augustus Caesar) over the Rhaetiars and Vindelicians: Also commemorates certain valiant deeds of Claudius Nero.
AS th' Armour-bearer of great Iove
(Made King of all that soars above,
For stealing him from Troy
The
Ganymed.
yellow-tressed Boy)Youth whilom and his Native courage
Drew from his nest ere he could forage:
And now soft Winds, being fair,
Teach him to from ith' air
Unwonted steps: Anon more bold
With hostile force assaults a fold;
Resisting Snakes anon
For fight and prey sets on:
Or such as kids a Lion view
From tawny mother weaned new,
Ready in pastures sweet
To hansel his first teeth:
Such Rhaetians did behold and flie
Drusus beneath the Alpes, who why
They carry at their backs
An Amazonian Ax,
I lift not to determine here:
Perhaps nor can. But this is clear
Their long Victorious bands
Subdu'd by a Boy's hands,
Felt what a mind right gor, and true- [...]red
under lucky roofs could do,
[Page 133]What Caesars fatherly
Care of the Claudii.
A valiant man gets men of spirit;
Ev'n beasts their fathers mindes inherit;
Nor doth the bird of Iove
Get a degenerous Dove.
But learning inward strength thrusts forth,
And Princely breeding confirms worth:
Still where good precepts want,
Good Plants turn recreant.
What unto Nero's, Rome thou ow'st,
Speak Alpes, and Asdrubals red Ghost,
And that bright day to thee
The black Clouds made to flee:
The first, since the dire African
Through the Italian Cities ran
Like fire through Piny woods,
Or storms on Tuscan Floods.
Thenceforth thy youth with prosperous pains
Still grew; and thy religious fanes,
Sackt by the Punick sword,
Had their chac'd Gods restor'd;
And perjur'd Hannibal' gan say
At length; Porr sheep (of wolves the prey)
We worry, whom to flie
Were a great victory.
The Nation that through flames of Troy,
And Tyrrhene billows did convoy
Their Gods, and Babes, and hoar
Sires, to th' Ausonian shore,
Like a dark Oak on the rich top
Of Algidum, which Hatchets lop,
Grows by it loss, and takes
Strength from the very axe.
[Page 134]Not mangled Hydra more increast
Vnder Alcides, nor that beast
Iason, or he subdu'd
Of Thebes, more lives renew'd.
Plunge them ith'sea; they swim fresh out:
Foyl them, with double force they'l rout
The Conqueror: and sight
As in a Mistress fight.
Now shall I send no more proud Posts
To joyful Carthage. Lost, O! lost's
Now Asdrubal is slain,
The glory of our name.
What is't but N [...]ros can effect?
Whom Heavens with prosperous stars protect,
And their own prudent care
Clews through the Maze of War.
ODE V. By Sir R. F. To AUGUSTUS.
That he would at length return to the City. Describes the peace and happiness which Italy injoyed under his Government.
HEavens choicest gift, Romes greatest stay,
Now thou art too too long away:
The holy Senate urge thy word
For soon return, return. Afford,
Like day, thy presence; like the Spring
Give a new life to every thing:
[Page 135]The first, good Prince, our night will chace,
The second will prolong our dayes.
As a fond mother for her son,
Whom, having over seas been gone
Above a year, the envious wind
Keeps back from her embraces kind;
And now she eyes the Vane, and prayes,
And from the crooked shore doth gaze:
So, with a loyal passion strook,
The People for their Caesar look.
For now the Oxen walk in peace:
Corn, and white innocence increase:
The cleared Main the Sea-men sail:
Faith promises, and dares not fail.
The married Bed unsoil'd remains,
Custom and law preventing stains:
Babes, like the father, praise the Mother:
Punishment is Sins Twin-brother.
Who fears cold Scythians? who the Medes?
Fierce sons of Germany, who dreads?
Whilest Caesar doth in safety raign,
Who is afraid of Wars with Spain?
Each man his proper Field doth till,
And hides the Sun behind his hill:
Returning then to sup with Glee,
His second course is praising thee.
For thee he prayes, to thee propines,
Thee with his houshold gods he joyns,
As, for like reason, thankful Greece
Did Castor and great Hercules.
Long last these golden Holy-dayes!
Thus Italy for thy life prayes:
Sprinkled at night, not chang'd at morn,
When to dry labour they return.
ODE VI. To Apollo and Diana.
Argument.
He doth in Saecularian verse
Phoebus, and Diana's praise rehearse.
Dive quem.
GOd, whose revenge for boasts, the crew
From Niobe sprung, and Tytius knew,
And great Achilles, who did Troy
Almost destroy.
The greatest souldier's not like thee,
Though Sea-bred Thetis son he be,
Who did with dreadful Javelin make
Troys turrets shake.
No Pine with keen edg'd-axe hewn down,
Nor Cypress with East-blasts o'r-thrown,
So amply fell, his Carcass found
On Trojan ground.
He ne'r (as sculkt in horse compil'd
For Pallas sacrifice) beguil'd
Ill-id ling Troy, and Priams Court,
With dancing sport.
But publickly in flames had flung
(O dire?) each Grecian infant young,
Yea formless Embroyes not yet come
From Mothers womb;
Had not thy own, and Venus prayer
Prevail'd with father Iove, to rear
And better fate.
O Phoebus shrill Thalias theam,
Who lav'dst thy looks in Xanthus stream,
Protect the honour'd Daunian Muse,
Smooth Agyeus.
'Twas Phoebus gave thee wit, and art,
And name of Poet did impart.
Ye noblest Maids, and youths of high-
Born ancestry;
Ye guarded in Diana's bounds,
Whose bow swift Stags, and Lynces wounds,
My Lesbian measures patron stand,
And guide my hand:
Chaunting (as of old) Diana's Sun,
And the still light-augmenting Moon,
Fructiferous, making Moneths to hie
On speedily.
Now wed, thou'lt say: I, who each Verse
Of Horace knew, did Layes rehearse
T' th' Gods, when ev'ry age in use
Did feasts reduce.
ODE VII. By Sir R. F. To L. Manlius Torquatus.
Proposing the arrival of the Spring, and the equal necessity to all men of dying, without hopes of living again, and proposing likewise the change and vicissitude of all things, he invites to lead a merry and pleasant life.
THe snows are thaw'd, now grass new cloaths the earth,
And trees new hair thrust forth.
The season's chang'd, and brooks late swoln with rain,
Their proper banks contain.
Nymphs with the Graces linkt dare dance around
Naked upon the ground.
That thou must die, the year and howers say
Which draw the winged day.
First Spring, then Summer, that away doth chase,
And must it self give place
To Apple-bearing Antumn, and that past,
Dull Winter comes at last.
But the decays of time, Time doth repair:
When we once plunged are
Where good Aeneas, with rich Ancus wades,
Ashes we are, and shades.
Who knows if Iove unto thy life's past score
Will adde one morning more?
When thou art dead, and Rhadamanthus [...]ust
Sentence hath spoke thee dust,
[Page 139]Thy blood, nor eloquence can ransome thee,
No nor thy piety.
For chast Hippolytus in Stygian night
Diana cannot light:
Nor Theseus break with all his vertuous pains,
His dear Perithous chains.
A Paraphrase on the same Ode.
THe snow is gone, the grass returns
To Fields, the Perucks to the trees,
Earth playes with her varieties.
Each River in Consumption mourns,
And humbly glides beneath her bourns,
Contain'd within her banks degrees.
The naked Graces lead the dance,
With whom the Nymphs in measures more,
The sliding years our hopes reprove;
Which to Eternity advance,
And the swift howers their speed inhance,
The day by snatches to remove.
Soft Western gales allay the cold,
On the Sprlngs heels the Summer treads,
It self then to destruction leads.
Where Autumn does her fruits unfold,
Straight comes the Winter stiffe and cold,
And life with lazie humour deads.
Yet Moons may wane, and soon increase,
But when once we thither go,
Where wealthy men and worthy too,
Must all lay down their heads at last,
When their needless toyls are past,
[Page 140]To dust and ghost we vanish all;
Who knows that those great powers on high,
The present sum of these our dayes,
Which by to morrows reckoning raise?
Our heirs as well as we must die,
And from our clutcht hands all will flie,
Which our kind will to them conveys.
That once among the dead thou be,
And the just Judge do sentence give,
In glorious state on all that live:
Thee no extraction thence shall free,
No eloquence, no piety,
Thy life recover, or reprieve.
No Father can, though much he mourn,
From the dark vale of shade beneath,
Restore his guiltless Babe to breath;
Nor friend can make his friend return,
When once imprison'd in his Urn,
From cold forgetfulness and death.
ODE VIII. By Sir R. F. To Martius Censorinus.
That there is nothing which can make men more immortal, then the verses of Poets.
MY friends, I would accommodate
With goblets, Grecian tripods, Plate
Of Corinth- Brass: and, Censorine,
The worst of these should not be thine:
That is to say, if I were rich
In those same antique pieces, which
He skill'd to paint, in stone to frame
This, now a God, a Mortal now.
But I have not the means; nor thou
A mind, or purse, that wants such knacks.
Verse thou dost love. Thou shalt not lack
For Verse. And hear me what 'tis worth,
Not inscrib'd Marbles planted forth
To publick view, which give new breath
To great and good men after death:
Not the swift flight of Hannihal,
And his threats turn'd to his own wall:
Not perjur'd Carthage wrapt in flame,
By which young Scipio brought a name
From conquer'd Africk: speaks his praise
So loud as the Pierian Layes.
Nar, were Books silenc'd could'st thou gain
The Guerdon of thy vertuous pain?
What had become of Ilia's child
She bare to Mars, had darkness veil'd
The merits of our Romulus?
From Stygian waters Aeacus,
Vertue and fav'ring verse assoils,
And consecrates to the blest Isles:
A man that hath deserv'd t' have praise,
The Muse embalms; She keeps Heavens Keys,
Thus Hercules (his labours past)
With Iupiter takes wisht repast:
The sons of Leda stars are made,
And give the sinking Sea-man aid;
Good Bacchus, crowned with Vine-leaves,
His drooping Voraries relieves.
ODE IX. By Sir R. F. To LOLLIO.
That his writings shail never perish: Vertue without the help of Verses is buried in oblivion. That he will sing Lollio's praises, whose vertue he now also celebrates.
LEast thou should'st think the words which I
(By sounding Aufid born) compile
To marry with the Lute b'a skill
Never before reveal'd, shall die:
Though Homer lead the Van, the Muse
Of Pindar, nor Alcaeus heights,
Grave Stesichore, nor Caean sighs,
Are silenc't, or worn out of use.
Nor what of old Anacreon plaid,
Hath time defac't: Love lights his fire▪
And with his Quiver wears the Lyre
Of the yet fresh Aeolian Maid.
Helen was not the onely she
A curled gallant did inflame,
The splendour of his Royal train,
And Gold and Pearls embroyderie.
Nor Teuc [...]r first that drew a strong
Cydonian Bow. Trojans had fought
Before: nor that age onely wrought
Deeds worthy of the Muses song.
Nor valiant H [...]ctor, and the brave
Deiphob, were the onely men
Receiv'd deep wounds upon them then,
[Page 143]Their children and chafte wives to save.
Men slasht ere Diomed was made:
But all are in oblivion drown'd,
And put unmourn'd into the ground,
For lack of Sacred Poets aid.
Vertue that's buried, and dead Sloth,
Differ not much. Un-understood
Thou shalt not die; nor so much good
As thou host acted feed the Moth.
Lollio thou art a man hast skill
To fathome things: that being tride
In either Fortune, could'st abide
In both up-right, and Lollio still.
Of coverous fraud a scourge severe:
On whom the all-attracting Gold
Could with its Tenters ne'r take hold:
Nor Consul of one year. When ere
Avertuous Magistrate, and true,
Shall call good, gain, bid Bribes avaunt;
Upon Opposers bellies plant
His conqu'ring Flags; Lollio, that's you.
He is not happy that hath much:
But who so can his mind dispose
To use aright what Heaven bestows,
He justly is accounted such:
If he know how hard want to bear:
And fear a crime, more then his end;
If for his Country, or his Friend
To stake his life he doth not fear.
[Page 160]And strain'd 'mongst herbs my palate to delude?
Or some damn'd dose Canidia brew'd?
When Iasons love Medea's heart had caught,
He chief, and fairest Argonaut;
Who bulls combined never yoak'd before,
With Garlick she besmear'd him ore.
With this that harlot Glauca she bespred,
And on the wings of Dragons fled.
An influence so rageful never rent
Apulia's droughty continent,
Nor gore-steept garment ere more servent fri'd
On powerful Hercules his side.
But if thou 'gain provide me such a dish,
Maecenas merry friend, I wish
Thy sweet-heart nicely may thy kisses flie,
And on the utmost Bed-stock lie.
EPODE IV. By Sir T. H. To Volteius Mena, Pompey's freed-man.
THat disaccord between us two I find,
Which Natures law hath lambs and wolves disjoyn'd.
(O thou, whose sides with Spanish whips are torn,
And galled legs with stubborn fetters worn.)
Though, proud of wealth, thou walk with pompous pace,
Fortune correcteth not ignoble race.
Seest not when to the Capitol through the Town,
Thou stalk'st along clad in thy Six-ell Gown,
[Page 161]How Indignation limitless, and free
Of passers to and fro reflects on thee?
He, who was earst with Triumvirs smart blows,
Lash'd till the loathing Beadle weary grows;
A thousand plough'd Falernian Akers brags,
And treads the Appian way with well pac'd-nags,
And on chief Benches sitteth (in despight
Of Otho's law) a most accomplish'd Knight!
What needs great Caesar, then to go about
So many goodly ships to furnish out
'Gainst wretched Pirates, and the slavish hand,
This, this man dignify'd with prime command!
EPODE V. By Sir T. H.
A noble youth, whom Canidia, and other Witches had stoln, and set in the earth up to the chin, purposing to famish him, that they might by Art Magick make a Love-drink of his Liver and Marrow.
O God, who e're in Heaven dost guide
The earth, and men which here abide,
What means this noise, and why on me,
Do you all look so rufully?
Ah, for thy childrens sake forbear,
If at such Births Lucina were.
By this vain Purple robe, I pray,
By Iove, who will not like your way,
Why frown you on me, Step-dame like,
Or beast, whom eager Hunters strike?
[Page 162]While here the trembling Lad doth stay,
Made to dispoil from rich array
H [...]s tender body (which might force
The cruel Thracian to remorse:)
Canidia, whose unkembed head
Was with short Vipers filleted,
Commands from Graves wild Fig-tree torn:
And Cypress, which doth Becres adorn:
Eggs steept in Blood of Toads, to bring,
With feathers from the Scritch-Owles wing;
Hearbs of Iolco's baneful field,
And poysons, Thessaly doth yield;
Bones snatch'd from jaws of hungry Bitch,
To burn with flames of Colchique witch.
Quick Sagan, who doth waters fling,
Fetch'd from Avernus loathsom Spring,
Bristles her hair, as moody Bore,
Or the Sea-urchin near the shore.
While Veia free from all remorse
Of horrid deeds, the ground 'gan force
With stubborn spade; and hard she swet
That in it, the whelm'd stripling set,
Might twice or thrice a day be ply'd
With view of viands, till he dy'd:
In which, up to the chin he stood,
As they who wade within the flood.
That his drain'd Marrow, Liver dry,
Her with a Love-drink might supply;
When once his fainting eyes were spy'd
To sink at sight of food, deny'd.
Nay easeful Naples did believe,
And the neat Towns for receive
That Folia of Ariminum
Lustful (man like) did thither come:
[Page 163]Whose spells have power from Orbes of light,
The charmed Moon, and Stars to fright.
Canidia here for spleen prepar'd,
With black teeth gnawing nails unpar'd,
What mutter'd she? what not? O ye
You conscious Arbiters with me,
Night, and Diana Queen of Rest,
Now we perform our dark behest
Be present here: your anger throw,
And powerful God-head on my foe.
While fearful beasts close covert keep▪
Charm'd with the ease of gentle sleep.
Let the Suburran dogs report,
That all may jeer it, the resort
Of the old wanton, sleek with Nard;
Better my hands have n'ere prepar'd.
How, how! why do Medaea's charmes
And deadly drugs cause greater harmes,
Wherewlth she took revenge at full
On Creons daughter, that proud Trul,
When a Gown dipt in poyson'us Bane,
Turned the guift and Bride to flame?
But plant nor root in craggs conceal'd
Rests from my notice, unreveal'd:
Yet Varus, not with love in ure,
In beds perfumed, sleeps secure:
But, ah, he walkes, freed by the spells
Of some, whose knowledge more excells.
O Varus, by strange drugs, to me
(Damn'd to indure much misery)
Thou shalt return; nor thy sick mind
From Marsian charmes shall comfort find.
A stronger Cup I will devise
Fill'd for thee, who dost me despise.
[Page 164]Heaven shall below the Sea descend,
And o're the Sea the Earth distend;
If thou like pitch in dusky fire
Consumest not with my desire.
The Boy sought them to sooth no more
With gentle words, as heretofore,
But doubtful what he first should speak,
Thus direfully doth silence break;
Let charmes and spels do what they can,
They cannot change the Fate of man.
I'le haunt you still: For setled hate
No sacrifice doth expiate.
When forc'd by you my soul is fled,
I'le come a Fury to your bed,
And a sad Ghost your faces tear
(Such power on earth have Spirits here:)
And as the Night-mare, on your chest,
I'le vex, and scare you from your rest.
The thronging people in the street,
Base Hags, shall stone you, when yee meet:
Your limbs untomb'd the Wolves shall tear,
And Vulters to Esquiliae bear:
Nor (ah) my parents after me
Shall fail this spectacle to see.
EPODE VI. Against Cassius Severus, a revileful and wanton Poet.
Argument.
The surly and crabb'd qualities
Of Poet Cassius, he descries.
Quid immerentes.
WHy (currish Dog) dost harmless guests assail,
But not 'gainst Wolves dar'st wag thy tail?
Why, if thou dar'st, with menaces so vain
Assault'st not me, who'l turn again?
For like Colossian masty, or red-flect
Laconian dogs, which herds protect,
Through profound snowes with flat-cowch'd ear I'le chace
Whatever obvious game I face.
When the woods eccho with thy dismal cries,
Thou snook'st at morsels 'fore thine eyes.
Beware, beware: for I'le sharp horns prepare,
To push those that revileful are;
Like him whom curst Lycambe slighted so,
Or Bupalus his tart-mouth'd foe.
What? if calumniated once, should I
Put 't up and childe-like pule and cry?
EPODE VII. By Sir R. F. To the People of Rome.
An Execration of the second Civil Warre waged after the death of Julius, by Brutus and Cassius on the one side; on the other by Octavius, M. Anthony, and Lepidus.
WHy, why your sheath'd swords drawn again?
Whether rush ye, impious brood?
Have not the earth yet and the main,
Drunk enough of Latin blood?
Not that proud Carthage burnt might be,
Rival of the Roman State:
Nor the chast Mistress of the Sea
Britain, on our Triumphs wait;
But that the thing the Parthians crave,
Rome, may make her self away.
Lions and Wolves this temp'rance have,
On their Kind they will not prey.
Is't a blind rage, or force more strong,
Or Crime drives you? Speak. They look
As pale as Death, and hold their tongue,
As their Souls were Planet-strook.
'Tis so: dire Fates the Romans haunt,
And a Fratricidal guilt:
Since blood of Remus innocent,
On the cursed ground was spilt.
EPODE VIII. To a Lustful old Woman▪
Argument.
The fulsome shape, and vitious life,
Of a lascivious aged wife.
Rogare Longo.
THou to demand of rot-consumed date,
What should my strength emasculate?
When all thy teeth black-furr'd with Canker show,
And Old-age wrinckle plows thy brow,
And filthy arse 'twixt buttocks wither-dry'd,
Like some raw-bon'd Cows gapes so wide.
But thy down-swagging breasts extub'rant teats,
Like Mares dugs kindle Cupids heats:
Thy down-soft bellie, and thy spindle thighs,
Sustain'd on legs, which pregnant rise.
Live happily: let Statutes triumphal
Adorn thy pompous funeral:
Nor may more precious chains of pearl invest
'Ere any marri'd womans brest.
How is't that Stoic Treatises are by,
And 'mongst thy silken pillows lie?
Are rustick Loons less pollent at the sports?
Or doth their courage less retort!
Whose—that thou may'st urge to spend,
Honor sit auribus.
Thou must with—contend.
EPODE IX. By Sir T. H. To MAECENAS.
He beforehand feels the contentment he shall take from Augustus his victory against M. Anthony, and Cleopatra.
VVHen shall I Caecube wines, that stored lie
For banquets, glad at Caesars victory
(So Iove will have it) in thy stately house,
With thee, my dear Maecenas, free carrouze?
Resounding notes that mingle Flutes with Lyre;
This, Dorique, speaking joy, that Phrygian, Ire:
As when Neptunian Pompey droven, fled
Through straigthned seas, with navie ruined,
Who Rome had threatned with those chains, which he
Had ta'ne from treacherous Servitors, made free
The Roman Souldier by a woman ty'd
In slavish bands (ah this will be deny'd
By after times) lugs armes, earth, stakes, and tent,
Striving her with'red Eunuches to content;
And Phoebus 'mongst their ensignes doth espy,
Her net-like and lascivious canopie.
But the bold French proclaiming Caesars name,
Thence with two thousand Horse straight hither came;
And the swift prowess of hostile vessels lie
Turn'd to the left hand, ready set to flie.
O gladsome triumph! thou retard'st the drift
Of golden chariot, and young beifers gift:
O gladsome triumph! from Iugurthian war▪
Thou brought'st no captain might with this compare:
[Page 169]Nor African, whose noble valours praise,
Did lasting monuments or'e Carthage raise.
The foe, by Sea, and Land, now vanquish'd fears,
And a black Cassock for a purple wears;
Not knowing whither adverse windes will cast
Him, on rich Crete with hundred Cities grac'd,
Or on the Quick-sands with South-billows toss'd,
Or the wide main in danger to be lost.
Boy, cups bring hither for a larger draught;
Let Chian, or the Lesbian grape be sought:
Or fill Caecubian wines without delay,
Which may a queezie loathing drive away:
The care, and fear of Caesars happy state,
Let us with merry Bacchus dissipate.
EPODE X. Against Maetius a Poet.
Argument.
He wisheth raging stormes may rise,
And Maetius with wrack surprize.
Mala Soluta.
THe ship inauspica [...]ely quits the Bay,
And noisome Maetius hoists away.
Anster, see thou impe [...]uously rave,
Dashing both sides with furious wave.
Let gloomy Eurus with his stormes adverse
The Tacklings and broke Oars disperse.
[...] such violent [...] extend,
As from high hills an Holm [...].
[Page 170]On pitchie nights let no stars luster shine,
When sad Orion doth decline:
Nor let the Ocean tranquiller stand,
Than for the Grecians conquering band,
When wrathful Pallas, waving fired Troy,
Would impious Ajax sail destroy.
O how do thy industrious sailers sweat!
Thy self with pallid fear repleat,
Howling out sadly woman-like laments,
And vows, which ireful Iove resents:
When showry Notus lowdly bellowing,
I'th' Adrian Gulph doth ship-wrack bring.
But if the crooktly-winding shore display
Thy still stretch'd limbs for Corm'rants prey,
A lustful Goat, and a She-lambkin shall
A Sacrifice to tempests fall.
EPODE XI. To Pettius his Chamber-fellow.
Argument.
He Cupid-struck cannot the while
To compose Verses frame his stile.
Petti nil me.
PEttius, I take no pleasure, as before,
In writing Verse,
Now Cupids arrows pierce:
Cupid, who me ' [...]ove all inflameth sore
With wilder heat
Of Youths and Virgins neat.
[Page 171]Now three Decembers woods have shed their glory,
Since ore I gave
For Inachia to rave.
Oh shameful folly! what a Citie-storie
('lass) I became!
My junkettings I blame,
When paleness, silence, and long sighs exhal'd
From lungs profound,
Descri'd my passions wound:
And I lamentful moan'd that wealth prevail'd
'Gainst honestie,
And distress'd ingeny:
When debaucht Bacchus did my secrets broach
From heated breast,
With fervent liquors prest.
But if free indignation once approach
My boyling blood,
And this distasteful flood
Expel, which nought allaies my maladie:
Shame profligate
With great ones strife will hate.
When I, thou hearing, these extoll'd on high,
Charg'd to get home,
I rov'd with vagrant roam,
To those (ah) flintie thresholds, unkind posts,
Which as I li'd,
All bruis'd my shins, and side.
Me now Lyciscas love ore-rules, who boasts
T' exceed each she,
In soft effeminacie,
From whence no faithful counsels can me free
A friend affords,
Nor contumelious words.
[Page 172]A new flame of some Virgin it must be,
Or youth plump-round,
With long hair backward wound.
EPODE XII. Against a libidinous old Woman.
Argument▪
He scolds a Whore, who did him court
To sate her Lust with Venus sport.
Quid tibi vis.
WHat mean'st thou Woman for black El'phants fit?
Why send'st me tokens, why are letters writ
To me nor vig'rous, nor obtuse of nose?
For I quick-sented can as soon disclose
A Polype, or an arm-pits rammish scent,
As well nos'd hounds explore where sows are pent,
What [...]tench, what sweat her wizned limbs hath drench'd,
When (Natures kneener ardours in me quench'd▪)
She hastes to satisfie her unbridled lust:
Nor bides her all sweat-steeped cheeks cerust,
Or dawb'd with Crocodiles ordure: with mad reaks,
She now both Bed-stock, and the Matt'ress breaks:
Thus jears my Languors with revileful flout;
Thou with Inachia could'st hold longer out,
Yea, thrice a night: with me at once thou 'rt tir'd.
A Pox take Les [...]ia, who when I enquir'd
[Page 173]For tuff-back'd Actors, shew'd me thee so dull:
Choan Amyntas giving me my full,
Whose unfoyl'd—more stiff erected—
Then ere a sapling in the loftie wood:
For whom were garments (which twice tincted show
In Tyrian purple) made? for thee I trow.
Least 'mongst his equals ere a guest should be
Whom his dear sweet-heart better lov'd than thee.
Oh wretch am I whom thou eschews as much;
As Lambes fierce Wolves, or Goats the Lions clutch.
EPODE XIII. By Sir T. H. To his merry Friends, that they should pass the VVinte [...] pleasantly.
ROugh tempests have the brow of heaven bent,
And showers, and snows cause thickned airs descent:
Now Thracian North windes, Seas and woods affray;
Friends, let us take occasion from the day;
While strength is fresh, and us it well becomes,
Let's old age banish, which the brow benumns.
Boy, see you broach those elder Wines were prest,
When Torquat first the Consulship possest:
Speak not of other things. God will, perchance,
Them to their Seat, with happy change advance.
Let us in Persian unguents now delight;
And with Cylenian harp put cares to flight:
Vnvanquish' [...] Mortal, that from Thetis sprang,
Troy thee expects; which Simois rouling Tide,
And small Scamanders colder streams divide,
VVhence thou no more (the Sisters so ordain)
VVith thy blew Mother shalt return again.
All sorrow there, with wine, and Song depress,
(Sweet comforts of deformed heaviness.)
EPODE XIV. By Sir R. F. To MAECENAS.
That his love to Phryne, is the Cause why he doth not finish his promised Iambicks.
'TIs Death, my sweet Maecenas, when so oft
You ask me, why a soft
Sloth turns my sence, as if with thirsty draught
I had together quaft
L [...]the's oblivious lake into my blood.
It is a God, a God,
Forbids me finish my Iambicks, though
Promis'd thee long ago.
Be [...]ted thus Ana [...]rcon was 'tis said
Upon the S [...]mian Maid:
W [...]o so [...]'d his love out to a hollow Lyre
With stumbling Feet. That fire
Cons [...]mes thee too. If fairer burnt not Troy
Besieg'd, in thy lot joy.
Me a Bond-woman, such a one torments,
As no one man contents.
EPODE XV. To his Sweet-heart Neara.
Argument.
Our Lyric dolefully descryes
Faithless Neaeraes perjuries.
Noxerat.
'TWas night, and Cynthia lighted all the skie
'Mongst Stars of less fulgency,
When thou, profaning Gods of power immense,
T' act my will didst oaths dispence;
Not lofty Ivies th' Ilex closer graspt,
Than thy limber armes me claspt:
While Lambs fled Wolves, and while Orions orb
Sailours bane, should seas disturb,
VVhile unshorn Sol his hairy beams should dart,
Thou would'st mutual love impart.
Naeera! how my vertue thou'st bewail!
For less Flaccus spirit fail,
For cliftier rivals he'l not brook one night,
And vext seek those that will requite,
Nor once offended will he constant rest,
If certain grief pierce his breast.
But thou who now in favour happy reigns,
Proudly vaunt'st at my disdains,
Though rich in stock, and grounds, and to thy hands
Pactole roll his Golden sands:
Though truly vvrote oft-liv'd Pythag [...]ras,
And fair Nereus thou surpass;
[Page 176]Yet she'l her love to others ('lass) translate,
But then I'le deride thy Fate.
EPODE XVI. By Sir R. F. To the People of Rome.
Commiserating the Common-wealth, in respect of the Civil VVars.
NOvv Civil VVars a second age consume,
And Romes ovvn Svvord destroyes poor Rome.
Whom neither neighbouring Marsians could devour,
Nor feared Porsenas Tuscan power;
Nor C [...]pua's rival valour, mutinies
Of Bond-slayes, Treacherie of Allies;
Nor Germany (blue-ey'd Bellona's nurse)
Nor Hannibal (the Mothers curse)
We (a blood-thirstie age) our selves deface,
And Wolves shall re-possess this place.
The barbarous foe will trample on our dead;
The steel-shod horse our courts will tread;
And R [...]m [...]lus dust (clos'd in religious Urn
From Sun and tempest) proudly spurn.
All, or the [...]ounder part, perchance would know,
How to avoid this coming blow.
'Twere best I think, like to the Phocean [...],
Who left their execrated lands,
And hou [...]es, and the houses of their Gods,
To Wolves and Bears for their aboads▪
[Page 177]T'abandon all, and go where ere our feet
Bear us by land, by sea our Fleet.
Can any man better advice afford?
If not, in name of Heaven aboard!
But you must swear first to return again,
When loosned Rocks float on the Main,
And be content to see your Mother-town,
When Betis washes the Alpes crown;
Or Appennine into the Ocean flies,
Or new lust weds Antipathies,
Making the Hind stoop to the Tygers love,
The ravenous Kite cuckold the Dove:
And credulous Heards, t'affect the Lions side,
And Goats the salt Sea to abide.
This, and what else may stop our wish'd return
When all, or the good part have sworn,
Fly hence! Let him whose smooth and unfledg'd breast
Misgives him, keep the rifled neast.
You that are men, unmanly grief give o're
And sail along the Tuscan shore,
To the wide Ocean. Let us seek those Isle [...]
Which swim in plenty, the blest soyles:
Where the Earths Virgin-womb unplough'd is fruitful,
And the unproyned Vine still youthful:
The Olive Tree makes no abortion there,
And Figs hang dangling in the air;
Honey distils from Oaks, and water hops
With creeking feet from Mountain tops.
The generous Goats without the Milk-maids call,
Of their full bags are prodigal;
No evening wolf with hoarse alarums wakes
The Flocks, nor breeds the up-land Snakes.
[Page 178]And far [...]er to invite us, the plump Grain,
Is neither drunk with too much rain,
Nor yet for want of mod'rate watring drie;
Such the blest temper of the skie.
Never did Iason to those Islands guide
His Pirat-ship, and whorish Bride.
Sydonian Cadmus never toucht these shores,
Nor false Ulysses weary Oars.
No murrain rots the sheep, nor star doth scorch
The Cattel with his burning torch.
When Iove with brass the Golden age infected,
These Isles he for the pure extracted.
Now Iron raìgns, I like a Statue stand,
To point good men to a good land.
EPODE XVII. To CANIDIA.
Argument.
Canidia the Sorceress
He doth his over-match confess:
And supplicates her to give o're
Her spells, and torture him no more.
Iam, jam efficaci.
I Now su [...]mit unto thy powerful skill,
And beg by Proserpines imperial will,
And by Dianaes steddy fixt decree,
And by thy Charm-books which effectual be,
To summon stars down from the Aetherial Sphear;
Thy Spells, Canidia, Oh at length forbear,
[Page 179]And cease, O cease this giddy whirling wind.
Proud Telephus, he dire Achilles mind
Mov'd to relent; though against him he had shown
His Mysian squadrons, and sharp Javelins thrown.
The Trojan dames did warlike Hector oyl,
To ravenous birds, and dogs expos'd for spoyl;
When Priam quitting Troy, fell down prostrate
Before Achilles, ah, too obstinate.
Ulysses his industrious Sailors left
Their br [...]sled limbs of hispid skins bereft,
Circe appeas'd: then Reason did retreat,
With speech and wonted favour to its seat.
Thou now hast plagu'd me in abundant measure,
O thou the Seamans and Merchants pleasure.
Youths blossom's faded, and my Purple hew,
My skin and bones are smear'd with black and blew▪
My hair's turn'd hoary with thy dismal oyles,
No leisures free me from heart-racking toiles:
I'me cruciated night and day with ire:
Scarce can my grief extended lungs respire.
I wretch am now convinced to believe,
Sabellan charmes (which I deni'd) can grieve
The heart, and Marsian Spells the head dispoil.
What would'st thou more? O sea, O land? I broyl,
As not Alcides stew'd in Nessus gore:
Nor yet Sicilian Aetna rageth more
With its e'r flagrant embers: Thou, till I
Become light ashes scatter'd in the skie,
Fry'st me, as 'twere in Colchian poys'nous forge.
When ends my pain? what tribute wilt thou urge▪
O speak; And I religiously will pay
Whatever mulct's impos'd; prepar'd to slay
Ev'n Hecatombs, or with dissembling song
Chaunt thee for fair, for vertuous, and among
[Page 180]Heavens Or [...]es to glister as a glorious Sphear.
Castor and Pollux wrathful though they were,
And smote him [...]lind did Helens honour stain,
Yet, won with prayers, restor'd his eyes again.
Ev'n thou, who canst from phrenzies set me free,
O [...] not sprung from Sires of base degree,
Nor skill'd in poor mens urns, to dissipate
[...] silent ashes after nine dayes dare.
Thy heart is hounteous, and thy hands sincere,
Fruitful thy Womb, and th' Midwi [...]e rinseth clear
[...] with thy fluent blood,
When thou from Child-bed skip' [...]t with livelihood.
CANIDIA'S Answer.
Argument.
The [...] [...]ill not be wo [...]
[...] his supplication:
[...] up and down,
[...] all ore the Town.
Quid obscratis.
WHy vainly pray'st thou to my lock'd-up ears?
A [...] well the Rock the nake-stript Sailor hears,
When [...] Neptune with his billows beats.
Shalt thou (Scot-free) scoff our Cocyttian feats,
Divulge licentious Cupids Sacrifice?
An Arch-priest-like o'th' Esquile Sorceries;
Revengeless blason our reproachful fames?
To truck with old P [...]lignian haggard dames,
Or mix dispatching Pills, to what end is't,
If thou can'st not refeind thy destin'd twist?
[Page 181]The Fa [...]es (poor wretch) prolong thy irksome date,
That still fresh torments may thy carcase bait.
Pelops his tell-tale Sire for rest out cries,
Wanting still what abounds before his eyes:
For Rest Prometheus Vultur-chain'd makes moan,
And Sisyphus his still down-tumbling stone
Would roul aloft, but Iove gain-saies. And now
Thou wouldst thy self precipitately throw
From down steep clifts: Now Noric sword distain
In thine own Guts, and (loathing life) in vain
Striv'st with a Halter to conclude thy pain.
Then on thy hateful shoulders will I ride,
And make the earth stoop to my haughty pride.
I, who Wax. [...] can inspire with motion,
As thou (too curious) know'st, and whose dark notion
Can hale the Moon down by my abstruse Spells,
And raise the dead up from their silent Cells,
And fervent Phil [...]ers mix: Should I bewail,
My Magic Art 'gainst thee cannot prevail▪
Verses sung in the Secular games every Century of years, pronounced for the s [...]fety of the Roman Empire.
PHoebus and Dian, Grovie Queen,
Heavens ornaments; as you have been,
Still be you honour'd, ever [...]:
Gra [...]t what we ask on holy Feast.
In which Sybi [...]l [...]'s verses [...]each,
Cha [...]te maids, and youths not [...],
[Page 182]Unto those Gods songs to recite,
Who on the seaven-fold hills delight.
(Fair Sol) who in thy chariot bright,
Dost call forth Day, and shutt'st up Night;
And other, and the same dost come,
Nought greater maist thou see than Rome.
Ilythia, open wombes we crave
For ripened Births, and Mothers save;
Whether we thee Lucina call,
Or Cynthia, which produceth all.
Goddess, bring Children forth, and bless
Senates decrees, give good success
To nuptial laws, that those who wed,
May have a fruitful Marriage-bed.
That ten-times-ten full Orbes mature,
May us to songs and sports enure:
Thrice in the splendour of day light,
And thrice in shades of welcome night.
And you truth [...]telling Fates, to past
Joyn future fortunes, that may last:
That stable limits may enclose,
What once to Mortals you propose.
That Cattel may, and Corn abound,
Wherewith fair Ceres shall be crown'd:
And wholesome streams, with air as pure.
May n [...]triments to plants assure.
Ah Phoebus mild, withdraw thy dart,
To suppliant youths thy grace impart:
And Queen of Stars, who do'st appear
By-forked (Luna) Virgins hear▪
If Rome a work be of your store,
And Trojan troops held Tybers shore:
A part injoyn'd their seat to change,
And with success from home to range:
For whom secure, th'row Troy on fire
Aeneas chaste in safe retire,
Free passage open'd, and gave more
To them, then they possest before.
O Gods to youth grant matters sage,
Gods give repose to quiet age;
And unto Romulus his blood,
Wealth, issue, honour, all that's good.
Let Venus, and Anchises strain,
Who give ye Oxen free from stain,
In Wars atchievements bear the prize,
And courteous be to enemies.
The Median now by Sea and Land,
Fears Roman power, and conquering hand:
The Scythians now our friendship crave,
And haughty Indians truce would have.
Now Faith, Peace, Honour, modest look
And Vertue scorned, which forsook
Our City, dares return again,
And blessed Plenty freely raig [...].
Phoebus, with radiant Bow, Divine,
Gracious among the Muses nine;
Who doth with Heaven-inspir'd art,
To crazie bodies health impart:
If he Mount Palatine do grace,
The weal of Rome, and Latian Race,
To farther times and better end,
May he these Centuries extend.
And Dian who holds Aventine,
And Algidus, may she incline
To prayers of fifteen men, and hear
Our childrens vows with friendly ear.
Then I, and all well skill'd in Layes,
Phoebus and Dians name to praise,
Go home, with certain hopes, that Iove,
And all the Gods these things approve.
The end of the Epodes.
SATYRES.
BOOK I.
SATYR I. By A. B. That Men are not contented with their Conditions.
HOw comes it (great Maecenas) that there's not
A man, who lives contented with that lot
Which choice inclin'd, or chance expos'd him to,
But all applaud what others are and do?
Oh happy Merchant, then the Souldier sayes,
When by old age and toil his strength decayes;
The Merchant when th' insulting billows rise,
And toss his tottering Ship, Give me (he cries)
The Souldiers life, for he meets in a breath
A joyful victory or certain death.
The Lawyer when he hears his Clients knock
At's gate before the crowing of the Cock,
Admires the Country life, while the poor Swain,
Being from his home up to the City drawn
[Page 186]To follow Law-suits, does conclude no mens
Conditions happier then the Citizens.
But the whole rabble of this sort of men
Would be so numerous it would tire the Pen
Of Scribling Fabius; so I'le pass by those,
And draw the matter to this point: Suppose
Iove said, I'le make you what you would be; thou
Who wert a Merchant, be a Souldier now.
Thou that a Lawyer wert, shalt now commence
A Husbandman; change sides, and so pack hence
You t'your new Calling, you to yours; Nay, nay,
Now your desires are granted, why d'you stay?
