A Modern Essay On the Tenth SATYR OF JUVENAL.

By HENRY HIGDEN, Esquire.

Licensed June 2d. 1686. Ro. L'Estrange.

Ridendo Monet.

LONDON: Printed by T. Milbourn in Jewen-Street, 1687.

To the Right Honourable RICHARD, LORD LUMLEY, Baron of LVMLEY, AND Viscount LVMLEY in Ireland, &c.

THE Knowledge I have of Your Lordships Great Worth and Honour, is the Mo­tive that pushes me to Publish this Piece under Your Lordships Patronage, whose Name and Character is so Illustrious, that it was impossible for me to Resist such a Powerful Attraction: But when I reflect on the Poorness of the Present and Presenter, and from thence advance my Thoughts, to consider the Grandeur of my Patron, I discover my Want of Ability to render You the Just Attributes of your Merit: Who besides Your Lordships Hereditary Vertues, possess so many Ex­cellent acquired Ones, the Contemplation whereof [Page] fills me with Raptures and Transports too Exquisite for a Description. With this Impotence I wholly desist from a Panegyrick in this Epistle, the general Topick of Dedications, having so Just an Excuse for the Want of Mine, which would be wholly unne­cessary, since Your Lordships Vertues are so Eminent and Conspicuous, they want neither a Herauld nor an Historian.

I was conscious to my Self (My Lord) of an unpar­donable piece of Confidence in this Address, in lay­ing so Poor a Trifle at Your Lordships Feet. But, alas! What boots the Sense of a Fault, without being able to Resist the Temptation of Committing it? Besides, the Consideration that I was already Listed in the Gang of Scriblers, and commenced a Brother of the Quill, who of all Mankind are the least apt to have their Modesty or Conscience fly into their Faces: The Muses themselves (under favour) being thought but a sort of light Rambling Gypsies [...] and of so deep an Affrican Complexion, that they were never observed to Redden, for all their daily Presumptions and Extravagancies; and Whipping (as Experience has Taught us) does but raise and provoke their Mettle to more Waggish Pranks. Do not we daily see, that the Lowest Fluttering Dogrell shall with as great an assurance perch under a Noble Umbrage, as the Highest Soarer in Heroick Flights? The Carrion Crow shall aspire to Build in the Cedar's Top, and the Noble Eagle can pretend to no more. This Hereditary Liberty allowed; as also, That all Mo­desty [Page] is directly against the Rules of our Order, and the Charter of our Company; And that these Cogent Poetical Reasons being maturely weighed, may, I hope, Warrant my Obedience to Custome, and Apologize for a Troublesome and Impertinent De­dication; to suffer in which Case will be for me much more tolerable, than by my omitting so Ne­cessary a Ceremony, provoke a Revengeful and Offen­ded Brotherhood, that will assuredly Damn me by a Universal Consent, for presuming to hope for Salva­tion, and to Stand and Fall by my own Merits, without praying the Assistance of an able Patron, according to the Laudable Custome.

As for this Tenth Satyr of Juvenal, by All approved for the Gravest, and most Phylosophical, both for Argument and Matter, of all our Authors, (if his Sense have not lost too much of the Spirit by Transfusion from one Language to another) I should esteem a Suita­ble Present to Your Lordship, who has Justly esta­blished a Noble and Spotless Reputation from Worthy and Honest Actions: yet have Wisely learnt betimes to take up from a too eager and precipitate Chase of Fame, which Hurries many intemperately through Thick and Thin, violently breaking through the Fen­ces to pursue and master their Game; who often (according to the many Examples in this Satyr de­scribed) do meet with a Disasterous Conclusion, which in them is the Effect of an Immoderate Thirst and Desire of a Name; and does not proceed from the Principles of Steddy Virtue▪ Your Lord­ships [Page] Wiser Consideration having denyed Your Self to the Courtship and Blandishments of the World, rather than to give the least Violence to your Mind and Repose; chusing rather a Noble Retirement within the Bounds of a Plentiful Fortune; of which few Noble Men can boast a Greater, or have given so Early a Proof of their Knowledge and Skill to use and manage it to Improvement. Which that Your Lordship may live Long to enjoy with all Happi­ness and Honour, is the Constant Wish of,

My LORD,
Your Lordships Most Devoted, Humble Servant, HENRY HIGDEN.

To my Ingenious Friend, [...] Henry Higden, Esq On his Translation of the Tenth SATYR OF JUVENAL

THe Grecian Wits, who Satyr first began,
Were Pleasant Pasquins on the Life of Man:
At Mighty Villains, who the State opprest,
They durst not Rail; perhaps, they Laugh'd at least,
And turn'd 'em out of Office with a Jest.
No Fool could peep abroad, but ready stand
The Drolls, to clap a Bauble in his Hand:
Wise Legislators never yet could draw
A Fopp within the Reach of Common-Law;
For Posture, Dress, Grimace, and Affectation,
Tho' Foes to Sence, are Harmless to the Nation.
Our last Redress is Dint of Verse to try;
And Satyr is our Court of Chancery.
This Way took Horace to reform an Age
Not Bad enough to need an Author's Rage:
[Page] But Yours,
Juvenal.
who liv'd in more degen'rate Times,
Was forc'd to fasten Deep, and woorry Crimes:
Yet You, my Friend, have temper'd him so well,
You make him Smile in spight of all his Zeal:
An Art peculiar to your Self alone,
To joyn the Vertues of Two Stiles in One.
Oh! were your Author's Principle receiv'd,
Half of the lab'ring World wou'd be reliev'd;
For not to Wish, is not to be Deceiv'd!
Revenge wou'd into Charity be chang'd,
Because it costs too Dear to be Reveng'd:
It costs our Quiet and Content of Mind;
And when 'tis compass'd, leaves a Sting behind.
Suppose I had the better End o'th' Staff,
Why shou'd I help th' ill-natur'd World to laugh?
'Tis all alike to them, who gets the Day;
They Love the Spight and Mischief of the Fray.
No; I have Cur'd my Self of that Disease;
Nor will I be provok'd, but when I please:
But let me half that Cure to You restore;
You gave the Salve, I laid it to the Sore.
Our kind Relief against a Rainy Day,
Beyond a Tavern, or a tedious Play;
We take your Book, and laugh our Spleen away.
If all Your Tribe, (too studious of Debate)
Wou'd cease false Hopes and Titles to create,
Led by the Rare Example you begun,
Clyents wou'd fail, and Lawyers be undone.
JOHN DRYDEN.

TO Henry Higden, Esq On his Translation of the Tenth SATYR OF JUVENAL.

