The fearful passenger, who travels late,
Charg'd with the carriage of a paltry plate, '
Shakes at the moonshine shadow of a rush;
And sees a red-coat rise from every bush:
The beggar sings, ev'n when he sees the place
Beset with thieves, and never mends his pace.
Of all the vows, the first and chief request
Of each, is to be richer than the rest:
And yet no doubts the poor man's draught control,
He dreads no poison in his homely bowl,
Then fear the deadly drug, when gems divine
Enchase the cup, and sparkle in the wine.

Will you not now the pair of sages praise,
Who the same end pursu'd, by several ways?
One pity'd, one contemn'd, the woeful times:
One laugh'd at follies, one lamented crimes:
Laughter is easy; but the wonder lies,
What store of brine supply'd the weaper's eyes.
Democritus could feed his spleen, and shake
His sides and shoulders till he felt them ake;
Though in his country town no lictors were,
Nor rods, nor ax, nor tribune did appear:
Nor all the foppish gravity of show,
Which cunning magistrates on crowds bestow.

What had he done, had he beheld, on high,
Our pretor seated, in `mock majesty ;
His chariot rolling o'er the dusty place,
While, with dumb pride, and a set formal face,
He moves in the dull ceremonial track,
With Jove's embroider'd coat upon his back:
A suit of hangings had not more opprest
His shoulders, than that long, laborious vest:
A heavy gewgaw (call'd a crown) that spread
About his temples, drown'd his narrow head:
And would have crush'd it with the massy freight,
But that a sweating slave sustain'd the weight:
A slave in the same chariot seen to ride,
To mortify the mighty madman's pride.
And now th' imperial eagle, rais'd on high,
With golden beak (the mark of majesty)
Trumpets before, and on the left and right,
A cavalcade of nobles, all in white:

In their own natures false and flattering tribes,
But made his friends, by places and by bribes.
In his own age, Democritus could find
Sufficient cause to laugh at human kind :
Learn from so great a wit; a land of bogs
With ditches fenc'd, a heaven made fat with frogs,
May form a spirit fit to sway the state;

And make the neighbouring monarchs fear their fate.

He laughs at all the vulgar cares and fears; At their vain triumphs, and their vainer tears: An equal temper in his mind he found, When fortune flatter'd him, and when she frown'd. 'Tis plain, from hence, that what our vows request, Are hurtful things, or useless at the best.

Some ask for envy'd power; which public hate Pursues, and hurries headlong to their fate: Down go the titles; and the statue crown'd, Is by base hands in the next river drown'd. The guiltless horses, and the chariot wheel, The same effects of vulgar fury feel: The smith prepares his hammer for the stroke, While the lung'd bellows hissing fire provoke ; Sėjanus, almost first of Roman names, The great Sejanus crackles in the flames: Form'd in the forge, the pliant brass is laid On anvils; and of head and limbs are made, Pans, cans, and piss-pots, a whole kitchen trade.

[face,

But the same very mob, that rascal crowd, Had cry'd Sejanus, with a shout as loud; Had his designs (by fortune's favour blest) Succeeded, and the prince's age opprest. But long, long since, the times have chang'd their The people grown degenerate and base: Not suffer'd now the freedom of their choice, To make their magistrates, and sell their voice. Our wise forefathers, great by sea and land, Had once the power and absolute command; All offices of trust, themselves dispos'd; Rais'd whom they pleas'd, and whom they pleas'd depos'd;

[doubt;

"" no

But we, who give our native rights away,'
And our enslav'd posterity betray,
Are now reduc'd to beg an alms, and go
On holidays to see a puppet-show.
"There was a damn'd design," cries one,
For warrants are already issued out;
I met Brutidius in a mortal fright;
He's dipt for certain, and plays least in sight:
I fear the rage of our offended prince,
Who thinks the senate slack in his defence!
Come let us haste, our loyal zeal to show,
And spurn the wretched corps of Cæsar's foe:
But let our slaves be present there, lest they
Accuse their masters, and for gain betray."
Such were the whispers of those jealous times,
About Sejanus' punishment and crimes.
Now tell me truly, would'st thou change thy
To be, like him, first minister of state?
To have thy levees crowded with resort,
Of a depending, gaping, servile court:
Dispose all honours of the sword and gown,
Grace with a nod, and ruin with a frown:
To hold thy prince in pupilage, and sway
That monarch, whom the master'd world obey!
While he, intent on secret lust alone,
Lives to himself, abandoning the throne;
Coop'd in a narrow isle, observing dreams
With flattering wizards, and erecting schemes!
I well believe, thou wouldst be great as he;
For every man's a fool to that degree;
All wish the dire prerogative to kill;

[fate

Ev'n they would have the power, who want the

will:

But wouldst thou have thy wishes understood,
To take the bad together with the good,
Would'st thou not rather choose a small renown,
To be the mayor of some poor paltry town,
Bigly to look, and barbarously to speak;

To pound false weights, and scanty measures break?

Then, grant we that Sejanus went astray
In every wish, and knew not how to pray:
For he who grasp'd the world's exhausted store
Yet never had enough, but wish'd for more,
Rais'd a top-heavy tower, of monstrous height,
Which, mouldering, crush'd him underneath the
What did the mighty Pompey's fall beget? [weight.
It ruin'd him, who, greater than the great,
The stubborn pride of Roman nobles broke;
And bent their haughty necks beneath his yoke:
What else but his immoderate lust of power,
Prayers made and granted in a luckless hour?
For few usurpers to the shades descend
By a dry death, or with a quiet end.

Whom Afric was not able to contain,
Whose length runs level with th' Atlantic main,
And wearies fruitful Nilus, to convey
His sun beat waters by so long a way;
Which Ethiopia's double clime divides,
And elephants in other mountains hides.
Spain first he won, the Pyrenæans past,
And steepy Alps, the mounds that nature cast &
And with corroding juices as he went,

A passage through the living rocks he rent.
Then, like a torrent, rolling from on high,
He pours his head-long rage on Italy:
In three victorious batties over-run ;

Yet still uneasy, cries, "There's nothing done,

But both these orators, so much renown'd,
In their own depths of eloquence were drown'd:
The hand and head were never lost, of those
Who dealt in doggrel, or who punn'd in prose.
"Fortune foretun'd the dying notes of Rome:
Till I, thy consul sole, consol'd thy doom."
His fate had crept below the lifted swords,
Had all his malice been to murder words.
I rather would be Mævius, thrash for rhymes
Like his, the scorn and scandal of the times,
Than that Philippic fatally divine,
Which is inscrib'd the second, should be mine.
Nor he, the wonder of the Grecian throng,
Who drove them with the torrent of his tongue,
Who shook the theatres, and sway'd the state
Of Athens, found a more propitious fate.
Whom, born beneath a boding horoscope,
His sire, the blear-ey'd Vulcan of a shop,
From Mars's forge, sent to Minerva's schools,
To learn th' unlucky art of wheedling fools.
With itch of honour, and opinion, vain,
All things beyond their native worth we strain :
The spoils of war, brought to Feretrian Jove,
An empty coat of armour hung above
The conqueror's chariot, and in triumph borne,
A streamer from a boarded galley torn,
A chap-fall'n beaver loosely banging by
The cloven helm, an arch of victory,
On whose high convex sits a captive foe,
And sighing casts a mournful look below;
Of every nation, each illustrious name,
Such toys as these have cheated into fame:
Exchanging solid quiet, to obtain
The windy satisfaction of the brain.

So much the thirst of honour fires the blood:
So many would be great, so few be good.
For who would virtue for herself regard,
Or wed, without the portion of reward?
Yet this mad chase of fame, by few pursu'd,
Has drawn destruction on the multitude:
This avarice of praise in times to come,
Those long inscriptions, crowded on the tomb,
Should some wild tig-tree take her native bent,
And heave below the gaudy monument,
Would crack the marble titles, and disperse.
The characters of all the lying verse.
For sepulchres themselves must crumbling fall
In time's abyss, the common grave of all.
Great Hannibal within the balance lay;
And tell how many pounds his ashes weigh;

And Punic flags on Roman towers display'd."
Ask what a face belong'd to his high fame ;......
His picture scarcely would deserve a frame:
A sign-post dauber would disdain to paint
The one-ey'd hero on his elephant.
Now what's his end, O charming glory! say
What rare fifth act to crown bis huffing play?
In one deciding battle overcome,
'He flies, is banish'd from his native home:
Begs refuge in a foreign court, and there
Attends, his mean petition to prefer;
Repuls'd by surly grooms, who wait before:
The sleeping tyrant's interdicted door.