Fond fools! you'l not be happy, though you may.
Is it not reason then great Iove should be
Highly incensed, and declare that he
Will be no more propitious unto them,
But all their vain and various prayers contemn?
This is no laughing matter, nor would I
Be thought to speak all this in Drollery,
Though to blurt out a truth has never been
(In way of merriment) esteem'd a sin.
The flattering Master thus his Boys presents
With Cakes, to make them learn their Rudiments.
But let's leave fooling, and be serious now;
The Clown that rends the pondrous Earth with's plough,
The cheating Tradesman, and the Souldier too,
The Sea-man bold, who ploughs the Ocean through;
All these their various toils endure (they say)
Meerly with this intention, that they may
When they grow old, with peace injoy that store
Which their industrious youth had gain'd before.
Just like the Ant (for that's their pattern) small
In bulk, but great in thrift; who draws in all
[Page 187]That e're she can, and adds it to her store,
Which she fore-seeing want, had heap'd before;
And in the rage of Winter keeps within,
To feed on what her providence laid in:
But neither sword, fire, water, heat, nor cold,
Nor any thing keeps thee from getting Gold,
Onely spurr'd on with that ambitious itch,
To have the World say, Thou art Devilish rich.
What good in thy vast heap of Treasur's found,
Which thou by stealth dost bury under ground?
But if it be diminisht once, thou'lt say
Thy whole estate will dwindle soon away.
[...]nd if thou spend'st not out of it, what pleasure
[...]an'st thou take in a heap of hoarded Treasure?
[...] thy Barn held ten thousand sacks of Wheat,
[...]et thou can'st eat no more then I can eat.
Among thy fellow slaves when thou'rt pickt out
To bear all their provision about,
With which thy Shoulders gall'd and weary grow [...].
Thou eat'st no more then one that carried none.
Or (tell me prithee) what the difference is
To him that makes the Rules of Nature his,
Whether he does a thousand Acres sow,
Or on a hundred does his pains bestow?
But oh (thou cri'st) men do great pleasure reap
In taking Gripes out of a plenteous heap.
Yet since out of a little thou dost leave
As much as we've occasion to receive,
Why should'st thou thy vast Granaries prefer
Before our Willies, which much lesser are?
Or if thou hast occasion to take up
Water enough to fill a Butt or Cup,
Why should'st thou say, thou hast a greater will
Out of that river, then this spring to fill?
[Page 188]Hence it proceeds infallibly, that those
Who to their wills are superstitious,
Uncurb'd desire drives them to this and that,
Until at last they'ld have they know not what.
Whilst who confines his mind to Natures laws,
The troubled muddy water never draws,
Nor in the river does his life expire:
But most of men deceiv'd by false desire,
Say, Noughts enough; 'cause they absurdly guess
At what men are, by what they do possess.
To such a Miser what is't best to do?
Let him be wretched, [...]ince he will be so.
Thus that Athenian Monster Timon, which
Hated Man-kind, a sordid Knave, but rich,
Was wont to say, When ere I walk abroad
The People hiss me, but I do applaud
And hug my self at home, when I behold
My chests brim-full with Silver and with Gold.
So Tantalus, being extreamly drie,
Courts the swifte stream, which does as coily flie.
Why laughst thou Miser? if thy name should be
A little chang'd, the Fables told of thee,
Who on thy full cramb'd Bags together laid,
Do'st lay thy sleepless and affrighted head;
And do'st no more the moderate use on't dare
To make, then if it consicrated were:
Thou mak'st no other use of all thy gold,
Then men do of their pictures, to behold.
Do'st thou no [...] know the use and power of coyn?
It buys bread, meat, and cloaths, (and what's more wine;)
With all those necessary things beside,
W [...]thout which Nature cannot be suppli'd.
[Page 189]To sit up and to watch whole dayes and nights,
To be out of thy wits with constant frights,
To fear that thieves will steal, or fire destroy,
Or servants take thy wealth, and run away.
Is this delightful to thee? then I will
Desire to live without those Riches still.
But if the pains of stomach, or the head,
Or other sickness fix thee to thy bed,
Hast thou a visitant to sit down by thee,
Who with due food and Physick will supply thee?
Or make the D [...]ctor rid thee of thy pain,
And to thy friends restore thee sound again?
Thy wife and children thy quick Death desire,
So do thy friends and kindred: Ne're admire
That they don't shew thee love, thou merit'st none,
For before all thou preferr'st wealth alone.
If thou thy friends or kindred would'st retain,
And not be liberal, thy task's as vain
As his, who in the Field does teach an Ass
T'obey the bridle, and to run a race.
Make once an end of gaining, that the more
Thou hast, the less thou'st tremble to be poor.
Begin to end thy labour, having got
That which thou didst desire, and follow not
That rich Umidius, whose chests did so swell,
He measur'd's money which he could not tell,
So sordid, that he never did go higher
Then his mean'st Servants did, in his attire:
And to his dying day in fear he stood,
Least he should die meerly for want of food;
Till his bold Con [...]ubine did boldly do
A Heroes act, and cut the Slave in two.
But now thou'lt ask me, whether I'de have thee,
A Miser or a Prodigal to be?
[Page 190]Thou still art in extreams; I would not have
Thee covetous, nor a vain squandring Knave.
'Twixt rough Visellius and smooth Tanais
The Eunuch, a vast difference there is.
There is a mean in things, and certain lines
Within which virtue still it self confines.
But I'le return from whence I came; are none
But greedy Slaves delighted with their own
Conditions? Do all praise each others lot,
And pine to see their Neighbours Goat has got
A Dug more full of Milk then theirs? and ne're
Themselves with the poorer sort of men compare:
(Though that's the greater number) but aspire
Still to ore-top this man and that, whose higher!
It curbs the Spirit of that person which
Tugs to grow great, when he meets one more rich,
So when the Chariots from the Barriers are
Let loose to run a Race, the Charioter
Minds still those horses which out-stript his owne,
Slighting those which by t'other are ou [...] gone.
And hence it comes, we seldome find a man
That sayes He has liv'd happily, and can
Like a well-feasted-guest depart at last
Contented with that part of 's life that past.
Now 'tis enough; least you should think that mine
'S like Crispins Volumns, I will not add a line.
SATYR II. By A. B. That while foolish men shun one Vice, they run into another.
THe Players, Empricks, Beggars, and the noise
Of Fidlers, all the roaring Damn-me boyes,
And all that sort of cattel do appear
Extreamly sad, and much concern'd to hear
Their friend Tigillus is deceas'd; For he
Did treat them with great liberality.
While the close miser, least he should be thought
A prodigal; oth' contrary, gives nought
To his dear friend (though ne're so much he need)
To cloath his body, or his belly feed.
If one should ask the Prodigal, why he
By an ungrateful sottish gluttony,
That brave estate bequeath'd him by his friends
And Ancestors, so prodigally spends;
And at great interest take up money too,
Meerly in needless luxury to bestow:
His answer is, Because he scorns to be
Esteem'd a sordid fellow, or that he
Has but a narrow soul: So up he's cri'd
By some, while others him as much deride.
Fufidius the Usurer fears to have
The Reputation of an unthrift Knave,
Rich both in moneys out at use, and lands,
But when he lends, he still detains in's hands
Five times the interest from the principal;
And where he finds his Debtors prodigal,
[Page 192]Those he gripes most severely: He inquires
For wealthy heirs new come of age, whose Sires
Had been close-fisted to them and severe.
Good God! what persons who shall come to hear
Such horrid actions, won't exclaim? But oh!
(You'l say) he does't for his livelihood. Oh no!
You can't believe how much this love of Pelf,
Makes this vile Slave an enemy to himself.
Old Menedemus, whom the Comedy
Brings weeping in, and living wr [...]tchedly
For his lost son, could not himself torment
More then this sordid Beast. To what intent
All this is said, if you desire to know,
It onely tends to this design, to show
That fools, when they attempt one Vice to slun,
Into the contrary do madly run.
This man his garment down to th' ground does wear,
And that so short his privities appear.
Perfum'd Rufillus wears a gaudie coar,
Gorgonius stinks as nastie as a Goat.
Men do observe no means, but this mans flames
Must be allay'd onely with Roman Dames.
Another does a common Quean admire,
That prostitutes her self to all for hire.
A man of note came from the publick stews,
And, to applaud his action, he did use
Cato's Divine old Sentence, Bravely done,
Go on, and prosper in what th'hast begun:
For when the rage of Lust inflames your blood,
'Tis lawful to come hither, but not good
Another Nuptial bed to violate.
While Cupiennius cries out, I hate
To be applauded for this nicety,
Give me anothers wife, she's safe and free.
[Page 193]'Tis worth the observation of all those
That would not have uncleanness prosperous,
To see how they are Plagu'd on every hand,
How often they fall into danger, and
How small, and seldome too, they pleasures gain,
And those corrupted with much grief and pain.
This leaps from th'top o'th'house, and thinks to flie,
But breaks his neck; and that's whipt till he die;
This as he flies, 'mong thieves and robbers falls,
And that with's pur [...]e redeems his Genitals.
This is by Foot-men buggar'd, and sometimes
Those members which commit these shameful crimes,
Do loose their Heads, and justly too; all say,
None but that rutting Galba dares lay, nay.
But 'tis more safe to venture your estate
In Ships, that are but of the second rate;
Daughters of Captives that have been made free,
Yet Salust plaid the fool as much as he
That does commit adultery; For he had
A generous Soul, and would be very glad
Of any good occasion, that he
Might but express his liberalitie,
(In modest manner though) he would dispence
His money to all freely, yet from thence
No damage came to him, no disrepute,
But still he lov'd a gentle prostitute.
This was that darling Vice he lov'd to th'life,
But still he cri'd, I'le meddle with no mans wife.
Just so Marcaeus did, who heretofore
Onely admir'd an honourable whore,
And his Paternal Fortune fool'd away
On a she-thing, that on the Stage did play.
Yet still he said, I thank my stars, that I
With wives of other men did never lie.
His fame more suffer'd, then his wealth came to.
What satisfaction can it to us bring,
To shun one person, and not ev'ry thing
That every way does hurt us? To destroy
Our reputation, and to fool away
Th' Estate our parents left us, certainly
Is a great vice, which way so e're it be.
So Villius, who had a mind to be
The Son in Law of Sylla, how was he
Severely punish'd? Maul'd with Fists, nay more,
Stabb'd with Steeletto's, then kickt out of door.
(Poor wretch! how was he chou'sd with name and stile?)
But Longarenus lay with her the while.
Now if that Natural genius of his
Should say to him, when he had seen all this,
Sir, what d'you mean? Do I require, when e're
I am inrag'd, the Daughter of a Peer
Or any marri'd woman? what could he
Then answer to't? that womans meat for me,
Who is descended of a noble stem.
But Nature teaches better things then them,
And quite repugnant too; Great Nature, which
In her own help is plentifully rich,
If we would rightly use them, and descry
What we should choose, from what we ought to fly,
Does it no difference appear to thee
By lust to perish, or necessity?
Then that thou may'st not that vain work attempt,
Of which thou surely wilt too late repent,
Pursue not Matrons; for the cost and pain
Will far surmount the pleasure thou canst gain.
[Page 195]Nor is their Flesh more tender, nor are they
Mo [...]e clean-limb'd, whose attire is rich and gay,
And do with jewels deck their necks and ears,
(Such as th' effeminate Corinthus wears;)
Nay oftentimes that Lass, who's plain and free,
Wears better Limbs then your great Madams be▪
She does her mercenary Flesh expose,
Undeckt by art, and openly she shows
The ware she means to utter, nor will she,
If any part about her hansome be,
Proudly show that alone, nor strive to hide
Those parts, which Nature has not beautify'd.
So Princes, when they Horses go to buy,
Into the cover'd parts most strictly pry,
Least the same Horse, that's lovely to behold
With a small head, and a crest high and bold,
And a round buttock, the eager Buyer cheat,
Because he's lame, or foundred in his feet.
This they do well in; for we should not pry
On their perfections with a Lynxes Eye,
And be as blind as Hypsea was, when we
Their greater imperfections ought to see.
Oh comely legs and armes! (sayes one) and yet
She is pin-buttock'd, and has long-splay Feet,
Short-wasted, but a nose of such a size,
That all the Members shortness it supplies.
Thou canst no part of a grave Matron see,
Except her face, the rest all cover'd be,
Unless it be of Catia, who, although
She be a matron, does unvailed goe.
If thou attempt forbidden wives to win
To thy desires, they are incompass'd in
With guards and walls? 'twill make thee mad to see
How many things there are to hinder thee.
[Page 196]There's Guardian, Coach-man, Tire man, Flatterer,
A gown to th' heels, a vail that covers her;
And many more [...] envious things there be,
Make thee the [...], as [...] thou canst not see.
A Lass ne're hinders thee, she will appear
In dress transparent, as she naked were;
That thou maist by thine Eye discern, that she
Is straight in th' waste, and that her anck [...] be
Not great, and gou [...]y; and her feet are nea [...].
Does any man desire to have a chea [...]
Impos'd upon him? and be made pay down
The price ere the commodity be shown?
But thou art like the Hunts-man, who does go
After the Hare up to the knees in Snow,
Wh [...]ch being caught, makes him a chearful Feast,
Yet hee'l not touch a Hare brought ready drest.
Thou scorn'st that Lass thou may'st with ease enjoy,
And court those that are difficult and coy.
But doest thou think thy passions to appease
With such vain and impert'nent flames as these?
Has not wise Nature bounded thy desire?
Does it not more avail thee to enquire,
What she cann't be without, and what she may,
And pare what ere's superfluous away?
When thou art thirsty, m [...]st thou onely drink
Out of a Golden goblet? or doest think
All meat is loathsome, when thou'rt hungry grown,
But Turlet, or the Phe [...]s [...]nt poult alone?
So when thy [...] flames grow strong and high,
Wilt thou not take [...] next thou canst come by?
Be't Kitchin wench, or Scullion boy; or else,
Wouldst have that [...] which so extreamly swells?
I'm of another humour, for to me
That girl is best, that's easiest; and she
[Page 197]That I can soonest come at; and when I
Ask her the Question, sa [...]es Yes by and by,
As soo [...]'s my Servant is gon forth, or sayes
She'l gratifie me, if the price I raise.
Those that are hard, and te [...]ious to be won,
Are for the feeble Eunuchs taste alone:
Give me a coming Lady, that ne're stands
Consid'ring long, nor great rewards demands;
But when I call her quickly comes to me,
Let her not ugly, nor yet cro [...]ked be,
But of good colour, and clean-limb'd withal,
Of a good size, not by Chipe [...]ns made tall;
Nor let her by her painting make more fair
Her face and skin, then they by Nature are.
When such a Creature in mine Armes does lie,
She is m [...] Love, my Queen, my Deitie;
I call her by all names, nor do I [...]oubt
When we our Deeds of Pleasure are about,
The barking Dogs, the breaking ope of doors,
And all the Home disturb'd with great uproars,
Her jealous husband will return to see,
How he is cuckolded by her and me;
While the poor woman starts from off her Bed,
Pale and affrighted, 'cause discovered,
And being conscious cries, Oh I'm undone!
I shall be fetter'd, and my Por [...]on's gone.
And I without my Breeches then m [...]st pack,
Bare-foot and coat-less, all to save my back
From the dire Lash, or to preserve my Purse,
Or else my R [...]putation, which is worse.
For to be taken is a Crime, 'tis true,
And 'tis a pitiful misfortune too;
I dare be judg'd by Fabius, who does know
All this is true, for he has been serve [...]so.
SATYRE III. By A. B. That men are quick-sighted to pry into other mens infirmities, and connive at their own.
ALl Songsters have this humour, that among
Their friends they can't abide to sing a Song
If they're intreated; but they'l ne're give ore
If not desired. This was heretofore
Tige [...]ius vice; Caesar who could command,
If by the friendship of his Father, and
His own, he did intreat but for one Ayre,
This Songster would not sing; yet if he were
Once in the humour, all the Supper long
He would to Bacchus sing, Song after Song;
His voice to th'highest treble rais'd, and then
Descending down to th'lowest base again.
A most unsteady fellow, somet [...]mes he
Woul [...] run, as if pursu'd by's enemy;
Sometimes hee'ld slowly walk, as if he were
T [...]e Sacred host about the street to bear.
Sometimes attended with two hundred men
Heel'd walk, at other times with onely ten.
Now Kings and Princes, and all great things be
The subjects of his talk: Anon (sayes he)
Give me a three-leg'd board, a shell to hold
A l [...]ttle [...]alt, and to keep off the cold
A gown, though ne're so course; if you present
This poor abstemious person, who's content
Now with so little, with a thousand pound,
In five dayes there will not a Great be found
In's pocket: He the day in sle [...]p doth pass,
And [...] all night long; there never was
[Page 199]A thing so much unlike so him as he
Was to himself: But some may say to me,
Pray what are you? Have you no crime at all?
Yes, Other vices, not perhaps so small.
When Menius absent, Novius did upbraid,
You Sir, d'you hear? D'you know your self? (one said)
Or do you think to cheat us, as if we
Did not know what you are? Menius, said he,
Could wink at, and forget his own faults; this
Is both a vile and silly love, and'tis
Fit to be taken notice of, when with blear eyes
We over-look our own infirmities.
Why should we into our Friends errors pry
As narrowly as with an Eagles eye,
Or Basi [...]cks piercing look? 'twill come about,
As we do theirs, they'l find our Vices out.
An angry man is no way fit to bear
The jeers, which from the Wits he's forc'd to hear:
They'l jeer him if ill shav'd, or if his Gown
In a neglected posture hangeth down:
Or if his Shooes are not well t [...]'d, though he
May be as honest as their Witships be.
Though he's a Friend, though a great Wit does lie
Within that Body, drest so clownishly.
Examine well thy self, see if there be
The seeds of any Vices sow [...] in thee;
By Nature or ill custome we discern,
Neglected Fields still over grown with Fearn,
Let's raise our selves up to this frame of mind,
To be t' our Friends infirmities as [...]lind
As Lovers to their Mistresses can be,
Who either don't their imperfections see,
Or if they do, they're pleasing to them, th [...]s
Balbinus lik'd even Agnas Polypus.
[Page 200]I wish we all would erre in friendship so,
And vertue on that error would bestow
A glorious name; for as the Father mild,
If he espies a frailtie in his child,
He does not scorn, nor loath it, nor should we
Th [...] errors of our friends, if any be.
If a Son squinting goggle-eyes should have,
H [...]s Father calls him, Pretty winking Knave;
And he whose Child in stature [...]s no more
Then Sysiphus th' Abortives heretofore,
Calls him his Chick [...]n; if he bend at knee,
He calls him Varus; if he hurl-foot be,
His Father l [...]sping calls him Scaurus: Thus
When a Friend lives something penurious,
Le [...]'s call't good Husbandry, and when we find
One that to jeer or vapour is inclin'd,
Imagine his design is but to be
Very facetious in company:
If he be rough-hew'd, and will talk and rant,
Count him a down-right man and valiant,
And when we meet with any person that
Is hot and surly, call him passionate.
This thing joynes friends together, and when joyn'd,
It still preserves them in a friendly mind.
But we the very vertues of a Friend
Do into Vices basely wrest, and bend
O [...]r mind those vessels to pollute, which are
Clear of themselves; if any person dare
L [...]ve vertuo [...]sly among us; base and low
We count him then, and if a man be slow
Of apprehen [...]on, we are apt to call
and thick-skul'd fellow; he that all
[...], whose Bosome does not lie
Expos'd to any kind of injury,
[Page 201]Though he lives in a treacherous Age, wherein
Malice and Slander, and all kind of sin
Do grow and flourish, ought of right to be
Esteem'd a prudent wary man, but we
Call him a subtle Iugler: If we spy
A [...] open-hearted person (such as I
Oft shew'd my self to you Maec [...]nas) which
W [...]th his perpetual and impertinent Speech
Disturbs men far more serious, when they
Do either read or study hard, we say
This fellow has not common sence, Alas!
How inconsiderately do we pass
Laws on our selves, unequal and severe,
Since no man without Vices ever were,
Or born, or bred, and that man is the best,
Who's troubled with the fewest and the least.
Areal Friend will with my faults compare
My vertues; and if all my vertues are
More then my Vices, he that loves me would
Incline toth'most, as'tis fit he should:
So if to be belov'd he has a mind,
He may by this means the same measure find:
He that desires his Wenns should not offend
His friend, must wink at the Pimples of his friend▪
He that would have his faults forgiven must
Give pardon, if he take it, 'tis but just.
Now since the vice of anger, and the rest
Which do our foolish Nature thus infest,
Cannot be throughly rooted out, why may
Not equal judgement and right reason sway?
And why should not all punishments be fitted
Proportionably to the Crimes committed?
When a man bids his Servant lift a Dish
Off from the Table, and he eat the Fish
[Page 202]That's left, or lick the sauce up, if that he
Should suffer death, should not his Master be
Esteem'd more mad then frantick Labeo
By all those men, who are themselves not so?
How would the Masters crime the mans transcend
In greatness; nay in madness? If a Friend
Commit a fault, at which thou ought'st to wink,
Or else all men will thee ill-natur'd think,
If thou should'st scorn and hate him for't, and shun
H [...]s company, as the poor Debtors run
From that damn'd Usurer Druso, who when ere
The doleful Day of Payment does appear
To his poor Debtors, if they do not pay
Both principal and interest, how they
Come by't he cares not, he condemns them then
To stand with naked throats, like Captive men,
Not to be kill'd, but (what's far worse then it)
To hear those wretched Playes which he had writ.
Suppose my fudled Friend when he did sup,
Bepist the room or break my Mistress cup:
Or if he being hungry took away
That Chicken which i'th' Dish before me lay,
Must I fall out with him? What then if he
Should commit theft? Or break his trust with me?
Or should deny his promise? those by whom
All sins are equal held, when once they come
T' inquire into the truth they're at a stand;
For common reason, general custome, and
Profit it self, which is the Mother now
Of what is right and just, all disallow
This fond opinion: When in former time
Man-kind, which of all creatures is the prime,
Crept out of 's Mother Earth, they were a kind
Of dumb and nasty Cattle, which inclin'd
[Page 203]To brawl for Mast, and Dens to lodge in to,
With nails and fists, and next with clubs, and so
In length of time, they fought with spears and swords,
Which need had taught them how to make, till words
And names by them invented were, whereby
They did their sence and voices signifie
Unto each other, then they did begin
To build them Forts to live with safety in.
Then they enacted Lawes, that none might dare
Play either Robber or Adulterer:
For before Helens dayes women have been
The cause of cruel wars. When men rush'd in
On any women which they next came to,
At the first sight, as wild Beasts use to do;
Till like a Bull o'th' herd, a stronger come,
Kill the first Occupant, and takes his room:
But unremembred di'd those nameless men,
Wanting th' Historians and Poets Pen.
We if we do consider former times,
Must grant that Laws were made for fear of crimes
As Nature can't discern; what's right, what's wrong,
Nor separate good from ill, nor from among
Those things we ought to shun, pick out what we
Ought to desire, nor can't by reason be
Made out, that he who on the Hearbs within
His Neighbours Garden treads, do's as much sin
As he that robs a Church, and steals away
What to the Gods there consecrated lay.
Let's have a Rule, by which our pains may be
Proportion'd to our crimes, and not that he
Who has deserv'd a little Rod alone,
Should with a horrid whip be [...] to th' Bone.
That thou'lt with ferule strike I'le ne'r suppose,
Him that deserves to suffer greater blows;
[Page 204]While thou hold'st thefts and robberies to be
Offences onely of the like degree,
And threatnest if thou reign once to chastise
Our petty faults and foul enormities
With equal punishments: if it be so,
That he who is a wise man's wealthy too,
A good Mechanick skill'd in every thing,
The onely gallant, and indeed a King.
What need'st thou wish to be a King, since thou
Art so already? Thou wilt ask me now
If I don't know what old Chrysipus said,
Tho [...]gh a wise man perhaps has never made
His Shooes and Boots, yet still a wise man is
A Shoo-maker; to what end is all this?
Just so Hermogenes, thoughs he's dumb, can
Sing well, and is a good Musitian.
And in this sense, Alfenus when he threw
Away his tools, and shut up shop, and grew
A cunning Lawyer, who had been before
A Cobler, was still Cobler, and no more:
So the wise man's alone in every thing,
The skilfull'st Artist, and so he's a King.
The Roguing Boyes (thou talk'st so like a Sot)
Will pull thee by thy Beard, if thou do'st not
That Scepter in thy hand thy cudgel sway,
And in Majestick-wise drive them away.
The cheated crowd that stand about thee, all
Prepare to kick thee, thou maist bark and brawl
Till thou hast burst thy Royal self, Most high
And mighty King, in brief thou Royally
Giv'st a whole f [...]r [...]hing, for thy Bath at once,
And hast no guard to attend thee but that dunce
Chrispinus; But my pleasant fr [...]ends, if I,
Through folly should transgress, will pass it by
[Page 205]And when they do bewray their frailties, then
I in requital pardon them agen;
And thus I live, though but a private man,
More happy then thy fained Kingship can.
SATYRE IV. By A. B. A Discourse concerning POETRY.
THe old Greek Poets, Aristophanes,
Cratinus, Eupolis, and such as these
Who did write Comedies, wher e're they had
One fit to be describ'd, as very bad,
Such as a Thief, or an Adulterer,
Or Murtherer, or such like men which were
Notorious in their lives, these all should be
With a brave bo [...]dness, and great liberty,
Exprest to th'life, and whatsoever is
Writ by Lucillius does proceed from this,
Those Poets he did imitate, their feet
And numbers onely he did change, and yet
His wit was excellent, his judgement clear,
Onely the Verses which came from him, were
Harsh and unpolisht; for this was his crime,
Two hundred Verses in one hours time
He ordinarily poured out with ease,
As if he did such weighty businesses;
Yet though his Verses like a Deluge flow'd,
Th'had something still above the common road:
[Page 206]He lov'd to scrible, but could not endure
The pains of writing Verses good and pure;
I ne're regard how much an Author writes,
'Tis not the Volumn, but the sence delights.
I'le tell you; Once Crispinus challeng'd me,
Pointing with's Finger at me, Come (sayes he)
Take Paper, Pen, and Ink, fix place, and time,
Let's both be watcht, try which can swiftest rhime;
I thank my Stars, Nature did me compose
So bashful, and so pusillanimous,
That I speak little, and but seldome too,
But his laborious lungs do alwayes go
Like a Smiths Bellows, puffing breath so fast,
That he his Iron audients tires at last.
What luck that Scribling Rhimer Fannius met?
That our grave Senate undesir'd have set
His silly Book and ugly statue too
In Caesars Library? Whilest I that do
Both blush and tremble when I e'er appear
In publick, no rehearsing wit does care
To read my Lines to th' undiscern [...]ng crue;
But here's the reason for't, there are but few
That love a Satyr well; most are afraid
Their Crimes may be like others, open laid.
Pick any person out of all Mankind,
He is to pride or avarice inclin'd;
This with the lust for's Neighbours wife runs mad,
That's for th' unnatural use of some fair Lad:
This loves to gaze on's money still, and that
Is ravisht with the splendour of his Plate;
This to get wealth by merchandizing goes,
Where the Sun sets, from the place where it rose,
Runs through all dangers head-long, and is tost
From place to place as Whirlwinds blow the dust,
[Page 207]Fearing least he should loose his stock, or not
Increase that vast Estate which he had got.
All these hate Verses, and Verse-makers fly
That Beast the Poet comes 'ware-horns they cry:
To make the People laugh, these Fellows use
Not to regard what friends they do ab [...]se,
And whatsoe're they write they forthwith to
The Politicians of the Conduit shew,
Or at the Bake-house, that Old Women and
The Rouging Boyes their jests may understand.
Much good may't do them, I on t'other side
With the name Poet wo'nt be dignifi'd
Out of their number, whom the world does own
For Poets, I'm excluded, being none:
For to compose a Verse, or write as we
Do naturally speak's not Poetry.
That noble Title Poet those doth fit,
Who have good Stile, high Fancy, and quick wit;
And therefore some have askt whither, what I
Have written be Poem or Comedy,
Because no salt, no flame, nor spirit be,
Or in the words or sence which comes from me;
Which would be very Prose, but onely I
My words to feet and numbers use to tie:
But in a Comedy the Poet brings
A Father raging in 'cause his Son clings
T' a common prostitute, and does refuse
That wealthy match which the old man did chuse,
And being drunk walks in the open day
With a Torch flaming in a scandalous way.
Pomponius Father, if alive, would thus
Rebuke his Son for being leacherous;
'Tis not enough to make Verse smoothly run
With fine cull'd words, but if they are undone,
[Page 208]And made plain Prose, would as unpleasant be
As the sowre Father in the Comedy.
If from the Verses which I use to make,
And those which once Lucillus writ, you take
The feet and measure, and do discompose
The order of those words, and make them Prose;
Placing those words before which stand behind,
And so invert their order, you will find
The quarters of a Poet still appear
In every sentence, scatter'd every where,
Not like this Verse; When as the cruel jars
Of wars had broke our iron posts and bars.
So much for that; We'l take a time to know,
Whither this Poetry be right or no:
Now I would onely ask whither to thee
A Satyr can justly offensive be.
The bawling Lawyers and the formal Iudge,
When they in Gowns and with their Law-tools trudge,
Make Malefactors tremble, while that he
That's innocent contemns their Pogeantry.
Though thou'rt a malefactor, yer since I
Am no Informer, why do'st from me fly?
No Books of mine do prostituted lie
On publick Stalls to tempt th' enquiring Eye
Of Passengers, soyl'd by the greasie Thumbs
Of every prying nasty Cl [...]wn that comes.
I seldome do rehearse, and when I do,
'Tis to my Friends, and with relunctance too:
Not before every one, nor every where;
We have too many that Rehearsers are,
In publick Baths, and open Markets too,
In the Seild chambers, where their voices do
Double by repercussion, they rehear'e
In sipid notions tortur'd into Verse.
[Page 209]This pleases empty Fops, who never mind
True wit and sense, so rhime and feet they find▪
Thou sayest I love to jeer and study it,
To gratifie my own ill-natur'd wit;
Where didst thou pick up this Report? or who
Of my acquaintance e're reputes me so?
That person who back-bites his absent friend,
Or when another does, will not defend
His reputation; he that aims to be
The jester in all foolish company,
Ambitious of the Title of a Wit,
Ablab of 's tongue, who what e're you commit
Unto his trust, discovers and betrayes,
And impudently lies in what he sayes:
This is a dirty fellow, such a one
Every true Roman is concern'd to shun,
I've seen a dozen men together feast,
And one has rudely jeer'd at all the rest,
Except his Friend, which entertain'd them all;
But being drunk at last on him did fall,
When wine (Truth's Mother) had unlockt his Breast,
Reveal'd those thoughts that there did smother'd rest.
Thou who abhorr'st base Fellows, wilt suppose
This beast free, civil, and ingenious.
Whilest if I do discover and deride
Some powdred Coxcombs vanity and pride:
Or else some nasty Sloven, thou dost fall
On me, as envious or Satyrical.
If in thy presence any person does
Report Petillus Sacriligious,
Thou (as thy custome is) wile him defend,
And say Petillus was thy antient Friend;
From Children you were conversant, and he
With Kindnesses was still oblieging thee,
[Page 210]The thought of him does much thy Spirit chear,
That he is well, and thou enjoy'st him here:
But yet thou canst not but admire how he
Himself could from that Iudgement so well free.
Such Friends are like the Scattle-fish, whose skin
Is white without, but all black juice within;
This is the rust of Friendship, and this vice
(If any promise in my power lies)
I freely promise thou shalt never find
In all my writings, no nor in my mind.
If I speak what is jocular and free,
You by the Law are bound to pardon me.
My honour'd Father, now deceas'd, did use
Into my mind these Precepts to infuse;
Observe (quoth he) their end who vice pursue,
And thou by that all Vi [...]es wilt eschew:
When he did press me to good Husbandrie,
And thrifty frugal courses, and to be
Content with that Estate which he had got,
And did intend to leave me; dost thou not
(Said he) observe the wealthy Albius Son
Into what want he is by wildness run?
See what a shabby Fellow's Barrus grown,
Barrus the Ranting'st Gallant of the Town;
A good instruction for young Heirs, that they
Should not their Patrimony fool away!
And when from love of VVhores he would deter me,
He to Sectanus sad Fate would refer me,
That after marri'd Wives I should not stray,
But use my Pleasures in a Lawful way.
(Quoth he) upon thy name 'twil be a Brand
If like Trebonius thou should'st be trappand,
Philosophy will with much reason shew
What thou should'st shun, and what thou should'st pursue▪
In which our Fathers walkt in former dayes,
And keep thy life and reputation free
From vice or scandal whilest thou'rt under me,
I'm pleas'd: But when thy mind and body too
By age to full maturity shall grow,
I'le turn thee loose into the World. Thus he
Did in my Nonage wisely nurture me:
When he propos'd a duty to be done,
He'ld say, Thou hast a fair example (Son)
For doing this, thou hast before thine eyes
Those which to honour and great power did rise,
And if he'ld have me any vice to flie,
(Sayes he) A man may see with half an eye
This act which now thou art about to do
Is against honesty and profit too.
Since this mans name, and that's who did this thing,
With general scandal through the Nation ring.
And as one Gluttons death doth much affright
Another, and suspends his appetite
For fear of death, so others infamy
Makes tender Spirits from those vices fly.
Thus I liv'd unconcern'd in all those Crimes
Which ruine young-men in these impious times,
Though I perhaps do'nt unpolluted live,
But have small faults, which men may well forgive,
And which my second thoughts and a true Friend,
And wiser age may teach me to amend;
For I'm not wanting to my self when I
Do walk alone, or in my Bed do lie.
Then I think with my selt, this way is best
And if I follow'r, I am truly blest,
And to my Friends am grateful; but when I
Observe a person doing fool [...]shly,
[Page 212]Should I be such an Ass to make the same
Ill course my pattern, which has been his shame?
These are my private thoughts, and when I light
On a spare minute I do Verses write,
And this is one of those small sins which I
Am guilty of, which if thou should'st deny
To pardon, all of my Fraternitie
Would come to help me; for we Poets be
A mighty number, and as once the Iews,
Romans to their Religion did seduce,
So we'l dub thee a Brother of the Muse.
SATYRE V. By A. B. A Iourney from Rome to Brandusium
FRom spatious Rome to Aris once went I,
With Heliodorus in my company,
The best for Rhetorick that the Grecians had;
Our Inn was small, our entertainment bad.
From whence to Apii forum we did ride,
Where Sailors and lewd Victuallers most reside.
We made it two dayes work, which might be done
By those that had a mind in less then one.
The Appian Road we did not tedious think,
We travell'd slowly, and did often drink:
Here, 'cause the water was unwholsome, I
Refus'd to eat a Supper, but sate by
While my Friends did; I long'd to be in Bed,
[...]or night on th' earth her sable wings had spread,
[Page 213]And stuck the Heaven with stars, but such a noise
Rose from the Sailors railing at their Boyes,
And their Boyes back again at them! So ho!
The Boat, the Boat! Plague on you, where d'you go?
(Sayes one) you Rogue, you over-load the Boat,
You lye (sayes t'other with an open throat)
Hold, hold, now 'tis enough: And thus while they
Harnest their Mules, and quarrel for their Pay,
They spent a whole houers time; the stinging fleas
And croaking Frogs deni'd me sleep and ease.
And now the Sailor being got quite drunk,
With nastie Wine begins to sing of 's Punck.
The Mule-man does the like of his: both try
Which should roar loudest for the Victory;
At length the Mule-man being weary grown,
Falls fast asleep; while to a neighbouring stone
The lazie Mariner did tie the Barge
With the Mules traces which was gon at large
To graze; and likewise falls asleep till day,
Then we perceiv'd the Barge was at a stay,
There being no Mule to draw her; thereupon
Out leaps a surly Fellow, and layes on
The Mule-man and the Salior head and side
With a tough Cudgel, which was well appli'd:
Then in four hours we ashore were set,
We washt our hands and faces, and did eat:
Then after Dinner three full miles walkt we,
And came to Anxur, where the houses be
Cover'd with Polisht Stone, my honour'd Friend
Maecenas and Cocceius did intend
To take this Maritine City in the road,
Both being sent Ambassadors abroad
'Bout State Affairs, and using to compose
All differences which 'twixt Friends arose.
[Page 214]Here I anointed these sore Eyes of mine
With the most true Collyrium ex'lent Wine.
Then straight Maeoenas and three more I see,
Ingenious persons all, and forthwith we
With scorn pass by that petty Village, where
That Scrivener Luscus proudly rul'd as Mayor.
With Mace and Chain, and Fur and Purple-gown,
Strutting and domineering o're the Town,
And came to Formiae soundly tir'd at last,
Where our Friends gave good lodging and repast:
The next day was a blessed day, for we
Came to a Town where wine was good and free:
There Virgil, Varius, and Plotinus met,
Men of such Souls the World can't equal yet,
Nor are there any in the World to me
So much obliging as those persons be.
But oh! what love, and what embracing 'twas?
And what rejoycing old between us pass?
No man in's Wits can any thing commend
Before a real and ingenuous Friend.
Next to a small Maritine village, near
Campania's Bridge we came, the Townsmen there
With Wood and Salt Maecenas did present
As fees, 'cause in an Embassy he went.
From thence to Capua betimes we came,
Virgil and I did sleep, Maecenas game;
That [...]oilsome play at Ball no way complies
With Virgils stomack, nor with my blear eyes.
Hence we came to (occeius house, which is
Seated beyond the Claudian Hosteries,
A stately house, where plentie did abound,
And there we splendid entertainment found.
And now (my Muse) assist me while I tell
That memorable squable which befel
[Page 215]Between Sarmentus that Buffoon, and one
Messius, whose Face with warts was over-grown;
And from what Noble antient Familie
These Combatants deriv'd their pedigree;
The Ossian Nation unto Messius gave
His being, but Sarmentus was a Slave
Of this condition and original.
These two Tongue-combatants began their braul;
Thou Horse-fac'd Raskal (sayes Sarmentus first)
At which we fell a laughing, like to burst.
Messius replies, Well be i [...] so; what then?
(And Ox-like tost his head at him agen.)
Oh? (sayes Sarmentus) what a dangerous Cow,
Had not thy horns been qui [...]e saw'd off, wert thou,
Who art so curst without them? thy old face,
(If possible) is uglier then it was▪—
Since thy great men on one side, now we find
Cut out, it leaves an ugly [...]rand behind
That botchy face of thine [...] [...]s if thou
Hadst a Campama [...] Cl [...]p upon thee now.
Thus he abus'd Messius ace, and bid
Him come and dance as Polyphemus did.
No vizard, nor yet buskins need'st thou wear,
Thy face and limbs can't seem worse then they are.
Messius retorts as much; Thou Dog, (sayes he)
When will thy slaveship end? for though thou be
Now made a Scribe, thy Mrs. right thereby
Is not extinguisht; tell me, Sirrah, why
Didst thou so often run away from her?
Is not a pound of bread sufficient fare
For such a starveling slave as thou to eat?
And with such pastime we got down our meat.
At Beneventum our officious Host
Roasting lean Birds, was like himself to roast.
[Page 216]The pile of fire fell down, and scatter'd flame
Unto the roof of the old Kitchin came,
The hungry Guests, and Servants worse then those,
Being afraid their supper they should lose,
Began to scramble, and did more conspire
To snatch the victuals, then to quench the fire.
And now th' Apulean Mountains did appear,
Which by [...] so scorched are,
These we had ne'er chaw'd ore, but that there lay
Trivi [...]us to refresh us by the way;
But such a cursed smo [...]k did there arise
From the green Bo [...]ghs they burnt, it scorcht our ey [...] ▪
Here I the [...] of the company
Till Mid-night aid in expectation lie
Of a false Wench, who promis'd to come to me,
But sleep did come, and that more good did do me:
But what I dreamt▪ and what on me befel,
My body and my sheets can onely tell.
Thence four and twentie miles we were convey'd
By Coach, then in a little town we staid,
Whose name won't stand in verse, but yet there are
Plain signs to know it by, they water there
(The meanest of all things) sell, while trav'lers may
With fine bread gratis load themselves away.