I.
I Know You, and I must Confess,
From Sence so Celebrated, and so True,
Wit so Uncommon, and so New,
As that which alwaies shines in You;
I cou'd expect no less.
'Tis Great, 'tis Just, 'tis Noble all!
Right Spirit of the Original;
No scatter'd Spark no gli [...]ring Beams,
As in some Pieces here, and there,
Through a dark Glade of Duller Numbers gleams.
But 'tis all Fire! all Glittering every where
Grateful Instruction that can never fail,
To Please and Charm, even while you Rail.
By Arts thus Gentle and Severe
The Powers Divine first made their Mortals Wise;
The soft Reproach they [...]id with Reverence bear;
While they Ador'd the GOD that did Chastize.
II.
Perhaps there may be found some Carping Wit,
May blame the Measures of thy Lines,
And cry,—No [...] so the Roman Poet writ;
[Page] Who drest his Satyr in more lofty Rhimes.
But thou for thy Instructer Nature chose,
That first best Principle of Poetry;
And to thy Subject didst thy Verse dispose,
While in Harmonious Union both agree.
Had the Great Bard thy Properer Numbers view'd,
He wou'd have lay'd his stiff Heroicks by,
And this more Gay, more Airy Path pursu'd,
That so much better leads to Ralliery.
Wit is no more than Nature well exprest;
And He fatigues and toyles in vain
With Rigid Labours, breaks his Brain,
That has Familiar Thought in lofty Numbers drest.
III.
True to his Sense and to his Charming Wit,
Thou [...]very where hast kept an equal Pace:
All his Brisk Turns exactly hit,
Justly maintain'd his Humour and his Grace:
And with the Language hast not chang'd the Face:
Great Juvenal in every Line,
True Roman still o're all does shine;
But in the Brittish Garb appears most fine.
IV.
Long did the Learned Author search to find
The Vice and Vani [...]y of Humane [...]kind:
Long he observ'd, nor did [...]bserv [...] in vain;
In every differing Humour found
Even there where Virtue did abound,
Some mortal Frailties reign.
Philosophers he saw were Proud
Of dull-affected Poverty.
Senators cringing to the Crowd
For trifling Popularity.
The Judge Reviles the Criminal a [...] Bar.
And now because old Ages I [...]e
Has chill'd the Ardour of his willi [...]g Vice,
Snarles at those [...]outhful Follies which he cannot share.
From the vain-keeping 'Squire, and Cully'd. Lord;
The fawning Courtier, States-man's Broken Word;
[Page] Down to the flattering, Jilting Curtizan;
And the more faithless couzening Citizen.
The Tricks of Court and State to him were known;
And all the Vices veil'd beneath the Gown:
From the Sharp Pulpit to the Blunted Stall,
He knew, and gently did reproach them all.
V.
If Rome, that kept the lesser World in awe,
Wanted a Juvenal to give them Law,
How much more we, who stockt with Knave and Fool,
Have turn'd the Nation into Ridicule.
The dire Contagion spreads to each degree
Of Wild Debauchery.
The mad Infected Youth make haste
To lay their Fortunes, Health, and Reason waste:
The Fop, a tamer sort of Tool,
Who dresses, talks, and loves, by Rule;
Has long for a Fine Person past.
Block-heads will pass for Wits, and Write,
And some for Brave, who ne'r could Fight.
Women for Chaste, whose knack of Cant
Boasts of the Virtues that they want:
Cry Faugh—at Words and Actions Innocent,
And make that naughty that was never meant:
That vain-affected Hypocrite shall be
In Satyr sham'd to Honest Sense by Thee.
'Tis Thou, our English Juvenal, alone,
To whom all Vice, and every Vertue's known:
Thou that like Judah's King through all hast past,
And found that all's but Vanity at last;
'Tis you alone the Discipline can use,
Who dare at once be bold, severe, and kind;
Soften rough Satyr with thy gentler Muse,
And force a Blush at least, where you can't change the Mind.
A. Behn.

TO H. HIGDEN, Esq On his Modern Way of Translating JUVENAL'S Tenth SATYR.

IF Poets without Fiction in Applause
Of their lov'd Muse speak Truth in their own Cause;
And Wit to Favourites gives a Lawful Claim,
To be Inroll'd in Deathless Books of Fame.
Howe'er the Rest of the fam'd Sisters thrive,
And happily to Time's last Sand survive,
Satyr alone finds a Hard Task to live.
Even half a Key in th' highest Flights of Glory,
Vnlocks whole Volumes of Heroick Story.
Vertue in Robes of Lasting Dye array'd,
Is down even to Remotest Time convey'd.
Great Deeds are Read so Plain, and spoke so loud,
Casting a Lustre which no Age can shroud;
Her bright Divinity breaks through the Cloud.
No Antique Garb can against Worth prevail;
Alcides struts with Club and Lyons Tayl;
And Bess looks Great in Ruff and Farthingale.
Thus whilst Heroicks their Great Theams display,
Stalking abroad in Fields and open Day:
Remarking Satyr must to Coverts creep,
[...]ry in close Grotts, and obscure Closets peep.
They Copy by so weak and faint a Light;
Vice is their Theam, in Masquerade they Write,
And slyly walk in gloomy Scenes of Night.
[Page] Thus whilst the warm Intrigue is just found out
And the fresh Calumny is dealt about,
Murmur'd and buz'd through all the Tickled Rout:
Oh! with what Lawrel Wreaths is Satyr Crown'd!
How ravishing the smart Iambicks sound!
But when the Grin, the Sneer, and Jest is past,
(Malice that runs so swift, and tires as fast)
Poor Satyr then, the Nine Days Wonder done,
Strait lies Neglected, and Forgot as soon:
With its own Parent, Scandal, does expire;
The generous son of an Ignoble Sire.
The Poinant Gall that holds Authentick Text
This Age, is damn'd t' Apocrypha the next.
The Flowry Banks our pleased [...]orefathers knew,
O'regrown by Time, we a Rude Labyrinth view,
Where Commentators groap without a Clue.
Whilst Satyr destined to so Harsh a Doom,
Must undergo such Hardship ev'n at Home;
Alas! what must it suffer when it walks
Abroad, and in a Forreign Language talks!
Where Loads of Dross the precious Oar enfold,
Skilful must th' Artist be t' Extract the Gold;
One practised to the World and Muses Laws,
And well acquainted with the Face he draws.
Satyr to Trace at Heels, and poorly Line
For Line Translate, is such a weak Design,
Does even the Marks of Life, and Spirit want,
A▪ Jargon worse than a Fanatick Cant:
A Wise Attempt, and Justify'd by none
But some Enthusiast Prophet of their own.
Thy Pencil scorns a Portraicture so faint:
Thou animate'st, what such dead Colours paint:
You Naturalize the Author you Translate,
And Classick Roman dress in Modern State.
Sprightly and Gay he makes his Visit here;
Drest Al-a-mode, and speaks en Cavalier.
Great Juvenal's Wit, who in an English Scene,
By Time's long Rust at best had pointless been,
Thou grind'st to a New Edge, to cut more keen.
From Letts and Rubbish clear'st the craggy Shore,
And driv'st thy own Triumphant Chariot o're.
His distant Heat does by thy Labour burn,
And Rear thy Phenix from his Spicey Vrne.
E. SETTLE▪

THE PREFACE TO THE READER.

