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The fearful passenger, who travels late,

Adorn your doors with laurels; and a bull, Charg'd with the carriage of a paltry plate, Milkwhite, and large, lead to the Capitol ; Shakes at the moonshinc shadow of a rush; Sejanus, with a rope, is dragg'd along; And sees a red-coat rise from every bush:

The sport and laughter of the giddy throng! The beggar sings, ev'n when he sees the place “Good Lord,” they cry, "what Ethiop lips he has, Beset with thieves, and never mends his pace.

How fout a snout, and what a hanging face ! Of all the vows, the first and chief request By Heaven, I never could endure bis sight; Of each, is to be richer than the rest :

But say, how came his monstrous crimes to light? And yet no doubts the poor man's draught control, What is the charge, and who the evidence, He dreads no poison in his homely bowl,

(The saviour of the nation and the prince?)" Then fear the deadly drug, when gems divine * Nothing of this ; but our old Cæsar sent Enchase the cup, and sparkle in the wine. A noisy letter to his parliament:”

Will you not now the pair of sages praise, Nay, sirs, if Cæsar writ, I ask no more, Who the same end pursu'd, by several ways? He's guilty, and the question's out of door.” One pity'd, one contemn'd, the woeful times : How goes the mob? (for that's a mighty thing.) One laugh'd at follies, one lamented crimes : When the king 's trump, the mob are for the king : Laughter is easy ; but the wonder lies,

They follow fortune, and the common cry What store of brine supply'd the weaper's eyes. Is still against the rogue condemn'd to die. Democritus could feed his spleen, and shake But the same very mob, that rascal crowd, His sides and shoulders till he felt them ake; Had cry'd Sejanus, with a shout as loud; Though in his country town no lictors were, Had his designs (by fortune's favour blest) Nor rods, nor ax, nor tribune did appear:

Succeeded, and the prince's age opprest. [face, Nor all the foppish gravity of show,

But long, long since, the times have chang'd their Which cunning magistrates on crowds bestow, The people grown degenerate and base :

What had he done, had he beheld, on high, Not suffer'd now the freedom of their choice, Our pretor seated, in mock inajesty;

To make their magistrates, and sell their voice. His chariot rolling o'er the dusty place,

Our wise forefathers, great by sea and land, While, with dumb pride, and a set formal face, Had once the power and absolute command; He moves in the dull ceremonial track,

All offices of trust, theniselves dispos'd; With Jove's embroider'd coat upon his back : Rais'd whom they pleas'd, and whom they pleas'd A suit of hangings had not more opprest

depos’d; His shoulders, than that long, laborious vest : But we, who give our native rights away, A heavy gewgaw (call'd a crown) that spread And our enslav'd posterity betray, About his temples, drown'd his narrow head : Are now reduc'd to beg an alms, and go And would have crush'd it with the massy freight, On holidays to see a puppet-show. [doubt; But that a sweating slave sustain'd the weight :

“ There was a damnd design,” cries one, A slave in the same chariot seen to ride,

For warrants are already issued out; To mortify the mighty madman's pride.

I met Bratidius in a mortal fright; And now th' imperial eagle, rais'd on high, He's dipt for certain, and plays least in sight : With golden beak (the mark of majesty)

I fear the rage of our offended prince, Trumpets before, and on the left and right, Who thinks the senate slack in his defence ! A cavalcade of nobles, all in white:

Come let us haste, our loyal zeal to show, In their own natures false and flattering tribes, And spurn the wretched corps of Cæsar's foe : But made his friends, by places and by bribes. But let our slaves be present there, lest they In his own age, Democritus could find

Accuse their masters, and for gain betray." Sufficient cause to laugh at human kind :

Such were the whispers of those jealous times, Learn from so great a wit; a land of bogs About Sejanus' punishment and crimes.

(fate With ditches fenc'd, a heaven made fat with frogs, Now tell me truly, would'st thou change thy May form a spirit fit to sway the state;

To be, like him, first minister of state ? And make the neighbouring monarchs fear their To have thy levees crowded with resort, fate.

Of a depending, gaping, servile court :
He laughs at all the vulgar cares and fears; Dispose all honours of the sword and gown,
At their vain triumphs, and their vainer tears : Grace with a nod, and ruin with a frown :
An equal temper in his mind he found,

To hold thy prince in pupilage, and sway When fortune flatter'd him, and when she frown'd. That monarch, whom the master'd world obey? 'Tis plain, from hence, that what our vows request,

While he, intent on secret lust alone, Are hurtful things, or useless at the best.