Bread at C [...]nusiums gritty, water there
Is as at Equotutium, very rare.
Brave Diomedes of so high renown,
'Twas he, that built in former time, this town.
Here Varius parted from's, and weeping went,
While [...]e his absence did as much lament.
To Rubi thence, we being tir'd, did get,
The journey long, and worse because 'twas wet.
Next day to Fishy Barus we repair,
The way was worse, but yet the Weather fair;
[Page 271]From thence to Gratia, which did seem to be
Founded in spight of th' Water Nymphs, for we
Found wholesome Water greatly wanting there,
But we had ex'lent sport; for they did dare
Perswade me, that their Incense which they lay
Upon their Altars, would consume away
Without a fire, I'le ne're think 'tis true,
This story fits th' uncircumcised Iew;
For I well know the Gods live free from cares,
And ne're concern themselves in mans affairs,
And when as Nature any thing does do,
Which Mortal men are most accustom'd to,
I don't believe that 'tis the careful Gods
Send down this wonder from their high abodes;
Thence to Brandusium we our travels bend,
And here my paper and our journey end.
SATYRE VI. By Sir R. F. To MAECENAS.
He reprehends the vain judgement of the people of Rome concerning Nobility, measuring the same by antiquity of Pedigree, not by vertue; nor willingly admitting to Magistracy any but such as were adorned with the former▪ That there was no reason to envy him for the friendship of Maecenas, as for a Tribuneship; since that was not given by Fortune, but acquired by the recommendations of vertue. Lastly, shews his condition in a private life to be much better, then (if he were a Magistrate) it could be.
NOt that the Tus [...]ans (who from Lydia came)
Have nothing nobler then Maecenas name;
Nor that thy Mothers, and Sires Grand-sire were
Gen'rals of old, makes thee as most men, sneer
Thy nose up at poor folks, and such as me,
Born of a Father, from a Slave made free.
When thou affirm'st, It skils not of what kind
Any is come; if of a noble mind;
Thou deem'st (and right) that before Tullus reign,
(Who was a King, yet not a Gentleman)
Many a man of no degree, no name,
By great atchievements to great honours came.
Levinus contrary (Valerio's Son,
By whom proud Tarquin was expell'd the Throne)
Him worthless, Ev'n the people (whom you know)
They scorn'd; Those fools that honours oft bestow
On undeservers, doating on gay men,
Dazled with shields and coronets. What then
[Page 219]Shall we do, lifted far above their Sphere?
The People to Levinus did prefer
A new man Decius; yet now, should I
Stand for a place, hoarse Appius would cry,
Withdraw! 'cause I'm no Gentleman: and shall,
When Horace meddles farther then his Naul.
But Honour takes into her golden Coach
Noble and base. Tullus, what hast to touch
The Purple Robe (which Caesar forc't thee quit)
And be a Tribune? Envy thou didst get
Thereby, by whom i'th dark thou'dst neer been spide.
For when the people see a strange face ride
Up to the ears in Ermins, and a list
(Or more) of Gold; strait they demand, Who is't?
What was his Father? Just as when some youth,
Sick of the Fashions (to be thought, forsooth,
Handsome) inflames the fairer Sex, to call
His face in question, hair, teeth, foot, and small.
So when a man upon the Stage shall come,
And say, Give me the Reins that govern Rome,
I'le manage Italy, the State shall be
My care, I, and the Church likewise: Ods me!
It forces every Mortal to enquire
And know who was his Mother, who his Sire?
Shall then the Off-spring of a Minstrel dare
D [...]splace this General, condemn that Peer?
Novius was one hole lower. Being the same
My Father was, you'd think from Brute he came.
But if two hundred Draies obstruct a street,
Or with their Trumpeters, three Funerals meet;
Louder then all he chafes with brazen lungs,
And this is something to awe peoples tongues.
But to my self, the son of the Freed man,
O (Envy cries) The son of the Freed man!
[Page 220] Maecenas, now, Because thy Guest: before,
Because a Roman Tribune's charge I bore.
These two are not alike: I may pretend,
Though not to office, yet to be thy friend,
Thou being chiefly in this case so choice,
Not guided by Ambition, popular voice,
Or by a chance: Virgil his word did pass
For me, then Varus told thee what I was.
When first presented, little said I to thee,
(For Modesty's an infant) did not shew thee
A long-taild Pedigree: I did not say,
I bred Race-horses in Appulia:
Told what I was. As little thou replied'st,
(Thy mode) I go: at nine moneths end, thou bid'st
Me, of thy Friends, be one. Of this I boast,
That I pleas'd thee (who to distinguish know'st)
Not Noble, but of fair and Chrystal thoughts.
Yet, if except some few (not hainous) faults,
My Nature's straight (as you may reprehend,
In a fair face, some moles.) If (to commend
My self) I am not given to avarice;
Not nastie, not debaucht, not sold to vice,
Lov'd by my Friends, obedient to the Laws,
Of all these things my Father was the cause.
Who though but tenant to one small lean Farm,
In Flavio's School would never let me learn.
When great Centurions sent their great Boyes thither,
Their left armes crampt with stones, hung in a leather
Bag, with a counting-board; but boldly parts
With me (a child) to Rome: t'imbibe those arts
A Knight, or Senator, might teach his Boy;
That who had seen my cloaths and my convoy
Of Servants, cleaving through a press, would swear
Some wealthy Grandsire did my charges bear.
[Page 221]Himself (the carefull'st Tutor) had his eye
Over them all. In short my Modestie,
(Vertues first bloom) so watring from this Well,
He both preserv'd my whiteness and my smell:
Nor fear'd, lest any should in time to come,
Blame him he had not bred me still at home
To his own Trade: or I my self complain;
(The more his praise my debt,) if I have brain,
Of such a Father now shall I repent,
Like some that quarrel with their own descent,
Because their blood from Nobles did not flow,
Reason as well as Nature answers, No:
For if I should unweave the Loom of Fate,
And chuse my self new parents, for my State,
In any Tribe: Contented with mine own,
I would not change to be a Consuls Son.
Mad, in the Vulgars judgement: But in thine
Sober, perchance: because I did decline
An irksome load I am not us'd to bear.
For I must seek more wealth straight, if that were;
And, to beg Voices, many a visit make,
Must at my heels a brace of Servants take;
For fear my honour should be seen alone,
To go into the Countrey, or the Town.
There must be Horses store, and Grooms thereto,
A Litter's to be hir'd too: Whereas now
'Tis lawful for me on a Bob-tail Mule
To travel to Tarontum, if I wull;
My cloak-bag galling her behind, and I
Digging her shoulders. Not, with Obliquie,
Like Tullus, when in Tiber-Road he's seen
Attended with five Boyes, carrying a skin
Of Wine, and a Close-stool: Brave Senator,
More decently then thou, and thousands more,
[Page 222]I could do that. Where e'er I list I go,
Alone, the price of Broath and Barley know;
Croud in at every Sight, walk late in Rome:
Visit the Temple with a prayer: then home
To my Leek-pottage, and Chich-pease, Three boyes
Serve in my Supper; whom to counterpoise
One bowl, two beakers on a broad white slate,
A pitcher with two ears (
Earthen.
Campanian Plate)Then do I go to sleep: securely do't,
Being next morning to attend no suit
In the great Hall (where Marsya doth look,
As if loud Nemio's face he could not brook)
I lie till Four. Then walk, or read a while;
Or write to please my self; noint me with Oil:
(Not such as Natta paws himself withal,
Robbing the Lamps.) When neer his Vertical
The hotter Sun invites us to a Bath
For our tir'd Limbs, I fly the Dog-stars wrath,
Having din'd onely so much as may stay
My appetite: Loiter at home all da [...].
These are my solaces: this is the life
Of men that shun ambition, run from strife.
Lighter then if I soar'd on Glories wing,
The Nephew, Son, and Grand-son to a King.
SATYRE VII. By A. B. A Braul between two Railing Buffoons.
THe venomous railing of that black mouth'd thing
Who lately was prescrib'd Rupillius King,
Against that mungrel Persian, and how he
Reveng'd himself on King again; these be
[Page 223]Things (I suppose) notoriously known,
The talk of every Barbers shop in town.
This Persian being rich, his wealth did draw
Much business, and that business suits in Law;
And with Rupillius King, among the rest,
He had a very troublesome contest;
He was a surly fellow, proud, and bold,
And able King himself with ease t'out-scold,
Of such a bitter and invective speech,
That he even Billingsgate to rail could teach.
Now as to King, since nothing could compose
The differences which between them rose,
These two Tongue-combatants began their fray,
When Brutus govern'd wealthy Asia;
To th' Hall they come contending eagerly,
Both matcht as equally as Fencers be;
They made an exc'lent Scaene: First in the Court
The Persian pleads his cause, and made good sport,
Our General Brutus to the skies he rais'd,
And his victorious Army highly prais'd;
Call'd him the Sun of Asia, and all
His Captains he propitious Stars did call,
Except that Buffoon King (sayes he) who's far
More mischievous t'you all, than the Dog-star
Is to the Husband-man: thus on he ran,
And by his railing, bore that baffl [...]d man
Quite down before him; like a Winter flood,
Which drives down every thing that e're withstood
Its rapid motion, and by violence
Roots up the trees, and so the Axe presents.
Thus when two Warriers engage in fight,
And both of equal courage, skil, and might,
Honour's their aim, both scorn to yield or r [...]n,
The more their valour, the more mischiefs done.
[Page 224]So valiant Hector when he did engage
'Gainst stout Achilles, such a deadly rage
Did animate them both, that nothing could
Satiate their fury but each others blood,
And death of one, meerly 'cause both were stout;
Conquer or die both could, but ne're give out.
But when two Cowards quarrel, or if one
That courage has, contends with one of none;
(As Diomedes once with Glauceus did)
The Coward yields or runs for't, and instead
Of blows, gives bribes, and presents to his Foe,
Onely to save his life, and let him go.
King rallies up his thoughts, and then retorts
Invectives false, and many of all sorts:
Just like a surlie Carman, whose rude tongue
Out-rails all Passengers, be't right or wrong;
He had not wit to jeer, but rudely bauls,
And the smart Persian Rogue and Cuckold calls.
The angry Persian being so much stung
By the reproaches of the Italians tougue,
Cries out, Oh Brutus! by the Gods I pray,
Thou whose profession's to take Kings, away,
Murther this one King for me, thou'lt gain more
By this, then all the Kings th'hast kill'd before.
SATYRE VIII. By A. B. A Discovery of Witchcraft.
OF an Old Fig-tree once the trunk was I,
And as useless piece of wood laid by,
[...] Carpenter who found
Me lying so neglected on the ground,
[Page 225]Took me in hand to form me with his tool,
But whether he should make of me a stool,
Or a Priapus, was a thing that [...]id
Long time perplex this politick work-mans head;
Till after long deliberation, he
For weighty reasons made a God of me.
Hence does my Deity proceed, and I
Here stand the thieves and birds to terrifie;
The thieves I fright away with my right hand,
And my long pole which does erected stand;
My Crown of Reeds does drive the birds away,
That they dare not in our new Gardens prey.
The ground where I now stand was heretofore
A common Burying-place for all the poor,
Whose carcases in mean small graves were laid,
And this the publick Sepulcher was made
For th' meanest sort of people, those men which
Were much the poorer 'cause they had been rich.
The bodies of such spend-thrifts here were casts
As fool'd their means away, and lack'd at last.
A thousand foot in length, three hundred wide,
Which from the rest a Land-mark did divide,
Whose plain inscription did describe to th' Heirs,
Which ground was Sacred, & which ground was theirs.
Now men i'th' healthy Church-yard live, and where
Dead bodies stunk, the living take fresh a [...]r,
And on that green hill now we walk, which once
Was all deform'd and cover'd ore with bones.
But yet the thieves and birds which hither come,
And haunt this place, are not so troublesome
To me, as those who charmes and poysons use,
With which they do poor Mortal minds abuse,
These I can neither hinder nor destroy,
But in the silent nights, by Moon-shine they
[Page 226]Into these Gardens steal, and pick up there
Dead humane bones and hearbs that poysonous are.
Here that old Hag Canidia I spi'd
In a black garment close about her ti'd,
Bare-foot she walkt, her locks dishevell'd were,
And that Witch-major Sagana with her:
Howling like Wolves, of pale and ugly hew,
They both appear'd most ghastly to my view,
With their long nails to scratch the earth they went,
And with their teeth a Lamb in sunder rent,
Whose blood they pour'd into their new dig'd pit,
And conjur'd up th' infernal Fiends with it,
Such Spirits as could answer to what ere
They did demand; two Images there were
Brought by these Hags, by which they did their knack
One made of wool, the other made of wax:
The Woollen was the greater, that it might
The little Waxen Image curb and fright.
This Wax Effigies stood cringing by,
As sinking under its servility,
One Hecate invokes; Tisyphone
Is charmed by t'other: Serpents one might see,
And the infernal Dogs run out and in.
The bashful Moon for fear she should have been
A witness to these juglings hid her face,
And made our Sepulchers her lurking place.
If I lie t'you in any thing I've said,
May the crowes with their dung pollute my head!
May all the rogues and whores, and thieves in town,
Cast their base Excrements upon my crown.
What need I all those tricks to mention, which
Were done by Sagana that damn'd old Witch?
And by what Artifice the Ghosts and she
Discours'd together with variety
[Page 227]Of tones, now shrill, now flat, and how they did
Hide under ground by stealth the hairy head
Of an old wolf, with teeth of speckled snake,
Then with the Waxen image they did make
The fire to blaze: But that I might not be
A tame spectator of this foolery,
And those impostures unreveng'd behold,
Of both those Hags so ugly and so old;
I from my Godships entrails backward spoke,
As thundring as a bladder when'tis broke;
Away run both the witches into town,
Out dropt Canidia's set of teeth, and down
Old Sagana her snakes and poysons threw,
And all her conjuring tools, off likewise threw
Her Periwig, 'twould make one break his heart
With laughter, to observe how one [...]ound fart
Broke from a God, two Witches frights away,
And made them run from one more weak then they.
SATYRE IX. A description of an impertinent prating Fool.
OF late along the streets I musing walkt,
And to my self some learned whimsie talkt,
When loe a wandring Trifler to me ca [...]e,
Whom scarce I knew, save onely by his name;
And with familiar freedom took my hand,
Asking me, How I did? At your command
(Said I) God keep you Sir. He following still,
I turn'd about, and stopt to know his will.
[Page 228]VVhat? don't you know me, man? (said he) I too
A Virtuo so am as well as you.
The more I honour you, Sir, (I repli'd)
And still all wayes to shake him off I tri'd,
In thousand different postures I did go,
Sometimes I walkt apace, and sometimes slow;
Sometimes I whisper'd in my Foot-boys ear,
And all the while did sweat all o're for fear.
Oh happy he! (to mutter I began)
Who hugs himself at an impertinent man!
Oh happy! who as well himself can feast
On the most foolish talker as the best!
In the mean time his tongue did gallop on,
Letting no street, nor sign, nor house alone:
At last, perceiving I did nothing mind,
(He said) you'd fain be rid of me, I find;
But you, nor I have now not much to do,
I'le therefore wait upon you where you go:
VVhere lies your way? O Lord, pray Sir do not
Your self for me to so much trouble put;
My journey lies almost as far's the Tower,
To visit one you never saw before.
That's nothing sir, I'm perfectly at leisure,
And a long walk with you I count a pleasure:
With that I shru [...]k my shoulder [...], hung my ears,
As a dull Ass that too great lading bears.
Then he begins: If once you knew me sir,
You'ld scarce to me would any wit prefer,
Who is there that can better verses write?
Or who with greater swiftness can indite?
Who of your friends can more gentely dance?
Or who can better teach the mode of France?
If you but hear me sing, you will confess,
I do exces the fam'd Hermogenes.
[Page 229]Here it was time to interpose: Have you
No mother Sir, nor other kindred, who
May want your company this present hour?
O no; pale Death did them long since devour.
The happier they; Nay then, in faith, go on,
Kill me out right, my friend, since th'hast begun;
My last hour's come, and now I plainly see
Thou wert intended by that Prophecie
Which my Nurse spake, when I an Infant was,
Clapping my feet and smiling in my face,
She said; This Boy no poison, nor no steel,
No pain of Cough, or Spleen, or Gout, shall feel,
But by some fatal tongue shall be destroy'd,
Talkers let him, when come to age, avoid.
Over against Guild-hall at length we came,
He pelting me, I miserably lame.
Gods so! 'Tis well remembred, hold, I pray,
I have a Cause here to be tri'd to day;
Good Sir come with me in, I'le straight dispatch.
In hast, like dying men, this bough I catcht.
In troth Sir I have no great skill i'th Law,
My nod will keep no Iudge or Iury in awe,
I'le softly walk before, and if you make
Good speed, you quickly me may overtak [...].
Here the perplext stood still, and scratcht his head,
What? shall I lose so dear a friend? (he said)
Or by my absence loose my Cause? Nay Sir,
I pray regard your business, do not stir.
Let my Cause sink (or swim) I'le leave it here,
So I may self to such a friend endear.
So on he leads, and I found 'twas in vain
To spoil my teeth by champing of the chain;
Straight he resumes his first Discourse; And how?
How with my Lord stands your condition now?
[Page 230] My Lord's a prudent man, and private lives,
Never himself to much acquaintance gives;
You'l raise a mighty Fortune under him,
But yet me thinks it would great wisdom seem,
If you would take some course those to prefer
About him, who might still possess his ear
To your advantage, and if I were one,
You might be sure govern him alone.
You're quite mistaken Sir, we live not so
As you suppose, nor yet as others do;
No small Intrigues that family does breed,
No plots, nor little jealousies does feed:
None there does look with envious eyes upon
Anothers good, but loves it as his own;
Strange and unusual this which you relate,
But so it is, the more I'm passionate
To make one of your number. That you may
Without dispute, if you'l but try the way;
A man so qualified as you appear,
Can't be deny'd admission any where.
Well, to my self I will not wanting [...]e,
I'le watch his hours, his servants I will fee;
I will salute his Chariot in the street,
I'le bring him home as often as we meet:
We Courtiers strive for interest in vain,
Vnless by long observance it we gain.
While he did thus run on, who should we meet
But my friend C—passing cross the street,
C—straight found what kind of man he was,
Nor to see through him, needed he his Glass:
So when the usual complements were past,
I trod on's Toes, and softly him imbrac't;
I winkt, and shruug'd, and many signes I gave,
Which silently did his assistance crave:
[Page 231]But my unmerciful malitious friend,
Seem'd not to understand what I intend,
Enjoy'd my misery, and smil'd to see
What small thin Plots I made to be set free.
Dear friend! d'you remember who last night
Did us to dine with him to day invite?
I well rember it, but yet in troth
I have no mind to go, for I am loth
To break a fasting day, as we shall there,
That's nought I have a dispensation here.
I've none (sayes he) I'm going another way,
I'le keep my conscience, and the Church obey.
This said my witty Friend with cruel spight,
Leaves me even when the Butchers going to smite.
Under what cursed Planet was I born?
By my companion to be left forlorn!
Condemn'd to suffer this incessant breath,
And by perpetual chattring talk'd to death.
But now at last by great good hap there was
A Bailiff seas'd on him as he did pass;
O have I caughr you Sir, you must with me,
Pray Sir, will you against him witness be?
Along they go, I for revenge too joyn'd,
But in the Hall we so great tumult find,
Such heaps of Women follow'd us, and Boyes,
That I with ease escapt amidst the noise.
Sure great was my distress, when even a throng
Of Lawyers was relief against his tongue.
SATYRE X. By A. B. Another Discourse of POETRY.
I Said indeed the Verse Lucilius writ
Were rough, 'tis true; and who's so void of wit,
T [...]ough ne're so much his Patron or his Friend,
That him against this censure can defend?
But in that very Page I said withal,
That with great Wit he does the City maul,
And did commend him for it much. But yet
Though I allow him that, I don't admit
Lucilius was so thorough-pac'd a Wit,
As to be good at every thing, for so
That fool Laberius Dogrel Rhimes might go
For exc'lent Poems, and be much admir'd.
Though't be a vertue, and to be desir'd
To make an Audience laugh well, yet there be
More things requir'd to make a Poet; he
Must be caucise, his Verse must smoothly flow,
And not be clogg'd with needless words that grow
A burden to the Reader, who is tir'd
With reading that which he at first desir'd.
Sometimes 'tis good to use a doleful strain,
But most of all the brisk and aiery vain
Now play the Rhetorician, and then
To the Poetical raptures fly again.
Sometimes write like a Gentleman, whose part
Is to write easily without much art,
A Drolling merry stile does better hit
Great matters, then a down-right railing Wit;
[Page 233]The antient Comick Poets on this ground
Are imitable, and to be renown'd,
But those our spruce Gallants about the Town,
(Because they understand them not) cry down.
To sing what Calvus and Catullus writ,
Is th' heighth of all their learning and their wit.
He that, say they, in's Latine Verses can
Mix ends of Greek, that that's the onely man.
You aged Block-heads! who so doat upon
That Rhodian Dunce, Poet Pytholeon,
And think that Pie-bald way in which he went
To be both difficult and excellent.
But oh! an elegant discourse (you'l say)
Made up of Greek and Latine words looks gay;
'Tis just like Chian Wine when mixt among
The Wine that to Falernum does belong.
When thou wouldest Verses make, imagine thou
Wert for thy life to plead thy own cause now,
As did that criminal Petillus once,
Would'st thou thy Native language quite renounce,
While the Kings Council in their Mother tongue
Tug for thy Condemnation, right or wrong?
To [...]nterlace thy speech, would'st thou incline
With forein words, and like the Canusine,
Speak a compounded Gibrish? But when I
(Who am an In-land Poel went to try
To make Greek Verses, after mid-night, when
Those things are real which are dreamt by men,
Romulus straight appear'd to me, and told me,
All men would for as great a mad-man hold me,
If I attempt t'encrease that tedious store
Of the Greek Poets, too too large before,
As if I should Coals to New-castle send;
This to my Graecian versing put an end;
[Page 234]While swelling Alpin with his thundring Pen,
Murders poor slaughter'd Memnon o're again,
And by his barbarous Poetry destroyes
Those things and persons which he goes to praise.
I sport my self with writing Lines, which ne're
Are spoken in Apollo's Temple, where
That pedant Tarpa does presume to sit,
And with much boldness judge of little wit,
Nor are they oft obtruded on the Stage,
To cloy the Stomack of the queazie age,
As now our modern Fundanus does,
Who is in scribling Playes facetious,
And with a subtle whore, a cunning knave,
Cheating old men, we the same fancy have
In all his Playes. And Tragick Pollio sings
In his three-footed Verse the deeds of Kings:
But our ingenuous Varius does produce
Better then any the Heroick Muse,
And the smooth Rural Muses do insp [...]re
Virgil with soft and most facetious fire.
Hence 'tis that I write better Satyrs then
That blundring Varro, and that sort of men
Who have so often tri'd to write, in vain,
Yet I fall short of our Lucilius strain,
Who first invented them; nor will I dare
To strip him from the Crown which did adhere
T'his brows with so much glory; though I said
His Verses did run muddily, yet they had
More in them that deserv'd our great respect,
Then all those Vices which we should reject.
But, prithee tell me? Did thy learned eye
Nothing to be reprov'd in Homer spie?
Did not Lucilius himself think fit
To alter something of weak Accius wit?
[Page 235]Did he not laugh at Ennius lines, as though
Some things in them were not quite grave enough?
And when of thee he a discourse did move,
Thought thee as bad as those he did reprove?
And what should hinder, but when ever we
Do read Lucilius works, we well may see
If't were the imperfection of his wit,
Or crabbed Nature of the things he writ,
Would not permit the Lines he made to be
Elaborate, or run more evenly?
Or if that any Poet took delight
A Poem in Hexameter to write,
Contended onely that he had made up
Two hundred Verses when he went to sup,
And after Supper just as many more,
Whose rhimes did run as Cassius heretofore,
More swift and raging then a Torrent does,
Which being condemn'd to fire, as story goes,
Was burnt to ashes with the Books he writ,
(The just reward of a voluminous wit)
If he were now alive, and all that e're
He found superfluous, away should pare,
He'ld scratch his head were he a Verse to write,
And often to the quick his nails would bite.
He that wou [...]d write what should twice reading stand,
Must often be upon the mending hand,
Ne're mind the praise of the undiscerning Crew,
Content with learned Readers, though but few.
Art thou so mad thy Poems to expose
To Ballad-singers, and to Puppet-shows?
Now I (I vow) I'm like the bold wench, that
By all the people being baited at,
Since I (quoth she) am Minion to a Knight,
I all the inferiour rabble scorn and slight:
Disturb may thoughts? or when Demetrius does
Behind my back traduce me, or that Ass
Fannius (who once Tigellius Crony was)
Abuses me, his envious rage to vent,
Shall I shall foolishly my self torment?
No; let Maecenas, and such men of wit
As Virgil, will but read what I have writ,
With many friends and learned persons more,
Whose names I do industriously pass ore,
Whom I desire to smile on what I write
How ill soe'er; But if they should delight
Less then my expectation, I should be
Exceeding sorrowful: But as for thee
Demetrius, thee Tigellius that be
But Finding Rogues, go fret your selves and pine
'Mongst your She-schollars at these lines of mine;
Sirrah, make all the haste you can, aud look
That all I've said be added to my Book.
The end of the First Book of Satyrs.
SATYRES. BOOK II.
SATYRE I. By Sir. R. F.
He dilates upon the advice given him by Trebatius to write the actions of Augustus, rather then Satyrs (as things that are dangerous to meddle with) and shews way he cannot obey him.
SOme think I am to sharp a Satyrist,
And that I stretch my work beyond the list.
Others, what ere I write is neeless say,
And that like mine a thousand Lines a day
May be spun. What would'st thou advise me now
(Trebatius) in this case? Sit still. As how?
[Page 239]Not to write Verse at all, dost thou aver
As thy Sense? I doe. Let me never stir,
If 'twere not better. But I cannot sleep.
For that, swim Tyber (nointed) thrice: or steep
Thy brains at night in Wine. If thou must needs
Write, dare to write unconquer'd Caesars deeds,
Great Rewards following. Father, that being it
I'de fain be at, my will exceeds my wit.
Not every Pen can paint in horrid Field.
Thick Groves of Pikes, Spears broke in French-men kill'd,
And a hurt Parthian dropping from his Horse.
His justice though thou maist, and his mindes force:
As wise Lucilius those of Scipio,
I'le not be wanting to my self, if so
Occasion serve. The passage must be clear
When Horace words pierce Caesars serious ear:
Whom, stroaking, if we think t'approach: 'ware heels.
Is not that better then in Verse that reels,
To jeer this Gull, that Prodigal, when each
Man thinks he's meant (tho quite from thy thoughts reach)
And hates thee for't? what should I do? being hot
Ith' head, and seeing double through the Pot,
Milonius frisks. Castor on Horse-back fights:
The twin of the same Egg in Clubs delights.
As many thousand minds as men there be,
I Like Lucilius (better then both we)
My words in Meeter love t' enclose and bind.
His way was, in his Books to speak his mind
As freely, as his secrets he would tell
To a tride friend: and took it ill, or well,
He held his Custome. Hence it came to pass,
The old mans life is there as in a Glass.
His steps I follow, whom you neither can
Of Luca call, nor an Appulian.
[Page 238](For the Venusian both their borders ploughs,
A Colony of Rome, as old Fame shews,
The Sabells thence expell'd to stop that Gate,
And be an Out-work to the Roman State.)
Yet I'de not harm a Chicken with my will:
For shew and countenance bearing my Quill
Like a Sword sheath'd; which why should I draw, not
Set on by Rogues? with Rust there may it rot
O Iove, Father and King: and none bereave
The peace I seek. But if there do, believe
Me they will rew't, when with my keen Stile stung,
Through the whole town they shall in pomp be sung.
Servius, the penal Statutes (anger'd) threats
Canidia to Witch them, 'gainst whom she sets:
A mischief Turius, to all those wage Law
Where he's a Judge. That every one doth awe
Them whom he fears, with that where his strength is,
And that by Natures Law appears in this:
Wolves smite with teeth, Buls with the horn (this must
Be taught them from within.) With Scaeva trust
His long-liv'd Mother; my head to a groat,
His pious hand shall never cut her throat.
Not his? No more then an Oxe bite, a Bear
Kick thee: but she shall die of poison. There
Now lies his skill. Me, whether (in effect)
The quiet Harbour of old age exspect,
Or Death with sable wings hover about:
Rich, Poor, at Rome, or by hard Fate thrust out
Into exile; in whatsoever way
Of life, I must write Verses: that's my play▪
O Childe! thy taper's near the end I doubt,
And that some great Mans brave will puff thee out.
Why? When Lucilius durst begin this way
Of writing Verses, and the skins did flay.
[Page 240]In which the outward-fair disguis'd their shame;
Were Laelius and he that won a name
From Carthage-raz'd, offended with his wit?
Or did they winch, Metallus being hit?
And Lupus stript and whipt in Verse? yet he
Spouted his Ink on men of each degree:
None spar'd but Vertue and her friends. Nay when
Retir'd were from the Stage, and croud of men,
Scipio's exalted vertue, and the mild
Wisdom of Laelius: Till the Broth was boild,
They both would play and toil with him, ungirt.
Though I in wit, and in condition, short
Am of Lucilius: Envy shall confess
Against her will, I've liv'd nevertheless
Amongst great men: and (thinking to have stuff
Here, for her rotten teeth) find I am tough,
If learn'd Trebatius take me at my rate,
Nay truly I can find nothing to bate;
Onely I warn thee, least through ignorance
Of setled Laws thou come to some mischance:
If any write base Verses against other,
It bears a suit. If base, I grant: but Father,
If any write good verse, that man's prais'd,
Caesar the Judge. If I the street have rais'd
By ba [...]ing at a Thief, my self being none,
The [...] with laughter cracks, I (freed) go home.
SATYRE II. By A. B. The benefits of Temperance and Frugality.
HOw great a vertue 'tis, and how it tends
To the good of humane life (my worthy friends)
To live abstemiously, is not to be
Learn'd at great Feasts made up of luxury,
Amongst your polish'd Tables spread in State,
Loaden with Dishes of stupendious Plate,
Whose various splend our does amaze the Eye,
And make the puzled appetite pass by
What's good, and choose the worse: but when you be
Fasting, then come sift out this truth with me.
This is not my Sense onely, but Offellus
That Country wit, this truth did long since tell us,
A prudent man, yet walkt not by a rule,
Nor learn'd the formal Precepts of the School.
You'l ask, why fasting? give me leave I'le tell you▪
You can no more with a full gorged belly
Know vice from vertue, then a Judge that is
Corrupt, discern 'twixt truth and falsities.
Suppose you had hunted hard, or us'd your force
To ride and mannage a high-metled Horse:
Or you whose life before luxurious was,
Should'st on a Roman Souldiers duty pass,
Or should'st at Tennis play with might and main,
Whilest the delight makes you ne're mind the pain;
Or had you been at Quoiting, and had thrown
Into the yielding Air a pondrous stone,
Till your much exercise had driven away
That sustenance which on your stomachs lay,
[Page 242]When you are very dry and hungry grown,
Then I'ld fain fee you let course food alone;
Or drink no Wine, unless you can procure
Racy, Canary, or what Claret's pure,
Or if the Butler's absent, or the Main
By storms protects her Fish from being slain,
A crust of bread dipt into salt well may
The barking of your empty stomachs stay.
You'l ask me how this vertue may be got?
True pleasure in the daintiest Dish does not
Consist, but in our selves, and any meat
Is to us Venson, if obtain'd by Sweat:
But no delicious Banquets can invite,
Or gratifie the gorged appetite.
I doubt I shan't perswade you, but that men
Will feed upon dry Peacocks, rather then
The Fat, but common Fowl: Mens palats be
Corrupted with the very vanity
Of things, and still desire to taste that food
That's very dear, and think it therefore good.
Peacocks with us the best esteem obtain,
Not for their Flesh, but for their gaudy Train,
As if it would mens Palats gratifie,
To eat those Feathers they extol so high:
Or that the glorious shew would not be spoil'd,
When you shall see a Peacock stript and boil'd.
Although the flesh of Hens and Peacocks do
In nothing differ, it appears that you
Are fool'd with various colours: Be so still
You'l wonder how I have attain'd this skill.
When you've a Pike presented in a Dish,
You ask impertinently, if that Fish
I [...] the main sea, or in fresh waters caught?
And madly praise Mullets of three pound weight,
[Page 243]Which you must cut in pieces; but I see
Most men meerly with shews delighted be:
Pray, for what reason do most men dislike,
(Though they love Mullets large) a well grown Pike?
Their curiosity's the reason for't,
'Cause Nature made Pikes long, and Mullets short.
When a mans stomach is once hungry grown,
He slights no food, the coursest Bit will down;
But the luxurious Glutton sayes, I wish
A pondrous Mullet wallowing in my dish;
Such fellows do onely deserve to eat
With revenous Harpyes. I could wish their meat
Would with moist weather stink, and loathsome grow,
But their fresh Fish and Venson will do so;
And to their glutted Stomach nauseous be,
By their too fulsome superfluity,
When the cram'd Glutton over-charg'd with meat,
To get new stomach does sharp Salads eat.
Yet sometimes homely Diet does appear
At mighty Princes Tables; for Eggs there
(Which are so common) sometimes may be seen,
And the black Olives on their Boards have been.
Though with the Crier Gallo 'twas not thus,
Who was for Luxury so infamous,
Because he Sturgeon first did bring to's Board,
What cann't the Sea Mullets enough afford?
The Turbet in the Sea did safely rest,
And Storks lay unmolested in their nest,
Till your luxurious May'r (that would have been)
Ingeniously brought their destruction in:
And now if any other person shou'd
Cry up the roasted Cormorant, rare food!
Our Roman youth, who've onely vitious wit,
Would praise and imitate both him and it.
[Page 244]Yet (as Offellus held) there's difference great
Betwixt the sordid and the frugal meat,
And men in vain do luxury eschew,
If they do Sordidness the while pursue.
So Avidienus, whom we do justly brand
With name of Dog, would eat wilde Cornels, and
Kept [...]ll 'twas sowre all the Wine he drunk,
And all his Oyl intollerably stunck,
Which from his nasty horn, he, drop by drop,
Distill'd upon the Colwort Sallet top
With his own hand, but he would never spare
To dowse it o're with his dead Vinegar,
Though on his Birth-day, or his Wedding-day,
Or other feast, clad in his best array.
What Diet then should a wise man beat?
And which of these two should he imitate?
Keep the mid-road, and both extreams beware,
Here lurks a Dog, and a feirce Wolf lies there.
So cleanly he should be as not t' offend
By's nastiness the stomach of his friend;
Not be extream in either hand in's treat,
Nor by too much, nor by too little meat;
Not like Albucius of old, who when
He entertain'd his friend would beat his men▪
Nor negligent as Naevius, who at Feasts
With greasie water would present his guests.
This is a great vice also. Now, pray mind,
What good in frugal Diet you may find.
First you'l be very healthy; for you know
Much harm to us from various meats does flow:
Think on that onely Dish which was your fare,
How blith and healthy after it you were!
B [...]t when men fell to mingling roast and boild,
And fish and fowl together, health was spoild!
Bred a disturbance in the maws of them:
Observe how pale and sick a man does rise
From board, confounded with varieties;
Nay when the bodies over-charg'd, the mind
Is also in the discomposure joind,
And on the ground inhumanely does roul,
That part of Heavenly breath, the precious soul!
While he that does a slender Diet keep,
Can on the sudden lay his limbs to sleep,
And in the morning rise so fresh to do
Whatever business he's inclin'd unto.
And yet this temperate person sometimes may
Increase his Table on some Holy-day,
Or when he means his body to caress,
Which is brought low by his abstemiousness;
For years will steal on men, old age must be,
Because 'tis feeble, handled tenderly.
But if decrepid age on some men seise,
Or if they fall into some sharp disease,
What tender usage can be added more,
Then they being young and lusty had before?
Our Ancestors stale Venson us'd to praise,
Nor that they could not smell it in those dayes,
But 'twas with this intent, that if a Guest
Came some dayes after th' ending of the Feast,
'Twere better he should on cold Venson fall,
Then for the Master to devour it all.
I would to God I had been brought forth then,
In that first age among those worthy men.
D'you value reputation, which to th' ear
Is gratefuller then verse or Musick are;
Great Turbets, and such costly Dishes do
Begat you damage and discredit too;
[Page 246]Besides your parents and your friends you must
Enrage, and prove to our own selves unjust;
And then in vain you will desire to die,
Not being worth a Groat a Rope to buy.
You'l say, such a poor Sneak as Thrasius,
Justly deserves to be rewarded thus:
But you've a great Estate, wealth without end,
As much as will suffice three Kings to spend.
What then? Can there no better way be fou [...]d
To spend that Wealth, with which you so abound?
Why should so many brave men want? and why
Should the Gods antient Temples ruin'd lie (thon
While you are rich? Vile wretch! Why wilt notthou
Out of thy needless store something allow
For thy dear Countries good? canst thou suppose
Thy fate alone will still be prosperous;
Oh, how thine enemies will laugh at thee,
When thou'rt reduc'd to want and beggary!
Which of the two can certainest rely
On his own temper in adversity?
That man whose pamper'd body and his mind,
Have ever been to luxury inclin'd,
Or that's content with little, and doth fear
What may fall out, and wisely does prepare
In time of peace things requisite for war.
Now that you may believe this to be true,
When I was young I this Offellus knew,
A man of great Estate, yet spent no more
Then afterwards, when robb'd of all his store.
A man might see him with his cattle, and
His children tilling his allotted land,
And patiently bearing that he is
Farmer of that estate which once was his.
[Page 247]I never durst eat any thing (he'ld say)
But Caul and Bacon on a working-day;
But if an ancient friend with me had been,
Whom a long time before I had not seen,
Or a good neighbour came to visit me,
When rainy weather me from work set free,
I made him welcome, not with costly Fish,
A Pullet, or a Lamb serv'd for his dish;
Dri'd Grapes and Nuts his second Course were made,
And double Figs were on the Table laid;
Then after Dinner' twas our recreation
To pass the Grace-cup round on Reputation.
A health to Ceres that our Corn might grow,
And smooth'd with wine the wrinckles of our brow,
Let Fortune rage, and raise commotions new,
Can she make me live meaner (Boyes) or you?
For Nature nere appointed him or me,
Or any else, proprietors to be
Of our own lands, though now the time is his
To turn me out, yet his unthriftiness
Or ignorance of tricks in law, or else
Who e're survives him, him at last expells,
This Farm which now by Umbrenas name is known
Was mine, but none can say, It is his own;
'Tis thine, and mine, and his, live bravely then,
And in all troubles quit your selves like men.
SATYRE III. By A. B. That every man is in something or other mad.
DAMASIPPUS and HORACE.
Dam.
THou writ'st so seldome, that there does appear,
Scarce a new Poem from thee twice a year,
But vainly spend'st thy time in looking o're
Those things which thou hast written heretofore:
I'm vext at thee, that thou do'st thus resign
Thy self up to the sway of sleep and wine;
The Muses negligently laid aside,
And we of what we so desire deni'd.
Hor.
What would you have me do?
Dam.
Here thou hast been
Retir'd ever since Christmas did begin,
Now thou'rt at leisure, let's have something from thee
That may appease our longing, and become thee:
Come, strike up man,—one Verse.
Hor.
No,'twill not do.
Dam.
Thou blam'st thy harmless pen, nay the wall to
Endures thy causeless rage for native guilt,
'Cause 'twas in spight of Gods or Muses built.
Thou did'st pretend, that if thou once could'st be
Out of this Town from noise and business free,
And to some little Country Vill retire,
In a mean Cottage by a little [...]ire,
How many admirable lines should we,
As the effects of thy retirement see?
[Page 249]Else to what end did'st thou incumber thus
Thy self with Eupolis, Archilocus,
Menander, Plato, and such Books as those,
If thou'lt not write at all? do'st thou suppose
That by declining vertue thou shalt be
Protected from the jaws of Calumny?