I Did not think to have given you or my self this Trouble, resolving what I had said before my Thirteenth Satyr should have served the Turn: But since my Friend Mr. Shadwell, before his late Inge­nious Translation, has taken some notice of this Essay of mine, I could not in good Manners, but make his Civility a Return in Print. This English Essay of mine was Perfect, and Licensed above a Year since, as intended to have been Printed in last Trinity Term was Twelve-month, but was by some Accident prevented. In the following Vacation Mr. Shadwell did me the Favour to peruse it, keeping it for a considera­ble Time by him: At the Return he told me, He had a mind to Tran­slate it for his Diversion, as liking the Author and Subject; which has taken so good Effect, that I perceive the Younger Brother has by the Common-Mother the Press outstript the Elder, and lurch'd him of the Blessing: Which I shall not much bewail, since I had not set my Heart upon it: Nor will I blame his Haste to Christen his Own Child first, which is but the way of the World. But I thought it very hard, that his Fondness to his own way, should make him (in crying up his own) fall so severely upon all others; proclaiming his own for an Exact and Stan­dard Translation, close to the Words and Sence of the Author, which must be so, lest it should happen, (as he says it does in all Paraphra­ses) That the Sense and Spirit of the Author be quite deaded and lost; Adding further, that When any presume to Rank and Inter­mix their sense and thoughts with those of the Noble Roman Au­thors, they look like Patches of homely Woollen on the Richest Silks; this Modern Age producing no Genius like theirs, and there­fore their Imaginations must be Unequal, and short of the Author's. [Page] A very fine Complement put upon this Age and Nation, which without Vanity have produced Men Eminent and Learned in all Arts and Sciences, and all ma [...]ner of Learning, surpassing the last preceding Ages, and beyond the pitch of other Nations. And as for Poetry, being the matter in Question, I will only instance Mr. Cowley, who perhaps had as great a Genius in all sorts of Poetry, both Latin and English, as any one of the Ancients: But, it seems, he would Monopolize and Confine the Wit of this Age (like the Caballistical Learning of the Jews) to a Club of his Acquaintance, who (it seems) are no professed Poets, but choice Spirits, and by much the greatest Wits in England, and so transcen­ding others, that he thinks England never produced the like in any Age.

This frank way of dealing with the World, and imposing his own Fancy for Laws on others, led me to consider how my Friend had gone through with the Irksome drudgery of his Translation; and how his Genius had comported with so mean an Imployment, not doubting but he had nicely observed those Rules he had so Magisterially laid down for others, and in Modesty had forborn to mingle any Thought of his own with his Noble Roman Author, which might possibly nauseate our stomachs like Wine of two tasts; presuming he had surpassed the Elaborate Translations of Stapleton and Holliday; of which I will not pretend to judge: When upon Perusal, I found he had not strictly followed his Author, but made bold to Paraphrase and Embroider his Author's Rich Silken Garment with homely Woollen Patches of his own, I shall instance only in [...]our Verses, being the first that came to Hand, the two first taken out of his Son's Translation of Cato's Speech, printed before his Translation; the later two Verses being in the First Page of his Satyr, and printed with a different Character, to denote something extraordinary,

In Cato's Speech:

Haeremus Cuncti superis: which he renders thus:
We all on God, as parts of him, depend;
There does the Mighty Chain begin and end.

Now I would have our nice Translator point out where the Author so much as hints any thing of this Mighty Chain; or instruct his tolerable Grammarian where to find it: which Chain must (like Jacob's Ladder) be Mighty enough to reach from Earth to Heaven: Of which I can find no more in our Author, than of a Cable or Sheet-Anchor. Besides, it will allow of a Dispute, whether God has any Parts.

The other Instance is in the First Page of his Satyr:

Cantabit vacuus coram latrone viator.
Which he Translates thus:
While the Poor man void of all Precious things,
In company of Thieves, joggs on and sings.

Which Mr. Holliday has more truly and comprehensively translated in One Verse, thus: ‘[Page] Before the Thief, who travels empty, Sings.’

There was no necessity the Authors Traveller should be a Poor Man; for if he had nothing of Value about him, he might sing without Fear, though he were Wealthy at home: And if we allow him a Poor Man we might guess he was Void of all Precious things. Which word Void is very seldome used in the sence there intended: May be the Poor Man voided his precious Stones long before he came into the Thieves Company, that the Capon might sing the sweeter in his Journey. Besides, I can per­ceive nothing in the Author that warrants that Heroick Phrase, (joggs on.) The Author's meaning is, that the empty Traveller having no cause of Fear, might sing before the Thief: Yet there is no necessity he should Jog on in Company of Thieves, who perhaps had other Designs on foot, than to listen to his Melody. But I suppose, the next time he will mend his Hand, and not brew and dash his Verse, till 'tis like Wine of two tasts, that when we have pallated the New, we shall have no reason to say the Old is better. Let Milo in the Satyr be an Example to him, not to presume too much on his own strength, despising others, lest being wedged in a trap of his own making, he become a Prey to the merciless Criticks.

And thus much I thought my self obliged to say upon this occasion, since the Translator was not only content slyly to top his Translation upon his Friend; but by way of Anticipation, would arrogantly cry down all but his own Translati [...]n.

I should now say something for this Essay of mine, which I never de­signed for a just Translation, though I have alwaies kept the Author in my Eye, and not willingly rambled too far from him, (except in the De­scription of the Praetor and his Equipage) which was too stubborn to work into my Verse, endeavouring to make his sence, English, and such as is now currant; All Satyr having a strong taste of the Humour and parti­cular Hints of the Times wherein they were writ, which is indeed the Life and Beauty of Satyr. And I am the more confirmed in the Opinion of my way, since I have read a V [...]rbal Translation, done by so able a hand as Mr. Shadwell's. In mine I have rather imitated that Admirable Tran­slation of Quevedo, that gives Life and Spirit to his Author, by making him English, in a Modish and Familiar way, which I hope you will ap­prove of, and excuse▪

H. HIGDEN.

I have in the End of the Book Printed a New Translation of Cato's Speech in Lucan, done, and sent me by an unknown Hand, though in the Printing it has met with some alterations: For which, I beg the Author's Pardon; submitting his Poem and my Satyr as Foyls to Mr. Shadwell's; being desirous to Play one Fragment against another.

JUVENAL's TENTH SATYR, Made English.