Lives to himself, abandoning the throne; Some ask for envy'd power; which public hate Coop'd in a narrow isle, observing dreams Pursues, and hurries headlong to their fate : With flattering wizards, and erecting schemes ! Down go the titles; and the statue crown'd,

I well believe, thou wouldst be great as he ; Is by base hands in the next river drown'd. For every man's a fool to that degree; The guiltless horses, and the chariot wheel, All wish the dire prerogative to kill; The same effects of vulgar fury feel :

Ev'n they would have the power, who want the The smith prepares his hammer for the stroke,

will: While the lung'd bellows hissing fire provoke ; But wouldst thou have thy wishes understood, Sejanus, almost first of Roman names,

To take the bad together with the good, The great Sejanus crackles in the flames :

Would'st thou not rather choose a small renown, Form'd in the forge, the pliant brass is laid To be the mayor of some poor paltry town, On anvils; and of head and limbs are made, Bigly to look, and barbarously to speak; Pans, cans, and piss-pots, a whole kitchen trade, To pound false weights, and scanty measures breaki

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Then, grant we that Sejanus went astray

Whom Afric was not able to contain, In every wish, and knew not how to pray: Whose length runs level with th' Atlantic maia, Por he who grasp'd the world's exhausted store And wearies fruitful Nilus, to convey Yet never had enough, but wish'd for more,

His sun beat waters by so long a way;
Rais'd a top-heavy tower, of monstrous height, Which Ethiopia's double clime divides,
Which, mouldering, crusti'd him underneath the And elephants in other mountains bides.

What did the mighty Pompey's fall beget? (weight. Spain first he won, the Pyrenæans past,
It ruin'd him, who, greater than the great, And steepy Alps, the mounds that nature cast :
The stubborn pride of Roman nobles broke; And with corroding juices as he went,
And bent their haughty necks beneath his yoke: A passage throngh the living rocks be rent.
What else but his immoderate lust of power, Then, like a torrent, rolling from on bigh,
Prayers made and granted in a luckless hour? He pours his head-long rage on Italy :
For few usurpers to the shades descend

In three victorious battles over-run;
By a dry death, or with a quiet end.

Yet still uneasy, cries, “ There's nothing done, The boy, who scarce has paid his entrance down Till level with the ground their gates are laid ; To his proud podani, or declin'd a noun,

And Punic Aags on Roman towers display'd." (So small an elf, that when the days are foul, Ask what a face belongid to his high fame; He and bis satchel must be borne to school,) His picture scarcely would deserve a frame: Yet prays, and hopes, and aims at nothing less, A sign post dauber would disdain to paiat To prove a Tully, or Demosthenes :

"The one-ey'd hero on his elephant.
But both these orators, so much renown'd, Now what's his end, O charning glory! say
In their own depths of eloquence were drown'd: What rare fifth act to crown his buffing play?
The hand and head were never lost, of those In one deciding battle overcome,
Who dealt in doggrel, or who punn'd in prose. He flies, is banish'd from his native home:

“ Fortune foretuo'd the dying notes of Rome: Begs refuge in a foreign court, and there
Till I, thy consul sole, consol'd thy doom.” Attends, his mean petition to prefer ;
His fate had crept below the lifted swords, Repuls'd by surly grooms, who wait before
Had all his malice been to murder words.

The sleeping tyrant's interdicted door. [sign'd,
I rather would be Mævius, thrash for rhymes What wondrous sorts of death bas Heaven de-
Like his, the scorn and scandal of the times, Distinguish'd from the herd of human kind,
Than that Philippic fatally divine,

For so untam'd, so turbulent a mind! Which is inscrib'd the second, should be mine. Nor swords at hand, nor hjxsing darts afar, Nor he, the wonder of the Grecian throng, Are dooni'd to avenge the tedious bloody war; W bo drove them with the torrent of his tongue, But poison, drawn through a ring's hollow plate, Who shook the theatres, and sway'd the state Must finish him : a sucking infant's fate. Of Athens, found a more propitious fate.