Thou wilt be laught at for an Ass; come, loath
Those lewd inchantments of that Syren sloath;
Else all that honour which about thee shin'd,
Got by thy exc'lent parts must be resign'd.
Hor.
'Pox on your too true council. Now (I pray)
The Gods to send a man to shave away
That formal beard of thine; but prithee how
Cam'st thou me and my humour thus to know?
Dam.
Since my Estates consum'd I go no more
To the Exchange, as I did heretofore,
But having now no business of my own,
To other men I am a Broker grown;
In former time, I gave my mind to know
Whether a statue were well made or no;
What was well carv'd or painted, and what ill,
And how to fell or buy them I had skill.
If a rare picture any where I found,
I would not care to give a thousand pound,
Gardens and stately houses I could buy
And sell to great advantage, so that I
When I was seen through the City ride,
Here comes the Purchaser, the people cri'd.
Hor.
I know it, and I can't but wonder how
Thou com'st thus cur'd of that distemper now.
Dam.
I'le tell you what seems strange, and yet 'tis true,
My old disease was driv'n out by my new,
As in some bodies there is wont to be
The Head-ache cured by a Plurisie,
[Page 250]Or one that has a Lethargy endur'd
Grows frantick, and beats him by whom he's cur'd.
Hor.
Be thou as frantick as thou wilt, so as
Thou wilt not serve me as the Doctor was.
Dam.
Good friend don't cheat thy self, ev'n thou art mad,
And all the world are very near as bad.
If what Stertinius the Stoick saith
'Mong prudent men, does merit any Faith,
That grave Philosopher at first taught me
These admirable precepts, and 'twas he
My Spirits in my great affliction chear'd,
And will'd me wear this Philosophick beard;
And from Fabritius Bridge return agen
With spirit undisturb'd and calme, for when
All my Estate was gon, I thither went
My Cap pluckt o're my eyes, with an intent
To drown my self, I fortunately spi'd
That learned Stoick standing by my side.
What do'st thou mean (qd. he) young man? take heed
That thou do not an unbecoming deed,
Thou'rt driven to this by shame that's very bad,
Fearing 'mong mad men to be counted mad:
Consider first what madness is, and then
If it be in thee, and in no other men,
Go bravely hang or drown thy self for me,
I'le never speak a word to hinder thee.
He who to vitious folly is inclin'd,
And is by ignorance of truth led blind,
Is by the Stoick counted out of's wits,
This definition all degrees befits:
All persons, nay great Princes, every one
It comprehends, but the wise man alone;
Nay give me leave, and I'le demonstrate how
He who calls thee fool's as much fool as thou.
[Page 251]Like Trav'lers passing through a Wood, when they
Range up and down missing their ready way,
This to the right' that to the left hand strayes,
One error fools them both, though several wayes.
And tho thou think'st thou'rt mad, yet even he
Is not a jot less mad that laughs at thee,
Both to Fool-coats have like propriety.
There is one sort of fools that start and quake
At the Chymaeras which their fancies make,
Cries out rocks, fire, and water him detain,
When he is onely walking on the plain:
Another which is full as mad as he,
Though in his humor he goes contrary,
Runs through all fire and water ventures life,
Though Father, Mother, Brother, Sister, Wife,
Or (which is more) his Mrs. should stand by,
And warn him of the danger he is nigh,
Crying aloud, Take heed; he'ld care no more
Then Fusius the Actor heretofore
When he the part of Hecuba did play,
And should present her sleeping, down he lay
Drunk and asleep; Catien the Player who
The part of Polidore did also do,
Though he cri'd, Mother 'tis I call you, wake,
A thousand Catieni could not make
Her stir: I think that all the Vulgar be
In several humours as stark mad as he.
To buy old Statues you suppose I'm mad,
But was not he that trusted me as bad?
Hor.
May'st thou now borrow money of me, and ne're
Pay me a farthing on't agen, if e're
I say thou'rt mad. Can it with madness stand
When thou art still on the receiving hand?
[Page 252]But is not that Shop-keeper madder far
Who slights a ready-money Customer,
And deals with thee on Credit? for suppose
A Debtor should acknowledge that he owes
A Thousand pounds to's Creditor, and shou'd
Give it him under's hand, this is not good;
Nay, if he seal a Bill or Bond for't, or
What e're bindes Debtor to his Creditor,
Recognizances, Statutes, Mortgages,
Iudgements, and Executions, all these
A cunning Knave that knows the Querks of Law
Will no more value, then he does a straw:
When you arrest him he will laugh at all
Those troubles which on other men befal,
And thorough all the Cobweb-laws escapes,
Varying his tricks as Proteus did his shapes.
If by the conduct of affairs we can
Judge of a mad or of a prudent man,
Thy Creditor's a Coxcomb, who takes pain
To write in's Books what's ne're crost out again.
Come, sayes Stertinius, hearken; nay, come near,
And mind what I shall tell you, whosoe're
Is by a vain and lewd ambition swai'd,
And he whom sordid avarice has made
Look like a Skeleton, all those that be
Given up to a destructive luxury,
To doating superstition are inclin'd,
Or any such distemper of the mind.
Are all stark mad. The Miser stands much more
Then other men in need of Hellebore:
I doubt, all that Antycera produces,
Was meant by Nature onely for their uses.
Staberius by his Will his Heirs injoyn'd
T'engrave [...] Tomb what Wealth he left behind.
[Page 253]And if they would not do it, he design'd
They should a hundred pair of Fencers find
To treat the rout, and should provide a feast
As sumptuous as if Arius were their Guest,
And as much corn as e're in Afric grew,
This is my will (sayes he) what is't to you,
Whether't be well or ill? you will not be
My Unckles, and leave your Estates to me.
Hor.
I think Staberius was a prudent man.
Dam.
What do you think of his great prudence than,
When he injoin'd his Heirs they should engrave
Upon his Tomb what monies he did leave
Behind him? and in all his whole life time
Thought poverty to be the greatest Crime,
And abhorr'd nothing more, and if he shou'd
Have di'd less rich, he thought himself less good.
For every thing divine and humane to
Virtue, wit, comeliness and honour do
Submit their Necks to riches splendid sway,
Which whosoever heaps together, may
Be noble, valiant, just, and wise; nay, King,
Or (if 'twere possible) a higher thing:
He hop'd by's Wealth to get immortal fame,
As if he had by virtue rais'd the same.
How contrary was Aristippus mind
To this? That great Philosopher enjoin'd
His men to throw his Gold oth' Lybian shore,
Because the weight on't made them travel [...]lower;
VVhich was the madder of these two think you?
Hor.
I think there's no comparing of those two,
For that Example ne're prevails with me,
VVhich shews the truth but by its contrary.
Dam.
Should a man load himself with Lutes, and yet
To play or sing, have neither will, nor wit?
[Page 254]Should one that knows not how to make a Sh [...]o [...],
VVith Auls and Lasts cramb'd in a Budget go:
Should one to buying ships and anchors fall,
Who has no skill in Merchandize at all,
A mad man and a Buzzard he would be:
Call'd by all People, and deservedly.
What difference is there 'twixt these and those,
Who study gold and silver to enclose,
And know not how to use the Wealth they gain,
But from it as from sacred things refrain?
If one by a huge heap of corn should stand
Watching all day with a long club in's hand,
Yet every grain thereof must let alone,
Though ne're so hungry, and the corn his own,
But rather feeds on bitter barks of trees,
And for his drink takes Vinegar and Lees,
Though millions of Pipes in's Cellar lie
Of as good wine as e're blest taste or eye,
And lies in straw in his old age, while all
His rich attire to moths and wormes do fall
To feed on, or to rot in's Chest. 'Tis true
S [...]ch men seem mad but to a very few,
Because most people are as mad as these,
And much afflicted with the same disease.
Do'st thou hoard up all thy Estate for one
Who was thy Slave, or is perhaps thy Son,
Whom thou, accurs'd old wretch, thine heir wilt make
That he in drink may spend it for thy sake;
And all least thou should'st want: How much a day
Could'st thou from thy vast Treasure pare away,
That thou might'st feed on good and wholsom meat,
And wear apparel useful, clean and neat.
If thou can'st live in any manner, why
Do'st thou forswear thy self, and cheat and lye,
Thy perfect Senses? if thou should'st begin
To stone the very slaves which thou did'st buy,
That thou art mad, the Boyes and Girls would cry.
If by thy perjury thy guiltless wife
Is by the Iudge condemn'd to lose her life,
That thou might'st get new Portion with another▪
Or if by poison thou destroy thy Mother,
Meerly t'obtain her jointure, how canst thou
Be perfect in thy understanding now?
This is not done at Argos, where such things
Are done, and licenc'd by inhumane Kings;
Nor as Orestes once his Mother slew,
Which by her crimes she had provok'd him to.
Do'st thou suppose the frenzie of his brain
Seiz'd not till after he'd his Mother slain?
Or was he not out of his wits before
He bath'd his sword in her maternal gore;
Besides since that he was accounted mad,
He did no act reproveable and bad;
He ne're attempted Pilades to kill,
Nor yet Electra; onely he said ill
To both, and curst them both, calling her Witch,
And rail'd at him with all bad Language, which
From his enraged heart and tongue could flow,
Uttring what gaul and choller stir'd him to.
Opimius, that Miser, was as mad,
For he did need that money which he had
Laid up in store, and us'd to drink the base
Vejentan Wine on solemn Holy-dayes,
In course Campanian Earthen pots, and on
Week-dayes drunk wine whose taste and spirit's gon.
This fellow fell into a Lethargie,
And his rejoicing Heir ran presently,
[Page 256]And ransackt all his pockets for his Keys.
An honest nimble Doctor this Disease
Cur'd in this manner; first he gives command
Into his room to bring a Table, and
Upon it his money out to pour,
And bring in divers men to tell it o're,
So rais'd him presently out of his fit,
And gave him this wholesome advice with it;
If thou keep not thy wealth thy self, thine Heirs
Will greedily seize on't, as if' twere theirs.
What, while I am alive? (sayes he) yes (sayes
The Doctor) therefore have a care alwayes,
That thou may'st live, make that thy business too.
What (sayes the Miser) would you have me do?
Your veins (the Doctor sayes) will fail, you'l die
Unless with meat and cordials you supply
Your fainting stomach: Nay, there's no delay,
Come, take this Cordial. Sir, what must I pay
For't? (quoth Opimius) O (the Doctor cries)
This Physick's of a very little price.
How much is that (Opimius sayes) Four pence
(The Doctor said.) Alas what difference
(Sayes this damn'd Miser) is't whether I die
Of this disease, or by their theivery?
Hor.
Who then are in their senses?
Dam.
Those that be
Not fools.
Hor.
But what do you suppose is he
That's covetous?
Dam.
A fool and mad man too.
Hor.
Must he be wise that covets not?
Dam.
No, no,
Hor.
Why (prithee Stoick.)
Dam.
I will tell thee why:
[Page 257]Suppose a Patient in his sick bed lie;
This man has not the Plague (the Doctor cries.)
Is he well therefore? may he safely rise?
No (sayes the Doctor) for the man may be
Afflicted with some other malady.
This man perhaps is not a perjur'd Knave,
Nor yet a sordid avaritious Slave,
Thank [...]is good Stars for that; yet if he be
O' [...]e impudent, or else ambitious, he
Is mad and must pack to Antycera,
For what's the odds, whether you throw away
All your estate into the Sea, or not
Dare to make use of that which you have got?
Opidius a wealthy person, who
Had good old Rents, and at Canusium two
Very good Farmes, which he 'twixt both his Sons
At's death divided (as the story runs)
Calling them to his Bed, he told them thus;
Since l've observ'd thee (my Tiberius)
Tell o're thy Nuts, and in some private place
To hide thy Play-games with a careful face,
While thou (my Aulus) carelesly would'st play
With thine, and loose them, or give them away;
I am afraid lest madness should possess
The minds of both, though in a different dress,
And make one turn a Prodigal, and t'other
Be covetous, contrary to his Brother;
And therefore he did beg of Heaven, that
One Son might ne're diminish his Estate,
Nor t'other his increase, but be content
With that which he had thought sufficient,
And Nature had confin'd them to; and least
The itch of glory should their mindes infest,
[Page 258]He by an oath injoin'd them, that if e're
Either of them were Alderman or Mayor,
He should b' uncapable to make a Will,
But live like one run mad, or out-law'd still.
Thou mad man! wilt thou spend what e're thou hast
In gifts and presents, onely that thou maist
Walk on th' Exchange in state? or else maist be
Set up in Brass to keep thy memory?
When thy Hereditary Lands t'hast sold,
And spent thy Fathers Silver and his Gold:
Must you forsooth have such applauses made
As great Agrippa, Caesars Kinsman had?
Or shall the Coward Fox, though crafty, dare
With the magnanimous Lion to compare?
A Countrey fellow that by chance did meet
With Agamemnon, ask'd him in the street,
Why (Agamemnon) why didst thou forbid
That Ajax body should be buried?
I am a King (said Agamemnon.) Nay
Then (quoth the Clown) I have no more to say.
But my commands were just, (the King replies)
And if to any they seem otherwise,
I'le give him free leave to discourse the things.
The Countrey Clown repli'd, Greatest of Kings▪
Heaven grant you may triumphant bring away
Your conquering Navy from the conquer'd Troy.
Propose the Q [...]estion (cries the King) and I
Will give an answer to't: Speak. Pray Sir, why
(Reply'd the Clown) should that Heroick wight
Ajax, who was so eminent for might,
And had so oft preserv'd the Grecians, not
Second to any but Achilles, rot
Above ground uninterr'd, that Priam may,
And all his baffled Trojans laugh, and say
[Page 259]He by whose hand so many Trojans were
Deny'd their Graves, now wants a Sepulcher?
Ajax (sayes Agamemnon) being mad,
Did kill a hundred sheep, and said he had
Kill'd that renowned man Ulysses, and
That I and Menalaus fell by's hand.
But when at Aulis you did basely slay
Your beauteous Daughter, and on th' Altar lay
Her body like a Calf for Sacrifice,
Vile man (said the Plebean) were you wise?
Why not? (sayes Agamemnon.) Quoth the Clown,
Pray what has Ajax in his madness done?
He with his Sword kill'd Cattle, but his hand
From murthering's wife and children still abstain'd;
True, he curs'd you and Menalaus too:
But to his friend Ulysses he did do
No wrong: Nor yet to Teucer (sayes the King)
That I may Navy from the Shore might bring,
The Gods with blood I wisely pacifi'd.
Mad King! 'twas your own (the Clown reply'd.)
Yes (quoth the King) with my own blood, 'tis true▪
In which I did no act of madness shew;
Who false things (sayes the Clown) with true, & bad
With good, together huddles, is stark mad;
And whether it be out of folly done,
Or rage, and madness, still the thing is one
Ajax in killing harmless sheep was mad,
And you in acting your great crime as bad;
Killing your guiltless Daughter to appease,
Those vain imaginary Deities;
Upon deliberation too; is your heart well
And pure, when as it did with passion swell?
If any in a Coach about should bear
A fine white Lamb, and garments for't prepare
[Page 260]As for a Lady, furnish it with money
And Servants, call it his dear, duck, and honey,
Provide a Husband for't; the Magistrate
Must seize upon this Lunaticks Estate,
And then the Guardianship of him commit
To the next Kin of his who has more wit.
But what if one his Daughter sacrifice
Instead of a mute Lamb, is that man wise?
No man will say't; and therefore wheresoe're
Is vitious folly, madness too is there;
And he's a mad-man who is given to vice,
That fool whom brittle Honour does intice,
Is so transported with the various sound
Of Drums and Trumpets, that his Brains turn round.
Now as to luxury, reason doth shew,
That foolish Prodigals are mad men too:
There's Nomentanus, who as soon as e're
He had receiv'd a thousand pounds, which were
Left him by's Father, he proclaimed straight
The Fowler and the Fisherman should wait
Upon his Worship, and all Tradesmen come
And bring their wares next morn to him at home!
Ba [...]ds, Pimps, Buffoons, and all that impious crue
Of sherking Tradesmen, which young Squires undo.
What followed then? They instantly appear
With their Commodities from far and near.
The Baud being at Rhetorick the best,
Makes a set Speech at th'instance of the rest;
May't please your Worship, (quoth she) whatsoe're
I or my Brethren have at home, or here,
Is at your service, send for't when you please.
Now mark the silly answer which to these
This youngker gives; Poor Huntsman thou dost go
In heavy Boots, and watch all night in th' Snow,
[Page 261]And for my Supper bring'st a Bore to me:
Thou Fisherman in the tempestuous Sea
Tak'st me a Dish of exc'lent Fish, while I
Glutted with wealth and sloth supinely lie,
Unworthy such a Fortune to possess;
Your merits must make my great fortune less;
You Huntsman, there's a hundred pounds for you;
Here Fisherman, take you a hundred too;
Pimp, for thy Wives sake, take a triple sum,
For if I send at mid-night she will come.
Aesop the Players Son, that Prodigal
In his luxurious prank, out-ranted all;
He pluck'd a Pearl out of his Doxies ear,
Which when he had dissolv'd in vinegar,
He quaffs it at a draught, as who should say,
(Damn me) I drink a thousand pounds a day.
Had he bin madder if he'd thrown away
That Pearl into the Bog-house or the Sea?
Those Sons of Arrius, who were arrant Twins
In luxury, toyes, love, and such vain sins;
No food upon those Gallants Tables came,
But Nightingals which could sing Walsingham.
How shall I rank them, 'mong the wise, or no?
Must they to th' Senate, or to Bedlam go?
If one who wears a beard should make Dirt pies,
Or please himself with Chariots drawn with Mice,
Or ride a Hobby-horse, or at Push-pin play,
Who would not swear his wits were fled away?
If Reason does convince us that to fall
In Love, is the most childish thing of all;
And there's no difference if thou play'st with dirt,
And such vain toyes (as when a child thou wert)
And now thou'rt grown a man thou do'st adore,
And whine and vex for some fair crafty Whore.
[Page 262]Pray, tell me, can you do like Polemon?
Who being drunk, run with a Garland on
Into the School of grave Xenocra [...]es,
With Ribons, Cushions, Handkercheifs; all these
He privately took off and threw away
When he heard what that temperate man did say;
And grew a grave man from a Cock-brain'd fool,
So that he did succeed him in that Scho [...].
If you should offe [...] to a froppish Boy
An Apple, he'ld refuse't; and if you say,
Take it (my pretty Child) he will deny;
But if you do not give it him, he'l cry.
A puling Lover's such another Ass,
Who being shut out by his cunning L [...]ss,
Hankers about the door: What shall I do,
(Thinks he) shall I return to her, or no?
And though he uninvited would have gon,
Yet when by her he is but call'd upon;
Shall I go now (sayes he) or rather find
Some way to ease the troubles of my mind?
Shut out! and straight call'd in! and shall I go?
If she should beg her heart out, I'ld say, No;
Parmeno was much wiser, though a Slave,
Master (sayes he) those things which neither have
Reason nor measure, are not fit to be
Dealt with by Rule and rationality.
In that vein toy call'd love, these mischiefs are,
War, Peace, ill-grounded peace, and groundless war▪
If any man should strive to fix and stay
Those things which by their Nature will away;
This way and that by every wind are blown,
And on blind Fortunes waves tost up and down,
He does as ill, and is as much a fool,
As if he would be mad by art and rule.
[Page 263]When thou do'st laugh because a kernel hits
Thy Chambers roof, art thou in thy right wits?
And when thou do'st thy Mistress entertain
With Childrens prattle which cannot speak plain,
How canst thou possibly be thought more wise
Then little Children are, which make Dirt pies?
Now to all Lovers follies add the guilt
Of all the blood which has by them been spilt,
Both of themselves and others, with a Sword
Let their devouring foolish Fire be stirr'd.
Was it not stoutly done of Marius? who
First his own Mistress, then his own self slew:
Was he not frantick? or wilt thou acquit
Him of that crime, of being out of's wit,
But of great wickedness wilt him accuse,
To give nick-names to things as people use?
There was an old man in the morn would go
Fasting about the streets, with hands washt too;
And to the Gods he'ld vehemently pray,
That he might ne're by Death be t'ane way,
'Tis a small thing to you, ye Gods (quoth he)
To give to one man Immortality.
If any Master were about to sell
Such men for Slaves, and should the Buyer tell
That they were persons perfect and compleat,
Unless h' except their minds, he is a Cheat.
This sort of people does Chrysippus place
Among the fools innumerable race.
A superstitious Mother, whose young Son
Sick of a Quartan lay, as he had done,
Five moneths at least, to Iupiter did pray;
Oh Iove, who pains do'st send and take away,
If this poor Child of mine may be (quoth she)
Once from this shivering Quartan Ague free,
[Page 264]On the next day thou do'st a fast command,
I'th' morn in Tyber he shall naked stand.
Now when the Doctor, or good luck (that's more)
Did to his former health this Boy restore,
His doating Mother, by her Zeal beguil'd,
Into the River put her Feav'rish Child;
Whose coldness did the Feaver bring again,
So she her Son, which she would save, hath slain:
But how came she so much out of her Wits?
Hor.
Perhaps she's troubled with Religious Fits.
Dam.
Stertinius, that 8th. wise man, told me
This as a friend, that I might armed be,
When any man hereafter call'd me mad,
I in revenge might say, he is as bad;
And teach him to look back, that he might find
That unknown part oth' bag which hangs behind.
Hor.
After those losses which thou didst sustain,
May'st thou sell every thing for so much gain;
But prithee tell me, Stoick, to what kind
Of madness do'st thou think I am inclin'd,
(For there are several sorts) but I suppose,
That I am free from every one of those.
Dam.
When up and down the streets Agave bore
Her poor Childs Head which she cut off before,
Did she conceive that she was mad, (think you?)
Hor.
Well, I'm a fool, I must confess, 'tis true;
Nay, I'm mad too; but (prithee) let me know
What kind of madness I'm addicted to.
Dam.
I'le tell thee; First, thou hast a building brain,
Next, though thou'rt but an Urchin, thou would'st fain
Appear a propper Fellow: Thou laugh'st at
That little Fencer Turbo's strutting gate
When he's in Armes, with what a Spirit he goes,
And art not thou as much ridicul [...]us?
[Page 265]Do'st thou conceive 'tis fit for thee to do
What e're Maecenas power promps him to?
Wilt thou who art so much below him, dare
With such an eminent person to compare?
A careless Calf by chance did tread upon
A nest of young Frogs, when the old was gon;
One that escap'd did to his Dam declare,
That by a huge great beast her young ones were
All trod upon and kill'd. How big was he?
Was he as big as I am now? (quoth she:)
Then swell'd her self. Bigger by half (repli'd
Frog junior.) What thus much—bigger (cri'd
The Beldame Frog) and still she did swell on,
Until at last, Oh, Mother! (sayes the Son)
Forbear your swelling, for you cannot be
(Though you should burst your self) as big as he:
This Picture very much resembles you.
Add Poetry to all thy madness now,
Which mixt with other Vices is the same,
As if thou should'st pour Oyl into the flame:
Yet if a Poet had been ever known
To be a sober fellow, thou art one;
I'le not speak of thy horrid cholerickness—
Hor.
Hold (prithee Stoick) hold.—
Dam.
Nor of thy dress
That's so phantastical, and so above
Thy Purse and Quality; nor of thy love
T'a thousand wenches and a thousand boyes.
Hor.
Good Damasippus follow thine own toyes,
And now for shame my peccadilloes spare,
Which no pr [...]portion with thy Vices bear.
SATYRE IV. By T. F. Esq A Character of a Belly-god.
CATIUS and HORACE.
Hor.
Whence Brother Catius, and whither bound so fast?
Cat.
Oh, Sir, you must excuse me, I'm in haste,
I dine with my Lord Mayor, and can't allow
Time for our eating Directory now,
Though I must needs confess I think my Rules
Would prove Pythagoras and Plato fools.
Hor.
Grave Sir, I must acknowledge 'tis a crime
To interrupt at such a nick of time;
Yet stay a little Sir, it is no sin;
You're to say Grace're Dinner can begin;
Since you at food such Virtuoso are,
Some Precepts to an hungry Poet spare.
Cat.
I grant you Sir, next pleasure ta'ne in eating
Is that (as we do call it) of repeating;
I still have Kitchin-Systems in my mind,
And from my Stomach's fumes a brain well lin'd.
Hor.
Whence, pray Sir, learnt you these ingenious arts,
From one at home, or hir'd from foreign parts?
Cat.
No names Sir, (I beseech you) that's foul play,
We ne're name Authors, onely what they say.
1.
For Eggs chuse long, the round are out of fashion,
Unfavory and distasteful to the Nation,
E're since the brooding Rump they're addle too,
In the long Egg lies Cock-a-doodle-do.
2.
Chuse Colworts planted on a soil that's dry,
Even they're worse for th' wetting (verily!)
3▪
If Friend from far shall come to visit, then
Say thou would'st treat the wight with Mortal Hen,
Don't thou forthwith pluck off the cackling head,
And impale Corps on Spit as soon as dead;
For so she will be tough beyond all measure,
And Friend shall make a trouble of a pleasure;
Steep't in good wine let her her life surrender,
O then she'l eat most admirably tender.
4.
Mushromes that grow in Medows are the best,
F'rought I know there is poyson in the rest.
5.
He that would many happy Summers see,
Let him eat Mulberries fresh off the Tree,
Gather'd before the Sun's too high, for these
Shall hurt his Stomach less then Cheshire Cheese.
6.
Ausidius (had you done so 't had undone ye)
Sweetned his Mornings-draughts of Sack with honey,
But he did ill to empty veins to give
Corroding Potion for a Lenitive.
7.
If any man to drink do thee inveigle in,
First whet thy whistle with some good Metheglin.
8.
If thou art bound, and in continual doubt
Thou shalt get no more in till some get out,
The Muscle or the Cockle will unlock
Thy bodie; trunck, and give a vent to nock;
Some say that sorrel steept in wine will do,
But to be sure put in some Aloces to.
9.
All Shel-fish (with the growing Moon increase)
Are ever when she fills her Orbe the best;
But for brave Oysters, Sir, exceeding rare,
They are not to be met with every where;
Your Wall-fleet Oyster no man will prefer
Before the juicy Grass-green Colchester;
[Page 268] Hungerford Crawfish match me if you can,
There's no such Crawlers in the Ocean.
10.
Next for your Suppers, you (it may be) think
There goes no more to 't, but just eat and drink;
But let me tell you Sir, and tell you plain,
To dress 'um well requires a man of Brain;
His pallat must be quick, and smart, and strong
For Sauce, a very Critick in the tongue.
11.
He that pais dear for Fish, nay though the best,
May please his Fishmonger more then his Guest,
If he be ignorant what Sauce is proper,
There's Machiavel in th' menage of a Supper.
12.
For Swines-flesh, give me that of the wild bore,
Pursu'd and hunted all the Forrest o're,
He to the liberal Oke ne're quits his love,
And when he finds no Acorns, grunts at Iove;
The Hamshire Hog with Pease and Whey that's fed
Sti'd up, is neither good alive nor dead.
13.
The tendrels of the Vine are Sallads good,
If when they are in season understood.
14.
If Servant to thy Board a Rabbet bring,
Be wise, and in the first place carve a wing.
15.
When Fish and Fowl are right, and at just age,
A feeders curiosity to asswage,
If any ask, Who found the Mystery?
Let him enquire no farther, I am he.
16.
Some fansie Bread out of the Oven hot,
Variety's the Gluttons happiest lot.
17.
It's not enough the wine you have be pure,
But of your oyl as well you ought be sure.
18.
If any fault be in thy generous wine,
Set it abroad all night, and 'twill refine,
But never strein't, nor let it pass through linnen,
Wine will be worse for that as well as Women.
19.
The Vintner that of Malaga and Sherry
With damn'd ingredients patches up Canary,
With Segregative things, as Pigeons Eggs
Straight purifies, and takes away the dregs.
20.
An o're charg'd stomach roasted Shrimps will ease.
The cure by Lettice is worse then the disease.
21.
To quicken appetite it will behove ye
To feed couragiously on good Anchovie.
22.
Westphalia Hamm, and the Bolognia sawsage;
For second or third course will clear a passage,
But Lettice after meals! Fie on't! the Glutton
Had better feed upon Ram-alley-Mutton.
23.
'Twere worth ones while in Palace or in Cottage,
Right well to know the sundry sorts of potage;
There is your French Potage, Nativity Brot [...],
Yet that of Fetter-lane exceeds them both;
About a limb of a departed Tup
There may you see the green Herbs boiling up,
And fat abundance o're the furnace float,
Resembling Whale-oyl in a Greenland Boat.
24.
The Kentish Pippin's best, I dare be bold,
That ever Blew-cap Costardmonger sold.
25.
Of Grapes, I like the Raisons of the Sun;
I was the first immortal Glory won,
By mincing Pickle-Herrings with these Raisons
And Apples: 'Twas I set the World a gazing,
When once they tasted of this Hoghan Fish,
Pepper and Salt Enamelling the Dish.
26.
'Tis ill to purchase great Fish with great matter,
And then to serve it up in scanty Platter;
Nor it it less unseemly some believe,
From Boy with greasie Fist Drink to receive;
But the Cup foul within is enough to make
A squamish creature puke, and turn up stomach.
27.
Then Brooms and Napkins, and the Flander tyl [...]
These must be had too, or the Feast you spoil,
Things little thought on, and not very dear,
And yet how much they cost one in a year!
28.
Would'st thou rub Alablaster with hands fabl [...]
Or spread a Diaper cloth on dirty Table?
More cost, more worship: Come, be Al-a-mode,
Embelish Treat, as thou would'st do an Ode.
Hor.
O learned, Sir, how greedily I hear
This elegant Diatriba of good cheer!
Now by all that's good, by all provant you loue,
By sturdy Chine of Beef, and mighty Jove,
I do conjure thy gravity, let me see
The man that made thee this discovery;
For he that sees th' Original's more happy
Than him that draws by an ill-favour'd Copy;
O bring me to the man I so admire!
The Flint from whence brake forth these sparks of fire,
What satisfaction would the Vision bring?
If sweet the stream, much sweeter is the spring.
SATYRE V. By A. B. A way to grow Rich.
ULYSSES and TIRESIAS▪
Ul.
TO all that thou hast told me heretofore,
Prithee, Tiresias, add this one thing more▪
By what designs and means may I now be
As wealthy as I have been formerly?
[Page 271]Why do'st thou laugh?
Tir.
Is't not enough, that thou
(Thou crafty Fellow) art restored now
To Ithaca, and do'st thy Gods behold
Which thy progenitors ador'd of old?
Ul.
Oh, thou unerring Profit! do but see
How naked I'm return'd, how beggerly,
(As thou fore-told'st) my Closets rifled all,
And that Estate which I my own could call,
Is all consum'd by those Gallants that lay
Courting my Wife, while I have been away;
An honest man and of a Noble house,
If poor, is no more valued then a Louse.
Tir.
Well then, since poverty affrights thee so,
In brief l'le tell thee how thou rich shalt grow:
If any Friend send thee a brace of Phesants,
Or any other rarities for presents,
To thy next wealthy Neighbour, if he's old,
Send them away, so they're not given, but sold▪
And if thy Garden or thy Field bring forth
Melons, or any other Fruits of worth,
Send to some wealthy man a taste e're thou
Do'st any of it to thy Lar allow;
For in this age our muck [...]admiring Elves
Adore rich men more then the Gods themselves.
Though perjur'd Rogues, ignobly born and bred,
Murther'd their Brothers, and their Country fled,
Yet wait upon them when they do command,
And let them alwayes have the upper-hand.
Ul.
What? Shall I give the wall to such a base
Inferiour Rascal as old Damon was?
At Troy I ever scorn'd it, there did I
Contend with Great ones.
Tir.
Thou'lt a Beggar die.
Vl.
[Page 272]This heart wil stoutly bear such things as these,
I have endur'd far greater i [...] my dayes:
But prithee, learned Doctor, tell me how
I may get heaps of Gold and Silver now.
Tir.
I've told thee, and I'le tell it thee again,
Thou art a fellow of a subtle Brain;
Enquire what old Rich men are like to die,
Observe their humours, keep them company,
Ply them with Presents still, that thou maist be
Nam'd in their wills an heir, or legatee;
And if perhaps one or two subtle men
Nible the bait, and straight whip off agen▪
And scape thy hook, and thou art cheated so,
Do not despair, nor yet thy art forgo.
Next, if there be a Law-suit great or small,
That side that's rich, and has no childe at all
Be for, though unretain'd, and let thy Tongue
Beat down his Adversary, right or wrong;
Be the manne're so honest, and the suit
Never so just, or of so good repute,
If he has Children, or a Wife that may
Produce him Children, throw his Cause away.
But say to thy rich childless Client; Sir,
May't please your worship, or your honour! (for
Titles of Honours, and such terms as these,
Do Mortals tender Ears most strangely please.)
'Tis not your money, but your virtues have
Made me your Friend, your servant, may your slave;
I know the Riddles of the Law, and can
Menage your Suits; and I'le give any man
Leave to pluck out mine Eyes, if ever he
Can cheat or fool you, leave your Cause to me;
I'le take such care that you shan't loose a Groat,
Noe yet [...]e laught at; bid him take no thought,
[Page 273]But away home to's Country house, and there
His mind and body both repose and cheer!
Or else do thou thy self turn Advocate,
And for thy Client never cease to prate:
Endure the scorching heat, the piercing cold,
And then thou shalt the gazing Clown behold
Jogging with's Elbow those that next him stand,
Look, look (sayes he) how he endures it, and
How eagerly he pleads there for his friends,
Sure he has all the Law at's Fingers [...]nds:
The Fish will come in sholes then to be caught▪
And thou may'st fill thy Net at every draught.
Or if a rich man have an onely Son
Lies dangerously sick and drawing on,
Be n't too officicus to th'old man, least he
Thy purpose through thy diligence should see,
But gently screw thy self into him, and
Get thy self writ down, Heir at second hand,
That if to's Child any disaster come,
Thou next in order may'st supply his room;
'Tis ten to one but this design will take,
And so his great Estate thine own thou'lt make.
If one desire thee to peruse his Will,
Seem to deny't, thrust it away, but still
So as to glance thine Eye on it, and see
What Legacies, and who's the Legat [...]e;
Let thy quick eye run all the Paper o're,
Whether thou'rt Heir alone, or join'd with more.
Oftimes an o're-grown crafty Scrivener, which
By being in Offices grows wise and rich,
Cheats the next Kindred of th' expected pelf,
Leaves the right Heir out, and puts in himself,
Makes him both needy and ridiculous too,
(As Aesops Fox did serve the gaping Crow.)
Ul.
[Page 274]Art thou inspir'd? or do'st thou go about
On purpose with these ridling words, to flout
And to delude me?—
Tir.
No, Laertes Son!
Whate're I say, will, or will not be done;
For great Apollo hath bestow'd on me
This admirable knack of Prophesie.
Ul.
If it be lawful then, prithee unfold
The meaning of this Fable which th'hast told.
Tir.
The time shall come when our young Emperor, he
Who does derive his Royal Pedigree
From the Divine Aeneas, at whose beck
The sturdie Parthians shall submit their Neck,
And he shall grow so great by Sea and Land,
All Princes else shall stoop at his command:
Some crafty Courtier, as Coranus was,
Shall have a mind t' a hansome strapping Lass,
And wed that Dog Nasica's Daughter, who
Will not a Groat on him with her bestow,
Nor yet will put her off at any rate,
Unless to one that has a vast Estate:
But here's the cheat, he bids th' old man read or'e
His Will, which subtly was contriv'd before.
The griping sl [...]ve thinking he has his end,
Denies to view the Will, and does pretend
He aim'd not at the Wealth, but to have one
Of Honour and of Merit to his Son.
What need I stand gazing on's Will (thinks he)
My Daughter must have all whate're it be:
But being much intreated, does peruse
The Will at last, and after divers views,
Finds nothing is bequeath'd to him or his,
But ev'n to hang himself, or mourn for this.
[Page 275]One thing more I would have thee mind; where e're,
Thou of an old rich doating man do'sthear,
Who's govern'd by his Serving-man, or by
His crafty W [...]nch; joyn in society
With those, and praise them to their Master, so
To him behind thy back they'l praise thee too:
This trick will will help thee much; but nothing can
Avail so much as working on th'old man.
If he writes Verses ne're so like an Ass,
Extoll them to the Skies; and if he has
A mind t' a Wench, send thy Penelope;
Do't of thine own accord; be sure that he
Don't ask thee for her; freely her present,
And wish she may to's Worship give content.
Ul.
D'you think my Wife, who is so vertuous
And modest, who so stoutly did oppose
So many suitors, and continued chaste,
Will be seduc'd t' anothers lust at last?
Tyr.
They'd little Souls, and knew not how treat,
Nor to present a Lady that's so great:
Theirs was but Kitchin-love, they did desire
To fill their Bellies, not to slake their fire;
So thy Penelope continued chaste;
If she of one old man but once should taste,
She'ld share the gains with thee, and cease no more
Then dogs from sheep, when they've kil'd sheep before.
Nay wonder not at this that I have told,
I found it all to true when I grew old.
A damn'd old Hag who did at Thebes die,
Order'd this Funeral solemnity
By her last Will; her body she would have
Anointed o're with Oyl, and to her Grave
She order'd him who was to be her Heir,
On's naked Shoulders her oyl'd Corps to bear,
[Page 276]And if by th'slippriness he let her fall,
What e're she left, he was to forfeit all:
He, while she liv'd, did (I believe) pretend
Great love to her, she'ld have it without end.
Walk war [...]ly, and see thou be not found
Wanting in duty, nor too much abound;
To sickly men, and such as are morose,
A prating fellow is most tedious.
Yet s [...]llen silence affect not at all,
But Dav [...]s-like be something Comical,
Thy Head on one side lean'd, as if he were
A man of whom thou stood'st in mighty fear:
Be very dutiful, and if the Air
Blow ne're so little, bid him have a care
Of his most precious tender head, and when
He's in a Croud, get him straight out agen,
And with both shoulders thrust aside all those,
Who do his easie coming out oppose.
And when he falls to talking bow thine ear,
If his own praises he delights to hear,
Ply him with high Encomiums, and fill
Him Bladder-like with swelling words, until
He lifts both hands up to the very skies;
An honest Servant! 'tis enough, he cries.
And when at length thou by his death shalt be.
From this great care and tedious service free,
And being broad awak'd shalt hear it read,
Ulysses quarter-heir to him that's dead,
Then with a loud voice cry; And is he gon,
What? Have I lost my dear Companion?
Where now shall I another Patron find,
Who's of so just and of so stout a mind?
Nay weep a little, if thou canst; 'tis good
Thy inward joy should not be understood.
[Page 277]And if th' interment should be left to thee,
Be sure thou do't with pomp and decency;
The Neighbours all about will celebrate
A funeral that's manag'd in great State.
If one of the oldest Coheirs chance to be
Infirm in's body, or cough dangerously,
Apply thy self to him, tell him he shall
Buy what to thy share by the Will does fall;
Whether't be house or ground, tell him thy mind
Is more to money then to land inclin'd.
But Proserpine recalls me to my Cell,
I must obey and go; Live long, farewel.
SATYRE VI. By Sir R. F.
He saith he lives content with what he hath, and wishes no more. Then compares the Commodities of the ease he injoyes in the Countrey, with the discommodities of businesses and troubles which accompany the City life.
THis was my wish, A moderate scope of Land,
A Garden with a pl [...]n [...]eous Spring at ha [...]d:
And to crown these a plump of trees: Heaven gave
Better then this; 'Tis well, no more I crave
Good Mercury, make but these [...] indure;
If neither by ill wayes I did procure,
Nor by ill wayes shall waste them: if I scape
Longings: O that you Nook, which doth [...]ishape
My Field, were added! O that I might find
A pot of Gold! as (Hercules to friend)
[Page 278]He did, who hir'd to delve anothers ground,
Bought the same Land he digg'd with what he found:
If what I have please me: if thou incline,
When I pray, Make my Flock, and all that's mine
Fat, but my wit; and as th'ast ever done,
Stand my great Guardian. Therefore (when being flown)
Out of Romes Cage into the Woods, I put
Discourses in rough Verse, and horse my Foot)
Nor Feavers kill me, nor Ambitions itch,
Nor [...]ickly Autumns making Sextons rich.