SUrvey Mankind, (1) muster the Herd
From smoothest Chin to deepest Beard;
Search every Climate, view each Nation,
from lowest to the highest Station;
From Eastern to the Western Indies,
From frozen Poles to'th Lyne that sindges:
Scarce will you find one Mortal Wight
Knows Good from Ill, or Wrong from Right,
[Page 2] 'Cause clouds of Lust and Passion blind
And bribe with Interests our Mind;
And while they Combat in our heart,
Our Fondness crowns the conqu'ring part.
What is the thing under the Sun,
That we with Reason seek or shun?
Or Justly by our Judgment weigh'd,
Should make us fond of, or afraid?
What 'ere is luckily begun
Brings sure Repentance at long-run.
The distant Object loomeing great,
A term of Art at Sea, signifying the appearance of a Vessel at a distance.
Possest, proves oft an empty Cheat;
And he who wins the wish't for prize
A trouble often dearly buyes.
[Page 3] Some for their Family importune
And beg their ruin for a Fortune.
The Courteous Gods granting their Prayers,
Have intayl'd Curses on their Heirs.
Of Wizards some inquire their doom
Greedy to know Events to come
And by their over Caution run
On the same Fate they strove to shun:
Some have petition'd to be great
And eminent in Church and State;
This in the Warrs a famous Leader,
T'other at Bar a cunning Pleader;
The Cause on either side ensure yee,
By dint of noyse stun Judge and Jury:
[Page 4] And if the business won't bear water
Then banter and perplex the matter.
But their obstrep'rous Eloquence
Has fail'd ev'n in their own defence;
And saving others by Harranguing
Have brought themselves at last to hanging.
(2) Milo presuming on his strength
Caus'd his own destiny at length.
The greedy care of heaping Wealth
Damns many a Soul and ruins Health,
And in an Apoplectick Fitt
Sinks them down right into the pitt.
How many Upstarts crept from low
Condition, vast possessions show?
[Page 5] Whose Estate's audit so immense
Exceeds all Prodigal Expence.
With which compare that Spot of Earth,
To which these Mushroms owe their Birth:
Their Mannours to Dads Cottage show,
As Greenland Whales to Dolphins do.
In (3) Neroe's Plotting dismal times
Riches were judg'd sufficient Crimes.
First swear them Traytors to the State,
Then for their pains share their Estate.
Fat forfeitures their Toyles reward:
Poor Rogues may pass without regard.
Some are hook'd in for Sense and Wit,
And some Condemn'd for want of it.
[Page 6] The over-rich Longinus (4) dyes:
His bright heaps daz'led Envious eyes.
Neither could deep Philosophy,
Wisdome, desert, or Piety
Rich Seneca (5) from his Pupil save,
'Tis fit he send him to a Grave,
And then resume the wealth he gave.
The Guards the Pallaces beset,
For Noble Game they pitch their net:
While from Alarms and Pangs of fear,
Securely sleeps the Cottager.
If you by night shall happen late,
To Travail with a Charge of Plate;
With watchful eyes and panting heart,
Surpriz'd, each Object makes you Start:
[Page 7] While Rack'd with doubts, opprest with fear,
Each Bush does an arm'd Thief appear:
A shaken reed will Terrour Strike,
Mistaken for a brandish'd Pike.
Before the Thief, the empty Clown
Sings unconcern'd and Travailes on.
With warm Petitions most men ply
The Gods, their Baggs may multiply;
That riches may grow high and ranck
Out swelling others in the Bank.
But from plain wood and earthen Cupps,
No poyson'd draught the Peasant supps.
Of the Gold Goblet take thou care,
When sparkling wine's spic'd by thy heir:
[Page 8] Then who can blame that brace of Wisemen
That did in diffring moods despise men:
Th' old merry Lad saunters the Streets,
And laughs, and drolls at all he meets:
For Pastime rallys, flouts, and fools 'em,
Shamms, banters, mimicks, ridicules 'em.
The other Sage in maudling wise,
Their Errors mourns with weeping Eyes.
Dull Fools with ease can grin and sneere,
And Buffoons flout with sawcy jeere.
What sowrce could constant Tears supply,
To feed the sluces of each Eye!
Or t'others merry humour make,
His spleen continually to shake?
[Page 9] Since the rude Thracian in his City
Ne're saw procession half so pretty,
As modern Pageantry and State
Does on our City - Triumphs wait;
Than which no Interlude is gayer,
Whilst Sword and Cap usher the Mayor;
A Cap that does with Heads dispense
Without regard of Brains or Sense:
And whose mysterious Power translates
Mechanick Furs to Potentates,
From weighing Plumbs, to ballance States.
So Mayor and Aldermen from Stalls
Wiser than Pope
L. Ch. J. Scroggs at Jesuits Tryal.
and Cardinals,
[Page 10] From Shop to Bench with inspired Noddle
The Body Politick does waddle;
Where President mute Judge hears Cause
That Statute never read nor Laws.
So Rablais Gown conveys his spirit
To all succeeding Quacks that wear it.
Thus Furs, more proud than E [...]yn, muster,
Gilt Jack-Chains give the Faction Luster;
Whilst the whole Livery attend,
Banners and Trophies without end:
Of honour'd Guests a Cavalcade
Whose Friendship by the Treat is made;
[Page 11] By flowing Bowls and City Custard
T'huzzahs and Io Paeans fluster'd.
Thus haughty Mayor without a Charter
Looks big, as if install'd 'oth' Garter:
Their Leaden Sword and Mace may swagger;
But the wise State secur'd their Dagger.
For Children and unskilful fools
Cut their own fingers with edg'd-tools.
Could he in sober honest times
With sharp conceit tax pet [...]y crimes!
And every where amongst the rout
Find follyes for his Wit to flout:
Which, proves that Goatham and grose Clymes
Produce prodigious Wits sometimes.
[Page 12] The Joys and fears of the vain crowd,
And whimp'ring tears hee'd jeer aloud;
Wisely secure, Fortune deride
By Foppish Mortals Deify'd;
Bid her behang'd, and laugh at Fate
When threatned at the highest rate;
Whilst Fools for vain and harmful things
Pour out their Prayers and Off'rings,
Fastning Petitions on the (7) Knees
Of their regardless Deityes.
For place and power how many men vy
Procuring mortal Hate and Envy;
[Page 13] Heralds long winded Titles sound
Which the vain owners oft confound.
Down go their Statues in disgrace;
The Party hangs up in the place.
In rage they break Chariot triumphant,
Because a Knave first set his rump ont:
Poor Horses suffer for no fau't
Unless by bungling work-men wrought.
The Founders Fournace grows red hot,
Sejanus (8) Statue goes to pot:
That Head lately ador'd, and reckond
In all the Universe the Second,
Melted new forms and shapes assumes,
Of Pispots, Frying-pans, and Spoons:
[Page 14] The Crowd o'rejoy'd that Caesar's living
Petition for a new thanksgiving.
How the base Rout insult to see
Sejanus dragg'd to Destiny!
Cryes one, that fellow I ne're brook'd,
How down and hangingly he look'd!
What blobber lips the rascal shew'd?
I told you hee'd ne're come to good.
But what's his Crime, or how detected?
That Question wholly is neglected:
What Evidence or Judges sit?
Pshaw, waw, that matters not a whit?
When so apparent was his Crime,
A formal process would lose time.
[Page 15] Long letters were from (9) Capra sent
By Caesar to the Parliament,
With orders not to be disputed,
The Traytor should be executed.
'Tis very well, th' other reply'd
Your servant Sir, I'me satisfy'd.
What thought the Mobile the while?
Nothing; tame animals they smile:
Contentedly drive with the Tyde
And alwayes hate the suffering side.
Had Fortune own'd Sejanus part,
And with success had crown'd his art:
And our young States-man had the hap
