long or no Or Rich or Poor howe're my Fortunes go Live here at Rome or banish't take my flight Whatever is my state of Life I 'le write Well Sir I see your Life then can'nt be long Some great Ones faith will stop your railing Tongue 4. How Sir Lucilius that did first ingage In writing Satyrs and that lash't the Age And strip't our Foplings of their Lyons skin In which they look't so gay all foul within Did Loelius or did Scipio hate his Muse Or storm when He Metellus did abuse The Great-ones and the Crowd did discommend And valued Vertue only and her Friend No no They treated him and thought him good And when remov'd from business and the Crow'd Would keep him Company would laugh and jest And sport until their little Meat was drest What e're I am altho I must submit To wise Lucilius in Estate and Wit Yet I with Great-ones live this all confess And envy tho unwilling grants no less And tho she thinks me soft will find me tough And break her Teeth for I have strength enough I hope Trebatius this you grant is true Yes Sir but 't is my pious Care for You My Love that makes me give you this advice Take heed of Scandal Horace and be wise Well Sir if any scand'lously derides Then let him suffer as the Law provides If justly mighty Caesar is his Friend He loves such Poems and he will defend And thus if You a Man of spotless Fame Shall lash another that deserves the shame And He grows mad Indicts or Sues Thee for 't The foolish Action shall be turn'd to sport He laugh't and jeer'd at You discharg'd the Court. SATYR II. The Heads of the Second Satyr 1. The profit of a spare Diet. 2. The Difference between that and a sordid Table 3. The advantages of it in respect of Mind and Body 4. Against Luxury 5. Thrift the best security against Fortune 1. HOw great a Vertue 't is how a great good To live content and with a little Food These are not mine but wise Ofellus Rules An honest Man but yet unlearn'd in Schools Learn not when full or when a sumptuous Feast With show and sight disturbs the eager Guest Or else oppress and leave the easie mind Averse to Good and to ill Rules inclin'd But seek with me before that Thou hast din'd And why this Caution If I can I 'le tell Brib'd Judges ne're Examine Causes well Go take some Exercise pursue the Chace Or Hunt ride the great Horse or run a Race Handle the Roman Arms those heavier far Than Groecian Toys or else go throw the Bar Or play at Ball be eager at the sport And make thy Game seem pleasant and but short Now when this Exercise hath made Thee sweat And rais'd thy Stomach and thou fain would'st eat Then scorn to tast unless 't is dainty Meat When thirsty scorn to drink refuse to Dine Unless Thou hast the best and racy Wine Besides the Butler's gone abroad to play No costly Fishes can be caught to day The Winds defend them and the Seas are rough Then Bread and Salt will please thee well enough How so And prithee how can this be done Why Sir the pleasure that 's in eating known Is not i' th' Meat but in thy self alone Make Exercise thy Sawce let that excite For fleamy and a squeasy Appetite Nor Trout nor Tench nor Oysters can delight Yet I shall scarce perswade our curious Men Let me advise and talk and talk agen Not to eat Peacock rather than a Hen. For They are prejudic'd because the price Is great and his gay Feathers please the Eyes As if those made it better do'st Thou Feast On those prais'd Plumes And do those fill thy guest Or doth it look as gawdy when 't is drest Then since Hens flesh is quite as good 't is plain The Peacock is preferr'd for 's gawdy Train But grant some difference here yet how do'st know If this same Pike be River Fish or no Caught here in Tyber or in open Seas For Thou do'st make a difference too in these Mad Fool thou praisest Mullets vastly great Which thou must mash e're thou canst dress or eat The greatness pleases then yet all dislike Some bigger Fish and scorn the larger Pike Pray what 's the Cause of this Oh! let me see Perhaps because as Nature's Laws Decree One usually is small the other great Men seldom hungry scorn the common Meat But says the Glutton I love a larger Fish It looks so Noble in a Lordly Dish But you moist Winds now hear be kind and good Corrupt their Meat and taint their costly Food Tho 't is but newly taken taint their Bore And let their Rhombus stink e're brought to shore When plenty too profuse in vain invites And strives to raise the squeasy Appetites When the full Glutton strives in vain to eat And takes sharp Herbs before his dainty Meat We do not always feed on Sole and Bore But use cheap Eggs and Olives midst our store So greatest Feasts have something that is poor First Gallio's Kitchin infamous did grow For dressing Sturgeon 't was not long ago What had the Sea then fewer Soles than now No but the Soles did then securely rest Then nothing did but Winds and Waves molest And the poor Stork liv'd safely in his Nest Until a Proetor taught us how to use These Things and made us foolishly profuse And so if one would bring new sorts of Food And stoutly say a roasted Moor-hen's good Our Fops would imitate and praise his skill Our Fops that are so easie bent to ill 2. A sordid Table and a thrifty one Ofellus thinks distinct in vain they shun One Vice that to the other madly run Old Aviden Surnam'd The Dog eats Sloes And Olives five years old as bad as those These are his Meat and all the Wine He drinks Is eager still his Oyl corrupt and stinks And that when very fine when neatly drest And at a Birth-day or a Marriage Feast When He would be Profuse and Prodigal He pours himself upon his little Cale Well then what would you have a Wise Man do What Table keep you have propos'd me Two And which Sir must I imitate of these The choice is hard and it is hard to please Sir He lives well that keeps the middle State And neither leans too much to this nor that Such when he bids his Slaves do this and this And tasks them too as every Master his Will not be cruel as old Albutius is Nor yet like Noevius when he makes a Feast With costly Oyntment will He wash his guest For that too is a fault a vice at least 3. Now learn what good attends a sparing Meal What pleasure and what profit First thou' rt well Thy Health improv'd thy Body free from pain But now that Meat confus'd doth hurt a Man Thou hast experience and sufficient proof One single Dish did feed Thee well enough Thy Stomach took it but when
our Manners and the Rules agree The Merchants dare to cut the Line Where beams still boyl the Metal in the Mine Nor can the frigid Coast That lyes bound up with lazy Frost Nor all the Snow and Northern Ice E're cool the Sailer's flaming Avarice In feeble Ships they dare to ride And boldly stem the highest Tide When scarce three inches them and Death divide For Poverty that great disgrace Still drives them on the vicious race Whilst Vertue 's Paths that lead on high Untrod and unfrequented lie Few think it worth their while to climb the Sky To Jove's great Shrine let Romans bring Their Wealth a grateful Offering For those that thus their Treasures spend Just blessings Crown and joyful shouts attend Or in the Neighbouring flood Let 's cast our Jewels and our Gold For which we have our Vertue sold Our Gold the dear-bought cause of all our blood Wealth form'd near Hell when here on Earth Brings up the cursed Region of its birth If we repent and hate the Crimes And Follies of our own and Father's times We must root out the very seeds of Sin And plant new Vertue in The Soil is soft and if manur'd with care And manly Arts may bear A fruitful Crop Vertue may sprout again And with a Vast encrease reward the Tiller's pain Our Nobles Sons with an unequal force Now scarce can sit the Manag'd Horse They Hate the Ring nor dare to ride the Course But Cards unlawful Dice And all the mysteries of Vice That Greece e're taught or Rome improv'd they know For these they nobler Deeds forgoe These are their Arts their chief delights The Pleasures of their days and study of their nights Mean while their perjur'd Fathers cheat Grow grey in base Oppression and Deceit To their best Friends their Oaths are Snares Whilst at the vast Expence Of Honesty and Innocence They Heap up Wealth for their unworthy Heirs Their Stores encrease and yet I know not what Still they do something want Which neither pains can get nor Heav'n can grant To swell their Narrow to a full Estate ODE XXVI Now being grown Old he bids farewel to Love ONce I was gay and great in Charms Success still waited on my Arms In Venus Battles bravely stout I fought and conquer'd when I fought But now my Arms and wanton Lyre Whose tunes could spread Harmonious fire Whose moving stroaks could soon impart Soft wishes to the tender heart My Torches Leavers Darts and Bows That broak the Doors that did oppose That did all Obstacles remove Which hindred my pursuit of Love In Venus Shrine unheeded lie With all my Love's Artillery Great Goddess who o're Cyprus reigns And scorching Memphis burning Plains Let coy and scornful Chlöe know The fury of thy Cupid's Bow And let her smart for her disdain Enflame her Breast and I shall love again ODE XXVIII To Lyde On Neptune 's Festival VVHat should I do at Neptune's Feast What better should my thoughts employ What should I do but treat my guest And show the greatness of my Joy Wine Lyde Wine storm sober Sense My Bowl is strong and that will make a weak defence Do'st see how half the day is past And yet as if wing'd Time would stay You still the precious minutes wast And lead me on with slow delay Wine Lyde Wine to raise my flame Old lusty Wine and seal'd with Bibulus's name I 'le sing great Neptune bound by Rocks I 'le sing the Nereids Sea-green hair And how they sit and spread their locks To tempt the greedy Mariner You to your Harp Latona sing And Cynthia's Arrows shot from an unerring string Both her who drawn by murmuring Doves To Paphos guides with silken strings Whilst Cupids wait and wanton Loves Fan their warm Mother with their wings Just songs and thanks shall praise the Night For lingring Long and giving space for gay delight ODE XXIX He invites Mecaenas to an Entertainment MY noble Lord of Royal Blood That from the Tuscan Monarchs flow'd I have a Cask ne're pierc'd before My Garlands wreath'd my Crowns are made My Roses pluckt to grace thy head As fair and sweet as e're Praeneste bore Make hast my Lord and break away From all the Shackles of delay From watry Tibur's Fields retreat Let not low Aesula delight Nor let her Vales detain thy sight Or Parricide Telegonus his Seat From thy disgusting Plenty fly Thy Palace leave that mounts on high And hides her head in bending Clouds Admire no more but quickly come The Wealth the noise and smoak of Rome That happy Mansion of our future Gods Changes have often pleas'd the Great And in a Cell a homely treat But sweet and good and cleanly drest Tho no rich Hangings grace the Rooms Or Purple wrought in Tyrian Looms Have smooth'd a careful brow and calm'd a troubled breast The Dog 's and Lion's fury rise With doubled beams they scorch the Skys The Swains retire to mid-day dreams The bleating Flocks avoid the heat And to the Springs and Shades retreat And not one breath of Air curles o're the Streams Whilst You still watch the turns of Fate The careful guardian of our State Intent on what the Mede prepares What leads the quiver'd Persian forth What moves the Bactrian and the North Are the distracting Objects of thy Cares Future Events Wise Providence Hath hid in Night from humane Sence To narrow bounds our search confin'd And laughs to see proud Mortals try To fathom deep Eternity With the short Line and Plummet of their Mind Those Joys the present Hours produce Take thankfully my Lord and use All other things like Rivers flow In their own Channels thro the Plain They fall into the Tuscan Main And bless the Country as they go When Rain hath rais'd the quiet Floods Whilst Neighbouring Mountains all around Are fill'd and Eccho with the sound They whirl the eaten Rocks and Woods And drown the growing Labors of the Plow He 's Master of himself alone He lives that makes each day his own He lives that can distinctly say It is enough for I have liv'd to day Let Jove to morrow smiling rise Or let dark Clouds spread o're the Skys He cannot make the pleasures void Nor sower the sweets I have enjoy'd Nor call that back which winged hours have born away Still Fortune plays at fast and loose And still maliciously jocose Her cruel sport she urges on Now smiles on me on Me bestows And then upon another throwes Vast heaps of Wealth and takes them back as soon When e're she stays with what she brings I 'me pleas'd but when she shakes her Wings I streight resign my just pretence I give her back her fading Gold My self in my Vertue fold And live content with Want and Innocence When spreading Sails rough Tempests tear I make no lamentable Prayer I do not bargain with the Gods Nor offer costly Sacrifice To save my precious Tyrian dys From Adding Riches to the Greedy Floods E'en ' midst these Storms I
Non usitatâ nec tenui ferar Pennâ biformis per liquidum aethere Vates M Burghers delin et sculp THE ODES SATYRS AND EPISTLES OF HORACE Done into English Qui cupit optatam Cursu contingere metam Multa Tulit fecitque Puer LONDON Printed for Jacob Tonson and Sold by Tim. Goodwin at the Maiden-head against St. Dunstans Church in Fleetstreet 1684. To the very much Esteemed JOHN DRYDEN Esq 'T Is pretended by every one that chooseth a Patron that either the Worth or good Nature of the Person hath determined him to that choice He professeth that He hath very mean thoughts of his own performance and so stands in need of a Protector He begs a Name whose Luster might shed some Reputation on his Work or else hath been oblig'd and bound in gratitude to make this publick acknowledgment of the goodness of the Man How eminently You Sir are endow'd with the first qualification of a Patron every one knows too well to need information and where can this trifle find a Corner that hath not been fill'd with Mr. Dryden's name 'T is You Sir that have advanc'd our Dramatick to its height and show'd that Epick Poetry is not confin'd to Italy and Greece That You are honored by the best and envy'd by others proclaims Excellency and Worth For True Honor is built only upon perfection And Envy as it is as sharp sighted so 't is as soaring as an Eagle and who ever saw it stoop at a Sparrow or a Wren And that Candor and Goodness have the greatest share in your Composition I dare appeal to every one whom You have any way honored with your Conversation These so fill your Mind that there is no room left for Pride or any disobliging quality This appears from the Encouragement You are ready to give any tolerable attempts and reach out a helping hand to all those who endeavour to climb that height where You are already seated E'en this own̄ its completion to those smiles which You condescended to bestow upon some parts of it and now ventures to appear a second time where at first it found a favourable Entertainment 'T is Horace Sir whom You have thought worthy your Study and Imitation that flys to You for Protection and perhaps will beg it against the Injuries I my self have done him You Sir are best acquainted with the difficulties of the Undertaking can most easily discover and as easily pardon the defects of SIR Your most Obliged Humble Servant Thomas Creech Oxon. All Souls Coll. May 25 th 1684. Preface QUintilian in the First Book of his Institutions instructs the Young Orator what to read and after Homer and Virgil are chiefly commended to his Study He tells him That considerable improvement may be made from the Lyrick Poets but there is great Care to be taken in the choice some select parts only out of each Author to be permitted Youths And he says particularly of Horace That He would not have all in Him interpreted What He means by Interpretation is evident to every one that understands the Extent of the word and the Antients Method of instructing and why this Caution is restrain'd to the Odes and not apply'd to the Satyrs as well since the reason upon which He fixes it seems common to both must be taken from the design and subject matter of the Poems To describe and reform a vitious man necessarily requires some expressions which an Ode can never want The Paint which an Artist uses must be agreeable to the Piece which He designs Satyr is to instruct and that supposeth a knowledge and discovery of the Crime Whilst Odes are made only to delight and please and therefore every thing in them that justly offends is unpardonable In our Common Schools this Rule of Quintilian is grievously neglected all is permitted to every Eye and laid open to the dullest sight by the most shameful Notes that can be pen'd You may see a Grammarian with a demure mouth cry out O Foedum at a loose expression and yet presently fill a Page with a more fulsom explication and the design of all his pains is only to indulge a petulant Humor or assist the lazy Ignorance of the common Instructors of our Youth If any should reckon this amongst the considerable Causes of the Corruptions of our Manners certainly all those would assent who see that a Stream will be foul when the Fountain it self is muddy Nor is this a single opinion as is evident from their happy industry who have corrected some of our Authors and sent them abroad naked and uncorrupted with forreign Notes This Method as it spares the Modesty of the Youth so it must be a considerable improvement to his Parts since his Mind and Memory and not only his Eye must be employ'd I am bound thankfully to acknowledg the Pious Care of Mr. Thomas Curganven now of Shirburn in Dorsetshire in this matter He did not want or if he had His Vertue and Industry had contemn'd such helps having searcht into the Secrets of the Classicks and being an excellent Example of unweary'd Diligence and regular Carriage to All under his Tuition To his Instruction I owe what at present I understand of these Books and to his Rules my hopes of future Attainments The same Principles made me Cautious of some Odes tho I have past by three more upon a different account This just debt being paid to my Honored Instructer the part that concerns my self Reader will give Thee little trouble I cannot choose but smile now and then to think that I who have not Musick enough to understand one Note and too little ill Nature for that is commonly thought a necessary ingredient to be a Satyrist should venture upon Horace 'T is certain our Language is not Capable of the numbers of the Poet and therefore if the Sense of the Author is deliver'd the variety of Expression kept which I must despair of after Quintilian hath assur'd us that he is most happily bold in his words and his Fancy not debas'd for I cannot think my self able to improve Horace 't is all that can be expected from a Version This the Admirable Cowly consider'd when he undertook Pindar and hath drawn a short and full Apology for the like undertakings We must consider says He the great difference of time betwixt his Age and ours which changes as in Pictures at least the Colors of Poetry the no less difference betwixt the Religions and Customs of our Countrys a Thousand particularities of Places Persons and Manners which do but confusedly appear to our Eyes at this distance and lastly which were enough alone for my purpose we must consider that our Ears are Strangers to the Musick of his numbers which sometimes especially in Songs and Odes almost without any thing else makes an excellent Poet 'T is true he improves this consideration and urges it as concluding against all strict and faithful versions in which I must beg leave to dissent thinking
Because a furrow'd Brow And hollow Eyes thy form disgrace And o're thy head Age scatters Snow Nor can thy costly dress the Eastern Shore VVith all the Gems it bears Thy former lovely Youth restore Nor bring thee back thy scatter'd Years Those Years which the Eternal wheel hath spun And drawn beyond thy Prime Thro which swift Day hath nimbly run And shut in known Records of Time VVhere is that Beauty where that charming Air That shape that Amorous Play Oh what hast thou of her of Her VVhos 's every look did Love inspire VVhos 's every breathing fan'd my fire And stole me from my self away To lovely Cynera's Face set next in Fame For all that can surprize For all those Arts that raise a Flame And kindly feed it at our Eyes But hasty Fate cut charming Cynera short That Fate that now prepares Old Lyce old as Daws for sport And scorn as grievous as her Years When our hot Youths shall come and laugh to see The Torch that burnt before And kindled aged Lechery To Ashes fall'n and warm no more ODE XIV To AUGUSTUS That His Deserts are much greater than any Rewards Rome can bestow HOw can the Senate's how the People's care Tho All with gifts that swell with honors strive A lasting Monument prepare To make thy glory live And thy great Name thro future Ages bear O greatest Prince the circling Sun can view Whom stout Vindilici unlearn'd in fear From glorious Conquests lately knew How great He is in VVar And felt that all that Fame had told was true Brave Drusus led thy conquering Legions on And fierce Genauns a stubborn Nation broak The furious Brenni's force o'rethrown Now gladly take the Yoke The Glory of their Slavery proudly own Strong Castles fixt on Mountains vastly high Almost as high as his aspiring thought VVith a repeated Victory Thrown down He climb'd and fought Where Fear or winged Hope scarce dar'd to fly Next Elder Nero great in Arms appear'd And Rhoeti fought A sight for Gods to see VVhat slaughters broak their Souls prepar'd For Death with Liberty And led the Conqueror to high Reward As raging VVinds with an impetuous Course When stormy Stars assist do toss the flood So fierce He breaks thro armed force Thro Darts and streams of blood And threatning flames He spurs his eager Horse As branched Aufidus doth Moles disdain And thro Apulian Fields doth whirl his VVaves VVhen rais'd by Snow or swoln with Rain Against his Banks He raves And threatens Floods to all the fruitful Plain Thus Claudius violent did in Arms appear No Bands no barbarous Troops his force could stay The Front the Body and the Rear Secure he swept away And o're the Field He scatter'd dreadful War Whilst You your Forces You your Counsel lent What mortal Courage could his Arms oppose VVhen to his Aid your Gods you sent He thunder'd on his Foes And threw among them Slavery as He went Since suppliant Egypt in her empty Throne Receiv'd Thee Lord the Fates that strive to bless Thy Title to the Empire own By fifteen Years Success And still increase the Glory of thy Crown The fierce Cantabrian not to be o'recome Before thy Arms the Indian and the Mede The wandring Scythians lurk at home And Thee they wisely dread O present guard of Italy and Rome The Waves that beat the British monstrous shore Cold Ister Nile and Tanais rapid stream Fierce Spaniards now rebel no more And Gauls that death contem Lay down their Arms and quietly adore ODE XV. He praiseth Augustus WHen I would sing of noble Fights Of Lofty things in lofty flights Kind Phoebus Harp my Temples strook The trembling strings in Consort shook And answer'd to the tunes he spoak Thy Ship is weak he said forbear And tempt not raging Seas too far Thy Age great Caesar gracious Lord Hath Plenty to our Fields restor'd Proud Parthians captive Arms resign To Mighty Jove's and Caesar's Shrine Now noisy VVars and Tumults cease And Janus Temple 's barr'd by Peace Wild Lust is bound in modest chains And Licence feels just order's reins Strict Vertue rules good Laws command And banisht Sin forsakes the Land You all those generous Arts renew By which our Infant Empire grew By which her Fame spread vastly wide And carry'd in Majestick pride From East to West serenely shone As far and glorious as the Sun Whilst Caesar lives and rules in Peace No Civil VVars shall break our Ease No Rage that fatal Swords prepares And hurries wretched Towns to VVars Not cruel Getes tho bath'd in blood Not those by Tanais faithless stood Not those that drink Danubius Stream Shall glorious Caesar's Laws contem We on our Feast and working days ' Midst jovial Cups will gladly praise Our Pious Wives and pratling Boys Shall first the Gods with humble voice And then with Pipes and sounding Verse The Heroes noble Acts reherse Anchises Troy our Songs shall grace And brave Aeneas Venus happy race The End of the Fourth Book EPODES EPODE I. MY Lord my best and dearest Friend The chiefest Bulwark of the State In tall Liburnian Ships defend Great Caesar's Cause and prop his Fate Before his danger thrust your own But what shall He that breaths in You That scorns to live when You are gone What shall forsaken Horace do Shall I sit down and take my Ease But without You what joys delight Or steel my softness stem the Seas Or bolder grow and dare to fight Or shall I arm my feeble breast And wait on You thro Alpine Snow Or farthest Regions of the West Where Caesar bids the Valiant go You ask why thus I boldly press And what should feeble I do there My fear My Lord will be the less For absence still increases fear Thus Birds on Wing are most affraid That Snakes will come when they 're away Tho present they 're too weak to aid And save the easy Callow prey I would be stout discard my fears The greatest dangers bravely prove And venture this or other Wars In hopes my Lord to keep your Love But not to have more Oxen groan Beneath my Plows nor feed more Swains Nor yet as Heat or Cold comes on To drive my Sheep to other Plains Not to enlarge my Country Seat Or get vast heaps of shining Ore Your bounty Sir hath made me great And furnish'd with sufficient store I do not heaps of Gold desire To hide and have no heart to use As Chremes did nor Wealth require On baser Lusts to be profuse EPODE II. The Pleasures of a Country and retir'd Life HAppy the Man beyond pretence Such was the State of innocence That loose from Care from business free From griping Debts and Usury Contented in an humble Fate VVith his own Oxen Ploughs his own Estate No early Trumpet breaks his ease He doth not dread the angry Seas He flies the Bar from noise retreats And shuns the Nobles haughty Seats But Marrigeable Vines he leads To lusty Oaks and kindly VVeds Or carelessly in Vallies
the like and with a willing mind 4. But now since Passion 's rooted in our Souls As other faults that stick so close to Fools Why doth not Reason poise and mend our thoughts And see our rage proportion'd to the faults When Supper 's done a Slave removes the Dish And spills the Broth or else le ts fall the Fish Now should the Master stab the Slave for this He would be thought more mad then Labeo is But how more mad are we and more severe Our Friends but little and but seldom Erre And such small Faults good Natures ne're resent They sin as Men must do and may repent But yet for this we hate for this we shun As Bankrupts Risio the notorious Dun Who when the Calends come severely sues And if the Debtor doth not pay the Use He 's clapt in Jayl and hears a tedious Bill A killing Scroll Item and Item still My Friend got drunk perhaps hath foul'd my bed Or bruis'd a Cup by neat Evander made Or snacht away a Chicken from my Plate And must I love my Friend the less for that What should I do then if he prov'd unjust Refus'd to bayl me Thiev'd or broke his Trust Those that hold Vices equal seem distress't When leaving Sophistry they come toth ' Test This Fancy doth with Law and Custom fight And Interest too that spring of Just and Right When Man first crept from Mother Earth's cold Womb He was a miserable Thing and dumb Then they for Acorns fought and shady Cave With Nails then Clubs the Weapons Nature gave And next with Swords which sad convenience found And malice taught them they were fit to wound Till Words and Names for Things and Laws began And civiliz'd the bruitish Creature Man Then they built Towns and settled Right and Just And Laws to curb our Rapine and our Lust For long e're Helen's time a thousand dy'd Then thousands fought to get a beauteous Bride But unrecorded fell like Beasts they stray'd Each caught his willing Female and enjoy'd Till one more strong kill'd him and was preferr'd Just as the greatest Bull amongst the Herd Look o're the Word 's old Records there 's the Cause 'T was fear of wrong that made us make our Laws By Naked Nature ne're was understood What 's Just and Right as what is Bad and Good What fit and what unfit for Flesh and Bood Nor Reason shews to break a Garden Hedge Should be as great a Crime as Sacriledge Let Rules be fixt that may our Rage contain And punish faults with a Proportion'd pain And do not flea him do not run him through That only doth deserve a kick or two For I ne're fear that Thou wilt prove too kind To too much Pity vitiously inclin'd That can'st hold Vices Equal and believe To Rob's no greater Crime than 't is to Thieve And who would punish all with equal hand If Thou wer 't King and had'st the full Command If he that 's wise and skilful in his Trade Tho but a Cobler must be neatly made Be rich be fair be handsome and a King Why do'st Thou wish for 't since Thou hast the Thing But what Chrysippus said Thou dost not know No wise Man yet did ever make a shoe And yet the Cobler's a wise Man how so Why as Hermogenes tho He holds his Tongue Is skill'd in Musick and can set a Song And suffling Alfen though he lost his Awl And threw away his Last and shut his Stall And broak his Threads yet was a Cobler still Thus every Tradesman if he hath but skill Is wise and therefore only King but stay Unless you use your Club with wanton play The waggish Boys will pluck thy formal Beard Thou shalt be kickt derided scorn'd and jeer'd Till thou do'st burst when Rage or Envy Stings And snarl thou greatest King of mighty Kings In short whilst Thou a King shalt walk in State And only foolish Crispin on Thee wait To get a farthing Bath I nobly live The Faults I Fool commit my friends forgive And I as easily will pardon theirs And so I 'le live secure and free from Cares A happier Private Man Than Thou a King SATYR IV. The Heads of the Fourth Satyr 1. Lucilius was bitter but uncorrect 2. Few read Satyrs because they know they deserve the reproof 3. Whether Satyr be a Species of Poetry 4. A defence of his own Writings 5. The manner how his Father bred him to Vertue 1. CRatin and Eupolis that lash't the Age Those old Comedian Furies of the Stage If they were to describe a vile unjust And cheating Knave or scourge a Lawless Lust Or other Crimes regardless of his Fame They show'd the Man and boldly told his Name This is Lucilius's way He follows those His Wit the same but other numbers chose I grant he was a sharp and ready Wit But rude and uncorrect in all he writ This was his fault He hastily would rhyme As if 't were such a wondrous thing in him Two hundred tedious lines in one hours time Yet when with force his muddy fancy flow'd Some few pure Streams appear'd amongst the mud In writing much 't is true his Parts excell Too lazy for the task of writing well But grant that rare what then Crispinus says You talk of writing Sir You claim the Bays Come on Sir Critick You shall have your fill The wager be as little as you will Here 's Pen and Ink and Time and Place let 's try Which can write most and fastest You or I Thanks Heaven that made me slow and gave a Peâ— That writes but little and but now and then But you like Bellows till the Gold 's refin'd Are puffing still and all but empty wind 2. Fannius was happy whom the publick praise Preferr'd to Phoebus shrine and Crown'd with Bays But few read mine and few my Books delight And I scarce dare to publish what I write Few like this way for most know well enough That they deserve and fear my just reproof Take any at a venture midst the Crowd And you shall find him covetous or proud One marry'd Whores another Boys desires One Silver 's white and Alpius Brass admires Another runs from East to West to cheat Like Dust by Whirlwinds tost thro storms of Fate And all to keep or better his Estate All these hate Poets these do fear our Rhimes Look he 's stark mad they cry fly fly betimes He spares no Friend He will abuse the best So he may laugh himself and have his Jest And then what e're He writes flies o're the Town To Pimps to Hectors and to Gamesters shown To every one He meets He tells the Tale Old Senseless Fops Old Women Boys and All Now hear what may for t'other side be shown 3. First I 'me no Poet for to make me one 'T is not enough to fetter words in Rhyme And make a tedious and a jingling Chyme And chiefly since my numerous feet enclose Such plain familiar Talk and almost Prose No
Hony mixt with Sack This was ill done with Liquors only mild E're breakfast Empty Veins are safely fill'd What e're some fancy I have Cause to think Smooth Mead in Morning is the better drink When bound too much sweet Mallows quickly clear Thy Gutts from stoppage and thy Mind from fear Or Cockle Fish or Sorrel newly ripe With Coan white wine sawce will ease the gripe Better than the old Midwife Glister-pipe The Shell-fish with the growing Moons encrease Yet different sorts are found in different Seas All have not good the Lucrine Shells exceed Those various Purples that soft Baja breed Oysters low Crice some Misenian Coasts And Scollops large soft Tarent loudly boasts Let none pretend to have an Art in Feasts Till He 's exact and Critical in Tasts 'T is vain for him to buy the dearest Fish That after knows not how to cook the dish What must be stew'd what boyl'd will grace a Feast And what the Stomach of the glutted Guest Make him forget his Belly 's full restore Lost Appetite and tempt him on to more Bores fed on Acorns caught in Umbria's Wood Bend down his dishes with their weighty load That would avoid dull mean or tastless food For no wise Palates the Laurentans choose Vile meat and fat with plashy reeds and Ouze Goats bred on Vines not always dainty fare Wise Palates choose the Wings of breeding Hare What Fish of all the sorts what Birds are best And at what Age and how they should be drest Before the World saw me were hardly known All those are pure inventions of my own Some spend their time and hope to gain applause For minding nothing but new Cates and Sawce But Men of Art must still their Cares divide Not mind one thing and neglect all beside Nor whilst they 're curious in their Wine and Ale Ne're heed what Oyl they pour upon their Cale If full of Lees if thick your Massick Wine Set it abroad by Night 't will make it fine Take off those Smells that hurt the Nerves and wast The Spirits Hemp-seed spoyls its proper tast Those cheating Rogues that when the Wine decays With their Surrentine mix Falernian Lees This dasht Wine quickly cleanse with Pidgeous Eggs Those falling down precipitate the Dregs You have drunk briskly and your friend decays Then give him pickled Hearings those will raise And whet his Stomach for another glass For Lettice after Wine 's not half so good It swims on drink and makes the Stomach crude When He 's too full then Gammon's only fit Sawsage provokes him to another bit If these won't do of it He scorns them both He may be whetted with a dish of Broth To know both sorts of Broth 't is worth your while The Simple is compos'd of sweetest Oyl This Oyly Wine and Caviare only asks Such as grows mellow in Byzantian Casks To this shred Herbs with Safforn mixt and boyl And when 't is cool then add Venafrian Oyl Some Grapes are best in Pots all ways are try'd In smoak the Aban Grape is better dry'd This Grape with some sharp Sawce round Plates to strew With Salt and Pepper I 'me the first that knew And told it others as I tell it you 'T is a grand fault to buy the dearest fish And after crow'd them in too straight a dish The Guests won't like to see one take the Cup Who stole a Pidgeon as He brought it up With the same hand for that will stain the place Nor yet to see old dust stick round the Glass How little Beasoms cost how quickly bought Yet if not gotten 't is a grievous Fault Dost think it decent to neglect thy House Or sweep the marble Floor with dirty boughs Dost think 't is handsom for the Page to spread A dirty covering o're a Gawdy Bed Forgetful still that since these things are mean And such as All must have that would be clean T is worse to want these than such dainty meat Which only Luxury or Wealth can get Learn'd Catius by the Gods I ask this boon Where e're you go Sir I must have it done Pray bring me to this copious Spring of Truth That I may heare it drop from his own mouth For though you talk as if you understood His Precepts well and knew the rules for Food Yet from your Lips I 'me sure they can't be known As well as if I heard them from his own Besides to see the Figure of the Man Would please me much pray show me if you can A sweet with which blest you are almost cloy'd And do not value ' cause so oft enjoy'd But eager I to unknown Fountains press To draw from thence the Rules of Happiness SATYR V. The Heads of the Fifth Satyr A Dialogue between Tiresias and Ulysses where He instructs him how to get an Estate TIresias now indulge one favor more And teach beside what thou hast taught before How to regain my Wealth now I 'me poor Why do You smile Let me not beg in vain Is 't not enough that you have scap't the Main And safely come to Ithaca again Unerring Prophet see as you fore-told I am come home again Grey Wrinkled Old And Poor my Wives Gallants have seiz'd my Gold My Wealth is theirs and what is Vertue worth Without a good Estate to set it forth Well then since to be poor you fear and hate In short learn how to get a good Estate If thou dost light on any thing that 's rare Send it thy old rich Neighbor never spare If He be rich and old without an Heir The first ripe Apples of thy choicest Tree Offer to him before thy Deity The Rich Man must be reverenc't more than He. What tho He be a Villain basely bred Hath kill'd his Brother or his Country fled Yet wait upon him when he please to call And when you meet him cringe and give the Wall What would you have me cringe to every Slave At Troy I did not so my self behave Contending always with the Great the Brave Then thou l't be poor Well Sir my mind I 'le force To suffer this for I have suffer'd worse But prithee tell me for I wish to know Which way I may be rich and quickly too Then as I told I 'le tell thee o're agen Still strive to please the old and wealthy Men. Try still to get into their Wills secure Their Love their Humors patiently endure Tho two or three discerning Eyes perceive The Hook and fly the Bait yet never leave Others will bite when those sly Fops are gone Still bait thy hook and urge thy purpose on If any Cause or great or small be try'd I 'le teach thee how to choose the better Side Be sure to plead for him that 's childless old And rich tho He is impudently bold And sues his better still pervert the Laws And start new Quirks and scorn the better Cause And better Man if He hath hopeful Boys To be his Hiers or teeming Wife enjoys Then Sir or
Squire for Title hugely takes Grave softheads Me your Friend your Vertue makes I know the Law and have a ready Tongue And rather Sir then you shall suffer wrong I 'le loose these Eyes My utmost Care be us'd That you be neither cheated nor abus'd And you may take your pleasure sit at ease Ne're fear I 'le pawn my Life for your success Do you still mind this Cause and that alone What ever weather 't is or if the Sun With Dog days beams cleaves e'en the marble Stone Or as fat Furius hath it all below Is Ice and Jove o'respews the Alps with snow Whilst one stands by and jogs his Neighbor see How fine a Lawyer 's that That that is He How useful to his Friends and how He sweats And Pleads This brings more Gudgeons to thy Nets Besides if any hath a sickly Hier And good Estate then make thy Interest there Lest courting childless Persons still thy Arts appear Creep gently in untill your hopes you seize Be second Heir and rise by just degrees And so if your young Boys disease prevails Thou shalt have all This method seldom fails If any bids thee read his Will deny Yet slyly with the corner of thy Eye Run quickly ore the two or three first lines There 's Reason for 't and see if He designs Thee the sole Hier or else with many joyns For time shall come as years in order flow When one a Scribe shall bob the gapeing Crow What art thou mad or dost design to see If such abstruse discourse can puzle me Ulysses what I sing shall be the state Of Things to come I read the leaves of Fate And distant Objects see in the event Then prethee tell me what that Riddle meant When one a Youth of Great Aenaeas Race The Parthiane terror rules the Earth and Seas Coranus weary of a single Life Takes chuff Nasica's stately maid to Wife Coranus then shall beg him to peruse The Will He makes Nasica long refuse At last consents but what he reads appears No Legacy to Him and His but Tears Now if his Servants manage him commend And make his greatest Favourite thy Friend Besure be lavish in his praise and then When thou art gone He 'l praise Thee o're again This Method's good but 't is the best design To storm the Man himself and take him in If He makes Verses tho extremely lewd Admire and swear his Fustian Rhymes are good Or if He whores besure his wish prevent Let thy Penelope be freely sent And dost thou think that she the Wise the Chast Who all the numerous Woers Arts surpast Will yield to him and be a Whore at last Ay those were artless Youths they knew not how To treat and rather came to eat then Woe So she was chast but when she shall perceive And share with Thee the Presents He can give Like Dogs once blooded she will never leave I 'le tell the true and what I chanc't to know A woman dy'd at Thebes not long ago And thus by Will She did injoyn her Heir First oyl my Corps and to the Sepulcher Upon thy naked back my Body bear This spake the Will and this as most believ'd That she might then slip from him she contriv'd For He was too observant whilst she liv'd Do you be cautious still in your Address Too often or too seldom will displease The grave Morose do hate a pratling Tongue That speaks unask't yet be not dumb too long But like arch Davus in the Play attend Your neck awry as fearful to offend Still show the greatest Care that can be shown More careful of his Life than of your own When e're the Air is sharp besure to mind And eagerly request him pray be kind To your dear health and me nor trust the Wind. If throng'd thrust Thou and free him from the Throng If talkative endure his tedious Tongue If he be vain and loves his own dear praise Be sure commend and high Encomiums raise Still blow the Bladder never leave him off Till He shall bless himself and cry enough Now when he dyes and frees thee from thy Care Thy dreaming Hopes and melancholly Fear And broad awak't you find that you are Heir Then sigh and is my dear Campanion gone Where shall I have so kind so good a One If possible your greatest Art imploy To shed some tears 't is good to mask your joy And if you are to make the Funeral Be sure be noble that will take with All Or if thy fellow Heir 's a sickly Man Then wheedle thus and chouse him if you can I want that ready Mony you can spare And if you please Sir you shall buy my share But hold fierce Pluto calls me back to Hell And I can talk no more good speed farewell SATYR VI. The Heads of the Sixth Satyr 1. His moderate wishes 2. The troubles of a City Life 3. The Pleasures of the Country 4. Little without fear is best 1. THese were my Prayers and these my constant Vows A pretty Seat a Fountain near my House A Garden and a little Grove of Trees 'T is well the Gods have given more than these Enough kind Mercury no more I crave Only continue still what now I have If I am not profuse and wast or raise My moderat Fortune by unlawful Ways If I ne're wish Oh that the Gods would yield That Nook that spoyls the Figure of my Field Or oh that I a pot of Gold had found As he who hir'd to Till anothers Ground By the assistance of a lucky God Grew rich and bought the very Land he plow'd But if I live content preserve my store And be my Guard as thou hast been before Defend my Cattle and my Flocks be kind And fatten all I have except my Mind Then when I from the noisy Town retreat And free from Bus'ness take my Country Seat What shall I do but write what Subject choose But easy Satyr and improve my Muse Here no Ambition kills no heavy Wind Affects my Body and corrupts my Mind To Fields the Gods long Life and plenty gave No sickly Autumns here inrich the Grave 2. Old Father Janus thus the Gods decree We Men begin our Years and Toyl with Thee With Thee my Verse you hurry me to Town To be a Witness and I must be gone Tho 't Snows and Winter whirls the freezing day In shortest Circles yet I must away And then when my ungrateful task is done Press thro the Crowd and justle every One That doth not make me room and thro 'em down Whylst He that 's kick't crys Plague and why so fast Pox What d' ye mean and why in so much Hast When you run to my Lord you scour the Street Press on and kick and justle all you meet And this I swear is pleasant this is sweet But when I come a busy Crowd appears Of loud impertinent Petitioners And their requests dance thick about my Ears One begs that you would be at Court
And gather'd up the Relicts of the Feast The Bones and all that might offend the Guest Just as at Ceres Feast th' Athenian Maid Comes black Hydaspes bearing on his Head Large Falks of White and Alcon Flasks of Red. Then says mine Host My Lord if more than these You like another call for what you please My Cellar 's stor'd Poor Wealth dishonest Pride But prethee tell me who was there beside Sir I sate first and stay I think 't was so Turinus next Vibidius sate below Next Balatro below him Porcius lyes Porcius the merry'st archest Wag that is To swoop whole Custards and to swallow Pies All uninvited but as Lords are wont Mecoenas brought them all on his account Next above these Nomentan takes his place He that could point at every hidden Sawce For we the rest on Fish and Fowl did feast Concealing different from their proper tast This streight appear'd when by his luscious rules He carv'd for me th' untasted guts of Soles And after to instruct me gravely said Figs pluck't before the Moon is full look red But thro this difference would you nicely pry He 'l tell you more He 's more expert than I. Mean while Vibidius in a jeering tone Crys Balatro come prethee nothings done Unless we drink him dry a Bigger Glass At that Death-pale spread o're our Fuscus face For good stout drinkers He did chiefly fear ' Cause such when full with greater freedom jeer Or ' cause hot Liquors pall the subtle tast And so would spoyl the goodness of his feast Yet on it goes the Bowls are freely crown'd And supernaculum the health goes round The chiefest Guests the while few bumpers tost They spar'd the Bottles and the bleeding Host Now comes midst swimming Shrimps a Lampry spread In a large Dish and thus the Master said This Fish was caught when full of Spawn that Course Is good for after Spawning's done 't is worse The Broth is made of Oyl the best that flow'd From the Venafrian Press to make it good Wine five years old and Caviare I joyn In boyling Sirs I use Italian wine But when 't is boyl'd with Pepper spic'd and drest With Vinegar the Chain Pickle's best To boyl green Rockets with 't was never known Before my time I 'me sure that Art 's my own Salt water Crawfish first Cotillus stew'd And kept them whole for they are better food Then when i th' Shell the Pickle makes them good But whilst he talkt and whilst He prais'd the Fish The Hangings tumbling down fell o're the Dish Bringing black dust as much as Whirlwinds raise When nimble Storms sweep o're the dusty ways We started all and thought it worse than 't was But when no harm appear'd each kept his place Our Host streight hung his head He wept and sigh'd As if his darling Son had lately dy'd He had wept on his Grief have known no end But wise Nomentan thus reliev'd his Friend Unlucky Chance what God is so unkind Thou lov'st to break the measures Man design'd Some bit their Napkins yet could scarce forbear To laugh aloud whilst with a bitter Sneer Crys jeering Balatro Well we strive in vain 'T is the sad fate of Life and none can gain By Labour Fame that answers to their Pain That ever I should prove so troublesome For one fine Treat when I could dine at home That I should vex you to provide a Feast To see your Broth well boyl'd your Servants drest Besides th' unlucky chance that waits on all As if as but just now the Hangings fall The Footboy stumbling spoyl a costly fish Or Plowman Servant trip and break the dish But as in Captains oft ill chance reveals The Entertainers Wit which good conceals Then says mine Host Ah may'st Thou still be blest Thou art so good a Man so kind a Guest And calls for 's Shoes then you may quickly hear Divided whispers spread thro every Ear. No Play could ever please me half so well But what you laught at after prethee tell Whilst hot Vibidius with a waggish look Crys to the Servants is the Bottle broak That I can get no Wine to this dry Feast And merry Balatro promotes the jest Mine Host comes in and with a smiling face About to mend by Art his late disgrace His Servants following brought a Charger fill'd With one poor little Crane cut up and grill'd Cover'd with Salt and Meal another brings Pluck't off and by themselves a Rabbets wings For those forfooth when by themselves are best And sweeter far than eaten with the rest Then roasted Blackbirds Doves their rumps cut off All pretty sorts of Meat and sweet enough But he with long harangues to every guest Explain'd their Natures how and why 't was drest Whom thus we punish'd each Man left his seat We fled the Banquet and refus'd to eat As if the Witch Canidia's poysnous breath Had blown upon 't and fill'd the Feast with Death The End of the Second Book of Satyrs EPISTLES BOOK I. The Heads of the first Epistle 1. He shews his desire for Philosophy 2. 'T is to be preferr'd before all 3. The People prefer Gold before Vertue 4. Why He cannot agree with the Crowd MY Lord Mecaenas whom I gladly choose The first and the last labour of my Muse Tho I have fought enough and well before And now dismist have leave to fight no more You strive to bring me on the Stage again My Age is not alike unlike my Brain Unlike my Mind and now I write in Pain The Fencer Vejan now grown weak with Age Lives quietly at home and leaves the Stage His Arms in great Alcides Temple plac't Lest after all his former Glorys past He worsted meanly beg his life at last And still methinks sounds thro my well purg'd Ear A little voice Fond Horace have a Care And whilst 't is well release thy aged Horse Lest when He runs but with unequal force And stretches hard to win He breaks his Wind Derided distanc't basely lags behind 1. And therefore all my trifling Songs adieu I now design to seek what 's good and true And that alone I scorn my wanton Muse And lay up Precepts such as I may use But if you ask me now what Sect I own I swear a blind obedience unto none But as the Tempest drives me so I Steer This way or that not setled any where Sometimes an Active Life my Fancy draws A strict observer of true Vertue 's Laws Then gently slide to Aristippus School And strive not to be rul'd by Things but Rule As Night to those their Mistress fails appears As Days to Labourers and as long the Years When Jealous Mothers curb to eager Heirs So dull and so ingrate my Time doth flow Which hinders what I hope and wish to do What done will profit Rich and Poor what long Forborn prove equal harm to Old and Young Well then I must content my self with this Yours cannot be as good as Lynceus Eyes What then
Bore We are the Number born to drink and eat The Woers of Penelope the spruce the neat The lazy Rascals and whose whole design Was to get vicious pleasure and be fine Who thought it vertuous to sleep half the Day And lull their Cares with Musick Dance and Play 2. Rogues rise before 't is light to kill and Thieve Wilt Thou not wake to save thy self alive If now when well you will not leave your Ease In vain you 'l try when prest with a Disease And when you cannot sleep except you read And in good things employ your watchful head Pale Treacherous Sins will swift approaches make And Lust or Envy vex Thee whilst awake For why when any thing offends thy Eyes Dost thou streight seek for ease and streight advise Yet if it shall oppress thy Mind endure The ills with Patience and defer the Cure He that hath once begun a good design Hath finish't half dare to be wise begin He that deferrs to live is like the Clown Who waits expecting till the River 's gone But that still rouls its Streams and will roul on We seek for Wealth a good and fruitful Wife The pleasures comforts and supports of Life Our Woods are tam'd and plough'd encrease our store He that hath got enough desires no more Did ever Lands or heaps of Silver ease The feav'rish Lord Or cool the hot Disease Or free his Mind from Cares He must have health He must be well that would enjoy his wealth He that desires or fears diseas'd in mind Wealth profits him as Pictures do the blind Plaisters the Gouty Feet and charming Airs And sweetest sounds the stuft and troubled Ears The musty Vessels sour what they contain Scorn Pleasure Pleasure hurts that 's bought with pain The Greedy want to Wishes fix an End The Envious pine at th' fatness of their Friend The fiercest Tyrants never yet could find A greater rack than Envy to the mind The Man that doth too hastily engage That is all fire and cannot curb his rage Baffles his own design whilst weaker grown With malice unreveng'd He strikes too soon Anger 's a short frenzy curb thy Soul And check thy rage which must be rul'd or rule Use all thy Art with all thy force restrain And take the strongest Bitt and firmest Rein The Jocky trains the young and tender Horse Whilst yet soft mouth'd He breeds him to the Course The Whelp since when i' th' Hall He learn'd to bark At Bucks-skins stuff'd now ranges o're the Park Now now whilst young with vertuous Rules begin Such holy Precepts now and free from sin What season'd first the Vessel keeps the Tast Now if you lag behind or run too fast I stay not for the slow I mind my Race Nor press on those that run a swifter pace EPISTLE III. To his Friend Julius Florus A familiar Epistle enquiring about several matters MY Julius Florus I would gladly hear Where Claudius Caesar's kinsman kindles War Doth Thrace or Hebrus bound in Chains of Snow Or doth the Hellespont I wish to know Or Asia's fruitful Fields detain you now What do the Wits design Who nobly dares This I would know to write great Caesar's Wars And who inspir'd with an unusual rage Shall spread his Fights and Leagues thro future Age. And what doth Titius He of growing Fame Who doth not fear to drink of Pindar's Stream Who scorns known Springs and Lakes that glorious He And is He well and doth He think of Me Doth He the Muse propitious nobly sing And fit to Roman Harps the Theban string Or is he writing Plays and treads the Stage In murd'ring Verse and swells with Tragick rage And how doth Celsus do Whom I still warn as I have often done To get some Stock some riches of his own And not from others labours kept for fame In wise Apollo's Temple steal a name Lest all the Birds should come and claim their own And th'Chough be his when her stoln Plumes are gone What do you do What will your Mind produce From what sweet Beds of Thyme suck pretious juice For you have Wit enough your sence is great And not deform'dly rough but fine and neat Whether with poynant Tongue you plead a Cause Defend the Innocent and teach the Laws Or choose soft Numbers and smooth Poetry The chiefest Crown still justly waits on Thee If You could leave those Cares that num thy Mind Shake off thy fears and leave the Clog behind Then you would live as Wisdom's rules advise This is the Work the noble Study this This rich and poor should make their greatest care If we would live secure and free from fear To honest Men and to our Country dear Pray write me whether for I wish to know You love Numenius as you ought to do Or if the former difference clos'd in vain Was never fully cur'd but breaks again But you in whatsoever part you live Whether 't is heat or rashness makes you strive Both brave and hot and Oh! too dear to prove How frail are all the bands of Brothers love Where e're you now reside return to Rome I feed a Steer to offer when you come EPISTLE IV. A familiar complement to his Friend Albius Tibullus ALbus the fairest Critic that I know What shall I say that you are doing now In Pedan fields do you design to write More great than Cassius and with higher flight Or dost thou gravely walk the healthy Wood Considering what befits the Wise and Good For You are not all Body void of Mind The Gods have given a Soul of Noble kind And Wealth and Skill enough to use thy Store What could a Nurse for her dear Child wish more Than that He might be Sober whilst He lives And able to express what He conceives Enjoy the Love of all and Fame and Health And cleanly Diet with sufficient Wealth Whilst mid'st strong hopes and fears thy time doth wast Think every rising Sun will be thy last And so the grateful unexpected Hour Of Life prolong'd when come will please the more Then come and see me now grown plump and fine When you would laugh at one of Epicurus Swine EPISTLE V. To his Friend Torquatus He invites his Friend to a small Collation IF you can sit upon a paultry Seat My Friend Torquatus and endure to Eat A homely Dish a Sallad all the Treat Sir I shall make a Feast my Friends invite And beg that you would Sup with me to Night My Liquor flow'd from the Minturnian Vine In Taurus Consulship 't is Common Wine If you have better let the Flasks be sent Or let what I the Lord provide content My Servants sweep and furnish every Room My Dishes all are cleans'd against you come Forbear thy wanton hopes and Toyl for gain And Moschus Cause 't is all but idle Pain To morrow Caesar's Birth-day comes to give Release to Cares and a small time to live Then we may sleep till Noon and gay delight And merry talk prolong the Summer's Night
make The Stoicks or Empedocles mistake Whatever Life you live or Fishes drest Or Leeks and Onions pill'd do make your Feast 2. Be kind let Pompey Grosphius be your Guest What he shall ask he 'll ask but little grant Friends are in small esteem where good Men want 3. But now to tell how Rome's Affairs stand Cantabria yields to stout Agrippa's hand Armenia Claudius Nero's Courage feels The haughty Parthian now to Caesar kneels And Golden plenty with a bounteous hand Rich Harvests freely scatters o're our Land EPISTLE XIII To his Friend Vinnius Asella about presenting his Books to Caesar ASI advis'd you oft before you went I beg Thee Vinnius now my Books present To Caesar Seal'd when vexing Cares are fled If well if merry if he asks to read Lest over-busie in thy kind designs You chose ill hours and make him hate my lines But if the Pack shall pinch Thee throw it down Refuse to bear it and the weight disown Rather than having past the tedious Road Thy Saddle shake and strive to cast the Load And thus make good thy Father's Ancient Name Be Ass indeed a publick talk and shame With all thy strength o're Lakes and Mountains run And when those Streights are past you reach the Town Take heed and what you bring disclose to none Be shy and cautious nor my Books proclaim Nor bear them as a Rustick would a Lamb Under thy Arm as if thy hands were full As drunken Pythia carries pilfer'd Wool As when invited to his Landlord's house A Country Tenant bears his Hat and Shoes Proclaim not that you sweat those Lines to bear Which will detain Great Caesar's Eyes and Ear Make all the hast my eager Wish requires Farewell take heed you Answer my desires EPISTLE XIV To his Steward that He preferrs the Country before the City and why YOu Steward of my Woods and pleasant Plain Which when I reach I am my self again Contemn'd by You tho it hath kept alone Five Ancient dwellers and is often known To send five Senators to Baria's Town Come now 't is Time let 's see which of the Two I from my Mind or from my Pastures You Can pluck Thorns best and which is better Till'd And which is better Horace or his Field Tho Lamia's Piety and mournful Care That weeps his Brother's Fate detains me here Yet still my Mind 's abroad my Soul doth strive To break the Bars and get free Room to live I praise the Country You the happy Town He that loves others States dislikes his own We blame the places both deceiv'd and Fools 'T is undeserv'd the fault is in our Souls Our Souls that are their own Companions still And groan beneath their Native load of ill In Town your wishes beg'd the Fields and Plain A Farmer now You ask the Town again I constant to my self part griev'd from home When hated business forces me to Rome We Two do very diff'rent Things admire We widely disagree in our desire What you call lonely Melancholly Seats A Man of my Opinion as he hates What you think fair accounts them fine retreats The Oyly Ord'narys the Stews do move Thy wishes for the Town they raise thy Love And ' cause my little Farm doth bear no Vine But Frankincense I see thy wild design No neighbouring Tavern there to sell thee Wine No wanton Songstress there to please thy Sense And raise thy heavy Limbs into a Dance Yet Thou dost Labour thou dost Toyl and Sow And break thy Fields that never felt the Plough Yet you take Care you wash my bleating Flocks And gather boughs to feed my weary'd Ox. And if the River run above the bound Swoln big with Rain you raise a stronger Mound And teach it to forbear the Meadow ground Now why these Things so differently appear To Us and what divides our Fancies hear I that lov'd all the Frolicks of the Town Curl'd powder'd Locks a fine and gawdy Gown That pleas'd coy Cynera without a price That lov'd debauch and courted every Vice Now like short Suppers and at civil hours And sleep by purling Streams on Banks of Flowers Once to be wild is no such foul disgrace But 't is so still to run the frantick Race There on my Joys no Squint-ey'd Envious wait None frowns none looks askew no secret hate With venom'd Tooth doth bite My Neighbours smile To see me busie at my little Toil. But you had rather be remov'd to Town That way your Mind and eager Wishes run The City slaves the while the Country love And envy Thee thy Garden and thy Grove The Ox the Saddle asks the Ass the Plough Let All that 's best pursue the Arts they know EPISTLE XV. To his Friend Vala inquiring what he can have in the place whither he designs to retire for his Health DEar Vala prithee quickly send me word What Velia what Salernum can afford How hot the Winter If the Air be good What manner'd Men live there and what 's the Road True my Physician tells me I may use The Bajan Baths but those their help refuse Because in Winter cooler Streams I choose That I should leave their Groves their Sulphurous Stream So fam'd for curing knotty Gouts contemn The whole Town mourns and curses the Disease That makes us seek the Clusian Springs for Ease That makes us leave her Groves her warmer Seat For unfrequented Gaby's cool retreat To change my Station now I must begin And force my Horse beyond my usual Inn So ho where now the angry Riders say And stifly pull the Rein that 's not the way I 'me not for Bay or Cume then gently sooths But bridled Horses Ears are in their mouths Which yields the most and which the sweetest Grain Whether they set out Tubs to catch the Rain Or else have constant Springs their Water clear For I don 't like the Wine they fancy there True when at home then any Drink will please But when I go abroad to take my Ease Enjoy Seas warmth my thoughts from Cares reprieve My Liquor must be good if I would Live Such as will fill my Veins with gen'rous fire Bring certain hopes of Health and thoughts inspire Such as may make my wanton Wishes rise And show me young and grateful to my Miss Where most Hares run most Bores infest the Plains Which Sea most Oysters which most Fish contains That whilst I live I may be plump and gay You write me word I 'le credit what you say Menius when all his little Lands were gone All loosely spent and He a Man o' th' Town A Bully at no certain board He Din'd No house to lodge but rail'd at Foe and Friend A bitter Rogue to Jeer and sharp to Feign Severe to Scandalize the very Bane And Ruine of the Shambles what He got He swallow'd all went down his greedy Throat He when his Cheats not answer'd his desires When little came from Fops and bubbl'd Squires Would feed on Guts and on the vilest Meat Swallowing as much