FATHER MATUTE: or Janus (if that style
Affect thee more) from whom their births, and toil,
According to the Julian year men date,
VVith thee I auspicate my work. When straight
Thou thy self hurriest me away to Rome
To be a Surety: Quick, least some one come
Before, that's more officious; Rain, or Blow,
And though the Colds shrink day to nothing, goe
I must: and after, wrastle through a Croud,
And crack my Lungs, t'undo my self aloud:
Injure, who ere is slower. Name of Mars!
What mean you? whose Solicitor? (Thus curse
Those men, upon whose Corns I tread) O! you
Hasting to serve Maecenas, care not who
You run o're. I'le nere lie; this grieves me not:
'Tis Musick. But anon, when I have got
Esquiliaes misty Top, thousand affairs
Of other men flie buzzing in mine ears,
And sting me back and sides; Roscius requests
To morrow, Two, you'd help him i'th' Requests.
The Secretaries pray you'd not forget
A business that concerns the Publick, Great,
And new, today: stay Quintus, get this Bill
Sign'd by Maecenas: If I can I will.
[Page 279] Nay, thou can'st do't; and presses me. 'Tis now
A seven years past, Maecenas doth allow
Me of his Family, onely t'advise
Whom he should take into his Coach in journeys,
To whom commit his Meddals: What's a Clock?
Which Fencer will beat (think'st thou) or which Cock?
'Tis a hard Frost: Will't bear another Coat?
With such like trifles as are safely put
In leaking ears. This Prentiship have I
Serv'd under Envy's lash, more and more daily.
Our Friend Bowl'd with Maecenas th'other day,
I, and they sate together at the Play:
(Some men have Fortune!) Blowes there through the street,
A bleak news from the Change? straight all I meet;
G [...]odman: (for thou being near the Gods must know)
Do'st hear ought of the Dacians? In sooth, No.
Thou'lt ne're leave jeering. Hang me, if I do.
The Lands th [...]n which the Emperor promis'd to
The Souldiers, in SICILIA shall they be
Allotted to them, or in Italy?
Swearing, I nothing know: Well, Goe thy wayes
For a deep pit of secresie! and gaze.
Mean while my Taper wasts: scarce time to pray:
O Fields, when shall I see you? O, when may
I, rould in Books, or lull'd in sleep and ease,
Opium life's cares with sweet forgetfulness?
When shall I taste the Pythagorean Bean
With fav'ry broth, and Bacon without lean?
O nights, and suppers of the Gods, which I
And mine, consume in my own Family;
Where my Clowns, born within doors, tear the [...]east
I tasted to them; where the lawless guest
D [...]ies the unequal Cups, as his Complexion
Asks soaking showres, or moderate refection.
[Page 280]Then talk we not of buying Lands, nor school
Other mens lives: nor whether Caesars Fool
Dance well, or not: But things of more concern,
Are our discourse, and which men ought to learn:
Whether to happiness do more conduce
Vertue or wealth? if we our Friends should chuse
For ends, or honesty. What's understood
Truly by Goods? and which is the chief good?
My Neighbour Cervius, interweaves his old
Fables, as thus: Aurelius wealth extoll'd,
(Forgetting with what cares it tortures him)
I'le tell you a Tale (quoth he:) Once on a time,
The Country Mouse receiv'd in her poor house,
Her antient and good friend the City Mouse;
A mighty Huswife, and exceeding nigh,
Yet free in way of Hospitality.
In short, the Chick-pease she had laid for [...]oard,
And unthrasht Oats she sets upon the Board,
Brings scraps of Bacon in her mouth, and dry
Barley; desiring with variety
(Had it been possible) to have o'recame
The stately niceness of the City-dame.
When the good wife her self on her Straw-bed,
(Leaving the best) on Chaff and Acorn fed.
At length, her guest: Friend, how canst thou indure
To live in this Rock-side, moapt and obscure?
Wild Woods preferr'st Thou to a Town, and Men?
Come go with me. Since all shall die, and when
We go, our Mortal souls resolve to dust,
Live happy whil'st thou may'st, as one that must
Be nothing a while hence. Drawn by this spell,
The Country Mouse skips lightly from her Cell,
And both their way unto the City keep,
Longi [...]g by night over the walls to creep:
[Page 281]And now 'twas mid-night, and her foot each sets
In a rich house: where glittering Coverlets
Of Tyrian Die, on Ivory-beds were past,
And many Offals of a great feast past,
Lay in the Pantry heapt. Her Rural mate
Pray'd to repose under a Cloth of State;
The City Mouse, like an officious Hoast,
Bestirs her self to fetch bak'd, boil'd, and roast,
And playes the Carver, tasting all she brings,
She thinks the world well chang'd; and Heavens good things
Stretching, injoyes; when straight flies ope the room,
And tosses both out of the wrought Couch plom,
Running like things distracted, but much more
When with Molossian Dogs the high roofs roar:
Then said the Country Mouse, No more of this,
Give me my Wood, my Cave, and Roots with peace.
The same by another Hand.
THis, this the sum of all my wishes was,
In a small farm my life obscure to pass,
Where I a Garden and a Spring might see,
A little Grave, or at the least a Tree:
But here the bounteous Gods have given me more,
Then all my largest hopes conceiv'd before;
'Tis well, I'm thankeful, and no more I wish,
But onely that they should continue this.
If by no wretched gain I ever yet
Made my self guilty, that I might be great;
I shall my life to poverty betray;
If I send up to Heaven no prayer like these,
O that kind Heaven would give me to possess
That narrow spot of ground which nere me lies,
And [...]'re my Garden walks too high doth rise!
Oh, that some luckie hit of Fortune wou'd
Bring to my hands such unexpected good,
As once she did to a hir'd Plough-man, who
While he with usual hopes the Field did plough,
He found of hidden treasure so great store,
He bought the Field wherein he toil'd before.
No, if my mind be equal in desires,
And to no more then what I have aspires,
Then let just Heaven keep my Estate from harm,
Keep my Lambs safe, that they may keep me warm [...]
Let me enjoy what's needful, and what's fit,
Have all things fat about me but my wit!
May the Gods be propitious still to me,
And be my guardians as they use to be.
And now in this so close and silent life,
Stole from the arts of Court and Cities strife,
What should I write but Humerous Satyres here?
Satyres the Woods inhabitants alwayes were.
Here no ambitious Raptures heat my head,
Here no infection through the air is spread;
Here I in midst of tempests am secure,
Nor fear the fall of Chimneys every hour;
Here all the stormy windes that chance to rise,
Onely bring [...]ounder sleeps unto my eyes:
Or if sometimes their fury they do spend
On some tall Oak, and it asunder rend,
Their very mischief's useful here, and by
Their rage my wood-mans labour they supply.
[Page 283]But hold, while I my self thus flatter here,
Reck'ning before each pleasure of the year,
I [...]ad forgot that I su [...]pena'd was,
And up to London suddenly must pass;
Away I must, and ride through thick and thin,
There to arive before the Term begin;
To Horse I must what ever wind doth blow,
Whether the dayes do long or shorter grow;
For all my shrugging, yet away I must;
Thither I come, and through the croud I thrust:
Methinks the stream I do already feel;
As I pass through, sometimes I kick ones heel,
Sometimes anothers Cornes I tread upon,
While they do curse and cry, whither d'you run?
What ails you? why so fast? do not you see
That we by those before us hindred be?
To my Maecenas House I still press through,
Remembring to what company there I go,
That, that indeed is sweet to me; for there
Is pleasant company and healthy air
To me, who from the Sea-coals and the noise
Escap'd, a while a mouthful there injoyes;
But when I tired and puffing thither come,
A hundred strangers business do hum
About my ears, a hundred trifles fall
Upon my head, back, shoulders, covering all.
Of my whole life the greatest part I've spent,
Not with my self, or to my own content,
But in that pomp, which I of all things hate,
Th' acquaintance of chief Ministers of State,
Though all th' employment I had with them was
Onely to help some idle hours to pass:
Sir, my Lord such a one desires that you
Would be at Westminster at two:
[Page 284]There did a Merchant, Sir, for you inquire,
Your aid in some rich project to desire:
I pray Sir get his Graces hand to this,
He knows me, and it reasonable is.
And if I say I'le do my best in it,
Oh Sir (sayes he) if you but think it fit
To speak a word, th' event I need not fear,
And then some Bribe they whisper in my ear;
All's but for them to exe [...]cise the [...]r pride,
And all that wa [...]t for business to deride,
While we within in private shut the while,
With such vain tattle do the time beguile:
What is the clock? 'tis very cold to day,
How do you like these Verses, or that Play?
Such were the grave affairs of State, that we
Transacted in our envy'd secresie;
Yet by this means, 'twas nois'd about the Town
That I a mighty favorite was grown:
D'ye hear the news? (sayes one) our friend did ride
Last night with my Lord Chancellor side by side;
He is a rising man, and happy me,
I him to day at least two hours did see
In private with his Highness, and his Grace
Gave him a Friendly smile as he did pass.
When once the World hath taken this report,
Then all the Mounsieurs brisk about the Court,
Where e're I meet them kindly me salute,
Y'are well met Sir, you know without dispute
How matters goe; (say they) for now you are
Acquainted with all States-men secrets here.
And how? and how? and when d'ye expect the Fleet?
When will the King set forth the Que [...]n to meet?
I know not. Come you'r such another man!
L [...]t all the Gods their judgements on me rain,
[Page 285]If I know any things. And what d'ye hear,
When did the Portuguez resign Tangier?
Is all in Ireland quiet still or no?
When will my Lord Lieutenant thither goe?
Which way are things accommodated there,
For the old Irish, or the Purchaser?
Still I persist that I do nothing know,
At my reserv'dness they much wonder shew;
That I'm a close and trusty man they swear,
Fit to be made a Privy-counsellor.
Thus I my time to [...]uch vain fopperies give,
And onely in my wishes truly live:
Oh, when shall I the Country see again,
When in a medow, or a shady plain,
Shall I once more securely read and sleep,
And no account of the dayes motion keep?
But by a pleasant thoughtful idleness
Of humane life make the long journey less:
Oh Beans and Bacon! O delicious meal!
Such as the first and innocent men did eat
Of fruits, for which Pythagoras was wise,
When he all other dainties did despise;
Oh nights and suppers fit for Gods to eat,
For even the Gods have sometimes lov'd retreat.
There o're my merry Servants I am King,
Yet fear no Poison in what e're they bring.
There free from all the gentle rudeness, which
The Laws of Drinking in the City teach,
One takes a Brimmer up, another cries,
Hold, hold, pray not too much, that will suffice.
All drink what e're they please, and none by stealth
Need put this Glass by, or escape that health.
There no discourse of other men comes in,
Nor who this Race, who did that Cock-match win,
[Page 286]Not who commands the fashion of the Town,
Who the best Actor is, Lacy, or Mohume?
We talk of things that nearer us concern,
And which 'tis more material to learn,
What kind of life a prudent man should chuse,
Or to be rich, or to be virtuous;
What into strongest friendship men doth bind,
Profit and interest, or the Goods oth' mind:
What of true happiness the nature is,
What are its measures, properties, degrees.
C—the while (for he too did the same)
Forsook the world with me, and thither came
C—still mingles things that are more gay,
Rough Morals with old Stories doth allay:
Yet not that all our talk should stories be,
But onely when they genuine come and free:
Then if some new arriv'd half-witted Guest,
(Half witted sure he needs must be at best,)
Admires the City and the glories there,
How splendidly these Lords or those appear,
Against him which such railery he disputes,
And with a Mouses Argument confutes.
By Mr. A. Cowley.
AT the large Foot of a fair hallow tree,
Close by plow'd grounds, seated commodiously
His antient and hereditary house,
There dwelt a good substantial Country Mouse,
Frugal and grave, and careful of the main,
Yet one who nobly once did entertain
[Page 287]A City Mouse, well coated, sleek, and gay,
A Mouse of high degree, who lost his way
Wantonly walking forth to take the air,
And arriv'd early, and belighted there
For a dayes lodging; the good hearty Host
The antient plenty of his Hall to boast,
Did all the stores produce that might excuse,
With various taste the Courtiers appetite,
Chitches and beans, peason, and oats and wheat,
And a large Chesnut, the delicious meat
Which Iove himself were he a Mouse would eat;
And for a haut-guest there was mixt with these
The sword of Becon and the coat of cheese,
The precious relicks which at Harvest he
Had gathe [...]'d from the Reapers luxury:
Freely (said he) fall on, and do not spare,
The bounteous Gods will for to morrow care.
And thus at ease on Beds of straw they lay
And to their Genius sacrific'd the day:
Yet the nice Guests mind
(Though breeding made him civil seem and kind)
Despis'd this Countrey Feast, and still his thought
Upon the cakes and pies of London wrought.
Your bou [...]ty and civility (said he)
Which I'm surpris'd in these rude parts to see,
Shews that the Gods have given you a mind
Too noble for the fare which here you find:
Why should a Soul so virtuous and so great,
Loose it self thus in an obscure retreat?
Let Savage Beasts lodge in a Countrey Den,
You should see Towns, and manners, and know men,
And taste the generous luxury of the Court,
Where all the Mice of qualitie resort,
[Page 288]Where thousand beauteous shees about you move,
And by high fare are pliant made to love.
We all ere long must render up our [...]reath,
No Cave or Hole can shelter us from Death;
Since life is so uncertain and so short,
Let's spend it all in feasting and in sport.
Come (worthy Sir) come with me and partake
All the great things that Mortals happy make.
Alas, what vertue has sufficient armes
T' oppose bright Honour and soft pleasures charms?
What wisdome can their Magick force repel?
It draws this Reverend Hermit from his Cell.
It was the time when witty Poets tell,
That Phoebus into Tethys bosome fell,
She blusht at first, and then put out her light,
And drew the modest Curtains of the night.
Plainly the truth to tell, the Sun was set,
And to the town the wearied trav [...]llers get
To a Lords house, as Lordly as can be,
Made for the use of pride and luxury.
They come; the gentile Courtier at the door
Stopt, and will hardly enter in before.
But this, Sir, you command, and being so,
I'm sworn t' obedience; and so in they go
Behind a Hanging in a spacious room,
The richest work of Mortelacks noble Loom.
They wait a while their wearied Limbs to rest,
Till silence should invite them to their f [...]ast,
Alont the hour that Cyn [...]hia's silver light
Had toucht the pale meridies of night.
At last the various Supper being done,
It hapned that the company was gone
Into a room remote, Servants and all,
To please their noble fancies with a Ball.
All fitted to the bounties of his mind:
Still on the Tables half fill'd Dishes stood,
And with delicious bits the flow'r was strew'd,
The courteous Mouse presents him with the best,
And both with fat varieties are blest:
The industrious peasant every where does range,
And thanks the Gods for his lives happy change;
Loe in the midst of a well fraighted Pye
They both at last glutted and wanton lie:
When (see the sad reverse of prosperous fate,)
And what fierce stormes on mortal glories wait,
With hideous noise down the rude Servants come,
Six Dogs before run barking into th' room,
The wretched Gluttons fly with wild affright,
And hate their fulness which retards their flight.
Our trembling Peasant wishes now in vain,
That rocks and mountains cover'd him again:
Oh, how the change of his poor life he curst,
This of all lives (said he) is sure the worst.
Give me again ye Gods my Cave and Wood,
With peace let tares and acorns be my food!
SATYRE VII. By A. B.
HORACE and DAVUS.
The miseries of a Debauched life.
Dav.
I'Ve over-heard you, and a mind I have (Slave,
To speak a word t'you, but being but your
I am afraid.—
Hor.
[Page 290]—Who art thou, Davus?
Dav.
—Yes,
Davus, who alwayes to his Patron is
A Slave so loving and so true, that he
Deserves at length that you should make him free.
Hor.
Go on, and use Decembers freedom now,
(Because our Ancestors did that allow.)
Speak what thou hast a mind.
Dav.
—Most men delight
In Vice continually, and with all their might
Pursue their lewd designes: Many there be
Float up and down with much inconstancie.
Now they will lead a virtuous life, but then
They quickly tumble into vice agen.
How fickle Priscus is! sometimes he'! be
With ne're a Ring on's hand, sometimes with three:
And every hour he'l vainly change his Gown;
Sometimes he'l lodge i'th noblest house in Town,
Straight in the meanest Cottage he will lie,
And thence come forth looking so nastily.
Now he at Athens studies hard, but straight
Away he comes to Rome to fornicate.
So various in his life, as if he'd been
Born in all shapes Vertunuus e're was in.
That Gamester Volanerius, when the Gout
Had rack'd and shrunk up all his joints throughout,
A Fellow by the day he hir'd and sed
To take the Dice, and throw them in his stead.
How much more constant men in Vices be,
So much the easer is their misery;
'Tis better far to keep an equal pace,
Then sometimes slack and sometimes stretch the Trace.
Hor.
Yet all this while thou tell'st nor to what end
(Thou sleering Knave) these fullen words do tend.
Dav.
[Page 291]They're meant of you.—
Hor.
Why so (you Rogue?)
Dav.
—You praise
Mens fate and wayes who liv'd in former dayes,
And yet if any God move you to use
The like your self, you obstinately refuse,
Either because you don't conceive what you
Your self affirm thereof is right and true;
Or else the truth you faintly do deftend,
And are not such a man as you pretend;
And when you stick so fast, you do desire
In vain to pluck your feet out of the mire.
The Country you admire when you are at Rome,
But when into the Country you are come,
A City life you above all things prize,
And Rome you vainly do extoll to th' skies.
When you are not invited forth to sup,
Your own safe Diet you do so cry up,
Pretending if you e're go forth, 'tis still
To please your Friend, but sore against your will:
And you're so pleas'd, and count your self so blest,
When you are not invited out to feast.
But if Maecenaes send for you to come,
How all the house rings with your noise at home!
What, not the Barber come yet?—Jack!— who's there?
Where are these Ragues, my Servants?—does none hear?
And then away you post t' your Patrons feast,
Where Milvius that Parasite, and the rest
Which feed upon him, curse and rail, and speak
Base words of you, when they away must sneak.
One (I confess) did tell me to my face,
You did your pleasure in your Belly place;
And call'd you smell-feast, feeble, sluggard, sot,
What they could think, as Glutton, and Toss-pot.
[Page 292]Now since you are as bad as I can be,
Nay perhaps worse, why should you rail at me,
As if you're better? when you but disguise
With vertuous names the foulness of your vice.
When you were with anothers wife in bed,
And simply by his Slave discovered,
Trapand and apprehended, were not you
A verier fool then I?—Nay, never go
To fright me with your surly countenance;
Bridle your passion, don't your fist advance,
While I impartially declare unt' you
That which Crispinus Slave reveal'd to me.
You're for a married woman, while your poor
Slave Davus is content with a poor—
Which of our crimes are greater, your or mine?
When heat of blood does me to th' flesh incline,
I take a common wench, with whom I do
Such things as humane Nature promps me to;
And having done, I presently depart,
My name not blemish'd by it, nor my heart
Solicitous, where those who next there lie,
Be handsomer or richer men then I.
But when you lay your Ornaments aside,
And sneak along for fear you should be spi'd:
Are you not what you seem, when you become
Instead of a grave Senator a Groom?
And are into anothers Lodgings led,
With an old Cap to hide your powdred head;
'Twixt lust and fear such a contest is in you,
Your flesh and bones still trembling do continue.
What difference is't if you are bound for hire
To be destroi'd, whether by Sword or Fire?
Or to be thrust into a nasty Chest
With head and heels contracted to your breast,
[Page 293]Where by the Maid you have secured bin,
The Baud that's privy to her Mistress sin.
Has not th' abused Husband then just power,
Both o're his wife and o're her Paramour?
More just o're the Adulterer, yet she
Nor place nor habit shifts, nor publickly
Commits the sin; the woman is in fear,
And believes not your promis'd love to her:
But you're a voluntary Slave to your lust,
And with that raging Tyrant do intrust
All your estate; your safety, liberty,
Repute and life, things which so precious be.
And when you have escap'd from all those Snares,
A man would think you should be full of fears,
And would by this take warning now, but you
Seek how to sin, and to be plagu'd anew.
Oh! you that make your self so oft a Slave,
What bruit Beasts are so mad, that when they have
Made their escape by breaking off the chain,
Will to the snares expose themselves again?
You say, you are no Adulterer, nor I
A Theif, because I warily pass by
Your plate, but were the punishment away,
You to Adultery, I to Theft should stray.
Are you my Master, and so much a Slave,
To those ill powers which Dominion have
O're men and things? and have so often bin
Freed from your slavery, yet again get in?
Adde this thing to the rest, which seems to me
An Argument of great validitie,
If he that does a Slave serve and obey,
Is a Slaves Vicar (as you Scholars say)
Or but his Fellow-slave, pray tell me then
What must I be to you? for even when
[Page 294]You rule o're me you are a wretched Slave,
To other powers, and no true motion have,
But are like wooden Puppets mov'd about,
Not by your Nerves within, but Wires without.
Hor.
Who then is free?
Dav.
He that is wise, and can
Govern himself, that, that's the true Free-man;
Whom prisons, want, nay Death, can't terrifie,
Who quells his vain desires, and valiantly
Contemns the froth of popular applause,
And squares his actions all by virtues laws:
No outward thing can alter him at all,
And Fortune's baffled if on him she fall.
Can you pick a discription out of this,
Which may express your self?—Your high Mistress
Demands a hundred pound a time of you,
And if not given her, pouts and looks askew,
And in a pet she thrusts you out of door,
Flings water on you to affront you more:
Then in another mood she calls you back;
And are you free? Come, come, withdraw your neck
Out of this shameful Yoke, and say I'm free,
Which you in this condition n're can be;
For you've a Master rigid and severe,
Does o're your mind and body domineer;
And though you're tir'd, and able scarce to stir,
He cruelly rides on with switch and spur.
Pray Sir, when you so many hours lie lazing,
On some rare piece of Painting vainly gazing,
Wherefore are you more innocent then I,
When on a Battle I do cast mine eye,
With Char-coal or Red-oker rudely done,
And see the Fencers nimbly strike and shun
[Page 295]Each others blows, in various postures, so
As if the Fight were real, not a Show:
I must be call'd a loytering Rogue, but you
In antient Painting for a Critick go.
If I pursue a hot well-sented Cake,
I am call'd Rascal; but when you do make
Your sumptuous Banquets with all luxury,
You must a noble person counted be:
Pray wherefore should my petty luxurie
Be far more prejudicial to me,
Then yours that's greater is to you? if I
Indulge my Belly, I'm lash'd presently:
And are not you punish'd as much as that,
Who on your Belly spend your whole Estate?
Feasts to perpetual Feasters odious are,
And Drunkards feet refuse their paunch to bear.
If a poor Boy sell his stoln Comb to buy
A bunch of Grapes, we blame him presently;
And yet that Bellie-slave goes blameless, that
To gratifie his paunch sells his Estate.
Besides all this, you are not the same man
For two hours space together, neither can
You tell which way to pass your time away
As you ought, when you have a leisure day,
But Vagrant-like you from your self do flie,
Sometimes with wine or sleep you vainly try
To ease your mind, but wheresoe're you go
Your guilty Conscience dogs and pricks you too.
Hor.
Where's e're a stone?—
Dav.
—At whom Sir would you throw,
If you could finde a stone?—
Hor.
'S death! where's my Bow?
Dav.
Alas! my Master's grown stark raging mad,
Or else makes Verses, which is full as bad!
Hor.
[Page 296]Get hence, or to my Farm else, where I have
Sent eight already, I'le send thee the nineth Slave.
SATYRE VIII. By I. W. Esq A description of an unhansome Treat.
HORACE and FUNDANUS.
Hor.
How lik'd ye wealthy Nasidenus feast?
For yesterday, intending you my guest,
'Twas told me you were there, and from noon too.
Fund.
Troth we were never merrier.
(Hor.)
As how?
(And if it ben't too troublesome) declare
How he receiv'd you; what your bill of fare?
Fund.
Our first encounter was a Lucan Bore,
Kill'd, the wind South, for so the Master swore;
About the Dish lay Lettice, Radish, Beets,
And such as whet the squeasie appetites,
As Skirworts, Pickled Herrings, and next these,
A Poynant sauce made of the Coan Lees:
This took away, two pretty Striplings come,
One wip'd the Table, t'other swept the room;
And, as you have seen an Attick Virgin go
To Ceres Sacrifice; straight other two,
A Black the one, brought each his basket in,
This full of Caecub, that of Chian wine:
When straight mine Host; Maecenas! if you like
A fuller bodi'd, or a greener, speak;
I have 'um both
(Hor.)
Poor wealth!—But prithee say,
What were your company?
(Fund.)
On the first bed lay
My self, next me Thurinus and below
Was Varius; On the second, Bal [...]tro,
On the third, lay the Master of the feasts
'Twixt Nomentan, and Buffoon Portius,
That swoops whole Custards, ere ye say, what's this;
For his sake, t'other came, who understood
The way of eating, and with his Finger cou'd
Point out each sawce, and what was in't; while we
Eat Fish and Fowl, and such like trumpery;
Though yet, the best in season, as the Plaise,
And Turbats Belly which he carv'd me, was.
Next, came the blushing Apples, gathered
The Moon encreasing; how they differed
From others, he can tell you best; when thus
To Balatro began Vibidius;
We've fed our selves top full, and now must die
Quite unreveng'd, unless we drink him dry;
And calls for bigger Glasses; at which word
Mine Host lookt, as he'd have sunk underboard;
So went and came his colour, dreaming least
T 'have met with such stiff Drinkers, or a jest
So home, but rather thought, t'ave seen his wine
Deaded their palats, for 'twas hardly fine;
But to small purpose, for the Rundlet now
Was set a tilt, and round the brimmers go;
Onely some one or two of the prime Guests
Made little spoil:—But see! A second Feast;
A Lamprey stretcht at length, swimming as 'twere
Amidst a shole of shrimps; On which, Mine Here
Cries note, This Fish was big with young when caught,
Or otherwise, 't'ad not been worth a Groat;
Then, for the rare Potage! But taste it pray!
The Oyl in it right Campania,
T'has more ingredients, as Caviare,
The best white Pepper, Lesbian vinegar,
[Page 298] Italian wine. (But this, I dare be bold)
Not a drop of 't was less then five years old;
All this was in the boiling (that once done
Pour that of Chios in, or better none:)
I was the first e're boil'd Elicampane,
And 'Ringoes in it; from Curtillus, came
Salt-water-craw-fish pickled, better far
Then such as brought us from beyond Sea are:
While thus mine Host, a piece of Tapstry's fall
Rais'd such a dust, it spic'd us, Dish and all;
We thought at first, 't' had been the house, but when
We saw there was no danger, chear'd agen;
But he (poor man) hung down his head, and cri'd
As if his Son had at that instant dy'd;
Nor gave he ov'r, till Nomentanus, thus,
Fortune our Foe, thou art a scurvy Puss!
Ah what a cruel Vixen th' art! ah how
Do'st thou delight to mock us here below!
'Twas even as much as Variu's Towel could do
To keep his laughter in, when Balatro
Gib'd on, And since the course of life is such,
We can't (quoth he) admire your pains too much;
Is't fit, to make me handsomely receiv'd,
You should disquiet your self, and thus be griev'd,
For fear the Bread be burnt, or the Potage
Ill season'd, to be sure that every Page
Perform his office right: add to all this
What other accidents may fall amiss;
As this' oth' Hangings was, or that a Clown
Should stumble in, and run the Cup-board down;
But (General-like) Masters of Feasts reveal
That temper by cross hits, the good conceal:
At which, mine Host, Gods blessing on your heart!
So good a man, and boon Companion th' art;
[Page 299]And with it clapt his Sandals on; when streight
There went a whisper round the beds. Hor. But what?
What laught y' at next? Fund. Vibidius cries, I think
The Bottles broke, that we can get no drink;
And while they laught at what was past, quoth he,
Balatro seconding, Mine Host for me!
How lively he returns! he looks as pert,
As if he'd help our late mischance by art:
Which said, his Boyes brought in a Charger fill'd
With several things; a Crane cut up, and grill'd
With Salt and Flower; and fed with with figs (to chuse)
The well grown Liver of a Milk white Goose,
The Shoulders of some Hares, by much the best
Of all the body, a broil'd Black-birds breast:
Ringdoves, their thighs cut off; things excellent
Had he not run so Damn'd a Lecture on't;
As the cause why, drawn from their Nature too:
But we reveng'd our selves, I'le tell ye how;
We did not taste one bit, but fled it more,
Then if a Witch had shook her Kercher o're.
The end of the Second Book of Satyres.
EPISTLES.
BOOK I.
EPISTLE I. By Sir R. F. To MAECENAS.
He sayes he dismisses his trifling studies, and embraces those that tend to vertue: yet so as not to swear to any Masters words. And that these studies are such, that there is none but may be better'd by them, if he but lend a patient ear thereunto. In the end he reprehends the depraved judgement of men placing vertue after wealth and honours, and caring more for the things of the Body then the things of the mind.
MAecenas mention'd in my Odes, to be
Mention'd in all I write; thou would'st have me
(Enough seen, and applauded on the Stage)
To the old sport; I have not the same age,
[Page 301]Nor the same mind. Upon Alcides post
His Armes hung up, ere his won Fame be lost;
The Fencer that is wise, retires. I hear
A voice sound daily in my cleansed ear,
Free an old Horse, lest he (derided) lagg,
And, broken-winded, in the last act flag.
Therefore Love-songs, and all those toyes adieu,
My work is now to search what's good, what's true:
I lay in precepts, which I straight may draw
Out for my use. If thou demand, whose Law,
What Guide I follow: Sworn to no mans words,
To this and that side I make Tacks and Bords.
Now plung'd in billows of the active life,
At vertues Anchor ride contemplatise;
With ARISTIPPUS now yield to the stream,
More studying to get wealth, then to contemn.
As nights are long to them their Mistress fails:
To Hirelings, dayes: To curb'd Wards years are snails:
So slow and so unpleasant my Time flowes,
Till seriously I act, as I propose;
That which alike boots rich and poor, if done,
Alike hurts young and old, if let alone.
It rests, these rules I to my self apply.
Thy eyes will never pierce like Lynceus eye,
Scorn not to noint them though if sore they are:
Nor, of a Wrastlers strength if thou despair,
Neglect to salve the knotted Gout. If more
'S deni'd, 'tis something to have gon thus fur.
Revenge and Avarice boil in thy heart:
There's words and sounds will cut off a great part
Of thy disease. Swell'st thou with love of praise!
There is a Charm too which this Devil layes;
Reading a good Book thrice devoutly over,
T [...]e Envious, Wrathful, Sluggish, Drunkard, Lover:
[Page 302]No Beast so wild, but may be tam'd, if he
Will unto Precepts listen patiently.
'Tis Vertue, to flie Vice: and the first Stair
Of Wisdome, to want Folly. With what Care
Of Mind, and toil of Body, we avoid
Mean wealth, and honours hunt (Ambition's God!)
Th' unwearied Merchant runs to farthest Ind,
Through Fire, through horrid Rocks, Riches to find▪
What thou thus fondly doat'st on, to despise,
Sit, learn, and hear from those that are more wise.
Whose Sword hath won him Honour in true Fights,
Dusty Olympick Lawrels, that man slights,
(Above those toyes, and in his own self rowld.)
Gold excels silver, Vertue excels Gold.
O Romans, Romans, first seek money; then
Vertue. This drops from every Scriv'ners Pen.
This is the Doctrine old and young men preach,
Carrying a black Box danging at their Breech.
If of Sesterces fourty thousand lack
Six or seven thousand onely, though you make
It up in Virtues, Courage, Eloquence,
Faith, and the like; you'r a Pletian, Hence.
But playing in the streets, the children sing
Another song: He that does well's a King.
Be this a wall of Brass, to have within
No black accuser, harbour no pale sin.
Now (sadly) which is better, Otho's Law,
Or the Bo [...]es Song, which gives a Regal awe
To him do [...] well? A song oft sung of old
By manly Curii, and Camilli bold.
Counsels he better, that sayes, MONEY GET,
If thou canst, well: but if not, get it yet,
That tho [...] some piteous Play may'st neerer see?
Or he that bids thee, Brave, erect, and free,
[Page 303] To face proud Fortune? If ROME'S people now
Object, Why plac't on our Bench vot'st not Thou
The same with us? abhorr'st not what we hate?
Affect'st not what we love? My answer's, That
The slie Fox once to the sick Lion made:
The foot-steps that way all, make me afraid,
And from thy Den that I perceive no treads.
The People, 'Tis a Beast with many heads.
What, or whom should I follow? some by-places:
Some for rich Widows trade with Beads and Glasses,
And feed old men with Gifts, like Fish with bread,
That they on them may afterwards be fed.
Many grow fat with Usury. But well,
Let sev'ral men have sev'ral minds. Now tell,
How long will any in the same mind stay?
Baiae? The World hath not a sweeter Bay,
The Rich man cries: when streight the Sea and Lake
The joy of their arriving Lord partake.
Who, if an ominous Hare (forsooth) come thawrt
To morrow; Smiths unto the THE ANUM Cart
The Iron work. Has he at home a wife?
No life (he sayes) like to the single life.
If not, None blest (he swears) but married men.
What knot can hold this changing Proteus? Then
The poor man (laugh) alters his eating room,
His Barber, Bed, and Bath: and sick of Rome
As much as rich men that keep Barks, to float
Upon the water, goes and hires a Boat.
If thou meet one, by an ill Barber nocht,
Thou laugh'st: If one in Scarlet breeches bocht
With Frize, thou laugh'st. But what if my mind fight
With it self? Seek that which it slighted, slight
That which it sought? all Rules of Life confound?
Turn like the Tide, build, raze, change square to round?
Nor that I need to have a Doctor got,
And to be plac't in Bedlam by the Mayre:
Though th'rt my Patron, and consum'd with care
At the least fingers asking of thy friend
That honours thee, and doth on thee depend.
In sum, a wise man's onely less then Jove,
Rich, free, fair, noble; last a King, above,
The common rate of Kings: But chiefly sound,
That is to say, Unless his spleen abound.
EPISTLE II. By Sir R. F. To LOLLIO.
He sayes Homer in his Poems teaches fuller and better what is honest, then some Philosophers; bringing arguments to prove the same. That in the Iliad, what are the incentives of war to foolish Kings and Nations is described: and in the Odyssee, by Ulysses example, what vertue and wisdome can do, is shown. Then exhorts to the study of wisdome, as that which will heal the diseases of the mind, which he reckons up. But teaches withal, that men must from their tender age accustome themselves to such like precepts.
WHil'st thou (Great Lollio) in Rome do'st plead,
I, in Praeneste, have all HOMER read:
Who, what's our good, what not; what brave, what base,
Fuller then Crantor, and Chrysippus, sayes.
[Page 305]Why I think thus (unless thou'rt busie) hear.
The Lines, that tell how Greeks and Trojans were
Involv'd in a long War for Paris love,
Rash Kings and Nations foolishly reprove.
Antenors counsel was, to send the Cause
Of the War back. PARIS sayes, No: What Laws
Compel Kings to be safe? NESTOR, to peece
The difference, runs, betwixt the King of Greece
And Tethy's son: One boyling with Love's flame,
With anger both. The PRINCES, They're too blame,
And the poor PEOPLE smart for't. Mischief, Strife,
Fraud, rage, and lust in Town, and Leaguer rife.
Again what vertue and what wisdome can,
He shews us in th' example of the
Ulysses,
ManOf Ithaca: who (Troy in ashes laid)
The Towns and Manners prudently survay'd
Of many Lands; and through the Ocean vast,
Returning home with his Companions, past
Many sharp Brunts, not to be sunk with stromes
Of adverse Chance. Thou know'st the Sirens charms;
And Circe's Cups: which had he greedily
And fondly tasted with his Fellows, he
Had serv'd a Whorish Dame, and liv'd a Dog
On his on vomit, or mire-wallowing Hog.
The Suitors of Penelope were meer
Puppets, made onely to devour good Cheer:
Raskals, who minded nothing but their skin,
And, that perfum'd and sleek, to sleep therein
Till it was Noon: then thought it brave, to wake
With the same Lutes with which they rest did take▪
Do Thieves sit up all night to kill and steal,
And cannot we rise to intend our Weal?
But if in health thou wilt not stir about,
Hereafter thou shalt run (though with the Gout)
[Page 306]To a Physitian: and unless thou knock
For Candle, and a Book, with the first Cock:
Unless to studies, and to honest things
Thou bend thy mind; with Love's or Envy's stings
Thou'lt lie awake tormented. If a Fly
Get in thy Eye, 'tis puld out instantly:
But if thy Mindes Ey's hurt, day after day
That Cure's deferr'd. Set forth, thou'rt half thy way.
Dare to be wise: Begin. He that to rule
And square his life, prolongs, is like the Fool
Who staid to have the River first pass by,
Which rowles and rowles to all Eternity.
Money is sought, and a rich wife for brood,
And a sharp Culter tames the savage Wood.
Let him that has enough, desire no more.
Not House and Land, nor Gold and Silver Oare,
The Body's sickness, or the Mind's dispel,
To rellish wealth, the palat must be well.
Who fears, or covets: House to him and Ground,
Are Pictures to blind men, Incentives bound
About a gou [...]y Limb, Musick t'an ear
Dam'd up with [...]ilth. A vessel not sincere
Sowres whatsoe're you put into't. Abstain
From pleasures: Pleasure hurts, that's bought with pain
The Cov'tous alwayes want: your pray'rs design
To some fixt mark. The envious man doth pine
To see another [...]at: Envy's a Rack;
Worse, no Sicilian Tyrant ere did make.
Who cannot temper wrath, will wish undone
What, in his haste, he may have done to one,
To whom he (possibly) would be most kind.
Anger i [...] a short madness: Rule thy mind:
Which reigns, if it obeys not: [...]
With chaines, restrain it with an Iron bit.
[Page 307]The Quiry moulds the Horses tender mouth
T' his Riders will. The Beagle from his Youth
Is train'd up to the woods, being taught to ball
(A Whelp) at the Bucks heads nail'd in the Hall.
Now Boy, in the white paper of thy breast
Write VERTUE: Now suck precepts from the best.
A pot, well season'd, holds the Primitive taste
A long time after. If thou make no haste,
Or spur to over-run me, I am One
For none will stay, and will contend with none.
The same by Dr. W.
WHile you at Rome (my honour'd Lollius plead,
I Homer at Praeneste once more read.
Aquinas ne're so well, nor Lumbard taught
So fully yet, what's fair, or fit, or naught.
My reason's this (if y'have no busie hours)
The story that relates Paris amours,
And Greece spent with the tedious Trojan Leager,
Shews us how silly Princes are, how eager
The giddy Rout. That should be mov'd which seems
The cause o'th' war, Antenor wisely deems.
But Paris to enjoy his stoln delight,
Thinks scorn to yield, Nestor to set things right
'Twixt Agamemnon and Achilles strives;
While Love the One, and both their passion drives.
The Officers are mad, and still the smart
Lights on the Commons; still they have the art,
[Page 308]What with their mutines, their plots, their sin,
To loose as much without, as those within.
But then, what vertue and good conduct can
Perform you'l see; Vlysses is the man:
Troy wisely gain'd, he many Cities next
Views and their various Lawes, is oft perplext
In hazards, stormes himself and his he saves,
Not to be drown'd in Fortunes roughest waves.
The Sirens charmes you know, and Circe's bowl
Which had he quast with's Drunken-train, his soul
H'had lost, a bruitish servant to the where,
A Shag-tail Cur [...]'had been, or miry Bore.
We are that rout, methinks, those Idle Knaves
Made to be cramm'd, Penelope's lewd braves,
Rising at Noon to wash, and powder hair,
And then with noise of Fidlers lull our care.
Will you not wake? Fellons are onely stirring
For mischief; for your safety you're demuring.
You'l easier now, then with a Dropsie run,
Call for a Book and Light before the Sun.
Your early thoughts in Vertue unemploy'd,
Will be with Love or fretting Envy cloy'd.
You'l move an Eye-soar streight; and is it sence,
To let the Mind be cur'd a Twelve-moneth hence?
Begin: 'tis half the work: assume the power
To live: expect not for a fairer hower.
[So stayes the Clown till th' hasty Brook be dri'd,
But th' everlasting streams still still do glide.]
We gripe for money still, marry for Goods,
(Such Wives are fruitful) grub and fill our woods.
VVho hath enough, why should he wish for more?
Did ever goodly seat, or Farmes, or Store,
The sickly Landlord of his Quartan ease,
[Page 309]Or of his cares? the Owner must have health,
Who reaps a satisfaction from his wealth.
The carking Heart's not eas'd by bags or land.
(No more then Bleared-eye by Titians hand,
Or Gout by pultis, or the Ear in pains
VVith Rhume, by Ferabosco's melting streins;)
But what it holds, like musty Bottle spoils.
Pleasures ill bargains are, if bought with toils,
Desires are endless, till you fix the end,
Envy consumes for fatness of a friend;
Envy the worst of Plagues, the Tyrants scourge,
Anger let loose, th' unwary mind doth urge
To actuate revengeful thoughts, in haste.
Which afterward in cold blood you'l distaste.
Anger's a shorter phrensie. Passion reigns
If't be n't enslav'd, but curb it in with chains.
The manag'd Colt is by the Horseman taught
T' observe the Riders check: the Whelp is brought
(Since first he trail'd the Buckskin in the Hall)
To hunt abroad the Stag unto his fall.
Now (hopeful Boy!) counsels that wholesome are
Take early next thy heart: the season'd Iar
VVill hold his scent: now run, I'le but give aim,
I'le neither stop the swift, nor help the lame.
EPISTLE III. By A. B. To JULIUS FLORUS.
Advice to follow his Studies.
IN what part of the would Claudius fights now,
(My Iulius [...]l [...]rus) I desire to know:
Claudius our great Augustus Son in Law,
Whether to Thrace his Army's march'd away.
Or whether Icy Heber them detain,
If on the Hellespont they still remain;
Or fruitful Asian hills and plains, or what
The learned troop of Drusius will be at.
These things I mind too, and what eminent wit
VVill to posterity dare to transmi [...]
Those mighty things, which done by Caesar are,
How wisely he makes peace, how st [...]utly war:
VVhat ex'lent piece will learned Titius write,
The Roman admiration and delight;
He that so bravely dares transfer the [...]lame
Unto us Romans, which from Pindar came,
That scorns to dabble in the vulgar lak's,
And into the Ocean a brave Voyage makes:
How does he do? what does he say of me?
By his propitious Muses aid will he
Translate the Verses writ with Theban [...]ire,
And tune them smoothly to the Roman Lyre.
Or with a tragick buskin does he rage,
And with high stately language fill the Stage.
And (prithee) how does Celsus deal by me?
That most incorrgible Plagiarie,
[Page 311]VVho has been warn'd so oft, and must be more,
To search for wit and sence from his own store;
And leave off pilferring out of Books that be
By others writ, and plac'd i'th' Library.
Least all the plunder'd Birds should stock together,
And from his gaudy back pluck each his feather;
And he of his stoln colours like the Chough,
Stand stript, and make all Spectators laugh.
But what art thou about? with what rare stuff
Does thy Muse load her thighs? th'hast wit enough,
And that well pollisht, not absurdly rough.
If thou wilt Orator or Lawyer be,
Or falst upon delightsome Poetry,
Thy wit away the Lawrel justly bears;
But if thou canst shake of those seeds of cares,
Where e're Coelestial wisdome draws thou'lt goe,
This work, this study, great and man men too
Should set upon, if we design to be
Dear to our selves, and to Posterity.
I prithee send me word, whether or no
Thou do'st such kindness to Munatius shew,
As betwixt Friends and Brothers ought to be;
Or is your breach since you did disagree
So ill pacht up, that it will never close,
But every foot to it's old rancour grows;
Yet whether height of blood, or want of wit,
Inflam'd your untam'd spirits, 'tis not fit,
That your fraternal knot should be unti'd,
In what part of the world so e're you 'bide;
I've a fat Heifer, which I'le gladly burn
In sacrifice for your desir'd return.
EPISTLE IV. By A. B. To TIBULLUS.
That he should live comfortably, and without Cares.
TEll me Tibullus, thou that do'st so far
Indulge such trifles as my Satyres are,
What shall I tell my friends that thou dost do
Now in that Countrey thou'rt retir'd into?
Writing whole Volums: or hast thou thy mind
Wholly to th' healthy woods and walks confin'd?
Considering onely to enjoy and doe
Things which become a wise and good man too.
Thou art no thick-skull'd block-head; for wise Heav'n
To thee an understanding Soul has giv'n.
And with a fair Revenue does thee bless,
Which thou know'st how t'enjoy as well's possess.
What could a Nurse for her deer Child beseech,
More then right understanding, and plain speech?
To live belov'd in honour and in health,
To eat whole some Diet, and to want no wealth?
When thou'rt tost up and down' twixt hope and care,
Enflam'd with anger and shrunk up with fear:
As soon as such a day is overpast,
Comfort thy self, that that's to be the last:
When an hour comes that brings thee joy and bliss,
If unexpected, Oh! how grateful is!
And when thou'rt minded to laugh heartily
At a right Hog of Epicurus Sty
Come see me, thou shalt find me plump and fair,
I, of this Corps of mine, take special care.
EPISTLE V. By Sir R. F. To TORQUATUS.
He invites Torquatus to supper, which he sayes will be a frugal one. Exhorts him ( [...]idding farewel to Cares, and the desire of Riches) to give himself to Mirth; and (seeming a little light-headed with the joy of Augustus his birth-day) lashes out into the praises of drinking. Names three things whereof he is studious in his entertainment, and the first of these, Cleanliness.
IF thou (a Guest) on a [...]oyn'd-stool canst sup,
And in a small Mess all the broath sup up:
I shall at home expect thee by Su [...]-set.
Wine thou shalt drink of middle age, and wet
Minturnae's growth hard by. If thou hast ought
That better is, command it to be brought,
And treat thy Host. Already the Logs burn,
And the scowr'd Pans shine, on thy score. Adjourn
Light hopes, and riches strife, and Mosco's Cause
To morrow; CAESAR'S birth-day gives a Pawse
To toil, and leave to sleep. Without offence
We may spin out with chatting Eloquence
The Summer night. What do I care for wealth,
Unless to use? 'Tis a mad kind of stealth,
For one to rob himself, t'enrich his Heir.
I'le quaffe, and sprinkle Roses, and not care
Though I'm thought wild for this. The rare effects
Of Wine! Love, hid in Blushes, it detects:
Hopes it ensures: it makes the Coward fight:
Learned the Ignorant: the sad heart light.
[Page 314]Whom have not flowing Cups eloquent made?
Whose debts (though nere so great) have they not paid?
I am the Man: and my charge I will make it,
(Willing, and not unfit to undertake it)
To have the Forms clean rubb'd: the Napkins such
As may not curl our Noses up to touch:
That in the Platters thou maist see thy face:
That no false brother carry from the place
Ought that is spoke: that all of a Suit be,
Septimius? Brutus? Sure Cards, these. Let's see:
Then (if not taken up with better chear,
Or by his Girl) Sabinus shall be here.
Each Guest may bring his shadow. But the sweat
Will be offensive, if too close we set.
Thy number, write: and (all things laid aside)
Thy Clients bobb'd, out at the back door glide.
EPISTLE VI. By A. B. To NUMICIUS.
Not to trouble himself with worldly matters.
NUmicius, to admire nothing at all,
VVhich in this world to Mortals may befal,
Is one, if not the onely thing, which can
Make and continue thee a happy man.
Philosophy renders some men so bold,
They're not affrighted when they do behold
The Sun and Stars so variously appear,
In all the different seasons of the year:
[Page 315]Or in unusual motions, why should'st thou
Be more transported with the things below?
Why should'st thou mind the treasures of the earth,
Those gums to which Arabia gives birth?
Or Silver, Gold, and pretious jems, with which
Both Indies do the rest o'th' world enrich?
Pleasure or Honour, or those gifts which come
From the self-ended Citizens of Rome,
With what a mind and look should these things be
Possess'd, or but reflected on by thee?
He that the contrary to this does fear,
His passions like th'Admirers passions are.
A mind disturb'd, which way soe're it come,
On one side and the other is trouble some;
And sudden apprehension of all things,
To those that fear or love much terror brings.
What is it to the purpose, whether we
Desire and fear, and sad or joyful be?
Who when a thing befals him, bad or good,
If more, or other, then he thought it wou'd,
Do'st presently look blank upon't, and grow
A [...]tonish'd both in mind and body too.
The wiseman is an Ass, the just man grows
Unjust, if they would be too virtuous.
Go now, and gaze upon thy massie plate,
Thy Brass and Marble pillars made for State;
Thy costly Hangings of rich Tapestry,
And costly garments of the Tyrian Die,
And hug thy self when thou shalt thousands see,
While thou art making speeches, gaze on thee.
Rise early in the morn, away to th'Hall,
And till 'tis late at night there tug and bawl,
Least Mutius grow rich before thee, he
Who is by birth inferiour much to thee.
[Page 316]Shall such a sneaking fellow, as he is
Be thy example, when thou should'st be his?
What ere is hidden time will bring to light,
And that will vanish, which now shines so bright.
Nay thou, who on th' Exchange and at the Hall
Art so well known, and honour'd too by all,
Forsaking all these things, must go at last
Where our Fore-fathers are, whose dayes are past.
If thou do'st any sharp disease indure,
Use all thy Wits to get a present cure.
Wilt thou live well? who would not? Virtue is
The onely way to gain true happiness.
And therefore all thy vanities thrown by,
To it couragiously thy mind apply.
Make that thy business, and do not suppose
That to talk much is to be virtuous.
That words together put will vertue prove,
As Trees together put will make a Grove.
But if wealth be thy aim, pursue thy Trade,
Take heed no other Merchant do invade
Those Ports thou traffick'st to, and take from thee
Thy businesses which now so gainful be.
Heap up a thousand talents, then one more,
Add a third thousand, and then make' [...]m four.
This mighty Monarch Money to us sends,
Fair Wives, great Portions, Reputation, Friends,
This makes us Noble, though our Birth be base,
And giv [...]s our persons comesiness and grace;
That man who has his pockets lin'd with Chink,
All men ingenious and handsome think.
The Cappadocian King, though he had store
Of Slaves, was in's Exchequer very poor:
But be not thou like that unhappy King,
T'aboundin one, and not in every thing.
[Page 317] Lucullus was desir'd (the story sayes)
To lend a hundred Cloaks for some new Playes.
Where should I have so many Cloaks (said he)
But yet I'le look, and what I have send t'ye.
A little after this he sends them word,
That he 5000 Garments could afford,
Which in his house lay by unknown to him,
And that they might have part or all of them,
That house is much unfurnish'd where there are
Not many things superfluous, and to spare.
Goods which the Owner knows not of, but may
Be unconcern'd when they are stoln away.
If (as Mimnermus said) nothing can be
Delightsome without love and jollity:
Then live in love and jollitie; farewel:
If thou of any better Rules can'st tell
Then these, impart them candidlie;
If not, I pray, make use of these with me.
The same by J. W. Esq
IF then, wealth onely makes, and keeps man blest,
Make that thy first of works, and leave it last:
If publick Honour; buy some progging Slave,
May point thee who goes by, what names they have;
Pluck thee by th'sleeve, and tell thee such or such
Are worth your hand, you can't reach't out too much:
His interest lies here, and t'others there,
Make 'um your friends, and you are Consul clear,
Thus putting on a pleasant face to all,
As their years are, this son, him father call▪
If eating be the business, let's away
In order to't; we stay too long, 'ti [...] day▪
Another hunting Poles, a third the Spear,
And so returning through the gaping Fare,
Lead a tall Mule home laden with a Boare,
Not kill'd (as they suppose) but bought before.
Let's bathe on a full stomack, as forgot
Whither convenient for our health, or not.
Right Cerites, lawless; very Greeks that think
Their Countrey far of less esteem then drink.
If (as Mimnermus) nothing's to be done
That has not Love, and Pleasure in't, Let one
Live, and farewel; And if yo've better chear,
Impart it pray, if not, be merry hear.
EPISTLE VII. By A. B. To MAECENAS.
That Liberty is more acceptable to a friend, than costly Entertainm [...]nt.
I Prom [...]s'd when I left you last, 'tis true,
Within five dayes to come again to you
Into the Country, and you look'd for me
All August long, to come accordinglie;
Yet I have fail'd you: now I'll tell you why;
Not that I slight such worthy company;
But your hard drinking kills me. I profess,
You'ld love me better, if you'ld love me less.
If you'ld have me live long and heathfully,
Give me now I am well that liberty
Which were I sick, I'm sure you would allow,
For I fear s [...]ckness, though I'm healthy now.
[Page 319]In these hot Dog-dayes, when each little thing
That stirs the blood, does mortal sickness bring.
Autum the Sextons harvest, when we meet
Mourners and funerals in every street:
When Women send their Children out, for fear
They should be [...]lled by the City air.
The Lawyers venting mercenary breath,
Brings Feavers and (a happy riddance!) death.
But when the Winter comes, and heav'n bestrews
The shabbed ground with frequent frosts and snows;
Then comes your Poet to the waters side,
Where he t' (ndulge his body will abide,
And study very little. And (if you
Will give me leave) I'll wait upon you too
When gentle Zephr' blows (as Poets sing)
And the first Swallow ushers in the Spring.
Your favours do inrich me, not like those
Which the Calabrian Inn-keeper bestows;
Who with crabb'd choaky Pears his guests did treat,
And rudely over-pressed them to eat.
Eat (if you love me) all these Pears, sayes he;
No (sayes the guest) I thank you heartily,
I've eat enough already. Put up, pray,
Those you can't eat, and carry them away,
(Sayes the free Host:) No (replyes the Gue [...]t)
You are too liberal to me in your Feast.
Nay sill your pockets, (quoth the Host) these toyes
Are grateful presents to your Girls and Boyes.
I'm as much oblig'dt' you (sayes his friend)
As if with Pears you me home loaden send.
Do as you please (sayes the Host) but what you leave,
I've Hogs which will be ready to receive.
Thus Prodigals and fools are free of that
Which these do vainlyst ght, those vainly hate▪
[Page 320]Such roots ingratitude do alwayes bear,
And will yield only that from year to year;
Whilest he that is both good and wise declares,
That he for worthy men himself prepares;
And can discern good men from bad, as well
As he can silver from brass-money tell.
'Tis my design to answer th' expectation
Of all the worthy persons in the Nation.
But if you'ld have me never leave you more,
My former strength of body, pray restore;
My black curl'd locks, which on my forehead grew,
And my bewitching nimble tongue renew.
Revive my witty merry sprightly vain,
And in my Cups my amorous flames again;
Oh! make me weep, or run stark mad, nay die
For Love, if my coy Mistress should denie.
A little Fox with hunger slender worn,
Crept through a crevice int' a hutch of Corn,
And, having fill'd his paunch, strugled in vain,
With his great belly, to get out again:
A Weezle spy'd him tugging at the chinck,
Gave him this good advice, Friend if you think
E're to creep out, you must become as thin
As you were when you did at first creep in.
I will apply this Fable, and restore
To you what e're you gave me heretofore
I love not to be cram'd, for I despise
Those drowsie Banquets which the Vu'gar prize:
Nor for Arabias wealth would I destroy.
That ease and freedom which I now enjoy.
You've often prais'd me for my modestie,
And I've declar'd that you have been to me
A Father, nav a King, both to your face,
Nor said I less when you were not in place▪
[Page 321]Try me, if I can cheerfully resigne,
All those rich things your bounty has made mine.
'Twas not ill said by young Telemachus,
Son of Ulysses, who did answer thus
To Menelaus, profering to bestow
A horse upon him, Sir, I do not know
What to do with your Horse; for Ithaca
Is an ill place to keep a Horse in; Hey
And Grass are very scarce there, and there's no
Plains or Champaigne for Horse to gallop through:
Therefore pray keep your Presents, for they be
Fitter by half for you, than th' are for me.
Mean things become mean men. I now do not
Admire Romes stately Palaces a jot,
But quiet Tybur and Tarentum be
My aime to live in for my privacie.
Philippus, a great Lawyer, when he came
From pleading home at night, grown old and lame,
Complain'd much, that the Court too distant was
From the Carina's that's his dwelling place.
The story sayes, that he by chance espy'd
One trim'd, that did i'th' Barbers shop abide,
Paring his nailes with's Penknife; calls to's boy
(A Lad that was ingenious to obey
And quick t'observe his Masters minde) sayes he,
Demetrius, Go, ask and bring word to me
What yonder idle person is, and who,
And what Patron he is related to;
Where he was born, and what estate he has,
What his name is, and who his Father was.
The Boy went, ask'd, and told him presentlie,
Vultejus Mena was his name, and he
A Cryer by profession, of a small
Estate, but he giv'n to no vice at all;
[Page 322]Sometimes he up and down, did trade to get
Money, then stay'd at home and liv'd on it.
Play'd with his little Children when alone,
And in a small house liv'd, but 'twas his own;
Follow'd his business, but his leisure dayes
Spend at th' Artillery ground, or seeing Playes.
From his own mouth (sayes he) I long to know
Whether all this which thou relat'st be so.
Therefore go tell him that his companie
I much desire, pray him come sup with me.
The Lad goes, comes, and tells his Master, Sir,
I told the Gentleman, but he'll not stir,
Neither indeed would be believe that you
Invited him, or what I said was true.
But wondring with himself, 'tis strange! sayes he,
What! an old, rich, great Lawyer, and so free!
But he was civil; and put off his bat,
Thank'd you, as who should say—here's this for that.
Did he deny me!—Yes perversly too,
And slights, or else stands much in fear of you.
Next day the Lawyer in his sight appears,
As he sold Fripery to the Wastcoateers:
Gives him the first salute; surpris'd hereat,
The bashful Merchant lowly doffs his hat,
And goes t' excuse the meaness of his trade,
Complains that he thereto a slave was made.
Begs Philips pardon, that he did not come
To Supper, when he was invited home;
But that which did seem to afflict him worst,
Was that he did not visit Philip first.
Came (sayes Philippus) you've no other way
For pardon, but to sup with me to day.
I'll wait upon you, noble Sir, sayes he.
The Laywer tells him, that the hour was thre [...] ▪
[Page 323]Bids him i'th' interim minde his calling so,
That he by trading might the richer grow.
He talk'd at Supper what e're came in's way,
Said what he should, and what he should not say:
At length he takes his leave, and hies him home
To Bed. Next morning he does thither come,
And is observ'd so often there to wait,
And nibble at the Lawyers dangerous bait,
That he became his Clyent, after that
He every day at Philips table [...]ate,
And on the Holy-dayes, when there were no
Pleadings, to Philips Country-house they go
In his brave gilded Coach together, where
Vulteius prais'd the Sabin fields and air:
Which when the Lawyer found, it pleas'd him much:
Sayes he, My bodies constitution's such,
That hither I'll for good and all retire,
And live at ease here; only I desire
The company of such a friend as you,
That is so prudent and so cheerful too.
And if you'll purchase something in this Town,
One hundred pieces I will give you down,
And I will lend another hundred t' ye,
Meerly t' enjoy your pleasant companie.
So (not to make more words on't then I ought)
A small Farm there, at length the Merchant bought.
Now he that was so spruce a Citizen,
Became one of the herd of Countrymen.
Of Sheep and Oxen's all his talk, and how
To plant young Trees, and go to Cart and Plough.
To all his Studies now he puts an end,
And to grow rich his minde does wholly bend.
But when his Kids were stolen, and Sheep did rot,
His Oxen kill'd at plow, his fields did not
[Page 324]Bring forth according to his expectation,
Grieved with these heavy losses, in a passion,
He takes his Horse at Midnight, and away
To the Lawyers house, whom when the Lawyer saw
With such a rustick discontented look,
You look (sayes he) my friend, as if you took
Overmuch care and pains. Truly, sayes he,
My honour'd Patron, if you would call me
By any name that fits me, let it be
A miserable wretch; and I intreat
You, by the God's and all that's good or great,
By all that's dear to you, that you'll restore
Me to that life which I enjoy'd before.
As soon as Philip had considered, what
Difference there was 'twixt what he would be at,
And what he so declin'd, Let him (sayes he)
Return to what he has been formerlie.
What fits us best is best; 'tis good and meet,
To make our shooes according to our feet.
The same by S. W.
I Promis'd but five dayes from you to stay,
And now all August I have been away;
But (dear Mocenas) if you'd have me live
Lusty and strong, that freedom to me give,
(Now I fear sickness) as you would allow,
And bid me take, if I indeed were so.
Excuse your friend till sickly Autumn's o're,
Autumn that is in funerals never poor;
When the fond Mother for her child looks pale,
And a full term, and business, croud's the Hall;
[Page 325]Where, whilst the drudg Sollicitour attends,
A Feaver hastes his will, and Lawsuit ends.
But if sharp Winter cloaths the fields with snow,
Your Poet down to your Country house will go,
And living there obscure, himself will spare,
And only for his look and health take care:
With hopes to visit you against at Spring.
And the first tidings of it with him bring.
Not as my Country Host his Pears do's force,
Have you return'd me full; Our fare's but course,
Yet feed (he saies) I thank you I've done well,
Do better then, these fruits we never sell:
Your Servant Sir. Nay those you shall take home,
You will more welcome to your children come.
I am oblig'd, as much as if I did
Take what you please; but I should thus be rid
Of that, with which I must to th' Hogs be kind,
Who strait shall have, what ere you leave behind.
So Fools and Prodigals no gifts bestow
But what they hate, or what they do not know.
Yet this ranck soyl a thankless crop does bear,
Nor will it better yield another year;
But a wise man, though he the difference knows
'Twixt gold, and trifles, when he these bestows,
For worthy hands, says he, they were design'd;
Nor me less worthy, say I, shall you find.
But if I must alwayes with you remain,
Let me my youth and beauty have again;
My lusty back, smooth forehead, and blach hairs
Now all impair'd, or chang'd, by age and [...]ares;
Return my mirth and ralliary again,
And Cynare, whose loss I grieve in vain.
Once on a time, through a very little hole,
A hungry Fox into an Hen-roost stole,
[Page 326]And glutted there with Poultry, all about,
But all in vain, sought where he might get out:
The hole too strait was grown, his paunch too wide,
Which, at a distance, when the Weezel spy'd,
Sir Reynard said she, you must be as thin
If you'd get out as when you first came in.
Urge me but thus, I'll quickly all resign,
Yet not so foolish am I to repine,
And a Swains sleep, before full tables choose,
Though for both Indies I'de no freedom loose.
My Modesty you heretofore have prais'd,
Nor have I less your worth with titles rais'd;
Father and King were the worst names I gave,
My self in every place I stil'd your slave;
And judge you now if I can well restore,
Or unsay what so oft has been said ore.
Telemachus was wiser to refuse
Great Menelaus proffer; I've no use
For Coursers, said he, nor have wee good feed,
Or running with us, for so high a breed.
Rather, great Atreus Son, thy gifts retain,
And let them, where they better suit, remain.
A little does a little man content,
Give me no Palace, but a Tenement;
A Cortage at Tarentum will suffice,
And Rome compar'd with Tybur I'll despise.
Philip the famous Oratour, one day,
As from the Bart he came, and thought the way
To him grown old, and wearied with the throng,
Thence to his Chamber, ne're seem'd half so long,
Seeing [...]'th' shade, close by a Barbers door,
One newly trim'd, that with light knife ran 'ore
Each single nail, and pair'd it with such grace
As if he studied to out trim his face;
What Father, whose Retainer, whence he came?
He's call'd Vul [...]eius Mena (sayes the boy)
A Cryer, that does little wealth enjoy,
But a good Name, (that to th' whole World is known;)
Who sometimes; business has, and sometimes none.
Iust enough for a livelyhood, which yet
He does as freely spend (he sayes) as get.
Of mean acquaintance, but a house of's own,
And when he's either tir'd, or work quite done,
Can to a play or wrestling wager go;
All this I from himself desire to know,
(Replies the Sage) bid him to supper come
This night, whilst I before walk softly home.
How now! An't please you Sir he'd scarce believe
I came from you, and wondring did receive
The Invitation. What else? And by me
Returns his thanks. Deny'd then must I be!
I think so, and he you does scorn, or fear,
Or else invited thus, would scarce forbear.
Philip next morning, as to Court he went,
Menas Good m [...]rrow did with his prevent,
And greeting gave the day, and ease from cares,
As to the People he expos'd his Wares.
Vulteius to excuse himself began,
His pedling trade, and mercenary Chain,
That his commands he had not sought at home,
Nor was so happy as to see him come;
All this I'll pardon (said the Counseller)
But on condition you no more defer
Your coming to me, whom I now invite
The second time, to sup with me this night.
You shall command me, (Mena said;) Let three
(Philip return'd) the latest minute be;
[Page 328] Till then your business mind— But Suppers come;
Where when they'd freely talkt, my Guest goes home.
Yet like a Fish that nibles at the past
So long, that by the gills he's caught at last;
By often visits he become more bold,
Turns Client, and unbid a room does hold
At every Feast: By Philip is desir'd,
To go where i'th Vacation he retir'd:
And out they ride. Mena commends the air,
And Sabine fields, with fruits all gay and fair.
Which Philip hears and smiles; but mirth and ease,
What may himself, or new retainer please,
Being his care, he gives him fifty pounds,
And lends him fifty more to buy such grounds;
Which done (for I'll make all the haste I can)
My City Cryer, is turn'd Country-man:
Prunes his grown Vines, can stoutly hold the Plough,
Clime a tall Elm, and trim its highest bough;
Dies at his labour, and with care grows old,
And equals nothing to fat land, but Gold▪
But when his Goats by Thieves, Sheep fell by th' rot,
The field his hopes and charge answer'd not,
His Cattle dy'd, his Ox at plow was slain,
Himself no longer able to restrain,
At midnight up he gets, and in a rage
Rode post to Philips house, his furthest stage;
Whom as the Lawyer saw all rough with hair,
And never shav'd since they together were;
Vulteius, said he, you too thoughtful look,
As if more care than what is fit, you took.
Undone good P [...]tron, said he, I'me undone,
And by the name of Wretch must hence be known.
By your self therefore, and the God you adore,
Your own good Genius, I your help implore,
[Page 329]That but this once you'd ease me of my pain,
And turn me to my former life again.
He whose past sta [...]e the present does excell,
Let him take quickly up if he'd do well.
Return in time; For reason this requires
That a mans own foot measure his desires.
EPISTLE VIII. By A. B. To CELSUS.
That preferment should not transport him.
GO when I bid thee Muse, and wish my friend
Celsus, who now on Claudius does attend
As Secretary and companion too;
Much health bid him, Live merrily, and do
His business prudently, and if he doubt
What kind of business I am now about;
Tell him I promise ex'lent things, but I
At present live not well, nor pleasantly.
Not 'cause the Hail-storm broke our Vines, nor yet
Because our Olives by th' immoderate hear
Are shrivel'd up, nor cause my Flocks that lie
In Fields remote are sick, but because I
Am sick in mind more then in body; for
I can't endure to hear what men say, nor
To learn a Physical receipt that may
My great distemper cure or but allay.
My learn'd and true Physitian me offends,
And I do peevishly rail at my friends,
Because they offer to deliver me
Out of my much bewitching Lethargie;
Those things which hurt me most I most pu [...]sue,
And what is good for me I still eschew.
To Tyber, I am mad to be at Rome.
After all this ask how he does, and know
How he proceeds, and how all matters goe.
Ask him how he does Claudius please, and how
He and the Regiment do Cotton now:
If he sayes, Well; tell him, I'm glad to hear
That happy News: then whisper in his ear
This truth; In this promotion, Celsus, we
As thou demean'st thy self, will value thee.
EPISTLE IX. By A. B. To CLAUDIUS NERO.
On behalf of a Friend.
GReat Sir, Septimius understands how vast
That Princely love is which on me you cast,
And by entreaties hath prevail'd with me,
That I should praise him and present him t'ye
As a man worthy every where to be
Receiv'd into your breast and Family.
Who onely worthy men and things elect,
He thinks I'm honour'd with that great respect
To be your bosome friend, he knows my power
Better then I my self, for till this hour
I never tri'd it on you, and I us'd
What arguments I could to be excus'd▪
But fearing least I might too far disown
Those Princely favours you on me have thrown,
And so be thought such a dissembling Elf,
That's onely beneficial to my self,
[Page 331]Therefore that I may not be thought to be
Ingrateful (that's the worst of infamy)
I've put on suburb-brows, and if you can
Once pardon a necessiated man,
Who waves his modesty to serve his friend,
Accept this person which I recommend
Into your Houshold, and take this from me,
A stouter▪ better man you ne're did see.
EPISTLE X. By Sir R. F. To FUSCUS ARISTIUS.
He praises to Fuscus Aristius (a lover of the City) the Countrey life, with which himself was delighted, and recounts the several Commodities thereof. Withal deters him from ambition, which accompanies the City life, not that of the Countrey.
TO Fuscus, the Towns Lover, health I wish,
That love the Countrey: diffring much in this,
In all else twins. Both like, dislike, what either:
A pair of old Doves bred of Eggs together.
Thou keep'st the Nest: I love to flie abroad,
To haunt sweet Brooks, the mossie Grott, and Wood.
What would'st thou have? I live and reign, when I
Have shun'd those things thou praisest to the sky.
And like a Comfit-makers Prentice fled,
Clo [...]'d with Pres [...]rves, am better pleas'd with bread.
If one would live with all conveniency's,
And first in building the foundation is,
Where doth frank Nature thrust out such a breast
As in the Countrey, with all good things blest?
[Page 332]Where is it that the Winter's warmer? where
To cool the Dog-stars byte, is fresher air,
And the fierce Lyon's rage, when all his heat
Th'exalted Sun pours in, to make it great?
Where does less envious care our sleeps dispell?
Do Floores of Parian Marble look or smell
Like Flowers? The water when it heaves to burst
The leaden Pipes with which in streets 'tis forc't,
Runs it so pure, as when melodiously
It quavers in the Rivers Falls? Ev'n Hee
Affects t'have Trees, who in the City builds,
And that his house should but survey the fields.
Drive Nature with a Pitch-fork ou [...], shee'l back
Victorious (spite of State) by'a secret Track.
He that wants skill right Scarlet to descry
From counterfeit, will not more certainly
Be cosend in a Shop, then he shall be
That knows not true from false Felicitie.
Him, whom a prosp'rous State did too much please;
Chang'd, it will shake. What thou admir'dst with ease
Thou canst not quit. Fly great things: In a Cell,
Kings, and the Friends of Kings, thy Life may excell.
The Stagg superior both in Arms and Force,
Out of the Common-Pasture drove the Horse:
Untill the vanquish'd after a long fight
Pray'd Man's assistance, and receiv'd the Bit:
But, having beat the Victor, could not now
Bit from his Mouth, nor Man from his Back throw▪
So He that fearing Poverty, hath sold
Away his Liberty; better then Gold,
Shall carry a proud Lord upon his back,
And serve for ever, 'cause he could not lack.
Who fits not his Minde to it, his Estate
If little, pinches him: throws him, if great.
[Page 333]Wisely (ARISTIUS) thou wilt like thy lot,
And wilt chide Me, if mine content Me not:
If more I cark for, or if more I crave.
Who ere has Money, either 'tis his Slave,
Or 'tis his Master, as when two men tug
At a Ropes ends: W' are dragg'd unless we drag.
Giv'n in Vacation, at that
The Romans adored Vacation as a Goddess, by the Name of Vacuna.
Goddess Cell:Save that I have not Thee, perfectly well.
EPISTLE XI. By S. W. To BULLATIUS.
That Felicity consists not in any Place or Condition, but in tranquillity of the Minde.
NOw you have Lesbos, and fair Samos seen,
At Sardis, Colopbon, and Smyrna been,
What thinkest Thou, good Bullatius, is all true
That Fame reports? (for she knows less then you.)
Do they exceed the Common voyce, or are
Their fields, with ours, unworthy to compare?
Is not our Tyber better then their Seas?
Or which o'th' Asiatique Cities please?
Does Lebedus, because you rested there,
And found that ease, you else sought every where?
'Tis a poor place indeed to Gabil,
Yet there I'de choose to live retir'd and die;
(Forgetting all, of all my friends forgot;
Whom though they pity, yet they envy not.
[Page 334]Where from the shoar I might behold the Main,
And rate my pleasures, by anothers pain.
Yet neither he, that does from Capua come,
Wet to the skin, and on his way to Rome,
Would take an Inn for home, or think a fire
Or Stove, though numb'd with cold, his chief desire;
And seek no further, but his kind starrs bless,
As one arriv'd to perfect happiness:
Nor for a storm should you for swear the Sea,
And sell your Barque, that you reveng'd might be.
To one that's safe Mit' lene and Rhodes are fair,
But as Furs in Summer, Silks in Winter are:
As Tyber is to swim in when it snows,
And as a fire i'th' midst of August showes.
While Fortune smiles, let Rhodes be pray [...]'d at Rome,
Chios and Samos fayrest are at home.
Use the sweet Intervals the Gods allow,
Nor tell next year put off what may be Now.
That every place alike may seem to thee,
And thou alike content in any bee.
If prudent Reason sets no bound to Care,
Nor can those Lands that bounds to th [...] Ocean are;
And he that reaches them too late, shall find
The place is only chang'd, and not his Mind.
And yet we ride, and fail, and journies make,
Or happiness to find, or to o'retake;
That which thou seek'st is ready at thy hand,
And Ulubrae may be the happy land;
For (friend) an even Soul can make it there,
And what we no where find, have every where.
EPISTLE XII. By A. B. To ICCIUS.
That the use of Estates makes men rich.
WHy dost thou murmur Iccius, and repine,
Because Agrippa's wealth is more then thine?
Thou art his Steward if thou rightly use
Those fruits which his Scicilian lands produce;
Iove himself can't give thee a greater store,
Therefore leave off complaining that thou'rt poor:
For he's not poor, whom fortune does produce,
What e're is necessary for his use.
If thou canst get good Diet, and warm Cloaths,
Caesars Estate can't give thee more than those.
If at a Table stor'd with various meat,
Thou canst abstemiously a Sallad eat,
Thou by that virtue wilt as wealthy bee,
As if kind fortune had showr'd Gold on thee;
For thy firm soul will above money soar,
And thou wilt think all things inferiour
To amiable Virtue, which alone,
To good men, is guide and companion.
Men wondred at Democritus when hee
Sate in his Study, and his Hoggs did see,
Root up his Corn field, and his Garden spoil,
And he sate studying unconcern'd the while;
His thoughts were set on higher things, and thou
Wilt be as great an admirat [...]on now,
Who in this scabbed avaritious time,
Mind'st nothing mean, but aim'st at things sublime.
[Page 336]What bounds the Sea, what makes it ebb and flow,
What makes the year round so exactly go;
Whether the Planets move by their own power,
Or do obey some cause Superiour;
From whence th' Eclipses of the Moon proceed;
And how she's from her obscuration fre'd.
What means the jarring sympathy of things;
And whether good or evil from it springs;
Whether Empedocles deserve our faith,
Or that be righter which the Stoick saith.
But whether thou delightest to feed on F [...]sh▪
Or only Leeks and Onions be thy dish;
Receive my good friend Grosphus courteously▪
And grant him freely what he asks of thee;
For he has so much modesty and wit,
That he'l ask nothing but what's just and fit;
Friendship doth come to a low market when
Any thing's lack'd by good and worthy men.
But 'cause perhaps you have a minde to know▪
How all affairs here in our City go;
Agrippa's valour has Cantabria won,
Th' Armenians too by Nero are o'rethrown.
Phraates does great Caesars lawes obey,
And on his knees submit to th' Roman sway:
Besides this seasonable harvest yields
A plenteous crop in our Italian fields.
EPISTLE XIII. By A. B. To VINIUS ASELLA.
Instructions for presenting his Poems to Augustus.
AS I have oftentimes, and long since too,
Instructed thee; when thou to Court dost go,
(Dear Vinius) I'ld have my Poems be
Presented to Augustus seal'd by thee,
When he is well, and of a cheerfull mind,
And when to road them he is well inclin'd.
Do not by much [...]fficiousness offend,
Or hurt me, whom thou studi'st to befriend:
Nor yet make men my Poems to conte [...]n,
Because thou importunely proferst them.
But if the Volume of my book should bee
So cumbersome, that it should weary thee,
I'd rather thou should'st throw them quite away▪
Than on thy soulders them like Dorsers lay:
And so make thy paternal name, becaus
'Tis Asina, to signifie an Ass:
And make thy self a Tabletalk, and be
Ridiculous to all Posteritie.
Set all thy strength to ' [...]pass through thick and th [...]n▪
And when th'hast had thy will, and entred in
To Caesar's presence, use the matters so,
That prying Courtiers may not come to know▪
That thou a load of Poetry dost bear
Under thy arm, as if a Rustick were
Carrying a Lamb, or drunken Pyrrbia
Carryed the stoln Quills of Yarn away:
Carries his Cap and Shooes from's Landlord's house.
Nor tell the Vulgar that thou sweat'st to bear
Lines which will please both Caesars eye and ear.
And though th'art courted ne're so much, press on,
Shew no body a line.—Well get thee gon,
Farewell, be carefull that thou err'st not, and
If thou e're lov'st me, break not my command.
EPISTLE XIV. By R. T. To his BAILIFF.
The difference betwixt a Country life, and a City life.
THou Bailiff of my Woods and pleasant Field,
Which serv'd five dwellers once, and us'd to yield
Five Burgesses for Baria, by thee now
Conte [...], let's try who weeds best, I or you;
Whither my mind or ground be better till'd,
Which is the better, Horrace or his field.
Though L [...]mias pitty mourning th' hasty fate
Of's Brother ravisht from him do create
Occasion for my longer stay at Rome
Then ordinary, yet my heart's at home.
That strives to break all stops, for I prefer
The Countrey, thou the Town as happier.
Who likes anothers fortune, hates his own,
He is a fool that does accuse the Town
Or Country either, and does falsly find
Fault with the place, when all the fault's in's mind,
[Page 339] Which never fly's its self; when you were slave
To th'Baths, and liv'd in Town, you us'd to crave
With silent Prayer to be remov'd to go
To be a Country man; now being so
You cover Baths, Playes, and the Town; you see
I'me constant, and when business urges me
(Which I of all things hate) to Rome I part
From thence, sad and afflicted at my heart.
Our fancies don't agree: what you despise
He likes that is of my mind, and decryes
What you commend; to such a strange degree
Are odds at present brought 'twixt thee and mee.
A jolly Whore, and Unctious Sack do's move
(I see it well) thee to this earnest love
Of th' City, and because my ground yields quicker
Pepper and Frankincence, then Grapes for liquor:
Besides another grievance is, you lack
A Neighouring Tavern to afford you Sack.
And a shee Minstrel that you to her sound
May dance or'e th' prest Earth some blundring round;
And yet thou till'st the ground, which lately Spades
Ne're touch't, & feed'st with care th' unharness'd Iades.
By thee the River too in time of need
By Damns is taught to spare the Sunny Mead:
Now, go to, and what thus divide▪ us hear;
Me who soft Robes and Powder'd hair did wear,
And us'd with sparkling Cinera to sport
Freely, and Drink till midnight; now a short
Supper contents, and sleep upon the Grass
On a Bank-side, by which some stream does pass;
Nor do I yet believe it is a shame
Once to be wild, but never to be tame.
No body there does look askew with spite,
Or with black hatred poison or back-bite
[Page 340]Me when I thrive, none envy's there my gains,
My Neighbours joy with me when I take pains;
The City fare with Servants you do long
To eat, and crowd your self into the throng.
The suttle slave that wait's, and's call'd all hours,
Envy's thy use of Cattle, Wood and Flowers:
The Ox would be for th' Saddle, th' Horse for Plow,
Let all (say I) use well the Art they know.
EPISTLE XV. By R. N. Gent. To VALA.
The pleasure of Travelling.
PRethee, good Vala, write, what kind of Aire,
What sort of Men, and what their Manners are
At Velia and Salernus; For I see
The Bajan Waters are not good for me;
And so Antonius tells me. And 'tis this
That makes the Bajans take it much amiss,
That in the Winter I cold Waters use:
Truly their My [...]le Groves thus to refuse,
Thus slight their Baths, so talk't of all about,
For being rare in curing of the Gowt,
Must make them grumble. But these men, that will
Cure a weak Stomach, or a Head that's ill,
With colder Springs, to Gabii must repair
Where colder Waters are, and colder Air.
But I'm advis'd to change, and when my Horse
Goes towards Baja, I divert his Course,
And tell him 't [...]s not thither I must go;
And then inrag'd I curb him in, and so
[Page 341]Make him to understand me; For, in truth,
A Horses Ears are in his bridled Mouth.
I prethee write which of the two excells
In Bread; and whether I out of the Wells,
Or out of Cisterns must the Waters take.
I come not for their Wines, but Waters sake,
In th' Country any Dyet doth me please;
I love good Wine, when I go neer the Seas.
Wine, that will drive away all Cares, and will
With swelling Hopes through Veins and Soul distill.
Wine that will make my Tongue with words to flow,
And make me Brisk when to a Girl I go.
Write me which place most Hares and Bores doth feed,
Whose Rivers greatest store of Fishes breed;
That thence I may both Fat and Fair come home;
For thee to write, and me believe's all one.
When Maevius had his Patrimony spent
Profusely, then to live by's Wits he meant,
And turn'd a Iester, roving to and fro,
And made no difference 'twixt Friend or Foe,
But Jeer'd at all. One that would swallow more
Down his wide Throat, then would a Common-Shore,
What e're he got went down his Guts, and when
He mist of better Fare abroad, he then
Would feed on Guts and Garbage, and eat up
Of that more then three Rav'nous Bears would sup.
When pincht with want hee'ld say each Gluttons Gut
Was to be sear'd; But when hee'd got a glut
Of better fare, and all consum'd, hee'ld say
No wonder if Estates are spent this way,
For there's no pleasure underneath the Sun
Like Feasting, and a Belly like a Tun.
So I in want commend the thrifty Fare,
And eat such Victuals as the coursest are.
[Page 342]But when I light on better food, I then
Say those are wise, and those the happy men
That live in plenty where they can behold
Houses and Lordships purchas'd with their Gold.
EPISTLE XVI. By W. T. To QUINTIUS.
A Description of a Good Man.
ASk me no more my Quintius, whether I
Can in my Farm, grow rich by Husbandry,
By the retayl of Apples, Oyl, or Wine:
View but the Model of what I call mine.
An intire Mountain, sever'd by a low
Vale, yet it is not altogether so
Obscure, but that the Morning Sun looks on,
The Evening airs it, e're he will be gon.
You can't but praise the Climate: Come what though
My Quicksets are not Blackberry, or Sloe,
The Kernel does as well, if I can please,
And fat my stock with Acorns, take mine ease
Under a shady Oak, you must confess
To this, Tarentum is a Wilderness.
Water'd besides with such a Spring, it may
Adopt a River, Hebrus it self, nay
Thrace cannot equal it, approv'd for all
Head maladies: 'tis a Purge natural.
In Autumn 'tis this sweet retirement pleases,
This keeps me proof (believ't) against Diseases.
Rome says, yes boasts, you only happy are:
All is not true men say: Indeed I fear
[Page 343]They know more than your self does: He that woo'd
Be so, must be not only wise, but good.
If at your Dinner you should have a sit
Of a chill Ague shake you, would you [...]it
(Because your Guests say you look well) and eat
Until you can no longer hold your meat?
He is a modest Fool that won't disclose
He has a clap before it reach his Nose.
If one should tell you of a Victory
You lately had on Land, others by Sea,
Buzzing into your ears, that it is known
To Iove, you sought Rome safety, not you own:
You know this is the great Augustus's Due.
If when they call you Virtuosi, do
You make answer to the name, or can
You say I am that Learned Gentleman?
I do believe there's hardly one of us
But may be sometimes stil'd ingenuous;
Yet he that said so, can you know unsay
To M [...]rrow all that ere he said to day:
As a brib'd Iustice must if Caesar please,
Give up his Pa [...]ent, take his Writ of Ease.
If the Unconstant Crowd shall say, Let go,
You are'nt the men we prais'd: It must be so.
What if I'me follow'd with a Hue and cry,
Stop Theif, he has committed Burglary;
Or if my Pious Neighbours, should present
Me, a Loose Live [...] or Incontinent,
Nay what if at Sessions I am try'd
By a Nice Iury for a Parricide;
If I am sure, and know my Conscience clear,
Shall I then Blush, or else look Pale for fear?
False Honour pleases, but false Infamy
Affrights: Whom? Those that love to hear a Ly.
[Page 344]I wonder who 'tis you call Good; Your fine
And learned Barrister that can untwine
Statutes, Quote Reports, Books of Entries, pare
The Law, and split out Iustice to a hair;
He that can knowingly give Evidence,
And smooth both Parties to a Reference!
Yet there is scarce one House in the whole Town,
But whispers this man Knave, for all his Gown.
If my man tell me thus; Sir, I ne're lay
One night from home, or wrong'd you: must I say
Be gon? I'le never trouble thee; If he
Sayes he never committed Felonie:
Must I not prosecute, but say, Be free,
'Tis pity thou should'st e're be hang'd by me?
I am a Godly, Pious, Sober man:
Yes, yes; But do you think Sabellus can
Believe all this? The Wolf the trap eschewes,
The Hawk and Kite fly the suspected nooze.
Good Men will hate all Wickedness, because
They Vertue love more than they fear the Laws.
You if you think you can cheat handsomly,
All's one, whether Clergy or Layety.
Although it is a small loss, if you nimne
But one Bean from a Quarter, 'tis a sinne.
He's only counted honest now adayes
That the whole Parish looks upon, he prayes
And cryes Amen so loud at Church, although
Sometimes if you hearken close, he's as low
Whispering; Prithee sweet Devil give me leave
To cheat Devoutly, but let none perceive.
Give me a Cloak for all my Knavery;
What's this man more than a Servant? or why
D'yee call a Miser, Freeman? I have seen
A Boy make both stoop for a Groat of Tin.
[Page 345]He that still covets, still fears: I don't see
What ground you have to say this man is free,
H'as fled his Colours, forsook the Field, which
Flyes to turmoil in buis'ness and be rich.
If you can sell your Pris'ner, never kill,
But let him serve you; let the Hardy till
The Earth, turn Saylor, weather't out at Sea,
Import Bisket; 'twill help the Granarie.
He that is truly wise will dare thus to
A Judge; Come Sir, let's hear the worst you'll do:
Why I'le seize upon your Goods, take away
Your Mony, Plate, nay all you're Worth: You may:
You shall be kept close Pris'ner: No, I'le have
Death bayle me, I can never be a Slave:
That touches him, ('twould any man) Do, Dy
First, Death is the last Seene of Misery.
EPISTLE VXII. By R. N. To SCAEVA.
The way to get Great Mens Favour.
SCaeva, though thou art wise enough to tell
How to make use of thy Super'ours well;
Yet learn of thy unskilful Friend; and though
He that is blind may undertake to shew
The way; yet mark, perhaps I may make known
Something thou wilt desire to make thine own.
If thou wilt hugg thy self with welcome Ease,
If Sleep till next days Sun arise doth please,
If thou'rt disturb'd with th' Hurry, and the Noise
Of Carts, and Coaches, and of Dam-me-Boyes,
[Page 346]I prethee to thy Country-house repair;
For 'tis not Rich men only happy are;
Nor lives he ill, that lives and dies unknown:
But if thou'lt profit thine, and be more boon
Unto thy self, though poor, yet come unto
The Rich mans more delicious fare. 'Tis true
The Cynick said, that Aristippus would
Refuse the fare of Princes, if he could
Dine patiently on Sallads; He again
Said, that the Cynick would his Herbs disdain,
Did he but know what 'twas by Kings to be
Feasted. The Cynick's saying points at me.
But thou, my Friend, choose, and approve, and teach
Either of both their doings and their speech;
Or as thou art a young man yet, mark well
Why Aristippus bore away the Bell;
For he (as I by many oft have heard)
That same morose Diogenes thus jeer'd,
I Jest for Kings, but to my profit; Thou
Only for th' empty noise o'th People; Now
That's the more Noble. I to ride the Kings
Great Horse desire, Thou aim'st at baser things.
But thou wilt say, Thou know'st no Poverty;
Yet poorer art, then he that gives to thee.
All sorts of life did Aristippus bless,
Aiming at great things, yet content with less;
But to thee none, whose only Robes and Fence
Were nought but Rags and helpless Patience.
If such a course of Life, so Traverstee
Can any man become, 'tis strange to me.
Though Aristippns ne're desire to be
Array'd in Robes of Purple made, yet he
Could wear them; yea he could in comely sort
In Cloaths, or good, or bad himself deport.
[Page 347]To thee a Scarlet Cloak did more abhorr,
And rather fly it then a Snake, or Curr.
Give him his Cloaths, else he with cold will dye,
And thine, the [...] let the Fool his Fortune trie.
T' atchieve great things, and Conquer, looks like Iove,
It shews a reach at things that are above.
'Tis no disgrace for Subjects to comply
With gen'rous Kings: all have not wealth laid by.
Fear of Success makes Cowards, be it so;
But he's the Man, that thorough stitch doth go;
He is the Man, or none. One fears to ask
A Princes favour, 'tis too great a task
For his too narrow Soul. Another He
Begs boldly, and obtains. If Vertue be
Still Vertue, doubt not, but that man is wise
Who asks so, that he gains both Praise and Prize.
Poor men, if modest, will with some obtain,
While others sawcily shall ask in vain;
Here's then the diff'rence, whether your favours be
Humbly receiv'd, or snatcht immodestlie.
The sum of all we aim at then here ends,
Be meek and modest with thy Richer Friends.
I have a Sister wants a Portion, and
A Mother poor, a Farm lies on my hand
That can't maintain me; He that thus doth say,
Doth in effect beg Alms: Another may
Cant out his wants aloud, and keep a stir
And cry, Give me one piece of Bread good Sir:
A Crow, whilst feeding, if he would not Garr,
Would have less trouble and more Meat by farr.
One that is expert in the High-way Strains,
That of the bitter cold, and storms complains,
That cries his Pocket's pickt, and his small store
Of Mony stoln, Iuggles but like a Whore,
[Page 348]Who weeps for her lost Chain, or cries ah me!
My Garter's ravish'd from beneath my knee:
Such common Cheats as these take all belief
From real Losses, and from real Grief.
He that is once thus chous'd, will sure beware
Of helping such as faigned Cripples are.
And though a Canting Cripple with tears
To be helpt up, and by Osires swears,
And sayes, I'm lame, I do not mock, and then
Cries out; O help, help me hard hearted men!
The Neighbours rayl at him, and cry be gon,
Get help (you Rascal) where you are not known.
EPISTLE XVIII. By A. B. To LOLLIUS.
How to be a good Companion.
MY blunt friend Lollius, if I know thee right,
Thou dost abhor to play the Parasite,
Where thou professest friendship; for so farr
Differs a friend from a base flaterer,
As a grave Matron from a Strumpet, who
Differ in mind, in look, and gesture too.
But there's another vice as great as this,
That is a rough-hew'd clownish surliness,
When men unmannerly, unpleasant, rude,
Themselves on others saucily obtrude;
And indiscreetly blurt out words which be
Unfit, and call't Virtue and Liberty.
Vertue's the mean betwixt two Vices, and
From Vices is fenc'd in on every hand.
[Page 349]Some being obsequious more then does befit,
Jeer such as at the low'r end of th' Table sit;
But when a great man nods, will tremble, and
What e're he says repeat at second hand;
As a poor School-boy says his Lesson o're,
Which his harsh Master dictated before.
Or as the Mimick Eccho's back what e're
Verses or words by th' Actor's spoken were.
Others dispute for trifles without end,
And for Straw-matters tooth and nail contend,
They'll rather lose their share in Heav'n then they
Won't be believ'd in whatsoe're they say;
Or not speak freely what comes in their brain,
And that as impudently to maintain.
But what's the Question makes all this ado?
Which was the better Fencer of the two,
Caster or Docilis; whether Appium,
Or Numicus lead to Brundusium;
Who's out of his Estate by gaming run,
Who by expensive Wenching is undone,
And what fantastick Fool goes at a rate,
In habit far above his mean estate.
On whom th' in [...]atiate appetite of Gold
And Silver has got a perpetual hold;
Or else of some vain-glorious fellow, which
Makes it his bu'siness to be 'counted rich.
The wealthy Patron, who is ten times more
Skill'd in all Vices then he can that's poore,
Hates such concerning talk, and does abhor it,
And either hates the Blabb, or checks him for it.
Like a good Mother to her Daughters, he
Desires that meaner men should wiser be
Then he himself is, and more vir [...]uous too,
And tells you things that are perhaps too true.
[Page 350]Strive not with me (says he) I've an Estate,
And that in me will folly tolerate;
You're a mean Fellow, and your Coat must be
Cut as your Cloth is: Don't compare with me.
Eutrapelus to whom he did intend
A mischief, he would costly habit send,
That so transported with that goodly hew,
He might take up strange hopes and counsels new,
Sleep all the day, mind nothing but his Whore,
Run into debt, and grow at last so poor,
He must turn Fencer, and for bread sell's blood,
Or drive Pack-Horses for a livelyhood.
Other mens secrets never care to know;
But if a friend into thy bosom throw
A secret, and desire thee to conceal it,
Do not, though nere so drunk or mad, reveal it.
Thy own peculiar Studies ne're commend,
Nor what thy friend does fancy reprehend;
And if to hunt thy Patron minded be,
Don't thou lie puzling with thy Poetry.
'Twixt Zethus and Amphion, both twins, hence
There did arise a peevish difference;
Zethus, a Country Gentleman, inclin'd
To Hownds and Hawks; Amphion, gave his mind
Wholly to's Harp, but laid it quite aside
Until his brothers heat was pacifi'd.
In small things 'tis good prudence to resigne
Thy will to his whose pow'r is more then thine.
And when he brings into the Champain ground
His hunting properties, Horns, Horses, Hound,
Lay by th' unsociable Muses then
As recreations for old lazy men.
Go hunt with him, then sup and take thy share
Of what your sports produc'd, be't Bore, or H [...]re:
[Page 351]Among the Romans 'tis a Recreation,
Which is much us'd and in great Reputation.
Besides 'twill make thee healthy, and live long,
Especially since thou art sound and strong,
To keep in with the Doggs, and with the Bore,
By thy own strength to graple and o're pow'r:
Besides 'tis known that there's not any man
For feats of Arms like thee, or dares, or can.
When thou didst fence or wrestle, oh! how loud
Rang thy Applauses from th' admiring Crowd!
When but a boy the Souldiers duty thou
In the Cantabrian battle didst pass through,
Under that General, whose conquering Sword
The Parthians hath to Italy restor'd;
And in their Temples hath set up again
Those Ensignes which had been from Crassus tane.
Do not withdraw thy self without a just
Excuse, nor lye still that thy parts may rust.
Although in all thy actions thou tak'st care
They should be done exactly by the square;
Sometimes i'th' Country, thou descendst to toys,
Acting a Sea-fight with the little boys:
Two formal N [...]vies thou dost then equip,
And armed Boys in both of them dost Ship;
On one side for Mark Anthony, thy Brother
Was Admiral; for Caesar thou on t'other.
Your Fathers little Lake was made by thee
For this great Fight the Adriatick Sea,
Where you the Action battle acted o're,
And ne're gave off till one was Conquerour.
And if thy wealthy Patron does once finde
Thee love those things to which he gives his minde,
Tickled with that he will extol to th' skies
This very Play, and think thy folly wise,
[Page 352]I would advise thee further more (if thou
Didst stand in need of an adviser now.)
When thou dost talk of any man, take care
Of whom, to whom, and what thy speeches are▪
Shun him that is inquisitive, for he
Will be as guilty of Garrulitie.
And his still gaping ears itch to reveal
What e're his friend intrusts him to conceal.
And 'tis impossible e're to recall
One syllable which we have once let fall.
And if thy Patron has a minde to toy
With a fair Lady, or a pretty Boy,
To his great House you must such reverence bear,
As not to fall in love with either there:
Least he that keeps them should prove so unkinde
As to deny, and thou disturb thy minde;
Or (which is worst) should grant thee thy request,
And thou popt off with these, content must rest.
At first sight ne're commend a man, least thou
Hereafter blush for him thou praisest now;
For we are soon deceiv'd, and to a Friend
We oft unworthy men and things commend;
And therefore if one, whom thou didst suppose.
Was a good person, should prove vitious,
And thou be so deceiv'd praise him no more,
Say thou'rt mistaken, and so give him o're.
But if a friend that to thee's throughly known
Behind his back's traduc'd by any one,
Stick to him bravely; for our names depend
In absence on the courage of a friend;
Ne're let him carelesly endure a wrong
From any Cowardly reproachful tongue.
For is't not plain, that who maliciouslie
Back-bites thy friend, will do the same by thee?
[Page 353]When thy next neighbours house is all on fire,
'Tis thy concern to make his flames expire;
For fire will gather strength if let alon [...],
And with thy neighbours house burn down thine owne.
By unexperienc'd men 'tis thought to be,
To wait on Great men great felicitie;
But such as know what 'tis, care not to come
Among Great men, but count them troublesome.
For thy part now into the World th' art got,
Make it thy business to go on, and not
Permit thy Vessel to [...]ail back again,
What e're contrary Winds disturb the Main,
A merry man abhors a man that's sad,
And sad men hate all merry men as bad,
A dull man hates an active man, and so
A sprightly person scor [...]s a man that's slow.
The [...]udling fellows, who past midnight drink,
Hate such as from their pro [...]er'd glasses shrink:
Though those that do refuse them truly swear
Wine vapours in the night pernicious are.
Look cheerfully in company; for he
That's shamefac't 's generally thought to be
A fellow of mean birth and spirit, and all
Those that sit silent men do dogged call.
But above all converse with wise men still,
And read good Books, and learn from those the skill
How thou mayst easily pass through this World,
And not be vex'd and up and down be hurld
By an insatiate desire, vain fear,
Or hopes of things that of small moment are.
Consider whether Vertue be produc'd
By learning, or by nature be infus'd;
What lessens cares; what makes a man to be
A friend t' himself; whence pure tranquil [...]ie
[Page 354]Proceeds, from Honour, or beloved wealth,
Or from a Life led (as it were) by stealth.
When I do to my Country Farm retreat,
By those cool streams which me refresh in hear,
What dost thou think I think upon? or what
Beleiv'st thou, if I could, I would be at?
I only pray that small Estate, which I
Now have, may tarry with me till I die.
And those few days which I have yet to live,
(If Heav'n to me any more days will give)
I may enjoy my self; of Books have store, and
Have necessaries for a year before-hand;
That I may never float 'twixt Hope and Doubt,
What an uncertain Hour may bring about.
But 'tis enough to pray those heav'nly Powers
Who give and take at Will what we call Ours.
If I but live, and have my Pockets lin'd,
Let me alone to get a quiet Mind.
EPISTLE XIX. By A. B. To MECAENAS.
A Discourse of Poetry.
LEarned Mecaenas, if you'll credit give
To old Cratinus, not a Verse can live,
Nor long be pleasant to us, which is writ
By such as from meer water suck their wit.
Since Liber has been pleas'd to rank all such
As have of Rapture a transcendent touch,
[...]Mong Fawns and Satyrs, the delightsome Nine
Did almost every morning smell of Wine.
The good old Man did much delight in drink.
Hence Father Ennius would not write a Line,
Till he had first got a good dose of Wine.
The Politicks and great Affairs at Barr
We leave to those that grave and sober are,
But we'll withhold from such sowre souls as theirs,
The high Prerogative of writing Verse:
As soon as this was publickly declar'd,
All Poets up the brimful Goblet rear'd;
And for the Laurel all night long they drunk,
And the next day of Wine all Poets stunk.
But was this Poetry? Shall every one
That with a surly look, and shabbed Gown
Walks without shoos and stockins through the Town,
As representing learned Cato, straight
His virtues and good manners imitate?
When Hyarbita aim'd to gain the glory
Of rare Timagenes for Oratory,
Striving to speak with Eloquence and Wit,
He strain'd his Voyce, so that his Lungs were split.
A pattern does delude a man when 'tis
Only pursu'd in that which is amiss.
Should I by chance look pale; Poets would fall
To drinking Cummin-seeds to look so all.
Oh servile herd of Imitators, who
Make me both angry with, and laugh at you,
And the base Drudgery which you're forc'd to do!
'Twas I first set my daring foot, where none
Had ever trod a step, but I alone.
Who on's own natural fancy does rely,
Leads as a Captain does his Company.
'T was I that first the Romans did inspire
With skill to write Iambicks for their lyre.
Of old Archilochus, but I eschew'd
His railing matter and invective way,
Which made poor old Lycambe to destroy
His daughter and himself; yet I hope you
Think not the Laurel is to me less due,
Because I have been fearful to invert
The very mode of Verses, and the Art.
The Masc'line Sappho did that Muse allay,
Which was harsh in Archilochus his way.
So did Alcaeus too, but different far
In matter and in method their lines are.
They sought no fathe'r in law to rhyme to death,
Nor made enraged wives resign their breath.
I being musical, him first did take,
And fit to th' Roman lyre his numbers make.
Which never any durst attempt tell then,
And 'tis my glory that ingenious men
Such things as mine may come at and peruse,
As ne're were touch'd by any other Muse.
Now if you would the Reason know why some
Ungrateful Readers will cry up at home,
And hugg my Verses, but to all abroad
Basely contemn those lines they so applaud;
I'm none of those who sneakingly will court
The windy suffrage of the Vulgar sort
With my cast cloaths, nor with a costly Treat.
I, that have heard the noblest wits repeat,
And judg'd their Verses too, scorn to comply
With formal paedagogues to teach their Fry
My Verses, nor am I fondly delighted,
When they in publick Pulpits are recited.
Hence springs my misery! And now if I
Should say (which I can say ingeniously)
[Page 357]I am asham'd Comaedians should rehearse
My worthless lines in crowded Theaters,
And by their tone and action make those seem
Ingenious, which have no wit in them;
Some envious fellow will say, Horace, this
Only a copy of thy countenance is,
Thou dost preserve thy Poems only for
The Princely ears of our great Emperor;
Presuming that none other but thy Muse
(Vain-glorious Fop) good Poems can produce.
I dare not laugh at this, least I should be
More wounded by my struggling enemie.
I'm fain to cry out, I don't like the place,
And as my right demand a breathing space.
Fooling in jest oft fearful strife begets,
And strife for victory produceth pets;
From sudden pets do deadly fewds proceed,
And deadly fewds destructive wars do breed.
EPISTLE XX. By A. B. To his BOOK.
A Character of himself.
WEll Book, thou on the Stationers stall wilt lie,
Bound neatly to allure the gazers eye;
Thou hate'st to be seal'd up, or else confin'd,
Which are things grateful to a modest mind.
'Tis grievous to thee to be shewn to few,
All thy ambition is for publick view.
Thy father has not bred nor taught thee so;
But get thee gone, since thou'st a mind to go.
[Page 358]When once thou'rt gone, thou'lt ne're return agen;
When thou'rt abus'd by the half-witted men,
Thou'lt say; alas! wherein am I too blame?
What have I done, or said, that mis-became?
Thou wilt repent, what thou hast rashly done,
And what attempt thy pride threw thee upon.
When thou shalt finde the Reader who admir'd
Thee so at first, become both cloy'd and tyr'd,
And roul thee up, and lay thee quite aside.
But if I'm not with anger Stupifi'd,
At this offence of thine, I can foretell
Thou wilt at Rome be entertain'd full well,
While thou art new, but when thou'rt sulled grown
By vulgar Thumbs, thou wilt be let alone
For the dull moths, or sent to forraign parts,
To cover Letters, or put under Tarts.
Then I who unbeleiv'd, admonish'd thee
Of all these things, shall laugh as heartilie
At thy misfortunes, as he who did pass
O're a steep cliff with an unruly Ass,
Who playing resty tricks so stirr'd the Gall
Of's Master, that he let him loose to fall;
Nay thrust him down the Rocks, for who [...]
(Q [...]oth he) what's minded to be gone away [...]
This will befall thee too, thou wilt at last
Among old doating Schoolmasters be cast,
Who in small Villages and far remote
When the warm Sun has a full audience brought,
Will read thee to their boyes, then thou may'st say,
I'm son of one who was a slave made free,
Born to a mean Estate, but have increast
It so, my wings are greater then my nest.
What from my Ancestors thou tak'st away
Of same, thou to my Industry must pay.
[Page 359]I was companion to the best o'th' Town,
Whether they were for Arms, or for the Gown.
Of a small stature, gray before my time,
And much delighted with a warmer clime.
Soon angry, and soon pleas'd; if any do,
How old I am, of thee desire to know;
Tell them I'm 44 years old this year,
When Lepidus and Lollius Confuls are.
EPISTLES. Book II.
EPISTLE I. By Sir W. P. To AUGUSTUS.
A Discourse of Poetry.
WHen you alone so many and so great
Affairs dispatch, of War and Peace do treat,
Still thinking how to save the State from harms
By wholesome Laws, good Manners, and just Arms;
I should the Publique wrong, and cross that end
With tedious talk your precious time to spend.
Romu [...]us that [...]ounded Rome, and Bacchus; who
Invented Wine, whereby Men great things do,
Though they were after death receiv'd among
The Gods, yet living did complain of wrong;
For though the ground from weeds & bryers they freed,
Ta [...]ght and made men on delicates to feed,
Composed that common War and Scramble, which
Made men like Beasts; To each mans own, did pitch
Yea built men Cities: yet the World, like Bruits,
Ne're knew, or found their worth, till 'twas too late,
Till those brave souls had pass'd the Common fate.
Nor he, that crusht the Hydra, and subdued
Predigious Monsters, when for reward he sued,
Could ever it or ease obtain; for still
Envy would say's exploits were mean or ill.
So he, who doth with new or nobler Arts
Assist the world, shall never win their hearts;
But him alive they'll laugh at and despise,
Whom when he's dead they will extol to th' skies.
Yet Sir to you, (though living) men allow
Honours divine, by you they'll swear, they'll vow
Upon your Altars, and confess that never
So great a thing appear'd nor shall do ever.
Now though the world be very just and wise
In this one point, that in their critick eyes
You do excel all Greek and Roman Kings,
Yet they don't justly judge of other things,
But loath or envy every thing but what
Is dead or gone, or which ca [...]not be got.
So Lovers of Antiquity do praise
The Laws and Customs of forgotten dayes,
Applaud those Articles and that antient deed
To which the Sabines and Gabii agreed;
Admire the Liturgies and Rituals
Found in Ruines of old Abby wals.
Because the Writings of the Greeks we deem
So much the better as they older seem;
If we should judge the same of what is here
But lately writ, we might as well inferre
That Olives have no stones, nor Nuts no shell;
For how one follows t'other I can't tell.
[Page 362]We're now at Rome arrived to the height,
As well's the Greeks; We paint, and sing, and [...]ight.
If age do better Verse, like Wine, how long
Must Verses lie before they're smart and strong?
A Poet dy'd an hundred years ago,
Shall he be reckoned as new Must or no?
Or for old wholsome Wine? Well! let him pass.
Another wants a year, or less: Alass
Shall he lose therefore all? Let him pass too:
Another wants a little more; Let's do
The like for him; The whole Horse-tail we may
Thus hair by hair at length pluck quite away.
He that consults the Annals, or counts Years,
To try if Verse be good, T' whom nought appears
Ex'llent, but what has pass'd the Grave, may see
How wise and mighty Ennius, (even hee
Who's call'd another Homer) did not care
How ill his Promises performed were.
Naevius is got by heart and dearly sold;
So sacred are his Works because they're old.
Which of these two is best, Men cannot tell;
For Learning old Pacuvi [...] bears the bell.
Accius high strains are praised, Afranius Pen
Makes us believe Menander wrote agen.
Plautus resembles Epicharmus; weight
Commends Coecilius, Terence gentle flight.
Their Playes do throng the Stage, from Livies dayes
Down to our times, These Men have worn the Bayes.
Sometime the Vulgus hit, sometime they miss,
For when they say, That nothing Modern is
Equal, to what is old, much less preferr'd,
I boldly say, The Vulgar then have err'd.
But if they'll yield, That Ancients Wits have used
Words obsolete or harsh, and have amused
[Page 363]Men with their careless Thoughts, my hand and heart
Shall joyn with them, and Iove shall take our part.
I'ld not explode, or scorn poor Livy's Verse,
Nor yet what School-boys sometimes may reherse.
But would n't have't admir'd, because by chance
Some single Phrase proves good, or that a glance
Of wit does twinkle through the cloudy sky
Of vaprous or tempestuous Poetry.
I take it ill, That Men find fault, because▪
A thing was lately writ, not for its [...]laws,
Or botches; Yea, methinks I could lament,
That Doters on stale stuffe are not content
With pardon and connivance for some lines
Scap [...] from the Ancients, but cry, bayes and shrines!
If one but doubts, Whether the Stage should be
Strew'd o're with Flowers and Saffron, when we see
Atta's things play'd, Our Gray-beards in a fume
Cry Modesty is gone: If one presume
To hint, that Roscius ever fail'd a tittle,
They're angry too, because they value little
But what they valued young, or else because
They scorn from younger men to take new laws.
Now he that says th' old Saliar Verse was high,
Seeming to know, who knows no more then I,
Does not applaud the Authors of those Songs,
But by his envy, us and our Wits wrongs.
If the old Greeks like us, would not allow
Ought that was new, what shall be ancient now?
Upon whose Works might we now safely look
To read and con them as a classick Book?
When War was past in Greece, when Wealth and Ease
Dispos'd men there to study, what did please?
Sometimes to Fence, or Vault, or th' H [...]rse to ride;
Sometimes to carving they their minds apply'd;
[Page 364]Or else to Painting, where they'd nicely see
How Ordnance draught and Colours did agree.
Sometimes 'twas Dancing, Musick, Scenes and Stage,
That prov'd the pleasures of that wanton Age:
So does a Child cry to his Nurse for toys,
That are contemned by the bigger boys.
For, which of all the things we hate, or love,
Don't change? Or which are fortunes power above?
Thus from a prosperous State and plenty springs
Variety that gives all Gust to things.
At Rome 'twas heretofore a credit, and
A Mode in ones Office or Shop to stand
Waiting for Customers and Clients, all
The morning, to let out money, to call
On young men to be thrifty, and to hear
Old mens advice, thus went about the year:
But now the worlds chang'd, one humor runs
Through ev'ry vein; the Lawyers write Lamprons,
Merchants Burlesque, the only Trade's for Bayes,
Your Gowty Statesman too vent'rous at Playes:
Ev'n I that have renownc'd all Poetrie,
Sick of the self-same Itch of writing lie.
For before day, when one can't see to scrawl,
Do I scarce waked for Pen and Paper call.
He that was ne're at Sea, wisely refuses
To sail a Ship; He likewise that ne're uses
To practise Physick, dares not to dispense
Strong Purges, nor what stupifies the Sense.
Smiths do make Locks, and only Taylors clothes;
But they write Verse, that never could write Prose.
Now lets consider, What good this humor works;
Why first of all, no covetous Canker lurks
Within a Poet; nought can his soul intrude,
But how to fancy finely, and t' allude:
When tax is pay'd, when stoods the banks destroy,
He cares n't, plots no trick to cheat his friend
Or to devoure his Ward; for to what end
Should men do so, who can eat Bread and Cheese,
Wear footed Stockings, and be warm in freeze?
Poets in Peace considerable are,
Though they are useless in the times of warre.
Now if you'll grant that small things may improve
Greatest affairs, we must our Poets love.
For first they teach our children how to speak
Plain and distinct, from telling lyes 'em break,
Chide 'em for calling Names, Cursing, and Oathes;
Make them say Prayers, and keep clean their Clothes.
Poets write Story, and by example teach,
They comforts to the sick and needy preach.
When Boys and Girls in Procession sing
Anthems and Hymns, that God would bless the King,
Send Rain, or Harvest-weather, save the fruit,
Stop Plagues, and grant 'em any other suit,
I'st not the Poet that makes those heavenly charms,
And does more by 'em, then by Martial Arms?
Old Husbandmen and Worthies, such as could
Be happy with a little, heretofore would
(After their Corn was housed, or Sheep were shorn,
With Wife and Barns, and others who had born
Part in those labors) make an Holy-day,
Kill a fat Pig, eat Cream, drink Wine and Play,
Give Sacrifice, and sing to th' heavenly Powers
VVhat Poets compos'd at their inspir'd Howers.
Fescennine freedom by this means did grow,
Such whose each distich, some course flouts did throw:
This freedom for a while past well enough,
Until at length it grew so tart and rough,
[Page 366]So dirty and down-right, not sparing any,
Though ne're so worthy men: At length when many
Had been abus'd, the few that had scap'd free
Took care thence forward, that no more should bee
Making a paenal Law, by which good men
Grew safe from th' poyson of Satyrick Pen.
Thus Rhymers were reduc'd for fear of drubbing
When no Scab was, quite to refrain from rubbing.
Greece being taken by the Romans, took
Its Conquerors; from thence came Art and Book
Into rude Italy, thenceforth the Rhymes
That were in use in the Saturnine Times,
Were obsolete; and as we grew more rich
In Things and Thoughts, so was improv'd our Speech.
'Twas a great while before our minds we bent
To read Greek Authors, and learn what they meant;
Till being in Peace, then when the Punick Warr
Was well composed, the Romans waded farr
In Soph'cles, Thespis, and Aeschilus too,
Trying what they could in Translating do.
They did succeed; their smart and lofty Wit
The Tragick vein with grace enough did hit.
Com'dy tuey thought (because its subject was
Trivial and mean) was easie; But alas!
They did not dream how little pardon's giv'n
To the poor Comick: How hard was Plautus driv'n,
The am'rous Young mans humor to make good,
And his Curmudgin Fathers understood:
And paint the plotting Pimp? Porsennas Pen
Describ'd with pains the flatt'ring Trencher-men.
How slightly are perform'd some other parts
By those that nothing else lay to their hearts,
But to get Mony? Let their Box to th'brim
Be fill'd, they care not, if th' Play sink or swim.
[Page 367]Him that Vain-glory stirs to write a Play,
How doth Spectators negligence dismay,
As when they gaze and gape, and give no heed?
But then, What joy does good attention breed?
So slight and small a matter quells or raises
Minds that too much affect the peoples praises.
Adieu all writing Playes, if so be that
I pine when hiss'd, or when I'm humm'd grow fat.
Bold and sound Poets sometimes are cast down,
Ev'n when the scoundrel Rabble of the Town,
Sailers and Butchers being quickly full
And glutted with strong Sense, call for the Bull;
Or (in the middle of an Act) the Bears
Or Fencers set together by the Ears:
Though when the better sort, and men of skill
Grow weary too, the Play 'tis like was ill.
When men have sate a good while at the Play,
And in disgust shall flock apace away,
Then is brought forth a pinnion'd King, and shown
Wagons of captive Dames, Corinth o'rethrown
In Pastboard models: Democritus would sneere
At such poor tricks, if he again were here;
He'd laugh to see a spotted Dromedary,
Spectators eyes off from the Play to carry;
In marking them he would more pleasure find,
So pleasing 'tis t'observe the peoples mind.
Moreover he considering what a din
Noise and confusion all the Stage is in,
Might think the slighted Poet did rehearse
Unto deaf Asses his elab'rate Verse.
For when the Actors first appear well clad
In Persian Silk, the People all like mad
Hum and clap hands, not for their ex'lent saying,
But for their Clothes and Purple gay arraying.
[Page 368]Now lest you think, that I disparage what
I cannot understand, or rellish not;
I grant, that such a Poet may climbe a Steeple
Up by a small slack rope, who can the people
Anger, appease, make laugh, or weep, or fear;
Whisk 'em to Athens, or Thebes, or keep 'em here;
Who by meer Words, can thus command mens fancy▪
Is Master in Poetick Necromancy.
Such men encourage, and withal those who
Can the same thing without Drammaticks do;
For these you must provide, if you desire
To blow strong flames out of Poetick fire;
Or if you'ld sharpen Wit, and make collection
Of pieces neerest to divine perfection.
We Po [...]ts wrong our selves, (and I offend
As oft as others) when we Books commend
Into your hands, when you perhaps are tired,
Or in the Bogs of some disaster mired.
Then, when we vex that any though our friend,
Should but one Verse ev'n gently reprehend;
Or when we reading our own Verse, repeat
As Cud to be rechew'd what's tastless meat:
When full of our own sense, we do complain
That no man throughly weighs our skill and pains▪
And when we think, that you Great Sir as soon
As e're we write, are bound to give a Boon,
That you should bid us write the Second Part,
And say Reward shall equal our Desart;
How e're 'tis good to know, with whom to trust
Great deeds, and who can save 'm from the dust.
Choeri'lus so well did Alexander please
With Verses not quite worth so many Pease,
As that the fort'nate Bard, Medals and Coins
Of precious Gold got for his Leaden lines.
[Page 369]Some Poets foul more with their dirty Pen,
Then can be clean'd again by better Men.
That Prodi'gal Prince who bought those simple Rhimes
At such a rate, was wise at other times,
Forbidding all but great Apelles hand
To draw his Picture; Nay he did command
That none should mold the figure of his face
Except Lysippe, who did it with grace.
Had this vain Prince no more skill in discerning
The hands of Artists, then the men of Learning,
One might have call'd him Thick-skul, and have sworn,
That in some foggy air he had been born.
But you are not abus'd in any sort
By th' Gifts and Character and fair Report
Bestow'd on Virgil and on Varius, then
Whom are not better, either Wits or Men.
The shapes of famous men are not so clear
In graven Brass, as do their minds appear
In well-pen'd Words: for my part I had chose
(Rather then broken Rhimes, resembling Prose)
To write heroick Verse, and those on you,
That all the world might your atchievements know;
I would describe the Castles you have won,
And winding Rivers that below 'em run.
I would those barb'rous Kingdoms represent,
The peace which you have forc'd where e're you went:
Then Ianus Temple I'de expose to view,
And Rome by th' Parthi'ans fear'd, whilst rul'd by you,
But Sir, low Verse cannot your Highness grace,
Wherefore t' attempt it I have not the face.
For me to be pragmatical might prove
Your trouble, not my duty and my love:
Besides, if I fell short to do your right,
My faults would be remembred out of spight:
[Page 370]For Readers so malicious now are growne,
What's bad they'll con, what's good they let alone.
I hate such kindness as offends, and his
That draws my Picture uglier then it is.
Though gayly drest, I value not a rush
The gawdy praises that must make me blush,
And dread to have my Name bedawb'd on Paper
Fit but to light Tobacco-pipes and Tapers;
Or else to wrap up wares of little price
In Chandlers Shops, at best but Plums and Spice.
EPISTLE ult. By I. D. To JULIUS FLORUS.
Another Discourse of Poetry.
BRave Nero's Favourite, My Iulius
(I answer your complaining letter thus)
Suppose one had to sell, and you would buy
A Boy at Tibur born, or Gabii,
The owner plainly tells you; Sir you s [...]e,
He's smooth, and fair, of perfect Symmetrie
In all his parts; and without more discourse,
Give me but so much money, he is yours.
This I dare vouch, he's apt, and quick to spie
The smallest motions of your hand, or eye.
He hath a little Greek, and being young
May yet improve, he's pretty good at song:
But earnest praising Merchants oft declare
Their craft, more then goodness of their Ware.
I have no need to sell, my stock's but small,
Yet what small stock I have, my own I call.
[Page 371]I'le tell you therefore all the worst I know,
Which I believe, none of the trade would do.
The truth is, once he play'd the idle Boy,
And fearing to be beaten ran away;
Now Take, or Leave; May he not safely now
Receive his money, having told you so?
Why should you sue, or call him cheat, when as
He told you, what an Idle Rogue it was?
Yet so you deal in chiding me; you know,
I told you likewise e're you went, how slow
I am in writing Letters, that as soon
You might almost make any Cripple run;
But yet you still complain of me, and chide
Because I do not write; Nay, and beside
You say I promis'd Verses; But for that,
Pray hear a story that I shall relate;
One of Lucullus souldiers went abroad
To forage, and dearly having earn'd his load,
In very pleasant manner, down he lies,
And snores all night; But e're he thought to rise,
All his Provant was gone; With that as Keen
As a she Woolf, he falls to Rave, and Grin,
Mad with himself, no less then with his foes,
And Careless which should die for't, out he goes
Gnashing his teeth, and whosoe're he met,
He lookt as fierce, as though he would him eat.
In this high Rage, he storm'd a Fort himself
That was well fortifi'd, and stor'd with wealth,
And laid about him with such force, they say,
As made the Guards give place, and run away;
For which exploit his very name was fear'd,
And Thousands given him as a just Reward.
Soon after this, the Praetors mind being bent
To take a certain Castle, straight he sent
[Page 372]To this great famous Souldier, and began
T' exhort him by the name of gallantaman,
Us'd all the Arguments, apt to excite
With Words, enough to make a Coward [...]ight.
The Clown wiser then so, cries; Pray Sir hold,
Such work becomes poor fellows, I have Gold.
(Now to apply this) I at Rome was Bred,
And for some time the Poets there I Read;
At Athens next, where I learnt to descry
The Truth from falshood by Philosophy;
But the unhappy times hinder'd my stay
In that sweet place, and hurry'd me away
From Books to Arms, and then I was ingag'd
I'th' Warrs which Brutus with Augustus wag'd.
But e're long Brutus being overcome,
I narrowly scap't from Philippi home,
Stript, and as poor as possible, and then
Having no way to live, but by my Pen,
Straight I betook my self to versi [...]ie,
Instructed by Ingenious Povertie.
But now grown past all needs (to pore on sad
Dull Poetry, would not men think me mad?)
I'm of the Souldi [...]rs mind, I'le sleep and seed,
Why should I not? let them take pains that need.
I find I'm growing old, and every year
Steals somewhat from me; Venus, Mirth, and Chear,
Begin to lose their Gust; My Wits decline,
And my Poetick vein grows dry with time.
What e're I have been, I am scarse the same,
And will you have me dance now I am lame?
But if I did my faculty retain,
All would not like it; you the Lyrick strain
Do best affect: a second he commends
Hopping Iambicks, and a third contends
[Page 373]That nothing's good but what's Satyrical;
And how is't possible to please you all?
Just so, as though I should three friends invite,
And each one of a different appetite;
Sir, Shall I help you here? No; I'm for this.
And, What think you? I'm for the other dish.
Are you so to? No Sir, I thank you, I
Like the first best: So 'tis in Poetry.
Besides all this, I wonder, you can guess
Amidst the labours and disturbances
Of this base busie Town, I should have rest
To write a word. One comes and makes request,
I would be surety for him; After this
I'm call'd to hear the Poets Exercise;
I've friends to visit too; one in the Quirine,
Th' other (a fair distance) in the Aventine.
But yet you'll say, the streets are fine, and still,
And one may walk, and think of what he will.
(Oh mighty quiet, fit for th' ears of Kings!
These Carts and Coaches are such silent things.)
Here one comes with his Mules, all in a sweat,
Who us'd to bring home Carriages with meat;
There creaks an Engine, which the Builder uses
To wind up Timber to the tops of houses.
Here goes a Funeral, and there a Dray
Standing athwart the street blocks up their way.
Now a mad Dog directly at me makes;
Anon, I meet a Sow out of a Iakes,
(And must give her the wall) midst all this din,
Is't not a sweet place to make Verses in?
Poets true Bacchus Tribe, like him re [...]oyce
To sleep in shades, of arr from the Cities noise.
And would you have me do, as they have done,
Although I live in this lewd balling Towne?
[Page 374]'Tis no rare thing to see some that have spent
Seven years at Athens, in their studies pent,
Reading their eyes almost out; who yet after
Return dumb objects of the peoples laughter,
(And neither say nor write) here I am tost,
And in a storm of trouble well nigh lost:
How can I grant, or you of me desire,
To sing sweet Lyricks to the joyful Lyre?
At Rome two Brothers were; this studied Law,
That was a Rhetor; both so given to claw
Each other, that their whole discourse was lies
In praise of one anothers faculties;
That call'd this Gracchus, He him Mutius.
Do not we Poets play the fool just thus?
I merry Lyricks write, Another he
Being more grave, delights in Elegie:
Yet both, as though undoubtedly inspir'd
With all the Nine, expect to be admir'd.
Do but observe, with what a stately grace
We stalk, and look round the reciting place.
But what great matter bring we, that should raise
Our Expectations to be crown'd with Bayes?
The Samnites us, and we the Samnites wast,
And yet we made the Samnites yield at last.
O rare! now he protests I shall no more
Be Horace, but Alcaeus; I adore
Him as Callimachus, but that's too little,
Then he's Mimnermus, or some greater title.
These waspish Poets thus I'm faign to please,
When I write, that I may gain their Suffrages.
But I'le be plagu'd no more; Ile neither write
Henceforth my self, nor hear when they recite.
Verses indeed if bad, there's nothing worse,
Nor more ridiculous, yet some fools of course
[Page 375]Love to be scribling, and themselves extoll,
For that at which all others laugh and droll.
He that would have his Poems take, must sit
Judge of his own language, as well as wit,
Like a grave Censor; words of no weight nor shew
He must degrade, though they are loth to goe,
And plead prescription. To recruit his store
With choice and good, old words he must restore,
Though th'ave lain long rejected and despis'd,
And take in new, what use hath naturaliz'd.
And as a River that runs clear and strong,
The soil inricheth, as it glides along:
So must his language be; it must not want,
But neither must it be luxuriant.
With smoother phrase he polishe's what's rough,
And throws out all the flat insipid stuff.
And as a skilful Actor, he must strive,
To imitate each Humor to the life.
For my part, I had rather far be thought
A trifling Poetaster, if that ought
I do please's my self, be't ne're so vain,
Than to write well, and to endure the pain
Of being vext with Censures. There was one
At Argos, who did use to sit alone
I'th' Theatre, fancying himself to be
Present at some ingenious Tragedie:
Hearkned and humm'd, till he thought all was ended,
Then clapt, and cry'd, 'Tis never to be mended:
'Bate only this, in other matters He
Was as discreet as any one could be;
He was a right good Neighbour; none more free
To treat his Friends with all civilitie:
Good to his Family; if he came nigh
A Rock or Lake, would heed how he past by:
[Page 376]Could not be charg'd with any desperate folly,
The worst was, he was highly Melancholy;
For this a lusty dose of Hellebore
He took, which did him to himself restore;
But being cur'd, he cry'd, and said, Alas!
Such an unhappy Remedy ne're was;
For now by this unfortunate Occasion,
I've lost the pleasure of Imagination.
'Tis time I should grow wise, and leave such toyes
As Songs and Verses, proper sports for Boyes.
Not weighing words, nor meas'ring out of sounds,
But scanning life, and tracing Virtues bounds.
Now thus I'le spend my Thoughts; If you or I
Had such a thirst, that we were alwayes dry,
How much so e're we drink, we should be sure
To tell the Doctor of't, and ask the cure.
Now you are rich, yet cover still to gain
More wealth, Is not this case the very same?
If one should say, such Herbs, or such a Course,
Will cure your wound, if still your wound grew worse,
Would you not cease to follow his Advice?
So you have heard, that he must needs be wise
To whom the Gods give Riches, yet you find
The Goods of Fortune have not chang'd your mind.
And will you still believe it, since you know,
By sad experience, that it is not so?
If to be Rich, could make one wise indeed,
And you were sure by that means to be freed
From hurtful Passions; then I would allow,
That none should be more Covetous than you;
But since it can no such effect produce,
Let that suffice that serves for present use.
If what I have, though small, be mine, (as 'tis)
And what one use's, in some sort is his:
And whatsoever fruit the same doth yield,
Is mine; nay and his servants too, and all
He hath, may truly me their Master call.
I give a little money, and receive
Grapes, Poultry, Wine, and what I please to have.
The difference is, I with a small expence
Buy what he purchas'd with vast Sums long since.
The Purchaser of all those fields that lie
About Aricia, and old Veii,
Hath not a Sallet of his own introth,
Nor one small stick to warm his stale-kept broth,
But what is bought; only he calls it His
As far as lies within such Boundaries.
Fond man! how canst thou call that substance thine
Which varies like thy shadow? One hour's time,
One flitting hour, alters the property,
And either death, sale, force or flattery
Makes it another mans. For Heirs come on
As fast as waves, one e're the other's gone.
And since 'tis so, to what intent should I
Great Farms or Mannors strive to multiply?
Or make new purchases? when as, Alas!
Death and the Grave mow down all flesh like Grass;
Sparing nor high, nor low, nor young, nor old,
Untouch't with Pity, uncorrupt with Gold.
And while we live, we may live, if we please,
Happy and well, without such things as these,
Gems, Ivory, Marble, Pictures, Plate, rare Cuts,
Garments like those in which the Sophy struts.
All that make bodies gay, or houses brave,
Some have them not, others don't care to have.
So of two Brothers, one delights to play
And drink; the other from the break of day
[Page 378]Till it be dark night, spends himself with toyl,
Beating and burning the hard barren soyl.
The only Reason that they differ thus,
Proceedeth from a different Genius;
Which is as 'twere a little Deitie,
Prescribing how to live, and when to die.
To some unluckie, to some Fortunate,
So constituting good or evil Fate.
For my part, I'm resolv'd that little wealth
I have, to use, and not to starve my self.
I will be moderate, yet I'le not forbear
Expence, lest I should grieve my greedy Heir,
Or make my Executor think much, to see
My Inventory spent in Legacie.
There is discretion to be us'd, for he
Is justly taxt with Prodigalitie,
That vainly wastes his Fortune; and no less
Is he to be accus'd of Greediness,
Who spares his Purse, more than his Reputation,
And will not spend upon a just occasion.
But he that hath enough, and thinks it so,
Toils not for more, nor pines to see that go;
That sometimes makes a festival, and spares
A day for mirth to loose the bonds of cares:
That doth no wrong, and is discreetly free,
That man's indu'd with Liberalitie.
Bless me from Poverty and Sordidness!
And then be my enjoyments more or less,
I'm still the same: To me it matters not,
Whether I'm carried in a bigger Boat,
Or in a less; The middle state's the best.
And mine is such, I neither am opprest
With storms, nor flat at all with calms; my Sailes
Are fill'd with equal and Indifferent Gales:
[Page 379]For health, wit, vertne, honour, wealth, I'm plac't
Short of the foremost, but before the last.
Yet though a man be freed from Avarice,
That's not enough, if any other Vice
Be suffer'd to bear sway. What? art thou free
From pride, and empty Popularitie?
Art free from raging anger, and the fear
Of cruel death, that dreadful Messenger?
Canst laugh at superstitious fond conceits
Of Sprights, Dreams, Omens, all those vulgar cheats?
Art thankful for thy age that's past and gone,
And being older, Art thou better grown?
For as it cannot mitigate ones pain,
To draw one Thorn, whilst twenty more remain:
To hate one Vice is nothing, whilst the mind
Indulges Vices of another kind.
Until thou canst thy life exactly frame
To Virtue's pattern, don't usurp the name.
But having play'd, and eat, and drunk thy share,
Get home, lest taking more than thou canst beare,
Th' art mock't, and bob'd, and justled for thy folly,
By th' Lads whose priviledg is to be jolly.
HORACE, His ART of POETRY.
IF to a Womans head a Painter would
Set a Horse-neck, and divers feathers fold
On every limbe, ta'en from a several creature,
Presenting upwards, a fair female feature,
Which in some swarthy fish uncomely ends:
Admitted to the sight, although his friends,
Could you contain your laughter? Credit me,
This piece, my Piso's, and that book agree,
Whose shapes, like sick-mens dreams, are fain'd so vain,
As neither head, nor foot, one form retain.
But equal power, to Painter, and to Poet,
Of daring all, hath still been given; we know it:
And both do crave, and give again, this leave.
Yet, not as therefore wild, and tame should cleave
Together: not that we should Serpents see
W [...]th Doves; or Lambes, with Tygres coupled be.
[Page 381]In grave beginnings, and great things profest,
Ye have oft-times, that may o're-shine the rest,
A Scarlet-peice or two, stitch'd in: when or
Diana's Grove, or Altar, with the bor▪-
Dring Circles of swift waters that intwine
The pleasant grounds, or when the River Rhine,
Or Rainbow is describ'd. But here was now
No place for these. And, Painter, hap'ly, thou
Know'st only well to paint a Cypress tree.
What's this, if he whose money hireth thee
To paint him, hath by swimming hopeless scap'd,
The whole fleet wreck'd? A great jarre to be shap'd,
Was meant at first; why forcing still about
Thy labouring wheele, comes scarce a Pitcher out?
In short; I bid, Let what thou work'st upon,
Be simply quite throughout, and wholly one.
Most Writers, noble Sire, and either Sonne,
Are, with the likeness of the truth, undone.
My self for shortness labour; and I grow
Obscure. This striving to run smooth and slow,
Hath neither soul, nor sinews. Loftie he
Professing greatness, swells: That low by lee
Creeps on the ground; too safe, too afraid of storm.
This seeking, in a various kind, to form
One thing, prodigiously, paints in the woods
A Dolphin, and a Boar amid the floods.
So, shunning faults, to greater fault doth lead,
When in a wrong, and art less way we tread.
The worst of Statuaries here about
Th' Aemilian School, in brass can fashion out
The nails, and every curled hair disclose;
But in the main work hapless: since he knows
Not to design the whole. Should I aspire
To form a work, I would no more desire
[Page 382]To be that Smith; then live, mark'd one of those,
With fair black eyes, and hair, and a wry nose.
Take, therefore, you that write, still, matter fit
Unto your strength, and long examine it,
Upon your Shoulders. Prove what they will bear,
And what they will not. Him whose choice doth rear
His matter to his power, in all he makes,
Nor language, nor cleer order ere forsakes.
The vertue of which order, and true grace,
Or I am much deceiv'd, shall be to place
Invention. Now, to speak; and then differ
Much, that mought now be spoke: omitted here
Till fitter season. Now, to like of this;
Lay that aside, the Epicks office is.
In using also of new words, to be
Right spare, and wary: then thou speak'st to me
Most worthy praise, when words that common grew,
Are, by thy cunning placing, made meer new.
Yet, if by chance, in utt'ring things abstruse,
Thou need new terms; thou maist, without excuse,
Fain words, unheard of to the well-truss'd race
Of the Cethegi; And all men will grace,
And give, being taken modestly, this leave,
And those thy new, and late-coyn'd words receive,
So they fall gently from the Grecian spring,
And come not too much wrested. What's that thing.
A Roman to Caecilius will allow,
Or Plautus, and in Virgil disavow,
Or Varius? why am I now envi'd so,
If I can give some small increase? When, loe,
Cato's and Ennius tongues have lent much worth,
And wealth unto our language; and brought forth
New names of things. It hath been ever free,
And ever will, to utter terms that bee
[Page 383]Stamp'd to the time. As woods whose change appears
Still in their leaves, throughout the sliding years,
The first-born dying; so the aged state
Of words decay, and phrases born but late
Like tender buds shoot up, and freshly grow.
Our selves, and all that's ours, to death we owe:
Whether the Sea receiv'd into the shore,
That from the North, the Navy safe doth store,
A Kingly work; or that long barren fen
Once rowable, but now doth nourish men
In neighbour-towns, and feels the weighty plough;
Or the wild river, who hath changed now
His course so hurtful both to grain, and seeds,
Being taught a better way. All mortal deeds
Shall perish: so far off it is, the state,
Or grace of speech, should hope a lasting date.
Much phrase that now is dead, shall be reviv'd;
And much shall dye, that now is nobly liv'd,
If Custom please; at whose disposing will
The power, and rule of speaking resteth still.
The gests of Kings, great Captains, and sad Warres,
What number best can fit, Homer declares.
In Verse unequal match'd, first sowre Laments,
After mens Wishes, crown'd in their events
Were also clos'd: But, who the man should be,
That first sent forth the dapper Elegie,
All the Grammarians strive; and yet in Court
Before the Judge, it hangs, and waits report.
Unto the Lyrick Strings, the Muse gave grace
To chant the Gods, and all their God-like race,
The conqu'ring Champion, the prime Horse in course,
Fresh Lovers business, and the Wines free source.
Th' Iambick arm'd Archilochus to rave,
This foot the socks took up, and buskins grave,
[Page 384]As fit t' exchange discourse; a Verse to win
On popular noise with, and do business in.
The Comick matter will not be exprest
In tragick Verse; no less Thyestes feast
Abhors low numbers, and the private strain
Fit for the sock: Each subject should retain
The place allotted it, with decent thewes.
If now the turns, the colours, and right hues
Of Poems here describ'd, I can, nor use,
Nor know t' observe: why (i' the Muses name)
Am I call'd Poet? wherefore with wrong shame,
Perversly modest, had I rather owe
To ignorance still, then either learn, or knows.
Yet, sometime, doth the Comedie excite
Her voyce, and angry Chremes chafes out-right
With swelling throat: and of the tragick wight
Complains in humble phrase. Both Telephus,
And Peleus, if they seek to heart-strike us
That are Spectators, with their misery,
When they are poor, and banish'd, must throw by
Their bombard-phrase, and foot-and-half-foot words:
'Tis not enough, th' elaborate Muse affords
Her Poem's beauty, but a sweet delight
To work the hearers mind, still, to their plight.
Mens faces, still, with such as laugh, are prone
To laughter; so they grieve with those that mone.
If thou would'st have me weep, be thou first drown'd
Thy self in tears, then me thy loss will wound,
Peleus, or Telephus. If you speak vile
And ill-penn'd things, I shall, or sleep, or smile.
Sad language fits sad looks: stuff'd menacings,
The angry brow; the sportive, wanton things;
And the severe, speech ever serious.
For Nature, first within doth fashion us
[Page 385]To every state of fortune; she helps on,
Or urgeth us to anger; and anon
With weighty sorrow hurls us all along,
And tortures us: and, after by the tongue
Her truch-man, she reports the minds each thr [...]
If now the phrase of him that speaks, shall flow
In sound, quite from his fortune; both the rout,
And Roman Gentry, jeering, will laugh out.
It much will differ, if a God speak, than,
Or an Herce: If a ripe old man,
Or some hot youth, yet in his flourishing course;
Where some great Lady, or her diligent Nourse▪
A ventring Merchant, or the Farmer free
Of some small thankful land: whether he bee
Of Cochis born; or in Assyria bred;
Or, with the milk of Thebes; or Argus, fed.
Or follow fame, thou that dost write, or fain
Things in themselves agreeing. If again
Honour'd Achilles chance by thee be seiz'd,
Keep him still active, angry, un-appeas'd,
Sharp, and contemning laws, at him should aim,
Be nought so 'bove him but his sword let claim.
Medea make brave with impetuous scorn;
[...]no bewail'd; Ixion false, forsworn;
Poor Io wandring, wild Orestes mad.
If something strange, that never yet was had
Into the Scene, thou bring'st, and dar'st create
A meer new person; Look he keep his state
Into the last, as when he first went forth,
Still to be like himself, and hold his worth.
'Tis hard, to speak things common, properly;
And thou maist better bring a Rhapsody
Of Homers, forth in acts, then of thy own,
First publishing things unspoken, and unknown.
[Page 386]Yet common matter thou thine own maist make;
If thou be vile, broad-troden ring forsake.
For, being a Poet, thou maist feign, create,
Not care, as thou wouldst faithfully translate,
To render word for word: nor with thy slight
Of imitation, leap into a streight,
From whence thy Modesty, or Poems law
Forbids thee forth again thy foot to draw.
Nor so begin, as did that Circler late,
I sing a noble Warre, and Priam's Fate.
What doth this Promiser such gaping worth
Afford? The Mountains travail'd, and brought forth
A scorned Mouse! O, how much better this,
Who nought assays unaptly, or am ss?
Speak to me, Muse, the man, who after Trov was sack't,
Saw many Towns, and men, and could their manners tract.
He thinks not, how to give you smoak from light,
But light from smoak; that he may draw his bright
Wonders forth after: As An [...]iphates,
Scylla, Charybdis, Polypheme, with these.
Nor from the brand, with which the life did burn
Of Meleager, brings he the return
Of Diomede; nor Troyes sad Warre begins
From the two Egges, that did disclose the twins.
He ever hastens to the end, and so
(As if he knew it) raps his hearer to
The middle of his matter: letting go
What he despairs, being handled, might not show.
And so well fains, so mixeth cunningly
Falshood with truth, as no man can espy
Where the midst differs from the first: or where
The last doth from the midst dis-joyn'd appeare.
Hear, what it is the People, and I desire:
If such a ones applause thou dost require,
[Page 387]That tarries till the hangings be ra'en down,
And sits, till the Epilogue saies Clap, or Crown:
The customs of each age thou must observe,
And give their years, and natures, as they swerve,
Fit rites. The Child, that now knows how to say,
And can tread firm, longs with like lads to play;
Soon angry, and soon pleas'd, is sweet, or sowre,
He knows not why, and changeth every houre.
Th' unbearded Youth, his Guardian once being gone,
Loves Dogs; and Horses; and is ever one
I' the open field; Is Wax like to be wrought
To every vice, as hardly to be brought
To endure counsel: A Provider slow
For his own good, a careless letter-go
Of money, haughty, to desire soon mov'd,
And then as swift to leave what he hath lov'd.
These studies alter now, in one, grown man;
His better'd mind seeks wealth, and freindship: than
Looks after honours, and bewares to act
What straight-way he must labour to retract.
The old man many evils do girt round;
Either because he seeks, and, having found,
Doth wretchedly the use of things forbear,
Or do's all business coldly, and with fear;
A great deserrer, long in hope, grown numbe
With sloth, yet greedy still of what's to come:
Froward, complaining, a commender glad
Of the times past, when he was a young lad;
And still correcting youth, and censuring.
Mans comming years much good with them doe bring:
At his departing take much thence: left, then,
The parts of age to youth be given; or men
To children; we must always dwell, and stay
In fitting proper adjuncts to each day.
[Page 388]The business either on the Stage is done,
Or acted told. But, ever, things that run
In at the ear, do stir the mind more slow
Then those the faithful eyes take in by show,
And the beholder to himself doth render.
Yet, to the Stage, at all thou maist not tender
Things worthy to be done within, but take
Much from the sight, which fair report will make
Present anon: Medea must not kill
Her Sons before the People; nor the ill▪
Natur'd, and wicked Atreus cook, to th' eye,
His Nephews entrails; nor must Progne flie
Into a Swallow there; Nor Cadmus take,
Upon the Stage, the figure of a Snake.
What so is shown, I not believe, and hate.
Nor must the Fable, that would hope the Fate
Once seen, to be again call'd for, and plaid,
Have more or less then just five Acts: nor laid,
To have a God come in, except a knot
Worth his untying happen there: And not
Any fourth man, to speak at all, aspire.
An Actors parts, and Office too, the Quire
Must maintain manly; not be heard to sing
Between the Acts, a quite clean other thing
Then to the purpose leads, and fitly 'grees.
It still must favour good men, and to these
Be won a friend; It must both sway, and bed
The angry, and love those that fear t' offend.
Praise the spare diet, wholesome justice, laws,
Peace, and the open ports, that peace doth cause.
Hide faults, Pray to the Gods, and wish aloud
Fortune would love the poor, and leave the proud.
The Hau'-boy, not as now with latten bound,
And rival with his Trumpet for his sound,
[Page 389]But soft, and simple, at few holes breath'd time
And tune too, fitted to the Chorus rime,
As loud enough to fill the seats, not yet
So over-thick, but, where the people met,
They might' with ease be numbred, being a few
Chaste, thrifty, modest folk, that came to view.
But, as they conquer'd, and enlarg'd their bound,
That wider Walls embrac'd their City round,
And they uncensur'd might at Feasts, and Playes
Steep the glad Genius in the Wine, whole dayes,
Both in their tunes, the license greater grew,
And in their numbers; For, alas, what knew
The Ideot, keeping holy-day, or drudge,
Clown, Townsman, base, and noble, mix'd, to judge?
Thus, to his antient Art the Piper lent
Gesture, and riot, whilst he swooping went
In his train'd Gown about the Stage: So grew
In time of Tragedy, a Musick new.
The rash, and head-long eloquence brought forth
Unwonted language; And that sense of worth
That found out profit, and foretold each thing,
Now differ'd not from Delphick riddleing.
Thespis is said to be the first found out
The Tragedy, and carried it about,
Till then unknown, in Carts, wherein did ride
Those that did sing, and act: their faces dy'd
With less of Wine. Next Aeschylus, more late
Brought in the Visor, and the robe of State,
Built a small timbred Stage, and taught them talk
Lofty, and grave; and in the busk in stalk.
He too, that did in Tragick Verse contend,
For the vile Goat, soon after, forth did send
The rough rude Satyres naked; and would try,
Though sower, with safety of his gravity,
[Page 390]How he could jest, because he mark'd and saw
The free spectators, subject to no Law,
Having well eat, and drunk: the rites being done,
Were to be staid with softnesses, and wonne
With something that was acceptably new.
Yet so the scoffing Satyres to mens view,
And so their prating to present was best,
And so to turn all earnest into jest,
As neither any God, were brought in there,
Or Semi-god, that late was seen to weare
A royal Crown, and purple; be made hop
With poor base terms, through every baser shop:
Or whilst he shuns the Earth, to catch at Air
And empty Clouds. For Tragedy is fair,
And far unworthy to blurt out light rimes;
But, as a Matron drawn at solemn times
To Dance, so she should, shame fac'd, differ farre
From what th' obscene, and petulant Satyres are.
Nor I, when I write Satyres, will so love
Plain phrase, my Piso's, as alone t'approve
Meer raigning words: nor will I labour so
Q [...]ite from all face of Tragedy to go,
As not make difference, whether Davus speak,
And the bold Pythias, having cheated weak
Simo; and, of a talent wip'd his purse;
Or old Silenus, Bacchus Guard, and Nurse.
I can out of known gear, a fable frame,
And so, as every man may hope the same;
Yet he that offers at it, may sweat much,
And toil in vain: the excellence is such
Of Order, and Connexion; so much grace
There comes sometimes to things of meanest place.
But, let the Faunes, drawn from their Groves, beware,
Be I there Judge, they do at no time dare
[Page 391]Like men street-born, and neer the Hall, reherse
The [...]r youthful tricks in over wanton verse:
Or crac [...] out bawdy speeches, and unclean.
The Roman Gentry, Men of Birth, and Mean
Will take offence at this: Nor, though it strike
H [...]m that buys chiches blanch'r, or chance to like
The nut crakers throughout, will they therefore
Receive, or give it an applause, the more.
To these succeeded the old Comoedy,
And not w [...]t [...]out much praise; till liberty
Fell into fault so far, as now they saw
Her licence fit to be restrain'd by law:
Which law receiv'd, the Chorus held his peace,
His power of fouly hurting made to cease.
Two rest's, a short and long, th' Iambick frame;
A foot, whose swiftness gave the Verse the name
Of Trimeter, when yet it was six-pac'd,
But meer Iambicks all, from first to last.
Nor is't long since, they did with patience take
Into their birth-right, and for fitness sake,
The steady Spondaes: so themselves do bear
More flow, and come more weighty to the ear:
Provided, ne're to yield, in any case
Of fellowishp, the fourth, or second place.
This foot yet, in the famous Trimeters
Of Accius, and Ennius, rare appears:
So rare, as with some tax it doth engage
Those heavy Verses sent so to the Stage,
Of too much haste, and negligence in part,
Or a worse Crime, the ignorance of art.
But every Judge hath not the faculty
To note in Poems, breach of harmony;
And there is given too, unworthy leave
To Roman Poets. Shall I therefore weave
[Page 392]My Ve [...]se at random, and licent ously?
Or rather, thinking all my faults may spy,
Grow a safe Writer, and be wary-driven
Within the hope of having all forgiven.
'Tis clear, this way I have got off from blame,
But, in conclusion, merited no fame.
Take you the Greek examples, for your light,
In hand, and turn them over day, and night.
Our Ancestors did Plautus numbers praise,
And jests; and both to admiration raise
Too patiently, that I not fondly say;
If either you, or I, know the right way
To part scurrility from wit: or can
A lawful Verse, by th' ear, or singer scan.
Our Poets too, left nought unproved here;
Nor did they merit the less Crown to weare,
In daring to forsake the Grecian tracts,
And celebrating our own home-born facts;
Whether the guarded Tragedy they wrought,
Or't were the gowned Comoedy they taught.
Nor had out Italy more glorious bin
In vertue, and renown of arms, then in
Her language, if the Stay, and Care t' have mended,
Had not our every Poet like offended.
But you, Pompilius off-spring, spare you not
To taxe that Verse, which many a day, and blot
Have not kept in, and (left perfection fail)
Not tent mes o're, corrected to the nail.
Because Democritus believes a wit
Happier then wretched art, and doth, by it,
Exclude all sober Poets, from their share
In Helicon; a great sort will not pare
Their nails, nor shave their beards, but to by-paths
Retire themselves, avoid the publike baths;
[Page 393]For so, they shall not only gain the worth,
Both fame of Poets, they think, if they come forth,
And from the Barber Licinus conceal
Their heads, which three Antichyra's cannot heal.
O I left-witted, that purge every spring
For choler! If I did not, who could bring
Out better Poems? But I cannot buy
My title, at the rate; I'ad rather, I,
Be like a Whet-stone, that an edge can put
On steel, though 't self be dull, and cannot cut.
I writing nought my self, will teach them yet
Their Charge, and Office, whence their wealth to fet,
What nourisheth, what formed, what begot
The Poet, what becometh, and what not:
Whether truth may, and whether error bring.
The very root of writing well, and spring
Is to be wise; thy matter first to know;
Which the Socratick writings best can show:
And, where the matter is provided still,
There words will follow, not against their will.
He, that hath studied well the debt, and knowes
What to his Country, what his friends he owes,
What height of love, a Parent will fit best,
What brethren, what a stranger, and his guest,
Can tell a State-mans duty, what the arts
And office of a Judge are, what the parts
Of a brave Chief sent to the wars: He can,
Indeed, give fitting dues to every man.
And I still bid the learned Maker look,
O [...] life, and manners, and make those his book,
Thence draw forth true expressions. For, sometimes,
A Poem, of no grace, weight, art, in rimes
With specious places, and being humor'd right,
More strongly takes the people with delight,
[Page 394]And better stayes them there, then all fine noise
Of Verse meer-matter-less, and tinckling toies.
The Muse not only gave the Greek's a wit,
But a well-compass'd mouth to utter it,
Being men were covetous of nought, but praise.
Our Roman youths they learn the subtle wayes
How to divide, into a hundred parts,
A pound, or piece, by their long compting arts:
There's Arbin's son will say, Substract an ounce
From the five ounces, what remains? pronounce
A third of twelve, you may: four ounces. Glad,
He cries, Good boy, thou'lt keep thine own. Now, add
An ounce, what makes it then? The half pound just;
Six ounces. O, whence once the canker'd rust,
And care of getting, thus, our minds hath stain'd,
Think we, or hope, there can be Verses fain'd
In juyce of Cedar, worthy to be steep'd,
And in smooth Cypress boxes to be keep'd?
Poets would either profit, or delight,
Or mixing sweet, and fit, teach life the right.
Orpheus, a priest, and speaker for the Gods,
First frighted men, and wildly liv'd, at ods,
From slaughters, and foul life; and for the same
Was Tygers, said, and Lyons fierce, to tame.
Amphion too, that built the Theban towers,
Was said to move the stones, by his Lutes powers,
And lead them with soft songs, where that he would.
This was the wisdom, that they had of old,
Things sacred, from profane to separate;
The publique, from the private; to abate
Wilde raging lusts; prescribe the marriage good;
Build Towns, and carve the Laws in leaves of wood.
And thus at first, an honour, and a name▪
To divine Poets, and there Verses came.
On edge the Masculine spirits, and did whet
Their minds to Wars, with rimes they did rehearse;
The Oracles, too, were given out in Verse;
All way of life was shewn; the grace of Kings
Attempted by the Muses tunes, and strings;
Plays were found out; and rest, the end, and Crown
Of their long labours, was in Verse set down:
All which I tell, lest when Apollo's nam'd,
Or Muse, upon the Lyre, thou chance b' asham'd.
Be brief, in what thou wouldst command, that so
The docile mind may soon thy precepts know,
And hold them faithfully; For nothing rests,
But flowes out, that ore-swelleth in full brests.
Let what thou fain'st for pleasures sake, be neere
The truth, nor let thy Fable think, what e're
It would, must be: lest it alive would draw
The Child, when Lamia 'has din'd, out of her maw.
The Poems void of profit, our grave men
Cast out by voyces; want they pleasure, then
Our Gallants give them none, but pass them by:
But he hath every suffrage can apply
Sweet mix'd with sowre, to his Reader, so
As doctrine, and delight together go.
This book will get the Sosii money; This
Will pass the Seas, and long as nature is,
With honour make the far-known Author live.
There are yet faults, which we would well forgive;
For, neither doth the String yet yield that sound
The hand, and mind would, but it will resound
Oft-times a Sharp, when we require a Flat:
Nor alwayes doth the loosed Bow, hit that
Which it doth threaten. Therefore, where I see
Much in the Poem shine, I will not bee
[Page 396]Offended with few spots, which negligence
Hath shed, or humane frailty not kept thence.
How then? Why, as a Scrivener, if h' offend
Still in the same, and warned, will not mend,
Deserves no pardon; or who'd play, and sing,
Is laugh'd at, that still jarreth on one string:
So he that flaggeth much, becomes to me
A Choerilus, in whom if I but see
'Twice, or thrice good, I wonder: but am more
Angry. Sometimes, I hear good Homer snore.
But, I confess, that, in a long work, sleep
May, with some right, upon an Author creep.
As Painting, so is Poesie. Some mans hand
Will take you more, the neerer that you stand;
As some the farther off: This loves the dark;
This, fearing not the subtlest Judges mark,
Will in the light be view'd: This once, the sight
Doth please; this, ten times over, will delight.
You Sir, the elder brother, though you are
Informed rightly by your Fathers care,
And, of your self too, understand; yet mind
This saying: to some things there is assign'd
A mean, and toleration, which does well:
There may a Lawyer be, may not excell;
Or Pleader at the Bar, that may come short
Of eloquent Messalla's power in Court,
Or knows not what Cassellius Aulus can;
Yet, there's a value given to this man.
But neither, Men, nor Gods, nor Pillars meant,
Poets should ever be indifferent.
As jarring Musique doth, at jolly feasts,
Or thick gross O [...]ntment, but offend the Guests:
As Poppy, and Sardane Honey; 'cause without
These; the free meal might have been well drawn out:
[...] bettering of the mind of man, in ought,
[...]ne're so little it depart the first,
[...]nd highest, sinketh to the lowest, and worst.
He, that not knows the games, nor how to use
[...] arms in Mars his field, he doth refuse;
[...], who's unskilful at the Coit, or Ball,
[...] trundling Wheel, he can sit still, from all;
[...]est the throng'd heaps should on a laughter take:
[...]et who's most ignorant, dares Verses make.
[...]hy not? I'm gentle, and free-born, do hate
[...]ice, and, am known to have a Knights estate.
[...]hou, such thy judgement is, thy knowledge too,
[...]ilt nothing against nature speak, or do:
But, if hereafter thou shalt write, not fear
To send it to be judg'd by Metius ear,
And, to your Fathers, and to mine; though't be
Nine years kept in, your papers by, yo' are free
To change, and mend, what you not forth do set.
The Writ, once out, never returned yet.
'Tis now inquir'd, which makes the nobler Verse,
Nature, or Art. My Judgement will not pierce
Into the Profits, what a meer rude brain
Can; or all toil, without a wealthy vein:
So doth the one, the others help require,
And friendly should unto one end conspire.
He, that's ambitious in the race to touch
The wished goal, both did, and suffered much
While he was young; he sweat, and freez'd again:
And both from Wine, and Women did abstain.
Who, since, to sing the Pythian rites is heard,
Did learn them, first, and once a Master fear'd.
But, now, it is enough to say; I make
An admirable Verse. The great Scurf take
[Page 398]Him at the last; I scorn to come behind,
Or, of the things, that ne're came in my mind
To say, I'm ignorant. Just as a Crier
That to the sale of Wares calls every Buyer;
So doth the Poet, who is rich in land,
Or great in money's out at use, command
His flatterers to their gain. But say, he can
Make a great Supper; or for some poor man
Will be a surety; or can help him out
Of an entangling suit; and bring 't about:
I wonder how this happy man should know,
Whether his soothing friend speak truth, or no.
But you, my Piso, carefully beware,
(Whether yo' are given to, or giver are)
You do not bring, to judge your Verses, one,
With joy of what is given him, over-gone:
For hee'll cry, Good, brave, better, excellent!
Look pale, distil a showre (was never meant)
Out at his friendly eyes, leap, beat the groun'.
As those that hir'd to weep at Funerals, swoun,
Cry, and do more then the true Mourners: so
The Scoffer, the true Praiser doth out-go.
Rich men are said with many cups to ply,
And rack, with Wine, the man whom they would try,
If of their friendship he be worthy, or no:
When you write Verses, with your judge do so:
Look through him, and be sure, you take not mocks
For praises, where the mind conceals a fox.
If to Quintilius, you recited ought:
He'd say, Mend this, good friend, and this; 'Tis naught.
If you denyed, you had no better strain,
And twice, or thrice had 'ssayd it, still in vain:
He'd bid, blot all: and to the anvile bring
Those illl-torn'd Verses, to new hammering.
[Page 399]Then: If your fault you rather had defend
Then change: No word, or work, more would he spend
In vain, but you, and yours, you should love still
Alone, without a rival, by his will.
A wise, and honest man will cry out shame
On artless Verse; the hard ones he will blame;
Blot out the careless, with his turned pen;
Cut off superfluous ornaments; and when
They 're dark, bid clear this: all that's doubtful wrote
Reprove; and, what is to be changed, note:
Become an Aristarchus. And, not say,
Why should I grieve my friend, this trifling way?
These trifles into serious m [...]schiefs lead
The man once mock'd, and suffer'd wrong to tread.
Wise, sober folk, a frantick Poet feare,
And shun to touch him, as a man that were
Infected with the leprosie, or had
The yellow Jaundies, or were furious mad
According to the Moon. But, then the boyes
They vex, and follow him with shouts, and noise,
The while he belcheth lofty Verses out,
And stalketh, like a Fowler, round about,
Busie to catch a Black-bird; if he fall
Into a pit, or hole; although he call,
And cry aloud, Help gentle Country-men,
There's none will take the care, to help him then;
For, if one should, and with a rope make haste
To let it down, who knows, if he did cast
Himself there purposely, or no; and would
Not thence be sav'd, although indeed he could?
I'le tell you but the death, and the disease
Of the Sicilian Poet Empedocles;
He, while he labour'd to be thought a God
Immortal, took a melancholique odd
[Page 400]Conceipt, and into burning Aetna leap't.
Let Poets perish, that will not be kept.
He that preserves a man, against his will,
Doth the same thing with him, that would him kill.
Nor did he do this once; for if you can
Recal him yet, he'ld be no more a man:
Or love of this so famous death lay by.
His cause of making Verses none knows why;
Whether he piss'd upon his Fathers grave;
Or the sad thunder-stroken thing he have
Defiled, touch'd; but certain he was mad,
And, as a Bear; if he the strength but had
To force the grates, that hold him in, would fright
All; So this grievous Writer puts to flight
Learn'd and unlearn'd; holding, whom once he takes;
And, there an end of him, reciting makes:
Not letting going his hold, where he draws food,
Till he drop off, a Horse-leech, full of blood.
FINIS.