To've ta'ne the old (10) Fox in his trap:
[Page 16] Then our successful Favorite
The World had own'd to've been i'th' right:
The fawning Rabble had that hour
Saluted him their Emperour.
Poor Roman fools since ancient date
Can Sell no voices in the State;
Now freed from Care, and living idle
Are taught to bite upon the Bridle.
Who once Dictators, Consuls, chose,
And did all Offices dispose,
Pass now ingloriously their dayes,
And meanly beg for Bread and Playes.
'Tis said Warrants are out to seise
Many and great Accomplices.
[Page 17] Likely; the Prince his Rage does burn as
Outragiously as fire in Furnace.
At Mars his Shrine I met Brutidius
With ghastly looks, all pale, and hideous,
Since the ill-manag'd Plot took vent
His looks declare his discontent,
As if for game ill play'd he meant,
Like Ajax to anticipate
With his own hands his ling'ring Fate.
But to wipe off suspition
On our part, let's to Tyber run;
While on the Banck the Corps does ly
Trample on Caesars Enemy.
[Page 18] But 'twill do wis [...]ly our whole Crew
Of Servants should the action veiw;
That Friends and Foes may testify
How we abhor disloyalty.
The murm'ring vulgar at this rate
Did of the fal'n Sejanus prate:
Would you on these Conditions, Sir,
Be Favourite and Prime-Minister,
As was Sejanus? Stand possest
Of Honours, Power and Interest▪
Dispose supream Commands at will,
Promote, disgrace, preserve, or kill:
Be guardian to a careless King
Who in all pleasures takes his swing:
[Page 19] Cloyst'red in Bawdy Grots and Cellers,
With Pimps, Buffoones, and Fortune-Tellers.
Have Foot and Horse-Guards, the Command
Of Armys both by Sea and Land.
Why not? Though Good-men would not kill,
Yet in their pow'r they'd have it still:
What Pleasure can so tickle sense;
Sharp pains and Grief to recompense,
What happy or exalted State,
But is o're ballanc'd by Ill Fate?
Would not you rather ask in Prayer,
To be some Petty Country Mayor:
There domineer, and when your Pleasur's,
Condemn light weights, & break false measures.
[Page 20] Though meanly clad in safe estate
Then choose Sejanus Robes and Fate.
Sejanus then we must conclude
Courting his Bane, mistook the Good.
For he who from a mean estate
Vast Honours did accumulate,
And endless Riches, which enable
To build his Fortune high as Babel,
And brav'd the World; by weight too large
Did th' high pil'd Storyes overcharge:
Whence shockt with storms the reeling weight
The owner did precipitate,
And Signaliz'd Ambitions Fate.
[Page 21] Crassus and Pompeys fate of old
The truth of this sure Maxime told:
And his who first bow'd Romes Stiff neck,
And made the World obey his beck,
By Subtil ways and arts aspir'd
And Sov'reign sway at length accquir'd;
While the Malignant Heavens decreed,
His own desires should make him bleed;
Tyrants with some untimely end
To Proserpines black Court descend.
The Novice in his Accidence,
Dares pray his Wit and Eloquence
May Rival Roman Cicero's (11) fame
And Greek Demosthenes (12) high name.
[Page 22] Yet to both these, their swelling vein
Of wit and fancy prov'd their bane;
The Fatal cause that Forfeited,
The Ciceronian hands and head.
No pleading dunce's jobber noule,
Revenge e're doom'd should grace a Pole.
O happy Romes secure Estate,
Wherein the Translator imitates the gingle of Cicero's own Verse.
Where I was fortunate innate;
Had happily his Genius chose
To've writ such inoffensive prose;
His harmless blunt stupidity
Might Antonys Revenge defy;
'Tis safer senseless verse to write,
Than in Philippicks keenly bite.
[Page 23] A violent and sullen fate
Did on th' admir'd Athenian wait;
Whose manage Mobile's had guided
As with a rein where e're he sided.
Yet born under unlucky Stars
Sqinting untoward and perverse,
Was sent by's swarthy blear-ey'd Sire
Betimes from sooty forge and fire,
From making swords and martial tools,
To hammer Arguments in Schools.
The Trophies which the vanquish'd field
Do to the glorious Victors yield,
Triumphant Conquerours can bless
With more than humane happiness.
[Page 24] This Roman, Grecian, and Barbarian, (13)
Spurr'd to acts hazardous and daring,
In sweat and blood, spending their dayes
For empty Fame, and fadeing Bayes.
'Tis the immoderate thirst of Fame
Much more than Vertue does inflame:
Which none for worse or better take
But for her dower and trappings sake.
The fond Ambition of a few
Many vast Empires overthrew;
While their Atchievements with their dust
They vainly to their Tombstones trust.
For sepulchres like bodyes ly
Swallow'd in Deaths obscurity.
[Page 25] Behold how small an Urn contains
The mighty Hannibals (14) Remains.
Yet this was he whose swelling mind
To Affrick (15) could not be confin'd;
Though meas'ring that large tract of Land
From Tangier to Niles reaking sand:
Thence southwards to Cape Bon 'Sperance
Negroes and lofty Elephants:
Whence wafting o're the Mid-land Main,
He conquers and possesses Spain:
Restless in his ambitious mind,
Italian Conquests are design'd.
Strong Bars wise Nature did oppose
The Alps (16) thatcht with eternal Snows:
[Page 26] His way not craggy Mountain blocks,
With Vinegar (17) he eats through rocks:
Impediments by Nature cast
By art or labour are o're past,
To Italy he comes at last;
Where after Towns and Battles won
He crys, Comrades, there's nothing done,
Unless our Conqu'ring Punick Powers
Brake down Romes Gates, level her Towers,
Root up her Posts, and brake her chains,
And knock out all Opposers Brains:
Whilst our Troops scowr the City thorough
And fix our Standard in
A high Street in the City, like C [...]eap [...]side.
Saburra.
[Page 27] Oh had you then his Figure seen,
With what a rueful Phis and meine,
The Rhod'montado Captain spoke,
Doubtless your laughter 'twould provoke!
Some pencil now to paint the form
Of this grum bulk of Huff and Storm;
While Swarthy, meager, and one-ey'd,
He does his Africk Monster ride.
But what Catastrophy of Fate,
Does on our famous Leader wait!
His Conduct's baffled, Army's broke,
Carthage puts on the Roman Yoak:
Whilst Flight and Banishment's his Fate,
His ruin'd Countryes Scorn and Hate:
[Page 28] At the Bythinian (18) Tyrants Gate,
The reform'd Fugitive must wait:
And there for audience suppliant sit,
Till the Kings Levè will admit.
Neither the sword, nor spear, nor dart,
Could reach that wise undaunted heart,
And decently dispatch that Soul
That did the Universe controul:
With awful Reverence his Fate
Did none but his own Orders wait:
As if decreed by Powers Divine,
His Ring should his own Pasport sign;
That Ring that must avenge the guilt
Of Seas of Blood at Canna (19) spilt.
[Page 29] No other means was found for Rome
To be secure from fears to come,
But poor abandon'd Annibal
A weak old Sacrifice must fall.
Go Mad-man, act thy frantick part,
Climb horrid Alps, with pains and art,
To be with mighty reputation
The subject of a Declamation.
One World's too mean a trifling thing
For the Young (20) Macedonian King,
He raves like one in Banishment
In narrow craggy Island pent:
In one poor Globe does sweat and squeeze,
Wedg'd in and crampt in Little-Ease.
[Page 30] But he who humane race once scorn'd,
Gave out high Jove (21) King Phillip horn'd,
While manag'd Oracles declare
The Spark, great Ammons Son and Heir;
At Babylon (22) for all his huffing,
Finds ample room in narrow Coffin.
Man swells with bombast of inventions:
When strip'd Death shews his true dimensions.
We will believe wild Xerxes rent
Mount Athos (23) from the Continent,