1

[sign'd, What wondrous sorts of death bas Heaven der Distinguish'd from the herd of human kind, For so untam'd, so turbulent a mind! Nor swords at hand, nor hissing darts afár, 'Are doom'd to avenge the tedious bloody war; But poison, drawn through a ring's hollow plate, Must finish him a sucking infant's fate. 'Go, climb the rugged Alps, ambitious fool, To please the boys, and be a theme at school. One world suffic'd not Alexander's mind; Coop'd up, he seem'd in earth and seas confin'd; And, struggling, stretch'd his restless limbs about The narrow globe, to find a passage out. Yet, enter'd in the brick-built town, he try'd The tomb, and found the strait dimensions wide: < "Death only this mysterious truth unfolds, The mighty soul, how small a body holds."

Old Greece a tale of Athos would make out, Cut from the continent, and sail'd about; Seas hid with navies, chariots passing o'er The channel, on a bridge from shore to shore; Rivers, whose depth no sharp beholder sees, Drunk, at an army's dinner, to the lees; With a long legend of romantic things, Which in his cups the browsy poet sings. But how did he return, this haughty brave, Who whipt the winds, and made the sea his slavet (Though Neptune took unkindly to be bound; And Eurus never such hard usage found In his Eolian prison under ground); What god so mean, ev'n he who points the way, So merciless a tyrant to obey! But how return'd he, let us ask again? In a poor skiff he pass'd the bloody main, Chok'd with the slaughter'd bedies of his train For fame he pray'd, but let th' event declare He had no mighty penn'worth of his prayer. "Jove grant me length of life, and years good

Mistaken blessing which old age they call,
'Tis a long, nasty, darksome hospital,
A ropy chain of rheums; a visage rough,
Deform'd, unfeatur'd, and a skin of buff.
A stitch-fall'n cheek, that hangs below the jaw;
Such wrinkles, as a skilful hand would draw
For an old grandam ape, when, with a grace,
She sits at squat, and scrubs her leathern face.
In youth, distinctions infinite abound;
No shape, or feature, just alike are found;
The fair, the black, the feeble, and the strong:
But the same foulness does to age belong,
The self-same palsy, both in limbs and tongue.
The skull and forehead one bald barren plain;
And gums unarm'd to mumble meat in vain,
Besides th' eternal drivel, that supplies

The dropping beard, from nostrils, mouth and eyes.
His wife and children loath him, and what's worse,
Himself does his offensive carrion curse!
Flatterers forsake him too; for who would kill
Himself, to be remember'd in a will?
His taste not only pall'd to wine and meat,
But to the relish of a nobler treat.

Those senses lost, behold a new defcat,
The soul dislodging from another seat.
What music, or enchanting voice, can chear
A stupid, old, impenetrable ear?
No matter in what place, or what degree
Of the full theatre he sits to see;
Cornets and trumpets cannot reach his ear:
Under an actor's nose, he's never near.

His boy must bawl to make him understand
The honr o' th' day, or such a lord's at band:
The little blood that creeps within his veins,
Is but just warm'd in a hot fever's pains.
In fine, he wears no limb about him sound:
With sores and sicknesses beleaguer'd round:
Ask me their names, I sooner could relate
How many drudges on salt Hippia wait;
What crowds of patients the town-doctor kills,
Or how, last fall, he rais'd the weekly bills.
What provinces by Easilus were spoil'd,
What herds of heirs by guardians are beguil'd:
What lands and lordships for their owner know
My quondam barber, but his worship now.

This dotard of his broken back complains,
One his legs fail, and one his shoulders' pains:
Another is of both his eyes bereft ;
And envies who has one for aiming left.
A fifth, with trembling lips expecting stands,
As in his childhood, cramm'd by others' hands;
One, who at sight of supper open'd wide
His jaws before, and whetted grinders try'd;
Now only yawns, and waits to be supply'd:
Like a young swallow, when with weary wings
Expected food her fasting mother brings.

His loss of members is a heavy curse,
But all his faculties decay'd are worse!
His servants' names he has forgotten quite;
Knows not his friend who supp'd with him last night.
Not ev'n the children he begot and bred;
Or his will knows them not: for, in their stead,
In form of law, a common hackney-jade,
Sole heir, for secret services, is made:
So lewd and such a batter'd brothel-whore,
That she defies all comers, at her door.
Well, yet suppose his senses are bis own,
He lives to be chief mourner for his son:
Before his face his wife and brother burns;
He numbers all his kindred in their urns.

VOL. XIX.

These are the fines he pays for living long;
And dragging tedious age in his own wrong:
Griefs always green, a household still in tears,
Sad pomps: a threshold throng'd with daily biers;
And liveries of black for length of years.

Next to the raven's age, the Pylian king
Was longest liv'd of any two-legg'd thing;
Blest, to defraud the grave so long, to moant
His number'd years, and on his right hand count;
Three hundred seasons, guzzling must of wine:
But, hold a while, and hear himself repine
At fate's unequal laws; and at the clue [drew.
Which, merciless in length, the midmost sister
When his brave son upon the funeral pyre
He saw extended, and his beard on fire;

He turn'd, and weeping, ask'd his friends, what

crime

Had curs'd his age to this unhappy time?

Thus mourn'd old Peleus for Achilles slain,
And thus Ulysses' father did complain,
How fortunate an end had Priam made,
Amongst his ancestors a mighty shade,
While Troy yet stood: when Hector, with the race
Of loyal bastards, might his funeral grace :
Amidst the tears of Trojan dames inurn'd,
And by his loyal daughters truly mourn'd!
Had Heaven so blest him, he had dy'd before
The fatal fleet of Sparta Paris bore.

But mark what age produc'd; he liv'd to see
His town in flames, his falling monarchy:
In fine, the feeble sire, reduc'd by fate,
To change his sceptre for a sword, too late,
His last effort before Jove's altar tries;
A soldier half, and half a sacrifice:
Falls like an ox, that waits the coming blow;
Old and unprofitable to the plough.

At least he dy'd a man; his queen surviv'd,
To howl, and in a barking body liv'd.

I hasten to our own; nor will relate Great Mithridates, and rich Eræsus' fate; Whom Solon wisely counsel'd to attend The name of happy, till he knew his end.

That Marius was an exile, that he fled,
Was ta'en, in ruin'd Carthage begg'd his bread,
All these were owing to a life too long:
For whom had Rome beheld so happy, young!
High in his chariot, and with laurel crown'd,
When he had led the Cimbrian captives round
The Roman streets; descending from his state,
In that blest hour he should have begg'd his fate;
Then, then, he might have dy'd of all admir'd,
And his triumphant soul with shouts expir'd.

Campania, fortune's malice to prevent,
To Pompey an indulgent favour sent:
But public prayers impos'd on Heaven, to give
Their much-lov'd leader an unkind reprieve.
The city's fate and his conspir'd to save
The head, reserv'd for an Egyptian slave.

Cethegus, though a traitor to the state,
And tortur'd, 'scap'd this ignominious fate :
And Sergius, who a bad cause bravely try'd,
All of a piece, and undiminish'd, dy'd.

To Venus the fond mother makes a prayer,
That all her sons and daughters may be fair:
True, for the boys a mumbling vow she sends
But for the girls, the vaulted temple rends:
They must be finish'd pieces: 'tis allow'd
Diana's beauty made Latona proud:

And pleas'd, to see the wondering people pray
To the new-rising sister of the day.

LI

you will find he intended an invective against a standing army.

WHAT vast prerogatives, my Gallus, are
Accruing to the mighty man of war!
For, if into a lucky camp I light,
Though raw in arms, and yet afraid to fight,
Befriend me, my good stars, and all goes right:
One happy hour is to a soldier better,
Than mother Juno's recommending letter,
Or Venus, when to Mars she would prefer
My suit, and own the kindness done to her.
See what our common privileges are:
As, first, no saucy citizen should dare

To strike a soldier, nor, when struck, resent
The wrong, for fear of farther punishment:
Not though his teeth are beaten out, his eyes
Hang by a string, in bumps his forehead rise,
Shall he presume to mention his disgrace,
Or beg amends for his demolish'd face.
A booted judge shall sit to try his cause,
Not by the statute, but by martial laws;
Which old Camillus order'd, to confine
The brawls of soldiers to the trench and line:
A wise provision; and from thence 'tis clear,
That officers a soldier's cause should hear:
And, taking cognizance of wrongs receiv'd,
An honest man may hope to be reliev'd.
So far 'tis well: but with a general cry,
The regiment will rise in mutiny,

The freedom of their fellow-rogue demand,
And, if refus'd, will threaten to disband.
Withdraw thy action, and depart in peace;
The remedy is worse than the disease:
This cause is worthy him, who in the hall
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 friend,

Who dares appear thy business to defend ?
Dry up thy tears, and pocket up th' abuse,
Nor put thy friend to make a bad excuse.
The judge cries out, "Your evidence produce."
Will he, who saw the soldier's mutton-fist,
And saw thee maul'd, appear within the list,
To witness truth? When I see one so brave,
The dead, think I, are risen from the grave;
And with their long spade beards, and matted hair,
Our honest ancestors are come to take the air.
Against a clown, with more security,

A witness may be brought to swear a lie,
Than, though his 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.
If any rogue vexatious suits advance
Against me for my known inheritance,
Enter by violence my fruitful grounds,

Or take the sacred land-mark from my bounds, Those bounds, which with possession and with prayer,

And offer'd cakes, have been my annual care:

Or if my debtors do not keep their day,
Deny their bands, and then refuse to pay;
I must, with patience, all the terms attend,
Among the common causes that depend,
Till mine is call'd; and that long look'd-for day
Is still encumber'd with some new delay:
Perhaps the cloth of state is only spread,
Some of the quorum may be sick a-bed;
That judge is hot, and doffs his gown, while this
O'er night was bowsy, and goes out to piss:
So many rubs appear, the time is gone
For hearing, and the tedious suit goes on:
But buff and belt-men never know these cares,
No time, nor trick of law their action bars:
Their cause they to an easier issue put:
They will be heard, or they lug out, and cut.
Another branch of their revenue still
Remains, beyond their boundless right to kill,
Their father yet alive, impower'd to take a will.
For, what their prowess gain'd, the law declares
Is to themselves alone, and to their heirs :
No share of that goes back to the begetter,
But if the son fights well, and plunders better,
Like stout Coranus, his old shaking sire
Does a remembrance in his will desire:
Inquisitive of fights, and longs in vain
To find him in the number of the slain :
But still he lives, and, rising by the war,
Enjoys his gains, and has enough to spare:
For 'tis a noble general's prudent part
To cherish valour, and reward desert:
Let him be daub'd with lace, live high, and whore;
Sometimes be lousy, but be never poor.

TRANSLATIONS FROM PERSIUS.

THE FIRST SATIRE OF

PERSIUS.

ARGUMENT OF THE PROLOGUE TO THE FIRST

SATIRE.

THE design of the author was to conceal his name and quality. He lived in the dangerous times of the tyrant Nero; and aims particularly at him in most of his satires. For which reason, though he was a Roman knight, and of a plentiful fortune, he would appear in this prologue but a beggerly poet, who writes for bread. After this, he breaks into the business of the first satire; which is chiefly to decry the poetry then in fashion, and the impudence of those who. were endeavouring to pass their stuff upon the world.

PROLOGUE TO THE FIRST SATIRE.

I NEVER did on cleft Parnassus dream,
Nor taste the sacred Heliconian stream;
Nor can remember when my brain inspir'd,
Was, by the Muses, into madness fir'd.
My share in pale Pyrene I resign;
And claim no part in all the mighty Nine.
Statues, with winding ivy crown'd, belong
To nobler poets, for a nobler song: