THE VVISH, BEING THE Tenth Satyr OF JUVENAL Peraphrastically rendered in PINDARICK VERSE.

By a Person, sometimes Fellow of Trin. Col. DUBLIN.

Carmen amat, quisquis Carmine digna gerit. Claud.

DUBLIN, Printed by Benjamin Tooke, Printer to the King's most Excellent Majesty. 1675.

To the Right Honourable MURROUGH Lord Viscount BLESSINTON.


I Was desired by the Authour of this Poem, to excuse to the World his employing any time in work (or, as he would rather have it called, Idleness) of this sort; and the boldness, in-publick inscribing it to your Patronage. I cannot better do ei­ther, than by plain telling truth.

Some perplext business drew him to the Terms at Clon­mel, in which Journey, for diversion of Law-thoughts, and entertainment of time, which was not very capable of more serious studies, he took with him Juvenal, and his learned Translators, Sir Robert Stapleton, and Dr. B. Holiday, onely with the design of pleasing himself by the comparing the Original and Translations: a plea­sure truly worthy of an ingenious mind, at once to view the product of Three so great Wits employed on the same con­ceits. By the way at Kilkenny. making a short stay, a judicious Friend possest him, that Juvenal was the properest for a Pindarick Version, of any Authour of that nature. This induced him afterwards to try, how he could th [...]nk [Page] over Juvenal's thoughts that new way in English: which design he the rather cherished, because such kind of writing could not at all rival those great Names, who had already done Juvenal so much justice in our Tongue. This occasi­on truly gave birth to this Poem: and I believe your Lord­ship, as well as other good Judges, will be apt to think, con­sidering the Authours temper and inclination, such time could not have been by him much better spent.

Returning home, he reviewed what he had done, and moved by the worth of the subject, gave three Copies to Persons of Quality, known by him to be addicted to Lite­rature, (of whom your Lordship, by sending your Copy to the Press, not without great encouragement, made it known you were one) designing onely thereby, farther to invite them to the reading such old Books, which at once present much Wit, Learning, and Morality. From the Press the Papers came to my hands; and I should neither do your Lord­ship, nor my Friend justice, if from mine they did not re­turn to yours.

According therefore, to the Authours obligations to your Lordship, and that right which I have in him, I consecrate this his small Piece to your Name, not imagining it can add any honour thereto, but presaging it will from thence re­ceive both life and lustre; and withall professing, I greedi­ly look the opportunity he gave me, of publick acknowledg­ing my self,

Your Lordships most obliged Servant, Edw: Wetenhall.

THE Tenth Satyr OF JUVENAL Paraphras'd.

The Wish.1.
IN Court or Crowd shew me, who can,
From Cadiz West
To Ganges East,
That happy, happy man,
Who has a notion of the things are best,
Or things thence distant, as the East from West;
Who ev'n the worst things knows,
On whom the grossest errors can't impose;
That truly skills the plainest case,
Can tell the paint or vizard from the face,
That's capable, cou'd wishes do't, of being blest.
Such strangers we to reason are,
By it we neither wish nor fear!
Tell me what wou'd thy best of wishes gain,
Shoud'st thou thy wishes all obtain?
The better wish were to unwish them all again.
The easie Gods, granting what men require,
Tir'd with their whining breath,
Oft hug their Suppliants to death;
Ruine whole families at their own desire.
So strangely do our several Pray'rs miscarry,
When what we ask we do enjoy,
We shew how many ways we can destroy,
And in new wishes our destructions vary.
Whether we ask for Peace or War,
Alike we fare,
There's a Dilemma in our Fate,
Ruin's in this as well as that:
Ease acts in one what Swords in t'other do,
And Vice is the worse Murd'er of the two.
Many Eloquence admire,
Some do Eloquence desire,
Yet ev'n that Art, by which they others save,
Has to the owners prov'd a grave:
In some it to a swelling Torrent grows,
So wanton that it scorns a bound,
But then the very channel's drown'd,
The Tyrant stood its own banks overflows:
Best Orators have been undone,
Speaking for others, spoke their own
Funeral Oration.
Milo in strength of arm plac'd his delight,
He did provoke
The lusty Oak,
Which did return a worse embrace, and stay'd
His brawny pride i'th prison that he made,
He to his own destruction did employ his might.
But wealth does more destroy; wealth got with care,
And too much speed,
Estates which others do exceed,
As much as British Whales bigger than Dolphins are.
Oh! at what rate
Have many this way bought the worst of fate!
It was for this in cruel Nero's time,
(Under whom to be wealthy was a crime,)
The Tyrant first Longinus eyes did bore,
That he might see his Gold no more,
And then he took his life. Cassius, alas!
Thy Statue guiltless was,
And at the best but brass:
His mischief did from other causes rise,
The Sunshine of invidious Gold put out his eyes.
With guards this Seneca's Gardens set about,
The dragons cou'd not keep 'um▪ out.
This did the Lateran Palaces beset;
But Cottages were ne're besieged yet.
If thou dost travel, though i'th dead o'th night,
With the least parcel of the fatal Mine,
Though yet not tainted with the name of coin,
The watchful Club or Sword will thee affright;
Nay a less dreadful weapon makes thee fear,
A shaken reed by Moonshine is a spear:
But if thou nothing bring,
And canst not pay, none will take pains
To stab thee, or knock out thy brains:
Light purse, light heart, thou maist go on and sing.
Yet the first thing we ask, is, that we may
Be rich; nay hence we learn to pray.
Give this, give that, we do implore,
And can't proceed but saying, Give me more.
When our (a) Chests, kept i'th Temples, biggest are,
We think i'th Gods we have the greatest share;
Nay for the Deities we do not care,
We onely worship th' Idol Money there.
Yet Poverty's more safe: A plot
Of poyson scorns an Earthen pot;
Pray when did you e're hear of such a bait
Laid in Agathoclean plate?
Suspect that onely there,
When that thy trembling hands the Goblets hold,
Where gems add fuel to the gold,
And the Wine's self does seem to sweat for fear.
And now perhaps you'l deign to praise
The (b) Sages of contrary ways;
One never went unto his door,
But laugh'd till's sides were sore:
T'other his threshold ne're did stride,
But instantly he cry'd.
But laughter's easie, in scorn all are wise▪
The thing that does surprize,
Is how the other cou'd supply his eyes.
Aye, but Democritus laugh'd in Thrace,:
There were no (c) purple toys,
Distinctions of young and old boys;
No Consul's Gowns worn there,
No litters for the sound, and no close chair,
No Fasces, or High Courts of Justice in that place.
What had become of's spleen,
Had he one of our Praetors seen
Mounted on his chariot pro [...]
Fly through the Circus in a dusty cloud,
Clad in the coat that's worn by none beside
But Livery Jove, and onely then
When in his Temple he appears to men
In's Holyday-clothes, in his Divinity pride?
O're this the wight from head to heel spreads down
A Garment which might be
For breadth and for Embroidery
A piece of Tyrian tapestry,
As if he were not clad but hung with Gown:
To which he adds a Crown of State,
Made for his head indeed, but of such weight,
'Tis fitter for the Porter whom it makes to sweat.
And lest the Consul shou'd be over jolly,
Or in himself be too much pleas'd,
He's by a Partner eas'd,
A Slave goes half in all his pomp and folly,
Does with him in the Chariot ride,
And to correct his wanton pride,
Points at the (d) whip and bell that hang below,
The onely things worth looking at in all the show;
And begs his worship, now and then,
Not to forget that he's like other men:
The Eagle that before him flies,
Does on an Ivory Scepter rise;
And lest the Antick shou'd be mist by some,
Cornets sound where it does come,
And for the sight the numerous troops make room.
Next to his Horse attends a train of tools,
That all stand candidates for fools,
That are ridiculous for pay,
Peculiar friends of his bought for that gawdy day.
The Sage ne're saw such sights
Yet laugh'd at his own Abderites;
He never an occasion of mirth mist;
He never met a man,
But met a subject of a jest;
And to demonstrate that he thought all vain,
He laugh't at all the Vulgar's cares,
Laugh't at their laughter; ay, laught at their very tears:
Which shews that Worthies, who example give
To th' wiser world, in dullest climes may live;
He slighted Fortune when most discontented;
When she did fret,
To shew how much he scorn'd the pet,
To cure her passion halters he presented;
He laugh'd at her, and made her more
Ridiculous, than she made men before;
More to disease her,
When ever she began to pout,
He thrust his middle finger out,
Did in derision point at, and caldeez her.
In vain therefore most men, straingely in vain.
Beg or complain,
They but abuse the Deities
In pawning (e) waxed prayers to their thighs:
Or if 'tis not in vain, 'tis to their ruin,
Th' effect's either their folly, or undoing.
Some men are ruin'd by their being great
Envy still attends on state,
Many men indited are
Ev'n by the honours that they beare;
For many times
A crowded page of titles proves a bill of crimes:
Then down the Statues go,
The innocent Statue's punisht for the Lord,
'Tis dragg'd with hempen cord,
The Chariot suffers too,
The (f) harmless horses that can't sin or feel,
Are broken on, and with the chariot wheel.
But hark, the furnace works, the bellows play,
Hark what the pratling sparkles say!
The head ador'd by all the crowd,
The head, to which all men, but Caesar, bow'd,
The great Sejanus burns;
The fire that very face,
Which in the world supply'd the second place,
To frying pans, basins, pots, and platters turns.
Crown all thy posts, offer a bull to Jove,
A (g) white one such as he dos love;
Carry't to th' Capitol, lay it at his feet,
Seest not Sejanus dragging through the street?
The rout is mad for joy, one cryes,
Look at his face; another, mark his eyes▪
A third, you may read halters ev'ry where;
A fourth, if e're I lov'd this man, I am not here.
Who found him out? how came
His guilt to this deserved shame?
What circumstances? who informers are?
For that they neither ask nor care,
In that they're silent all the while:
But will you know? Caesar wrote from the Isle:
Is't so? enough—
But if that's all, what say the people to't?
The silly rout
Is always tun'd to Fortune's strains,
They're learned by their Tyrants brains:
Condemned men they do
Condemn, because they're so,
And whom they do condemn, they still think guilty too:
Yet that's not all the miserable's fate,
For whom the fools condemn they always hate.
Think not Sejanus worse for that;
For had but (h) Nur [...]in's grace
Smil'd on her countreyman, that he had caught
Our (i) napping fox, and him to ruine brought,
Remus his hopeful race
Had at this hour cry'd, may Sejanus live,
Rome's fondest Gods a nobler Caesar cou'd not give.
Since suffrages have ceased to be sold,
Publick thoughts aside are lay'd:
None care's who this or that is made,
Because they are not paid;
That mighty Roman people which of old
Made Kings, Consuls, and Generals,
Dispos'd of all was great,
Now such unlimited pow'r recalls,
They but two wishes crave,
But those they're earnest for, those they must have;
A little sport, a little meat:
They're Princes give 'um but a play and treat.
Listen, the rumour of the Town
Is that Sejanus must not dye alone;
The greedy furnace in Tiberius brest,
The wolf i'th fable there,
Cannot be satisfi'd, I fear,
With the morsel of a man;
It whets him, 'tis the prologue to a Feast.
Brutidius I at Mars's Altar met,
Methought the place
Was ominous, his▪ face
Was wan, and his presaging eyes
Like Suns declining seem'd in blood to set,
He look'd all over like an appall'd Sacrifice.
I fear our (k) Ajax jealous, that his cause
Meets not applause,
In's rage on every one will fall,
Worry Sheep Shepherds and all.
(l) Away, let us with speed to Tybur run,
Before the Corps be gone;
Away, let's hye,
Whilst on the bank the coarse does lye,
Let's trample on great Caesar's enemy;
But let our servants see us do the feat,
Lest they of treason us accuse,
That o're the dead t' insult we did refuse,
We had as good ne're kick, if they don't see't.
Oh! how the people comment on his fate!
Wou'd you (say they) be courted at the rate
He was, to be Sejanus, have his whole estate?
Be possess'd of all his graces?
Dispose all Martial, and all Civil places?
Be Tutor to the Prince that keeps his Court
In you Imperial Cliffe, where none resort,
Except his Gypsies, the Chaldaean band;
Great Artists! who foretel the murders they command.
Wou'd you be General of horse and foot?
And Captain of the brave Lifeguard to boot?
And why not? one may wish 'twas in his power,
Although he never wou'd devour:
'Tis fine to rule, but Grandeur's such a cheat,
The ills that thence ensue,
All prosperities outdo,
Great men are more unhappy than they can be great.
Would'st thou that great man's fate put on,
For to be murder'd in a purple Gown?
Hadst thou not better, to avoid Court, plots,
To Gabii, or Fidenae go,
What though th' inhabitants are few?
There wou'd be less deceit if there were none,
And you'd be Governour still of the Town.
Or at (m) Ʋlubrae dwell?
Famous for being Constable,
And plunder all their (n) cans, and break all their black pots.
Sejanus had what man could wish to have,
Yet was he wretched in his state,
You see he wish'd he knew not what,
And was undone by what himself did crave:
His wishing too much pow'r
And heaping too much store,
Was like a man that had a Tow'r
Which was high enough before,
But he resolv'd always to build it higher:
What's th'event of that desire?
At length it grew so great,
It cou'd not bear its bulk and weight;
Then down the Fabrick dropt, and all
The silly Builder got, was but a greater fall.
What did the Crassi and the Pompeys quash?
And (o) him that brought all Rome under his lash,
The supreme pow'r by arts unlawful gain'd?
Destructive pray'rs unluckily obtain'd.
King's lives are not more eminent than their end,
They dye in state,
To Pluto's Court when e're they tend,
They seldome go the common road of fate;
Tyrants whose hands have been embru'd,
Too too oft in others blood
Sail after 'um to fate in the like purple flood.
Young boyes just put to School, that ne're did pay
For th' learning of a Quarter day,
Attend devoutly at Minerva's shrine
To her each of 'em prays;
On all her holy days,
That to their wishes she'd incline,
And graciously please
To make 'em each a Tully or Demosthenes;
Ne're heeding that their pray'rs their ruine frame,
As great a ruine as such Eloquence or Fame.
Too sharp a wit Tully's destruction bred,
Cut off his hand, chopt off his head.
Art thou not fortunate, Rome, in my Consulate, once, (he said)
But had his Rhetorick been like that,
He might have laugh'd at Anthony and fate;
His silly Poems I prefer before
His fam'd Philippicks, which all men adore.
When saw you a mean pleader in a noose?
The fool is safe, he has no head to lose.
Th' admir'd Athenians fate too was forlorn,
He that rul'd the Theaters,
Pull'd 'um which way he wou'd by th' ears:
Under the stars ill aspect he was born,
Or educated rather
Under that worse one of his father;
The blear-ey'd Smith from Anvil, Forge, and Tools,
Sent his Son to Rhetorick Schools,
To learn a trade to him unknown,
A more destructive one than's own,
Alas! h'ad better been of his own trade,
And weapons of destruction for another made.
The spoils of war, a breast-plate stab'd in fight,
Worn on the carcase of a Tree,
Expos'd to publick sight,
Helmets with cars on either side,
Hanging as they were pillory'd,
A chariot without pole, flags got at Sea,
With a sad captive, whom they do retain,
To be conquer'd once again
In acting ruine; have by many been
Esteem'd as blessings far too great for men:
The thoughts of these all Generals inspire,
They Romans, Grecians, (q) Persians move,
With these they are in love,
Hence spring their toyles, these set 'um all on fire.
Thus pomp does fool the Great, who seldom do
Mind what 'tis they thus pursue;
They don't distinguish 'twixt the thing and dress:
Like children they delight
In what deceives the sight,
And onely feed upon the husks of happiness.
By fame virtue is quite undone,
Take her reward, away she's gone;
None will receive her naked to his bed,
But ev'ry body wou'd her dowry wed.
Yet glory is destructive too,
Glory atchiev'd without this (r) show:
Our Countrey has been ruin'd quite,
Sometimes to shew how two or three cou'd fight,
Ruin'd onely to make room
For Titles to endorse a Tomb,
Which must be cancell'd when th' wild fig-tree's grown:
The very Titles perish then,
That (s) tree, like th' ashes whence it rose,
Grows destructive, as it grows,
It sacks the monumental wall,
It throws down Titles, Tomb and all,
For Sepulchres do dye as well as men.
Weigh Hannibal's dust, and try how many grains
Make up those turbulent remains;
Yet this is all that mighty He,
Whom Africk stretch'd from the Atlantick Sea
To Nile, thence to the other Aethiopians,
Cou'd not contain;
To these he added Spain,
Cross'd the Pyrene, scorn'd to be stay'd
Within the modest bounds that Nature made;
In vain she did her Alps and snow oppose,
He did not care,
For Italy he goes,
He deals with them,
As you wou'd with a little Gem,
Dissolves the mighty rocks in Vineger.
Italy's taken, that won't do,
He must have the (u) City too,
So extravagant was his pride,
He wou'd accept no victory, he cry'd,
But that which plac'd his Ensigns in great (w) Rome's Cheapside.
O what a sight it was to see!
Worthy best paint or tapestry,
The mighty man from's Elephant looking down,
With his one half-sunk eye on Kingdoms that he won.
O Glory what can'st thou not do?
Thou can'st conquer Hannibal too:
Hannibal's routed, now where is his fame,
He's overcome, he flies,
He banishes himself, he's wise,
Had he not don't Carthage had done the same.
Oh the strange turns of State!
This wonderful Petitioner's forc't to wait
At the (x) Bithynian Tyrant's gate,
Attends his nodding pleasure,
'Till he thinks fit to wake, and be at leisure;
This great disturber of mankind
Cou'd not in Wars an Exit find:
Fate that way durst not come;
The Cannae spoils a remedy lent,
All the (y) rings unto Carthage were not sent,
He kep't one that was kind to him, and just to Rome.
Go, Madman, pierce the Alps, and ransack Nations,
Prosecute thy great toyes,
To please School-boyes,
And find 'um glorious Subjects for their Declamations.
The brave (a) Pellaean who did overcome
The Map, that baffled ev'ry Nation,
And after Hector'd the Creation,
Who swate, melting in tears, for waut of room,
To whom the Universe as streight did seem,
As to some the (b) Cyclads do,
Prisons where we confine whom we condemn;
For all the world to him was so:
He sigh'd, as banish'd from some worlds he did not know.
Yet when he did his entrance make
At Babylon, he found the sad mistake,
A lesser sweatning Tub did do the feat,
A Coffin held the man so great:
After all our pride and care,
Faithful Death onely shews us truly what we are.
If you believe, and you have Fame's word for't,
Mount (c) Athos was a port,
The Graecian Stories, which are very bold,
Consent and tell
Of an unheard of prodigy,
(d) Of one that made the Ocean passable,
That with his ships did pave the Sea,
And made a road for chariots in't of old.
They say too, when that Mighty Xerxes fought,
Ponds were scarce a morning's draught;
But when he daign'd to eat,
And that his Train sate seriously to meat,
The deepest waters then
Fail'd the Medes cup,
The bottoms of the rivers, they drank up,
Were dry; almost as dry as half his men.
The drunken Sostratus these things rehearses,
The subjects suit the man and verses:
But how got (d) he from Salamine away?
He that wou'd make the winds obey,
That whip'd the East and the Northwest so sore,
Instead of blowing they were thought to roar,
Not (e) Aeolus himself e're scourg'd 'em so before.
Nor did the Sea scape better than the wind,
In fetters he did Neptune bind;
'Tis thought that he had (f) branded him to boot,
But that the God was watry, and he cou'd not do't;
How e're, 'twas kind to wave the slavish brand,
(d) What God cou'd e're dispute, shou'd he command?
But how got he from the Athenian fray?
In one poor fisher-boat he stole away,
Sail'd through th' unnatural flood
Of his own Subjects blood;
Dead shoals his folly did upbraid,
The carcases his Vessel stay'd,
So thick about him they did float,
They lay'd Embargoes on his Navy-boat;
This was th' event of all his pride,
And courted Glory ha [...] serv'd many so beside.
Give length of age, good Jove, give me more years,
This with an open [...] you say▪
Your chief concern [...] in these pray'rs,
They employ all you [...] [...]ys and fears,
You speak 'em, pale as [...] that 'gainst which you pray.
And yet old age [...]'d to the heighth, you'd raise,
Is fuller fat of evils than of days;
Let an old face be thoroughly descry'd,
Look at that quondam skin, curry'd by age, to hide;
Behold the hanging cheeks disgrace,
It cannot blush to think what 'twas,
But in its way asham'd, seems to (l) decline the face.
Such wrinckles do indent the jaws,
As no Similies can essay,
But those i'th wood of (m) Tabracha,
Where in (n) cheek-pits the Grandam Ape does lose her paws▪
Young men from one another may be known,
This than that man fairer is,
T' other stronger much than this,
But Chaos-age has no distinction.
(o) Eighty makes all alike, there is no choice,
The limbs quaver like the voice,
The head's a perfect scull, no hair there grows,
All moisture in one current flows,
And the poor infant cannot rule his nose.
The teeth are fled,
And disarm'd gums are left to fight with bread;
Troublesome to his wife he well may grow,
And children, when t'himself he's so,
When the loath'd sight makes ev'n his flatt'rers spue.
All sense is gone, what signifies to eat?
You might as well remove the meat;
There is no provocation in grand Sallets,
Wine's spilt upon the (p) pavement of such pallats:
He's chast indeed, but that's no virtue, when
Nature leaves not the least remains of men:
As he tasts, just so he hears:
(q) Selencus self does sing in vain
So does the proudest of the (r) golden train,
All musick's lost to him that has no ears:
'Tis alike to him to fit.
In the Gall'ry, or the pit,
Mens voices well may be too weak,
He scarce can hear Cornets or Trumpets speak;
When he sends one t'enquire the hour,
He must the errand toll,
Just like the bell,
Must either ring it to him, or must louder roar.
Some cold blood the surviving coarse retains,
Yet no heat at all it knows,
But what it to the Feaver owes.
Troops of diseases quarter up and down the veins,
So many, if their names you'd have,
I must your pardons crave,
I might as soon that grand account adjust
Of all those (s) Hippia has betray'd to lust;
As soon unto you shew,
How many (t) Themison in one Autumn slew;
Count all th' Estates,
By (u) Basilus rook'd from our Confederates;
Or tell as soon
How many wards curst (w) Irus has undone;
Nay, I almost as soon might guess
What wealth that (x) Senator has,
Who once my Barber was,
Or count how many Farms his Honour does possess.
In age, nothing but Hospitals we find,
Here a useless shoulder lyes,
There feeble loins, there helpless thighs,
And here a wretch has lost both eyes,
And envies all that see, ev'n the purblind:
Another with his pale lips stands,
And for his mouth's supply borrows another's hands;
T'other at the sight of meat,
Without a stomack, yawns a wish,
Gapes almost as young Swallows do,
(For whom the hungry Dam does seem to chew,)
But has no appetite to the dish,
He onely gapes to shew that he was wont to eat.
Their least of ills though lye in their disease;
Such losses in respect are gains,
What's hand, or eye, or head without the brains?
Dotage is more intol'rable than these,
Their memory's gone, all past things they disclaim,
They forget their Servant's name,
Their dearest Friend's forgotten quite,
Although he supp'd with them last night;
All thought of children's gone,
Those whom they got and bred, they are unknown;
And lest you this sad truth shou'd doubt,
Their wills can prov't, their names are there left out:
Lust they remember, and no more;
Perhaps their Testament is fill'd with an old whore.
But yet allowing more than Nature will,
Say that their sense continues vig'rous still;
All they gain hence, is but to be
More sensible of misery.
Be their-House ne're so num'rous grown,
They live to dwell alone;
See to close their children's eyes,
Hear all the dismal Funeral cryes,
At Wive's and Sister's obsequies:
Like rotten Oaks, forsaken, time's disgraces,
As marks of ruine in those very places
They singly stand, where once there stood
Thousand fresh glories of a flour'shing wood;
These are the onely benefits of years,
To see beloved bodies burn,
Whilst happy, you provide the Urn,
And older grow in mourning and accustom'd tears.
Nestor, if Homer's credit you'l allow,
Outliv'd all creatures but the Crow;
Happy sure he needs must be,
Fate's sole favourite was he,
Who did so many ages breath,
If we may call that life, [...] onely is deferring death.
His blessings, sure, must needs surmount,
Whose years did so encrease,
Who drank so many Vintages,
And on his (y) right hand kept the blest account.
Will you then a little pause,
And hear how he complains of Nature's Laws;
What he to the Sisters said,
For their unhappy lengthening his thread:
Going with his Son to's grave,
When doleful he stood by,
And on the pile saw his Antilochus lye,
And flames singeing the beard none e're did shave,
He turn'd him to the mourning throng,
Expostulating the inhumane wrong,
And ask'd what sin h'ad done that he shou'd live so long.
The aged Peleus said the same,
Viewing Achilles by a Funeral flame:
(z) Laertes too, grown old in fears;
For (a) Ʋlysses did complain,
(Ʋlysses banish'd to the Main)
He coppy'd all his storms in tears,
When old, yet liv'd th' unhappy tempest of ten years.
Had (b) Priam dy'd 'fore Paris went to Sea,
Troy being safe; then happy he
Had to his Grandsires gone,
Carry'd by his (c) warlike Son,
Help'd by his Brothers all in mourning.
(d) Cassandra had decorum kept
In grief, and taught the rest t'have wept;
(e) Polyxena following the Bier,
Had rent her Gown, and torn her hair,
And Priam (f) burnt in state without the Cities burning.
What therefore did old age on him bestow?
What did longer life afford?
Onely betwixt fire and sword,
The pleasant sight of Asia's overthrow.
At this the aged Prince throws off his crown,
And having little time to live,
My arms, (says he) my armour give;
Alas! he had scarce time to put 'em on:
Yet now, rather than fail,
He trembling shakes himself into a coat of Mail;
Before Jove's altar like an Ox he's slain,
Like an old Ox grown ev'n the plough's disdain;
An ox whom men despise,
Fit onely for the Deities,
And good for nothing but a sacrifice;
Howe're in arms he fell an offering,
And onely so dy'd like a man, and like a King.
But what became of Priam's wife?
Hecuba had a longer life,
She had indeed, and had a sadder fate,
At the Greeks she liv'd to scold,
'Till by barking she grew old,
Turn'd to a Bitch by kinder nature,
Who pitty'ng her, did please
To give her soul by transmigration case
l'th body of a suiting creature,
And this was all th' event of her long date.
I'l omit forreign Stories to get home;
And wave the (g) Pontick Kings sixty odd years,
Of which he fourty spent in wars,
Onely with triumphant Rome,
In which he gain'd three famous overthrows,
Yet still he liv'd, though amongst blows,
Liv'd 'till his thread by murder broke,
'Till none beside himself wou'd give the fatal stroke:
(h) I Craesus, pass advis'd by (i) one we stile
The wise, not to commend
His fate before the end,
Unhappy he (k) outliv'd his very Funeral pile.
Banishment, prisons, and Minturnian fears,
(l) Bred at Carthage earn'd by pity,
Where we before had starv'd the City,
Took their sad rise from too too many years:
Had happy Marius dy'd,
When in (m) Teutonick triumph he did ride,
Had he had leave then to expire,
Man greater happiness cou'd ne're desire;
The world a Captain ne're had seen so blest,
Though Nature, nay though Rome, had done her best.
The kind Campania did a feaver give
To Pompey, understood he fate,
He shou'd have wish'd for that:
But publick pray'rs storm'd Heaven; condemn'd to live,
He cou'd not then resign his happy breath,
He was prorogu'd to be betray'd to death,
Repriev'd by prayers to be murthered,
He liv'd to lose his laurels and his head.
Bad men slain young, have met a kinder doom:
Lentulus dy'd not so,
Cethegus did not hence in quarters go,
Catiline burnt entire, as he wou'd have burnt Rome.
The careful Mother constantly repairs
To Venus shrine, where for her boyes
She beauty begs with modest voice;
But for her girls she is all noise:
She begs so veh'mently,
And to that exquisite degree,
Fond thing! she falls in love with her own pray'rs,
Defends, and cryes, you can't her wishes blame,
The Gods themselves desire the same.
(n) Latona her dear off-spring did embrace,
Not so much because they were
Her's, as that she thought'em fair;
Her dear Diana had a Goddess in her face.
Yet (o) Lucrece other wishes wou'd advise,
And prove from her own case,
How destructive beauty was,
What fatal Comets shine in brightest eyes,
(p) Virginia too the same declares,
With ugly (q) Rutila cou'd she
Change forms, how glad she'd be,
She'd take the burthen of her back and years.
A Son too, if exceeding fair,
Costs his parents double care,
In others love, in them he begets fear,
One chast and handsome we so seldom find,
You'd think such bodies ne're did suit the mind.
Though the House whence he took his blood
Be course and plain as the old (r) Sabines were,
And gave him documents as severe;
Nay though his disposition's good,
Though Nature has done all she can,
(Honest Nature far exceeding
All the tricks and cheats of breeding)
Though she bestows on him a modest look,
The happy Index of a well writ Book,
And with a Mint of blood his face has lin'd,
Ready in blushes to be coin'd;
When she has giv'n him all this store,
And she, though liberal, can give no more:
After all this, O Beauty's curse!
He shall Eunuch be or worse,
The world will never suff'r him to live good, or man.
So prodigal is lust to have it's end,
If the youth won't condescend,
So very impudent is gold,
'Twill with the parents correspondence hold:
To maintain a current trade,
The Father pander, Mother bawd is made.
Beauty does the youth destroy,
No Tyrant ever gelt an ugly boy:
Nero no youth, though noble, e're thought meet
For Court, with swoln throat, or club feet,
Nor any one that look'd, as though
He was with child before and behind too.
Go, and rejoyce now in thy beauteous Son,
Who therefore has more wayes to be undone:
He'l be the common Town-bull, must receive
Whatever plagues the angry husbands give;
For he can be no happier than his (s) star,
And nets, you know, trapann'd the God of war.
That punishment some greater find,
Than ever was by (t) Law assign'd;
Some men have spit 'em, others chose
To kill adult'rers with dry blows;
Some prolong their pain by Art,
And with a Mullet clyster the back part.
But your choice Son shall have as choice a Dame:
Can that a one the crime, or bail the shame?
Or if it cou'd, it wou'd not do,
Who once adult'rer is, will twice be so;
He will not onely swallow baits
From those he loves, but those he hates;
Money has charms almost as great as lust▪
He can't afford alwayes to sin on trust:
(n) Servilia, she is poor you know,
Very poor and ugly too;
Maugre both ugliness and poverty,
She wants not baits for lechery.
Her Gallant she will have,
Though in pawn her cloaths she leave:
If she be naked, what cares she?
She is then as she wou'd be.
Most others are his own, and why?
The prodigal will give, the cov'tous buy:
Whether they breeding have or none,
On this account it is all one;
Be she the morosest creature,
She'l be complaisant, and yield to this ill good-nature.
But grant him chast, as chast can be,
Grant him chast as chastity;
He may be chast, safe he shall never be.
What signifi'd th' honest resolv'd intent
To (w) Hippolytus the fair?
Lust he avoided, not the snare;
He by (x) Phaedra was accus'd
Of the incest he refus'd,
Suffred for being innocent,
He scap'd the sin, but cou'd not scape the punishment.
(y) Bellerophon was as chast as he,
And (z) Stenobaea fierce as she;
At first she blush'd, O woman-bashfulness!
A shamefac'd look, but meaning nothing less;
'Twas not from modest, that the colour flow'd,
But from her worst, from her impurest blood:
Rage mixt with lust that Ensign bore,
Nor was she loath, but cou'd not be a whore;
Women to cruelty do most incline,
But are severest when
Love and revenge in battle join,
For if they can't debauch, they then will murder men.
Pray' in this case, tell me, how you'd advise,
You know the (a) partner of the Emp'ror's bed,
She wou'd the beauteous (b) Silius wed;
The noble youth must be a sacrifice,
The flames are light in Messalina's eyes;
She waits in all the circumstance of marr'age,
Her Veil is on, the Wedding-bed
Is with the richest purple spread,
Sev'n thousand pounds upon the Table lye
For portion, (c) publick Notaries stand by,
The Southsay'r, privy Counsellor of fate,
Attends, brib'd to pronounce 'em fortunate,
Pray' will you speak one word for to direct his cari'age.
You'd think such things as these shou'd not be known,
Alas! lust seldom goes alone,
Impudence is it's old companion,
Grown bold, it scorns to do the thing it will not own;
'Twill act in form, and to defend the cause,
'Twill both corrupt the (d) Judges and the Laws.
Pray, speak, she does command him with her eye,
He must obey, or instantly must dye;
Such small hopes has he of to morrow's sight,
If he obeys not, he shall ne're see candle light;
She's Empress, Silius, why shan't you obey?
Wed her, 'tis the safest way:
But if you will prolong your life one day,
The (e) Emperor is the remoter doom,
First it must be known to Rome,
To him that's most concern'd shame last does come.
If one night's life and pleasure you prefer,
Silius, obey you her;
But choose which bad you will,
Death stands at either door,
'Cause fair, you're miserable still,
Both horns of fate alike do gore;
That neck that looks like snow turn'd into wax,
To morrow shall be sever'd by the fatal Ax.
Things going thus, you will be apt to say,
Why, then we must not pray;
Since ruine springs from our most holy cares,
What becomes then of Heav'n, and all it's train?
Either there's no such place, or 'tis in vain;
We may as well want Gods as have no pray'rs.
'Tis true, but you of both may make fit use,
If good advice you don't refuse;
Ask not for friv'lous things, or if you do,
Be not concern'd your wishes don't ensue,
Leave your pray'rs to the Gods, and they will pray for you.
Heav'n keeps a ballance, 'tis a sign
Does in a constellation shine;
In this all humane pray'rs are weigh'd,
The weighty granted, light aside are lai'd;
If you always idly pray,
You, and the Gods still fling those pray'rs away;
They know our wants better than we,
Better our necessities see;
We ask for things in which we most delight,
But they won't grant, because we ask not right:
Those things onely they bestow,
Which they both good and useful know;
They, wise and kind inhabitants above,
Love men better, than men themselves can love.
With blind impulse of soul, which we ne're heed,
At unawares
We stumble on our pray'rs;
First from the Gods a wife we crave,
Then beg increase of breed,
Which many times we wou'd not do,
If what we did desire we knew,
They know what kind of wife and children we shall have.
Worship the Gods with a religious vow,
Unto their holy Temples go,
Be just unto the Deities,
Pay 'em the tribute of due sacrifice;
And if to pray'r you are inclin'd,
Pray you may, I'le tell you how,
For a sound body pray, and for as sound a mind:
Pray for a Soul that's truly stout,
Wou'd neither let death in, nor keep it out;
But entertain it's live's just end,
With such concern and looks as 'twou'd a friend;
And 'till that, bears all griefs Nature can send.
Beg a ferene and happy breast,
One wherein no base passions rest,
As free from anger as from fear,
That all damages can bear,
So far from wishing things another's be,
It can put losses out to Usury;
That Hercules his griefs and pain
Wou'd more willingly sustain,
Than all (f) Sardanapalus's luxury;
Prises 'em more than his delicious cheats,
More than his women or his meats,
More than his beds of Down that were as soft as he.
I tell you things you to your self may give,
Wou'd you live happy, you must vertuous live:
In short be prudent, and the whole is done,
Make wisedom yours, the Gods are all your own.
But we, blind fools, no wholesom counsel take,
Blind as her to whom we bow,
The true Gods can't suffice,
We number Fortune 'mongst the Deities,
We a Heav'n to her allow,
And worship her, whom we our selves a Goddess make.


(a) THough the chests of the rich were kept in the Fo­rum, yet the particular place there was some Tem­ple, in Foro Augusti, in Mars his Temple, till rob'd, as mentioned, Sat. 14. Then in Foro Romano, in the Temple of Castor and Pollux.

(b) Democritus of Abdera in Thrace; and Heraclitus the Ephe­sian Philosopher.

(c) Praetexta & Trabeae, those Garbs partly consisted of pur­ple, and the first of them properly belonged to Consuls, and young Noblemen; the other to peculiar great Officers.

(d) For an allay to the vain glory and pride of their Tri­umphs, it was usual to hang behind the triumphal Chariot a Whip and a Bell, the emblems and instruments of the vilest pu­nishments, to which the publick Servant, who carried the ma­sty Crown before spoken of, still pointed, minding the trium­phing Person of the vicissitudes of Fortune.

(e) The Ancients, in a Tablet or some other thing, fastned their Petitions by wax to the thighs of the statue of some God, looking on those parts because procreative, as the most propiti­ous to mankind, which Petitions till granted, they left there as engagements and witnesses to such returns as were therein specified, and when granted, they took them away, and paid their Vows or acknowledgments.

(f) The Horses, that were part of the Statue.

(g) In that shape Europ [...] was stole.

(h) A Goddess of Tuscany, where Sejanus was born.

(i) Secura senectus Principis: of Tiberius.

(k) Tiberius compared to Ajax, who grown mad, is repor­ted to have slain cattle, taking them from the Grecians after his [Page 35] disappointment of Achilles his Armour; Sheep stand for the Commons; Shepherds, as is very usual, for Grandees or Go­vernours. Agamemnon in Homer is called [...].

(l) The peoples discourse represented by Juvenal, as in their persons.

(m) Three poor Villages, Gabii and Ʋlubrae of the V [...]sci [...], Fid [...]nae of the Sabines.

(n) Vasa minora frangere.

(o) Julius Caesar murder'd in the Senate-house.

(p) Demosthenes.

(q) Barbarus Induperator. The Greeks called all men, except themselves, Barbarians; whereupon Plautus several times, his Scenes lying in Greece, calls the Romans so; nay, more than once, he puts the word Barbarus alone for a Roman: 'Tis the observation of Laelius Bistiola, that in Demosthenes his time, and somewhat before, by [...] they understood the Persian King; and when the Romans came into power, and that the Arts flourished amongst them, they had the same esteem of the rest of the world as the Greeks had, and express'd themselves accordingly.

(r) Conquests in Civil Wars were allowed no Triumphs, as Lucan testifies, complaining That when the Romans might have enlarged their Dominions, and their Captains have received the particular graces of Conquest, they waved it, and fell at vari­ance amongst themselves, as he sayes, Bella geri placuit nullos abihtura triumphos.

(s) The wild fig-tree here is supposed, as the nature of it al­lows, to grow out of the monument of one of these Conque­rors.

(t) The Western and Eastern parts of Africa, in both which there were store of Elephants, from which the Poet describes the Countries, calling those parts of Africa which were in Lybia and Mauritania, aliosque Elephantos.

(u) Rome so called, [...]

(w) Sab [...]rra was the same in respect of Rome, that Cheapside is of London.

(x) Prusias King of Bithynia, to whom Hannibal fled, after the Carthaginians had made peace with the Romans.

(y) Hannibal overcoming the Romans at Cannae in Apulia, got [Page 36] so great a victory, that he sent thence as a present to the Se­nate of Carthage, many bushels of Rings, being the spoils of the slaughtered. He likewise kept poison in a ring, to prevent being delivered alive into the hands of his great Enemies the Ro­mans, which had happened when the Romans compell'd Prusias and Eumenes to a Peace, had he not avoided it by that fatal de­vice here mentioned by the Poet.

(a) Alexander born at Pella in Macedon.

(b) Gyarus and Scriphus named by the Poet, are two small Islands belonging to the Cyclades, whither the Romans banished those who were guilty of the most enormous crimes.

(c) 'Tis reported, that Xerxes did dig a channel through the great mount Athos▪ and sailed through it.

(d) Xerxes.

(e) The God of the winds, who is feigned to have a great a we and tyranny over them. Virgil sayes,—Vinelis & carcere fraerat.

(f) Mark'd him for his slave, for slaves were so used.

(d) What God, &c. A great Irony; as much as if he had said, that mark was needless, seeing the Deities could not chuse but by their own accords serve the madman, their pretended Master, who used them so kindly as is here described.

(h) A Boat borrow'd from a Fisherman, being all he had to shew for his vast Navy.

(i) Death, Like which they looked, out of a concern, and for fear of not obtaining their earnest and foolish request of a too long life.

(k) It, viz. the bloodless cheek.

(l) By, Hanging down, as if it had a desire to quit its sta­tion.

(m) A Wood near Tunis, where there is great store of Apes.

(n) Great hollows in the cheek, resembling pits, so big, that the old ape fears to lose her paws, or scarce able to reach their bottoms when she scratches, to which he compares the face of old men.

(o) Most people about Fourscore, are alike; at least no re­marks of beauty remain to make the distinction.

(p) Worn out; as the High way by long usage, and as void of sense.

(q) A rare Musician in the Authour's time.

(r) Those that sung on the Stage to please the Spectators, wore an embroidered Garment called lacerna, termed golden, from the mixture of gold in the Embroidery.

(s) A notorious Whore of that age, mentioned in his sixth Satyr.

(t) A famous Physician of that time.

(u) A Governour of a Province.

(w) A notorious wicked Guardian in those dayes.

(x) Some call him Tricinius, some Linnamus, but all con­clude he was first a Barber, afterwards a Senator, and vastly rich.

(y) Right-hand, that is, counted hundreds of years: the ancient way of counting was done by the position of fingers, as was manifest in their Statues of Mercury in the High way, which were not onely set as guides to the next eminent place by looking that way, but by the posture of the hand, signified how many miles it was distant: they reckoned the left hand to 90. the first Figure of the right hand was 100. the second 200. and so on to 900.

(z) Laertes was Ʋlysses his Father.

(a) Kept from home, by being confined by the anger of the Gods that took part with Troy, of which Homer relates in his Odysseis.

(b) Paris Priam's Son, who stole Helena.

(c) Hector The Corps of the Ancients were usually borne by their Sons.

(d e) Cassandra and Polyxena, Priam's Daughters.

(f) They burnt their Dead. Lucian gives this account of Funeral Rites; The Greek burnt his dead, the Indian preser­ved the corps with ointment made of Swines grease, the Per­sian buried, the Scythian eat it, and the Egyptian embalmed.

(g) Mithridates thrice overthrown, by Sylla, Lucullus, and Pompey.

(h) The potent King of Lydia.

(i) Solon.

(k) Cyrus rescued him from death, but he living long af­ter in a mean condition, who before had been one of the grea­test [Page 36] Monarchs in the world, may well seem more miserable for his unhappy length of years.

(l) The great Roman-Captain Marius, conquered by Scylla, fled to Asrica, and beg'd in Carthage, which had been before that sacked by the Romans.

(m) He triumphed for his Victory over the Gauls.

(n) The Mother of Diana and Apollo.

(o) Ravished for her beauty by Tarquin, she slew her self.

(p) Slain by her father, for fear Ap. Claudius should ravish her.

(q) A deformed old woman of 97. mentioned by Pliny.

(r) The Sabines were a chast and rigid people, and in the be­ginning of the Roman State, embodied with them: Numa Pom­pilius the great Emperor was of that Nation.

(s) He fancies him born under Mars, and alludes to the Sto­ry in Ovid's Metam▪ where Vulcan catches Mars and Venus in a Net.

(t) There were several Laws made against Adultery, yet the punishments inflicted by the abus'd Husband, often surpass'd them all in severity.

(u) Servilia, without offence to Commentators, may be fancied poor, who when her money was gone, gave away her clothes to maintain her lust.

(w) The Son of Theseus, banished by reason of a false accusation of his Mother-in-law, who missing her intent, wrought that revenge: he was torn in pieces by his Chariot-Horses, going to exile.

(x) Hippolitus his Mother-in-law.

(y) The Son of Glaucus, who being sollicited by Praetus the Argive King's Wife to dishonesty, and refusing her, was by her accused, and suffered many evils.

(z) Praetus his Wife.

(a) Messalina, Claudius Caesar's Wife.

(b) C. S [...]lius designed for Consul, a very beautiful young nobleman, with whom Messalina was enamoured, and thereby wrought his destruction: the story is at large set down both by Tacitus and Suetonius.

(c) These were the formal Solemnities of marriage in those dayes.

(d) Lust sometimes betrays Law-makers, and in this case was so impudent, as to abuse the Laws themselves, in the legal solemnity of a marriage, which was an impudent adultery.

(e) Claudius then absent at Ostium sixteen miles from Rome.

(f) The last Assyrian Monarch of the most effeminate.

The End.


PAge 7. l. 18. read strangely. p. 11. l. 22. r. Court-plots. p. 17. l. 2. r. want. ibid. l. 10. r. sweating. ibid. l. 23. blot out Xer­xes. p. 18. l. 5. r. taught. p. 25. l. 12. r. I pass Craesus. ibid. l. 18. r. bread. p. 28. l. 23. r. atone. p. 30. l. 21. r. this. p. 34. 15, & 16. r. Massy. p. 35. l. 26. r. habitura.

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