And in a frolick made a shift
To set it in the sea a drift:
What e're Romancing Greek dares tell,
Greece, that for Cracking bears the Bell:
[Page 31] With ships pav'd o're the Hellespont,
And built a floating bridge upon't:
Drove Chariots o're by this device,
As lately Coaches on the Ice.
He led so numberless a Rout,
As at one Meal drank Rivers out.
The Kings-Health scarce could go about:
With many like amazing Feats
Sostratus Giddy Muse repeats,
With damp wing in her drunken heats.
This Tyrant we in storys find
was us'd to whip and Flogge the winde,
Their Jayler Aeolus (24) in Prison,
Ne're firk'd them with so little reason:
[Page 32] Nor could blew Neptunes (25) Godhead save him,
But he with Fetters must enslave him.
'Twas well he scap'd his fury so,
And was not whip'd and branded too.
He must be a Complaisant God,
Will budg at such a Bedlam's nodd.
But after all these Roaring freaks,
Routed and broak he homewards sneaks;
Abandons all to'th Conqu'ring Greeks,
And Ferry's (26) o're in Fisher-boat,
Through Shoals of Carcasses afloat;
His hopes all Vanisht, bilk'd of all
His gaudy dreams, see Prides just fall.
The frequent Subject of our prayers,
Is length of life, and many years.
[Page 33] We boldly urge these fair Petitions
In health & sickness; all conditions:
But what incessant plagues and ills
The Gulf of Age with mischief fills?
Where meeting tides of sorrows flow
As Rivers in the Ocean do.
Ugly deform'd the frightful Elves
Detested grow, unlike themselves.
Instead of skin, on their out-side
A wither'd and discolour'd hide;
They with long Nayles, like tallons claw
Their rivell'd toothless lanthorn jaw:
As a lean mumping Grandam Ape
Her hollow wrinkled chops doth scrape,
[Page 34] Bright glorious Youth inchants our sight
With various objects of delight;
This a more handsome face can show
Than that tall graceful well-shap'd Beau:
In song and dance this spark is rare,
He Fences, Rides, Vaults, flings the Bar.
No diffr'ing forms our fancy strike,
In extream age, they're all alike;
Weak trembling voice, their hair all shed
Off from their paralitick head.
Th'old Dotard to new Childhood comes,
A dripping Nose, and toothless Gums:
While his loath'd painful Dreggs of Life
Nauseat his Children and his Wife;
[Page 35] So loath'd, makes ev'n the Stomack rise
Of Rogues, who fawn for Legacies.
Their Pallat's gon, nor Wine, nor Meat▪
Can please their no Tast when they eat.
Nor Beauty moves, nor Cupids dart:
Forgetfulness has seiz'd that part.
Long since he there has been bewitcht,
'Tis a longe Age since last he itcht.
Obsequious hand cannot excite
The bafled Craven to the fight;
From hoary loynes, and sapless trunk,
In vain strives the industrious punk
To raise the nerve quite num'd and shrunk.
[Page 36] In Limberhams, if Will survive,
The impotents new ways contrive:
Having exhausted Natures Source
To filthy arts will have recourse.
His Hearing next is lost, what joys
Can he receive from Minstril Boys:
Once in their Golden Liv'rys, lac'd,
Before retrenchment had uncas'd:
What boots a Lesson on the flute,
Or if
A Person famous for his Skill and Hand on the Lute.
La' Tou'r should touch his Lute.
If he would pass his time at th' Opera,
'Tis all to him an idle Foppery;
Since plac'd either remote or near,
No Actors voice can reach his ear.
[Page 37] He scarcely hears the neighbr'ng noyse,
Of Cornets, Trumpets, or Ho-boyes.
His servant in his ear must hollow
Who visits, or what hour does follow.
Through his chill veins, no pulse does beat
Lifes march; them only Feavers heat;
All Maladies unite their force,
Besieging round his rotten course.
And should I strive of each disease,
To give the names and qualities.
I'de sooner muster all the kept
Stallions have cast Aurelia lept:
Reckon those Quacks last Autum kild;
And graves by
The new-found-wells at Isling­ton so called.
Lousy-Tunbridge fill'd.
[Page 38] What fellow Subjects were for Gold,
As Slaves, by needy Vice-Roy sold.
Each heir by dice, drink, whores, or masking
Or Stistead brought unto the
The Cant word for a Prison.
Naskin;
Or Gallants Back in am'rous play,
Mall Hinton dreyn'd dry in a day:
Count every School boy, name each Child
By Chickin-treading Pedant spoyl'd.
Survey each Lordly Seat and Mannour
Possest by valet Pimp of Honour.
For Pains in back and knees this cryes;
This mourns the loss of both his eyes;
Envyes the pu [...]-blind; with pale lips,
From others fingers feeds and sipps:
[Page 39] With mouth wide ope like barrel bung,
Or gapeing bill of swallows young;
To whom the hungry Old-one brings
The hunted prey with Joyful wings.
But the num'd brains stupidity,
Does all the members loss out-vy:
When th' Organs of the mind shall leave,
To do their Office, and bereave
Of Memory, then they forego,
The knowledge both of friend and foe;
Forget their Ancient Servants quite,
And friends with whom they supp'd last night;
Their Children they no longer know;
And by unnat'ral Will bestow
[Page 40] Their goods, on their lewd Cockatrice,
Whose Mouth's the very sink of Vice:
So much it's artifice prevails,
Above all Charms of wanton Tailes.
Who many years at Whetstone ply'd,
Morefields and other Stews beside;
At Brothel doors stood wheedling in
Unwary Woodcocks to the Gin;
If the Minds faculties continue
Firm, and in age still vigorous in you,
What troubles must afflict your thoughts,
While your lov'd children crowd Church-vaults
Ush'red by you, Wives, Brothers, come
To Natures dark retiring room.
[Page 41] Nor can your care or sorrow save
Your belov'd Sisters from the Grave.
These are the Comforts always wait
On those who long defer their Fate.
Still the fresh slaughter of their House
Malitiously their grief renews:
While cruel providence decreed
They must grow old in mourning weed.
Death Nature's debt, where long delay'd
With cruel Usury is paid.
King (27) Nestor, Homers Records show
In length of life, came next the Crow,
Wore out more lives, as story's told,
Than Cat, Intayl, or Copy-hold.
His happy years were justly wondred,
That had surviv'd above three hundred.
[Page 42] Bore Winters Frosts, and Summers thirst,
As oft drank wine upon the must.
See in what melancholly strains,
Of the three Sisters he complains;
Why they should spin his Thread so tough
Of cursed everlasting stuff:
Harsh Laws! when the surviving Sire
Waits bearded Son to fun'ral fire.
In rage expostulates why he
Survives to so much misery:
And for what Sin of his, the Ha [...]e
Of Heavens Decrees such lingring Fate:
So Peleus for Achilles (28) c [...]y'd,
Snatch'd in the Temple from his Bride,
Death in the nick the Banes deny'd:
[Page 43] Ulysses aged Sire did moan
The ten years ramble of his Son:
Priam (29) had dy'd a happy shade
E're Troy had been in rubbish lay'd.
His mournful Rites with Pomp and State,
Perform'd by peaceful Magistrate;
His Corps born up by Hectors shoulder,
(Than whom, no Mortal e're was bolder)
And's fifty Sons, tall Bully-Rocks,
As ever sprung from Kingly Stocks.
E're Fair Cassandra Fate fore-knowing
Bewayl'd sack'd Troy, with eyes o're-flowing;
Had he been dead as any Herring,
E're Paris went a privateering;
[Page 44] For Whores and Plunder play'd leud Tricks,
Which to the Gutts provok'd the Greeks.
Who Clubbing in Revenge o're-turn'd
Their State, and Pyrat-City burn'd:
At last the trembling King throw's by
His Turbant, and to's arms does fly;
Buckles on's harness, and invirons
His▪ weak limbs with unw [...]ildy irons.