Go, climb the rugged Alps, ambitious fool, Whom, born beneath a boving horoscope, To please the boys, and be a theme at school. His sire, the blear-ey'd Vulcan of a shop, One world suffic'd not Alexander's mind; From Mars's forge, sent to Minerva's schools, Coop'd up, he seem'd in earth and seas confin'd: To learn th' unlucky art of wheedling fools. And, struggling, stretch'd his restless limbs about

With itch of honour, and opinion, vain, The narrow globe, to find a passage out. All things beyond their native worth we strain : Yet, enter'd in the brick-built town, he try'd The spoils of war, brought to Feretrian Jove, The tomb, and found the strait dimensions wide: An empty coat of armour hung above

“ Death only this mysterious truth unfolds, The conqueror's chariot, and in triumph borne, The mighty soul, how small a body holds." A streamer from a boarded galley toro,

Old Greece a tale of Athos would make out, A chap-fall'n beaver loosely hanging by

Cut from the continent, and sail'd about; The cloven helm, an arch of victory,

Seas hid with navies, chariots passing o'er On whose high convex sits a captive foe,

The channel, on a bridge from shore to shore : And sighing casts a inournful louk below;

Rivers, whose depth no sharp beholder sees, Of every nation, each illustrious name,

Drunk, at an army's dinner, to the lees; Such toys as these hare cheated into fame : With a long legend of romantic things, Exchanging solid quiet, to obtain

Which in his cups the browsy poet sings. The windy satisfaction of the brain.

But how did he retum, this baughty brave, So much the thirst of honour fires the blood : Who whipt the winds, and made the sea his slave! So many would be great, so sew be good.

(Though Neptune took unkindly to be bound; For who would virtue for herself regard,

And Eurus never such hard usage found Or wed, without the portion of reward ?

In his Æolian prison under ground); Yet this mad chase of fame, hy few pursu'd, What god so mean, ev'n he who points the way, Has drawn destrnction on the multitude :

So merciless a tyrant to cbey! This avarice of praise in times to come,

But how return'd he, let us ask again? Those long inscriptions, crowded on the tomb, In a poor skiff he pass'd the bloody main, Should some wild air-tree take her native bent, Chok'd with the slaughter'd bodies of his train And heare below the gaudy monument,

Por fame be pray'd, but let th'erent declare Would crack the marble titles, and disperse He had no mighty penn'worth of his prayer. The characters of all the lying verse.

“ Jove grant me length of life, and years good For sepulchres themselves must crumbling fall

store In time's abyss, the common grave of all.

Heap on my bended back, I ask no more." Great Hannibal within the balance lay ; Both sick and healthful, old and young conspire And tell how many pounds his ashes weigh; In this one silly miscbievous desire.

Mistaken blessing which old age they call, These are the fines he pays for living long; 'Tis a long, nasty, darksome hospital,

And dragging tedious age in his own wrọng : A ropy chain of rheums; a visage rough,

Griefs always green, a household still in tears, Deform'd, unfeatur'd, and a skin of buft.

Sad pomps: a threshold throng'd with daily biers; A stitch-fall'n cheek, that hangs below the jaw ; And liveries of black for length of years. Snch wrinkles, as a skilful hand would draw

Next to the raven's age, the Pylian king For an old grandam ape, when, with a grace, Was longest liv'd of any two-legg'd thing; Sbe sits at squat, and scrubs her leathern face. Blest, to defraud the grave so long, to mount In youth, distinctions infipite abound;

His number'd years, and on his right hand count; No shape, or feature, just alike are found; Three hundred seasons, guzzling must of wine : The fair, the black, the feeble, and the strong : But, hold a while, and hear bimself repine But the same foulness does to age belong, At fate's unequal laws; and at the clue (drew. The self-same palsy, both in limbs and tongue. Which, merciless in length, the midmost sister The skull and forehead one bald barren plain; When his brave son upon the funeral pyre And gums uvarm'd to mumble meat in vain. He saw extended, and his beard on fire ; Besides th' eternal drivel, that supplies

He turn'd, and weeping, ask'd his friends, what The dropping beard, from nostrils, mouth and eyes. crime His wife and children loath him, and what's worse, Had curs'd his age to this unhappy time? Himself does his offensive carrion curse !

Thus mourn'd old Peleus for Achilles slain, Flatterers forsake him too; for who would kill And thus Ulysses' father did complain, Himself, to be remember'd in a will?

How fortunate an end had Priam made, His taste not only pall'd to wine and meat, Amongst his ancestors a mighty shade, But to the relish of a nobler treat.

While Troy yet stood : when Hector, with the race Those senses lost, behold a new defeat,

Of royal bastards, might his funeral grace : The soul dislodging from another seat.

Amidst the tears of Trojan dames inuro'd, What music, or enchanting voice, can chear And by his loyal daughters truly mourn'd! A stupid, old, impenetrable ear?

Had Heaven so blest him, he had dy'd before No matter in what place, or what degree

The fatal fleet of Sparta Paris bore. Of the full theatre he sits to see ;

But mark what age produc'd; be liy'd to see Cornets and trumpets cannot reach his ear : His town in fames, his falling monarchy: Under an actor's nose, he's never near.

In fine, the feeble sire, reduc'd by fate,
His boy must bawl to make him understand To change his sceptre for a sword, too late,
The hour o'th' day, or such a lord's at hand : His last effort before Jose's altar tries;
The little blood that creeps within his veins, A soldier half, and half a sacrifice :
Is but just warm'd in a hot fever's pains.

Falls like an ox, that waits the coming blow;
In fine, he wears no limb about him sound : Old and unprofitable to the plough.
With sores and sicknesses beleaguer'd round : At least he dy'd a man ; his queen surviv'd,
Ask me their names, I sooner could relate To howl, and in a barking body liv'd.
How many drudges on salt Hippia wait ;

I hasten to our own ; nor will relate What crowds of patients the town-doctor kills, Great Mithridates, and rich Crasus' fate; Or how, last fall, he rais'd the weekly bills. Whom Solon wisely counsel'd to attend What provinces by Basilus were spoil'd,

The name of happy, till he knew his end. What herds of heirs by guardians are beguilid: That Marius was an exile, that he fled, What lands and lordships for their owner know Was ta'en, in ruin'd Cartbage begg'd his bread, My quondam-barber, but his worship now. All these were owing to a life too long :

This dotard of his broken back complains, For whom had Rome beheld so happy, young! One his legs fail, and one his shoulders' pains : High in his chariot, and with laurel crown'd, Another is of both bis eyes bereft ;

When he had led the Cimbrian captives round And envies who has one for aiming left.

The Roman streets; descending from his state, A fifth, with trembling lips expecting stands, In that blest hour he should hare begg'd his fate; As in his childhood, cramın'd by others' hands; Then, then, he might have dy'd of all admir'd, One, who at sight of supper open'd wide And his triumphant soul with shouts expir'd. His jaws before, and whetted grinders try'd; Campania, fortune's malice to prevent, Now only yawns, and waits to be supply'd : To Pompey an indulgent favour sent: Like a young swallow, when with weary wings But public prayers impos'd on Heaven, to give Expected food ber fasting mother brings.

Their much-lov'd leader an unkind reprieve. His loss of members is a heavy curse,

The city's fate and his conspir'd to save But all his faculties decay'd are worse !

The head, reserv'd for an Egyptian slave.
His servants' names he has forgotten quite;

Cethegus, though a traitor to the state,
Knows not his friend who supp'd with him last night. And tortur'd, 'scap'd this ignominious fate :
Not evin the children he begot and bred; And Sergius, who a bad cause bravely try'd,
Or his will knows them not : for, in their stead, All of a piece, and undiminishid, dy'd.
In form of law, a common hackney-jade,

To Venus the fond mother makes a prayer, Sole heir, for secret services, is made :

That all her sous and daughters may be fair : So lewd and such a batter'ù brothel-whore, True, for the boys a mumbling vow she sends ; That she defies all comers, at her door.

But for the girls, the vaulted temple rends ; Well, yet suppose his senses are bis own, They must be finish'd pieces : 'tis altow'd He lives to be chief mourner for his son :

Diana's beauty made Latona proud : Before his face his wife and brother burns ;

And pleas'd, to see the wondering people pray He numbers all his kindred in their uras.

To the new-rising sister of the day,



And yet Lucretia's fate would bar that vow : 'Tis no stol'n wedding, this, rejecting awe, Aud fair Virginia would her fate bestow

She scorus to marry, but in form of law: On Rutila ; and change her faultless make In this moot case, your judgment: to refuse, For the foul rumple of her carnel-back.

Is present death, besides the night you lose: But, for his mother's boy the beau, what frights If you consent, 'tis hardly worth your pain; His parents have by day, what anxious nights ! A day or two of anxious life you gain: Forin, join'd with virtue, is a sight too rare : Till loud reports through all the town have past, Chaste is no epithet to suit with fair.

And reach the prince: for cuckolds bear the last. Suppose the same traditionary strain

Indulge thy pleasure, youth, and take thy swing; Of rigid manners, in the house remain ;

For not to take is but the self-same thing: Inveterate truth, an old plain Sabine's heart; Inevitable death before thee lies; Suppose that Nature, too, has done her part: But looks more kindly through a lady's eyes. Infus'd into his soul a sober grace,

What then remains? Are we depriv'd of will, And blush'd a modest blood into his face,

Must we not wish, for fear of wishing ill? (For Nature is a better guardian far,

Receive my counsel, and securely move; l'han sancy pedants, or dull tutors are :)

Intrust thy fortune to the powers above. Yet still the youth must ne'er arrive at man ; Leave them to manage for thee, and to grant (So much almighty bribes, and presents, can;) What their unerring wisdom sees thee want: Er'n with a parent, where persuasions fail, In goodness, as in greatness, they excel; Money is impudent, and will prevail.

Ah, that we lov'd ourselves but balf so well! We never read of such a tyrant king

We, blindly by our headstrong passions led, Who gelt a boy deform’d, to hear hiin sing. Are hot for action, and desire to wed; Nor Nero, in his more luxurious rage,

Theo wish for heirs: but to the gods alone E’er made a mistress of an ugly page :

Our future offspring, and our wives, are known; Sporus, his spouse, nor crooked was, nor lame, Th' audacious strumpet, and ungracious son. With mountain-back, and belly, from the game Yet not to rob the priests of pious gain, Cross-barr'd: but both his sexes well became. That altars be not wholly built in vain ; Go, boast your Springal, by bis beauty curst Forgive the gods the rest, and stand confin'd To ills ; nor think I have declar'd the worst; To health of body, and coutent of mind : His form procures him journey-work; a strife A soul, that can securely death defy, Betwixt town-madams, and the merchant's wife: And count it Nature's privilege to die; Guess, when he undertakes this public war, Serene and manly, harden'd to sustain What furions beasts offended cuckolds are.

The load of life, and exercis'd in pain : Adulterers are with dangers round beset; Guiltless of hate, and proof against desire ; Born under Mars, they cannot ’scape the net; That all things weighs, and nothing can admire : And from revengeful husbands oft have try'd "That dares prefer the toils of Hercules Worse handling, than severest laws provide : To dalliance, banquet, and ignoble ease. One stabs ; one slashes; one, with cruel art, The path to peace is virtue: what I show, Makes Colon suffer for the peccant part. (hoy, Thyself may freely on thyself bestow :

But yoar Endymion, your smooth, smock'd-fac's Fortune was never worship'd by the wise ;
Unrival'd, shall a beauteous dame enjoy:

But, set aloft by fools, usurps the skies
Not so, one more fallacious, rich, and old,
Outbids, and buys her pleasure for her gold;
Now' he must moil and drudge, for one he loaths;
She keeps him high, in equipage and clothes :
She pawns her jewels, and her rich attire,
And thinks the workman worthy of bis hire :

In all things else immoral, stingy, mean;
But, in her lusts, a conscionable quean.

She may be handsome, yet be chaste, you say;
Good observator, not so fast away:
Did it not cost the modest youth his life,

The poet, in this satire, proves, that the condition Who shunn'd th' embraces of his father's wife? of a soldier is much better than that of a country. And was not th' other stripling forc'd to fly,

man: first, because a countryman, however Who coldly did his patron's queen deny ;

affronted, provoked, and struck himself, dares And pleaded laws of hospitality?

not strike a soldier ; who is only to be judged The ladies charg'd them home, and turn'd the tale, by a court-martial, and by the law of Camillus, With shame they redden'd, and with spite grew which obligas himn not to quarrel without the pale.

trenches; he is also assured to have a speedy T'is dangerous to deny the longing dame ;

hearing, and quick dispatch: whereas, the townsShe loses pity, who has lost her shame.

man or peasant is delayed in bis suit by frivolous Now Silius wants thy counsel, gives adrice; pretences, and not sure of justice when he his Wed Cæsar's wife, or die; the choice is nice. heard in the court : the soldier is also priviHer cornet-eyes she darts on every grace;

leged to make a will, and to give away his and takes a fatal liking to his face.

estate, which he got in war, to whom he plases, Adorn'd with bridal pomp she sits in state ;

without consideration of parentage, or relations; T'he public notaries and aruspex wait :

which is devicd to all other Romans. This satire The genial bed is in the garden drest:

was written by Juvenal, when he was a come The portion paid, and every rite exprest,

mander in Egypt : it is certainly his, though! which in a Romaa, marriage is profi st.

think it not unished. And if it be well obsetvedy



you will find he intended an invective against a Or if my debtors do not keep their day,
standing army.

Deny their bands, and then refuse to pav.;
I must, with patience, all the terms attend,
Among the common causes that depend,

Till mine is callid; and that long look'd-for day Wyat vast prerogatives, my Gallus, are

"Js still encimber'd with sone new delay : Accruing to the mighty man of war!

Perhaps the cloth of state is only spread, For, if into a lucky camp I light,

Some of the quorum may be sick a-bed ; Though raw in arms, and yet afraid to fight, That judge is hot, and doffs his gown, while this Befriend me, my good stars, and all goes right: O'er night was bowsy, and goes out to piss :

So One happy hour is to a soldier better,

maly rubs appear, the time is gone Than mother Juno's recommending letter,

For hearing, and the tedious suit goes on : Or Venus, when to Mars she would p efer

But buff and belt-men never know these cares, My suit, and own the kindness done to her. No time, nor trick of law their action bars : See what our common privileges are:

Their cause they to an easier issue put : As, first, no saucy citizen should dare

They will be heard, or they lug out, and cut. To strike a soldier, nor, when struck, resent

Another branch of their rerenne still The wrong, for fear of tarthar punishment : Remains, beyond their boundless right to kill, Not though his teeth are beaten out, his eyes Their father yet alive, impower'd to take a will. Hang by a string, in bumps his forehead 'rise, For, what their prowess gaind the law declares Shall he presume to mention his clisgrace,

Is to themselves alone, and to their heirs : Or beg amends for his demolish'd face.

No share of that goes back to the begetter, A bootrd j: dge shall sit to try bis cause,

But if the son fights well, and plunders better, Not by the statute, but by martial laws;

Lik stout Coranus, his old shaking sire
Which old Camillus oriler'd, to confine

Does a remembrance in his will desire :
The brawls of soldiers to the trench and line : Inquisitive of fights, and longs in vain
A wise provision ; and froin thence 'tis clear, To find him in the number of the slain :
That officers a soldier's cause should hear:

But still be lives, and, rising by the war,
And, taking cognizance of wrongs receiv'd, Enjoys his gajas, and has enough to spare :
An honest man may hope to be relier'd.

For 'tis a noble general's prudent part So far 'tis well: but with a general cry,

To cherish ralour, and reward desert : The regiment will rise in mutiny,

Let him be daub'd with lace, live high, and whore; The freedom of their fellow-rogue demand, Sometiines be lousy, but be never poor. And, if refus'd, will threaten tu disband. Withdraw thy action, and depart in peace; The remedy is worse than the disease : This cause is worthy him, who in the ball

Would for his fee, and for his client, bawl :
But wouldst thou, friend, who hast two legs alone,
(Which, Heaven be prais'd, thou yet may'st call
thy own)

Would'st thou, to run the gauntlet, these expose
To a whole company of hob-nail'd shoes?
Sure the good-breeding of wise citizens

Should teach them more good-nature to their shins.
Besides, whom can'st thou think so much thy

The design of the author was to conceal his name Who dares appear thy business to defend ?

and quality. He lived in' the dangerous tiines Dry up thy tears, and pocket up th' abuse,

of the tyrant Nero ; and aims particularly at Nor put thy friend to make a bad excuse.

him in most of his satires. For which reason, The judge cries out, “ Your eviden e produce." though he was a Roman knight, and of a plentiWill he, who saw the soldier's mutton-fist,

ful fortune, he would appear in this prologuo And saw thee mauld, appear within the list,

but a beggerly poet, who writes for bread. To witness truth? When I see one so brave,

After this, he breaks into the business of the first The dead, think I, are risen from the grave; satire ; which is chietly to decry the poetry then And with their lung spade beards, and inatted hair, in fashion, and the impudence of those who. Our honest ancestors are come to take the air.

were cndeavouring to pass their stuff upon the Against a clown, with more security,

A witness may be brought to swear a lie,
Than, though bis evidence be full and fair,
To vouch a truth against a man of war.

More benefits remain, and claim'd as rights,
Which are a standing army's perquisites.

I never did on cleft Parnassis dream,
If any rogue vexatious suits advance

Nor taste the sacred Heliconian stream; Against me for my known inheritance,

Nor can remember when my brain inspir'd,
Enter by violence my fruitful grounds,

Was, by the Muses, into madness fir'd.
Or take the sacred land-inark from my bounds, My share in pale Pyrene I resign;
Those bounds, wbich with possession and with And claiin no part in all the mighty Nine.

Statues, with winding ivy crown'd, belong
And offer'd cakes, have been my annual carer

To nubler poets, for a nobles song:



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