And at Joves Shrine resignes his life,
As an old Ox under the Knife.
His weak-worn useless neck does bow,
Casheir'd from the ungrateful Plow.
His griefs how er'e a period found,
And in deaths deep abyss were drown'd.
[Page 45] The Gods to his grim snarling wife,
Prolong'd indignities with life.
Chang'd and deform'd to such a pitch;
Through rage, she dy'd, a barking bitch.
Why should we for Examples roam
Abroad, when choice are found at home?
The (30) Pontick King I will omit,
And Craesus taught by Solons wit.
We can pronounce none happy, none,
Till the last Sand of life be ru [...].
None justly we good Actors call,
In lifes farce, till deaths Curtains fall.
(31) Marius long-life was th'only reason,
Of Exile and Minturnian Prison.
[Page 46] Made him beg bread for his relief,
In Carthage where he once was chief.
Nature did ne'r produce of old,
Or Rome a happier man behold.
Then Marius was, when he victorious,
Procession made in Chariot glorious;
With Trophys and attending spoyles,
And Captives chain'd in ranks and files.
Had Death snatch'd his Tryumphing Spirit,
That day, none e're had match'd his merit.
Kind Fate, designing to befriend
Great (32) Pompey, did a Feaver send,
That should with favourable doom,
Prevent his miseries to come.
[Page 47] Whole Nations for his danger griev'd;
Their publick prayers obtain, Repriev'd.
Fate then that honour'd head did save,
Which she t' insulting Caesar gave.
Slow Lentulus ne're underwent,
For Treason such a Punishment:
No [...] Rash Cethegus, (33) Cataline
A Corps intire in Arms did Shine.
'Tis the fond Mothers constant prayer
Her Children may be passing Fair.
Excelling far all other faces,
In beauty and rare Charming graces.
Which Boon they beg with sighs and groans,
Incessantly on Marrow-bones.
[Page 48] Who justly blames a Mothers joy,
That huggs her wanton well-hung-boy.
Or if for joy Latona cry,
To see her pretty daughter Dy:
Yet bright (34) Lucretias sullen fate,
Shews fair-ones are not fortunate.
(35) Virginia's chance may well confute you;
Good luck don't always wait on beauty:
Th' unhappy Fair's in worse estate,
Than a Crump rich and fortunate.
Concern for handsome boys does make,
Ill-boading Parents hearts to ake.
Still dreading mischiefs when they see,
Few fair ones fam'd for Chastity.
[Page 49] Beauty and Virtue often jarr,
Joyn'd in one Person seldom are;
Though bred in honest Country Cell,
Where no debauch'd Examples dwell;
Whence Lust is banish't, Vertue sways,
As in Queen Dick's plain honest days.
Though Nature's bounteous hand should plant
All Graces that can make a Saint;
And in one modest Cheek unite
The blushing Red Rose with the White;
What ever Nature can impart,
Nature more prevalent than Art;
Yet Vice will try her utmost Power,
And Court them in a golden Shower:
[Page 50] To kidd-nap Youth will lye in wait,
And snap it er'e at Mans Estate.
So to corrupting bribes they'le trust,
They'le Parents tempt for bawds to lust:
No Tyrant will the ill-shap'd chuse
For Guardian Eunuchs for their Stews.
Or on a Youth deform'd will pitch,
To cure his Sodomitick itch.
Go now applaud thy fair Sons Fate,
For whom perhaps worse dangers wait.
Let him turn Stallion to the Town,
And dread each hair-brain'd Husband's frown.
And undergo for punishment,
What inrag'd Cuckolds can invent.
[Page 51] Ne're let him think by Wit or Care
Still luckily to scape the snare:
Surpriz'd, undone, Trappan'd, beset,
He'le fall like Mars into the Net.
Then shall revenge quit his old Scores,
And pay him home for past Amours:
They'le slit his Nose, or Crop his Ears,
And whip off Gun and Bandileers:
Dispatch with Poyson, Steel, or Bullet,
Or Fundament plugg'd with a (36) Mullet.
But thy Endimion shall inflame
None but some choice fair wealthy Dame,
By whom, profusely cram'd with coin,
His peerless Pomp shall all out-shine.
[Page 52] But when through vain Expence, or Play,
His hoarded Bank shall melt away;
He for recruit, must let to hire
His Hackney Back, to the desire
Of some old filthy Hagg for coyn,
And sell the labour of his Chine;
Then he must strip and buckle to't,
Or from loath'd Task must reap no fruit.
Whither by Nature free or base;
No Buttock's hide-bound in this case:
Or will be nigardly and grudge
A lib'ral sal'ry to her drudge.
And if he 's [...]ape these threatning Rocks,
He'le surely shipwrack on the Pox:
[Page 53] Ere throughly ripe he'l rot away,
Like early fruits that soon decay:
His small remaining stock he trucks,
With Quack for dyet-drink and Flux;
In which his Nose and Pallat fall,
Rots peice-meal, noysome grown to all;
Ends his loath'd life in Hospitall.
What harm will honest Beauty do;
He may prove Chast, and handsome too.
What did his
Hippolito.
rigid Vertue boot,
That baulk'd his Step-dames lustful suite:
What did (37) Bellerephon betyde,
When he returns of love deny'd?
In both their Queans Revenge did Reign,
Rows'd by repulse of Cold Disdain.
[Page 54] Then Women rage with cruel'st spite
When shame their hatred does excite:
When trifling Lovers seasons lose,
And kind advances do refuse:
From loath'd Contempt of profer'd love
Their Breasts with furious transports move.
Call Council quickly to advise,
Our present Case proves very nice:
Here's Caesars (38) Wife resolv'd to marry,
Nor for the Emperours Death will tarry.
She has design'd with lustful Eyes
The Noble Youth her Sacrifice.
The Priest and honour'd Guests invites
To witness Matrimonial Rites.
[Page 55] The Portion's told, the Gen [...]al Bed
With Pomp is in the Garden spread:
Does with Capricious fancy burn;
Marriage can only serve her turn:
With which, if he will not comply
He tempts his present destiny:
What shall he do? obedience give,
And that may gain a short reprieve:
Till all the Town the Story hears;
At last 'twill reach the Prince's ears.
There's hopes in that, for the disgrace
The Cuckold learns in the last place:
Then to her Will obedience pay;
Your Fate may thence admit delay,
[Page 56] If at the rate of such a Wife
you'l purchase a short slavish life.
Both ways his certain Fate's decreed
The wretched lovely Youth must bleed.
Shall men ask nothing then? be wise,
And listen well to sound advice.
Refer desires to Providence,
With thanks take what the Gods dispence.
Let not your stubborn Will repine,
What'ere they shall for you design.
They better know than human wit,
What does our Exigents befit.
Their wise all-seeing eyes discern,
And give what best suits our concern.
[Page 57] We blindly harmful things implore,
Which they refusing, love us more.
By love and blind desires still led,
Wee're hurryed to the Marriage bed:
With hopes of issue from our Love,
But Heaven foresaw how both would prove;
Forbearing to disturb our Life,
With Bratts unnatural, and dam'd wife.
Pray then, that in a Body sound,
A Firm and Constant mind be found.
A Mind no fear of death can daunt,
Nor Exile, Prison, Paines nor Want.
That justly reckons death to be
Kind Author of our liberty,
From Flesh, a Goal-Delivery.
[Page 58] Banishing Passion from our Brest,
Resting Content with what's possest.
That ev'ry honest Action loves,
And Great Alcides (39) toyles approves,
Above the Lusts, Feasts, beds of Down,
Which did Sardanapalus (40) drown.
This, mortals to themselves may give;
Vertue's, the happy rule to live.
Chance bears no sway, where Wisdome Rules,
An empty Name, ador'd by fools.
Folly Blinde Fortune did Create
A Goddess, and to Heaven Translate.
FINIS.

THE ANNOTATIONS ON THE Tenth SATYR.

1,
2,
3,
4,
5,
6,
7,
8,
9,

Cato his Answer to Labienus when he Requested him to Consult the Oracle of Jupiter Ammon.
Being a Translation of Part of the 9th. Book of Lucan; Begining a—Quid quaeri Labiene Jubes, &c.

WHat should I Ask my Friend, if best it be
To Live Enslav'd, or thus in Arms Dy free?
If it our Real Happiness import,
Whither Life's foolish Scene be Long or Short?
[Page] If any Force true Honour can Abate,
Or Fortune's Threats make Vertue bow to Fate?
If when at Noble Ends we justly aim,
The Bare Attempt Entitles us to Fame?
If a Bad Cause that Justice would oppress,
Can ever grow more Honest by Success?
All this we know, wove in our Mind it sticks,
Which Ammon nor his Priests can deeper fix.
They need not Teach with Venale Cant and Pains
That God's Inevitable Will holds ours in Chains,
Who Act but only what he Praeordaines.
He needs no Voice to Thunder out his Law,
Or keep his Creatures Wild Desires in awe:
Both what we ought to do or what forbear,
He once for All did at our Births declare:
What for our Knowledge, needful was or fit
With Lasting Characters in Humane Soul he Writ.
But never did he seek out Desert Lands
To Skulk, or Bury Truth in pathless Sands:
Or to a Corner of the World withdrew
Head of a Sect, and Partial to a few.
Natures Vast Fabrick he Controuls alone;
This Globe's his Footstool, and high Heaven his Throne;
In Earth, Sea, Air, and what e're else Excels,
In Knowing Heads, and Honest Hearts he dwels.
Why vainly seek we then in Barren Sands
And narrow Shrines, in Temples Built with Hands,
HIM, whose Dread Presence does all Places fill,
Or look, but in our Reason, for his Will.
What e're we see is GOD, in all we find
Apparent Prints of his Eternal Mind.
Let Floating Fools their Course by Prophets Steer,
And live of future Chances still in Fear:
No Oracle or Dream the Crowd is told,
Shall make me more or less Resolv'd and Bold:
Death is my sure Retreat, which must on All
As well on Cowards, as on the Gallant fall.
This said, he turn'd him with Disdain about▪
And left scorn'd Ammon to amuse the Rout.
FINIS.

This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal. The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission.