must the sootie shore Of dull Cocytus th' empry store Of Daunus wicked stock And Sisyphs restless rock Thou must forgoe thy lands and goods And pleasing wife Nor of thy woods Shall any follow thee But the sad Cypress-tree Thy worthy heir shall then carowse Thy hoarded wines and wash the house With better Sack then that Which makes the Abbots fat A Paraphrase on the same Ode by S. W. 1. Time Posthumus goes with full sail Nor can thy honest heart avail A furrow'd brow old age at hand Or Death unconquer'd to withstand One long night Shall hide this light From all our sight And equal Death Shall few dayes hence stop every breath 2. Though thou whole Hecatomb's should'st bring In honour of th' Infernal King Who Geryon and Tytio bold In chaines of Stygian waves doth hold He 'l not prize But more despise Thy sacrifice Thou Death must feel 'T is so decre'd by the Fatal Wheel 3. The numerous Off-spring of the Earth That feed on her who gave them birth Each birth must have its funeral The Womb and Urn's alike to all Kings must die And as 〈◊〉 As thou or I And though they have Atchievements here there 's none in th' Grave 4. In vain we bloody battles flie Or fear to sail when wines are high The Plague or an infectious breath When every hour brings a new Death Time will mowe What e're we sow Both weal and woe Shall have an end And this th' unwilling Fates must send 5. Cocytus lake thou must waft o're Thy totter'd boat shall touch that shore Thou Sisypus ere long must know And into new acquaintance grow Shalt with life Leave house and wife Thy loves and strife And have no tree But the sad Cypress follow thee 6. Mean while thy heir shall nobly quaffe What thou with hundred locks kept't safe Caecuhan wines and wash the Flore With juice would make an Emperor rore 'T will be thy lot Question it not To be forgot With all thy deeds E're he puts on his Mourning weeds ODE XV. By Sir R. F. Against the Luxury of his Age. OUr Princely piles will shortly leave But little lands for ploughs to cleave Ponds out-stretch Lucrine shores Unmarried Sycamores Supplant the Elmes The Vi'let Rose With all the junkets of the Nose Perfume the Olive-yards Which fed their former Lords And Daphne twists her limbs to shun Tne sons rude Courtship Not so done By Cato's Precedent And the old Regiment Great was the Commonwealth alone The private small No wide Balcon Measur'd with private square Gap'd for the Norths cool air Nor the next turf might men reject Bid at the Publick Charge t' erect Temples and Towns alone Of beautiful new stone ODE XVI By Sir R. F. To GROSPHUS That tranquillity of the mind is wisht by all But that the same is not purchased by heaping up Riches or obtaining Honours but by bridling the desires QUiet the trembling Merchant cries Into Egean seas driven far When the Moon winks and he descries No guiding stâ—â— Quiet in War the Tâ—raian bold Quiet the Medes with quivers dight Not to be bought with gems nor gold Nor purple bright For 't is not wealth nor armed troops Can tumults of the mind remove And cares which about fretted roofs Hover above His little 's much whose thrifty board Slunes with a salt that was his sires Wâ—ose easie sleeps nor fears disturb Nor base desires Why in short life eternal care Why changing for another Sun Who having shun'd his Native air Himself could shun Take horse rude Care will ride behind Embarque unto thy ship she crouds Flâ—â—ter them Stags and the East-wind Chasing the Clouds Let minds of any joy possest Sweeten with that whatever gall Is mixt No soul that ere was blest Was blest in all The fam'd Achilles timeless dy'd Old Tythâ—n did his bliss out-live And Chance what she to thee deny'd To me may give A hundred flocks about thee bleat And fair Sicilian heifers low To thee large neighing Mares curvete In scarlet thou Twice-dipt are clad Indulgent fate Gave me a Graunge a versing vein A heart which injur'd cannot hate But can disdain ODE XVII by Sir R. F. To MAECENAS sick That he will not live after him WHy dost thou talk of dying so Neither the Gods nor I 'm content Maecenas that thou first shouldst go My Pillar and great Ornament If thee the one half of my soul A riper fate snatch hence alas What should I stay for neither whole And but the dregs of what I was That day shall end us both Come come I 've sworn't and will not break it neither March when thou wilt to thy long home That journey we will make together Chimaera's flames nor were he rise Again Briareus hundred hands Should keep me back 'T is justice this And in the Book of fate it stands Were I or under Libra born Or Scorpio my ascendant be With grim aspect or Capricorn The Tyrant of the Latian sea Our stars do wondrously consent Benigner Iove repriev'd thy breath When Saturn was malevolent And clipt the hasty wings of Death In frequent Theater when thee Thrice the rejoycing people clapt A falling Trunk had brained me Between if Faunus had not slept The guardian of Mercurial men Pay thou an ample sacrifice And build the Chappel thou vowd'st then For me an humble Lamkin dies ODE XVIII By Sir T. H. He affirmeth himself to be contented with a little while others are wholly addicted to their desires and increase of riches as if they should alwayes live NO guided roof nor Ivory Fret For splendor in my house is set Nor are beams from Hymettia sought To lie a-thwart rich Colmns brought From Africk nor I heir unkown Make Attalus his wealth mine own No honest Tenants wives you see Laconian purples weave for me A loyal heart and ready vain Of wit I have which doth constrain Rome's richest men to seek the love Of me though poor Nor gods above Doe I invoke for larger store Nor of Maecenas ask I more To me my single Sabine field Sufficient happiness doth yield One day thrusts on another fast And new Moons to the wane do hast When Death perhaps is neer at hand Thou fairest Marbles dost command Be cut for use yet dost neglect Thy grave and houses still erect Nay would'st abridge the vast Seas shore Which loudly doth at Baiae rore Enriched little less content With limits of the Continent Why often pull'st thou up the bounds T' enlarge the circuit of thy grounds Encroaching far from Confines known To make the neigbouring field thine own The husband wife and sordid brood With antient houshold gods that stood In quiet peace must be expell'd Yet is not any Mansion held For the rich Land-lord so assur'd As deep in Hell to be immur'd Then whither do you further tend Th' indiffrent earth an equal friend As willingly opens her womb For Beggars grave as Princes tomb Gold could of Charon not obtain To bear Prometheus back again Proud
waste Under a shady Poplar spread Or at a Bubling Fountains Head Some Drums and Trumpets love and War Which Mothers do as much abhorr The Huntsman in the cold doth rome Forgetting his poor Wife at home Whether his Hounds a Stagg have rowz'd Or Marsian Boar his Nets have towz'd Mee Ivy Meed of learned Heads Ranks with the gods Mee chill Groves Treads Of Satyrs with loose Nymphs have show'd A way out of the common Road Whilest kind Euterpe wets my Flute Whilest Polyhymnie strings my Lute Then write Mee in the Lyrick Role My lofty Head shall knock the Pole A Paraphrase upon the first Ode by S. W. Esq To MECOENAS MECOENAS sprung from Royal blood My greatest Patron just and and good There are who in th' Olympick Games Raise the light dust but more their names When the Fleet Race and noble prize E're death the Victor Deifies Some in applause that empty aire Place both their honour and their care While others with a different minde Would choose more solid wealth to finde And rich in what the Earth dos yield To the whole Sea preferrs one field The Sea'l not tempt them or its store No not the World to leave the shoare The Merchant when he sees the Skyes Cover'd with storms and Tempests rise Thinks none so happy live or well As those that on the Main-land dwell He prayses what he slights at home But when from a bad Voyage come Above the Earth he loves the Main And longs to be at Sea again The Fuddlecap whose God 's the Vyne Lacks not the Sun if he have Wine By th' Sun he only finds a way To some cool Spring to spend the day Shrill Flutes and Trumpets Souldiers love And scorn those fears that Women move The Huntsman in the open Plains Regardless of the Air remains A Dear makes him forget his Wife And a fierce Boar despise his life But me the learned Lawrel give The Gods themselves by Poets live Give me a Grove whose gloomy shade For Nymphs and frisking Fawns was made Where from the Vuâ—gar hid I 'le be The Muses waiting all on me Here one my Harp and Lute shall string Another there shall stand and sing This one thing great Mecoenas doe Inroll me in the Lyhick Count A Lyrick Poet and I 'l mount Above the skies almost as high as you ODE II. By Sir R. F. To AUGUSTUS CAESAR That all the Gods are angry with the Romans for the killing of Julius Caesar That the only hope of the Empire is placed in Augustus ENough of Hail and cruel Snow Hath Iove now showr'd on us below Enough with Thundring Steeples down Frighted the Town Frighted the World lest Pyrrha's Raign Which of new monsters did complain Should come again when Proteus Flocks Did climbe the Rocks And Fish in tops of Elm-Trees hung Where Birds once built their Nests and sung And the all-covering Sea did bear The trembling Dear We Yellow Tyber did behold Back from the Tyrrhene Ocean rowl'd Against the Fane of Vesta power And Numa's Tower Whilest the Uxorious River swears He 'l be reveng'd for Ilia's Tears And over both his Banks doth rove Unbid of Iove Our Children through our faults but few Shall hear that we their Fathers slew Our Countrymen Who might as well The Persians quell What God shall we invoke to stay The falling Empire with what Lay Shall holy Nuns tire Vesta's Pray'r-Resisting Ear To whom will Iove the charge commend Of Purging us at length descend Prophetick Phoebus whose white Neck A Cloud doth deck Or Venus in whose smiling Rayes Youth with a thousand Cupids playes Or Mars if thou at length canst pity Thy long plagu'd City Alas we long have sported thee To whom 't is sport bright Casks to see And grim Aspects of Moorish Foot With Blood and Soot Or winged Hermes if 't is you Whom in Augustus form we view With this revenging th' other Flood Of Iulius Blood Return to Heaven late we pray And long with us the Romans stay Nor let disdain of that Offence Snatch thee from hence Love here Victorious Triumphs rather Love here the Name of Prince and Father Nor let the Medes unpunisht ride Thou being our Guide A Paraphrase on the Second Ode by S. W. To AUGUSTUS Storms long enough at length have blown Iove hayl fire has darted down Has his own Temples overthrown And threatned all the Town Threatned the World which now did fear Another Deluge to be near When Proteus all his herds did drive Upon the hills to live When highest trees with Fish were fill'd Those trees where birds were wont to build And staggs that could the wind out fly Must take the Sea or dye We Tiber saw when seas withstood His streams and checkt with Seas his flood More heady and unruly grown Not wash but bear all down And swelling at his Ilias wrong No more his banks did glide along But chose new Channels and a Sea To be reveng'd would be How our own swords those wounds did make Which might have made the Persian quake These Civil Warrs next age shall tell And fear what us befell When th' Empire thus begins to fall On what God shall poor Romans call In vain we hope our god will hear When Vesta stops her ear To whom will Iove Commission give To purge us or our Plagues reprieve Descend Apollo cloth'd with light Thy beams must make us bright Or else thou fairest Queen of Love More needed here then thou' art above About whose neck the Graces fly And languish in thine eye Or Mars if he hath any pity For his despis'd and ruin'd City Though Mars has been so long at Rome We need not wish he 'd come Or you bright Hermes proud to be Augustus more than Mercury Since in that shape you choose to breath And expiate Caesars death Let it be long ere you return To heav'n in love your Romans burn For their old crimes desire your stay Never to goe away Do you their Lives and Warrs command The Prince and Father of your Land Nor let our Enemies 'ore us ride While Caesar is our Guide ODE III. By Sir R. F. He prayes a prosperous Voyage to Virgil Embarqued for Athens and takes occasion from thence to inveigh against the Boldness of Man SHip that to us sweet Virgil ow'st With thee intrusted safe Convey him to the Attick Coast And save my better half So Helene's Brothers Stellifi'd And Venus guide thy Sails And the Wind 's Father having tie'd All up but Vernal Gales Of Oak a Bosom had that man And trebble-sheath'd with Brass Who first the horrid Ocean With brittle Bark did pass Nor fear'd the hollow Storms that rore The Hyades that weep Nor the South-wind which Lords it ore The Adriatick Deep What face of Death could him dismay That saw the Monsters fell And wracking Rocks and swelling Sea With Eyes that did not swell In vain the Providence of God The Earth and Sea did part If yet the watry Pathes are trod By
〈◊〉 not sprung from Sires of base degree Nor skill'd in poor mens urns to dissipate 〈◊〉 silent ashes after nine dayes dare Thy heart is hounteous and thy hands sincere Fruitful thy Womb and th' Midwiâ—e rinseth clear 〈…〉 with thy fluent blood When thou from Child-bed skip'â—t with livelihood CANIDIA'S Answer Argument The 〈◊〉 â—ill not be wo◠〈…〉 his supplication 〈…〉 up and down 〈…〉 all ore the Town Quid obscratis WHy vainly pray'st thou to my lock'd-up ears Aâ— well the Rock the nake-stript Sailor hears When 〈◊〉 Neptune with his billows beats Shalt thou Scot-free scoff our Cocyttian feats Divulge licentious Cupids Sacrifice An Arch-priest-like o' th' Esquile Sorceries Revengeless blason our reproachful fames To truck with old Pâ—lignian haggard dames Or mix dispatching Pills to what end is 't If thou can'st not refeind thy destin'd twist The Faâ—es poor wretch prolong thy irksome date That still fresh torments may thy carcase bait Pelops his tell-tale Sire for rest out cries Wanting still what abounds before his eyes For Rest Prometheus Vultur-chain'd makes moan And Sisyphus his still down-tumbling stone Would roul aloft but Iove gain-saies And now Thou wouldst thy self precipitately throw From down steep clifts Now Noric sword distain In thine own Guts and loathing life in vain Striv'st with a Halter to conclude thy pain Then on thy hateful shoulders will I ride And make the earth stoop to my haughty pride I who Wax 〈◊〉 can inspire with motion As thou too curious know'st and whose dark notion Can hale the Moon down by my abstruse Spells And raise the dead up from their silent Cells And fervent Philâ—ers mix Should I bewail My Magic Art 'gainst thee cannot prevail Verses sung in the Secular games every Century of years pronounced for the sâ—fety of the Roman Empire PHoebus and Dian Grovie Queen Heavens ornaments as you have been Still be you honour'd ever 〈◊〉 Graâ—t what we ask on holy Feast In which Sybiâ—lâ—'s verses â—each Chaâ—te maids and youths not 〈…〉 Unto those Gods songs to recite Who on the seaven-fold hills delight Fair Sol who in thy chariot bright Dost call forth Day and shutt'st up Night And other and the same dost come Nought greater maist thou see than Rome Ilythia open wombes we crave For ripened Births and Mothers save Whether we thee Lucina call Or Cynthia which produceth all Goddess bring Children forth and bless Senates decrees give good success To nuptial laws that those who wed May have a fruitful Marriage-bed That ten-times-ten full Orbes mature May us to songs and sports enure Thrice in the splendour of day light And thrice in shades of welcome night And you truth â—telling Fates to past Joyn future fortunes that may last That stable limits may enclose What once to Mortals you propose That Cattel may and Corn abound Wherewith fair Ceres shall be crown'd And wholesome streams with air as pure May nâ—triments to plants assure Ah Phoebus mild withdraw thy dart To suppliant youths thy grace impart And Queen of Stars who do'st appear By-forked Luna Virgins hear If Rome a work be of your store And Trojan troops held Tybers shore A part injoyn'd their seat to change And with success from home to range For whom secure th'row Troy on fire Aeneas chaste in safe retire Free passage open'd and gave more To them then they possest before O Gods to youth grant matters sage Gods give repose to quiet age And unto Romulus his blood Wealth issue honour all that 's good Let Venus and Anchises strain Who give ye Oxen free from stain In Wars atchievements bear the prize And courteous be to enemies The Median now by Sea and Land Fears Roman power and conquering hand The Scythians now our friendship crave And haughty Indians truce would have Now Faith Peace Honour modest look And Vertue scorned which forsook Our City dares return again And blessed Plenty freely raigâ— Phoebus with radiant Bow Divine Gracious among the Muses nine Who doth with Heaven-inspir'd art To crazie bodies health impart If he Mount Palatine do grace The weal of Rome and Latian Race To farther times and better end May he these Centuries extend And Dian who holds Aventine And Algidus may she incline To prayers of fifteen men and hear Our childrens vows with friendly ear Then I and all well skill'd in Layes Phoebus and Dians name to praise Go home with certain hopes that Iove And all the Gods these things approve The end of the Epodes SATYRES BOOK I. SATYR I. By A. B. That Men are not contented with their Conditions HOw comes it great Maecenas that there 's not A man who lives contented with that lot Which choice inclin'd or chance expos'd him to But all applaud what others are and do Oh happy Merchant then the Souldier sayes When by old age and toil his strength decayes The Merchant when th' insulting billows rise And toss his tottering Ship Give me he cries The Souldiers life for he meets in a breath A joyful victory or certain death The Lawyer when he hears his Clients knock At 's gate before the crowing of the Cock Admires the Country life while the poor Swain Being from his home up to the City drawn To follow Law-suits does conclude no mens Conditions happier then the Citizens But the whole rabble of this sort of men Would be so numerous it would tire the Pen Of Scribling Fabius so I 'le pass by those And draw the matter to this point Suppose Iove said I 'le make you what you would be thou Who wert a Merchant be a Souldier now Thou that a Lawyer wert shalt now commence A Husbandman change sides and so pack hence You t' your new Calling you to yours Nay nay Now your desires are granted why d' you stay Fond fools you 'l not be happy though you may Is it not reason then great Iove should be Highly incensed and declare that he Will be no more propitious unto them But all their vain and various prayers contemn This is no laughing matter nor would I Be thought to speak all this in Drollery Though to blurt out a truth has never been In way of merriment esteem'd a sin The flattering Master thus his Boys presents With Cakes to make them learn their Rudiments But let 's leave fooling and be serious now The Clown that rends the pondrous Earth with 's plough The cheating Tradesman and the Souldier too The Sea-man bold who ploughs the Ocean through All these their various toils endure they say Meerly with this intention that they may When they grow old with peace injoy that store Which their industrious youth had gain'd before Just like the Ant for that 's their pattern small In bulk but great in thrift who draws in all That e're she can and adds it to her store Which she fore-seeing want had heap'd before And in the rage of Winter keeps within To feed on what her providence laid in But neither sword fire water heat nor cold Nor any thing
rear Walls fâ—r Aeneas toyles of state And better fate O Phoebus shrill Thalias theam Who lav'dst thy looks in Xanthus stream Protect the honour'd Daunian Muse Smooth Agyeus 'T was Phoebus gave thee wit and art And name of Poet did impart Ye noblest Maids and youths of high Born ancestry Ye guarded in Diana's bounds Whose bow swift Stags and Lynces wounds My Lesbian measures patron stand And guide my hand Chaunting as of old Diana's Sun And the still light-augmenting Moon Fructiferous making Moneths to hie On speedily Now wed thou 'lt say I who each Verse Of Horace knew did Layes rehearse T' th' Gods when ev'ry age in use Did feasts reduce ODE VII By Sir R. F. To L. Manlius Torquatus Proposing the arrival of the Spring and the equal necessity to all men of dying without hopes of living again and proposing likewise the change and vicissitude of all things he invites to lead a merry and pleasant life THe snows are thaw'd now grass new cloaths the earth And trees new hair thrust forth The season 's chang'd and brooks late swoln with rain Their proper banks contain Nymphs with the Graces linkt dare dance around Naked upon the ground That thou must die the year and howers say Which draw the winged day First Spring then Summer that away doth chase And must it self give place To Apple-bearing Antumn and that past Dull Winter comes at last But the decays of time Time doth repair When we once plunged are Where good Aeneas with rich Ancus wades Ashes we are and shades Who knows if Iove unto thy life 's past score Will adde one morning more When thou art dead and Rhadamanthus â—ust Sentence hath spoke thee dust Thy blood nor eloquence can ransome thee No nor thy piety For chast Hippolytus in Stygian night Diana cannot light Nor Theseus break with all his vertuous pains His dear Perithous chains A Paraphrase on the same Ode THe snow is gone the grass returns To Fields the Perucks to the trees Earth playes with her varieties Each River in Consumption mourns And humbly glides beneath her bourns Contain'd within her banks degrees The naked Graces lead the dance With whom the Nymphs in measures more The sliding years our hopes reprove Which to Eternity advance And the swift howers their speed inhance The day by snatches to remove Soft Western gales allay the cold On the Sprlngs heels the Summer treads It self then to destruction leads Where Autumn does her fruits unfold Straight comes the Winter stiffe and cold And life with lazie humour deads Yet Moons may wane and soon increase But when once we thither go Where wealthy men and worthy too Must all lay down their heads at last When their needless toyls are past To dust and ghost we vanish all Who knows that those great powers on high The present sum of these our dayes Which by to morrows reckoning raise Our heirs as well as we must die And from our clutcht hands all will flie Which our kind will to them conveys That once among the dead thou be And the just Judge do sentence give In glorious state on all that live Thee no extraction thence shall free No eloquence no piety Thy life recover or reprieve No Father can though much he mourn From the dark vale of shade beneath Restore his guiltless Babe to breath Nor friend can make his friend return When once imprison'd in his Urn From cold forgetfulness and death ODE VIII By Sir R. F. To Martius Censorinus That there is nothing which can make men more immortal then the verses of Poets MY friends I would accommodate With goblets Grecian tripods Plate Of Corinth Brass and Censorine The worst of these should not be thine That is to say if I were rich In those same antique pieces which Parrhasius and Scopas fame He skill'd to paint in stone to frame This now a God a Mortal now But I have not the means nor thou A mind or purse that wants such knacks Verse thou dost love Thou shalt not lack For Verse And hear me what 't is worth Not inscrib'd Marbles planted forth To publick view which give new breath To great and good men after death Not the swift flight of Hannihal And his threats turn'd to his own wall Not perjur'd Carthage wrapt in flame By which young Scipio brought a name From conquer'd Africk speaks his praise So loud as the Pierian Layes Nar were Books silenc'd could'st thou gain The Guerdon of thy vertuous pain What had become of Ilia's child She bare to Mars had darkness veil'd The merits of our Romulus From Stygian waters Aeacus Vertue and fav'ring verse assoils And consecrates to the blest Isles A man that hath deserv'd t' have praise The Muse embalms She keeps Heavens Keys Thus Hercules his labours past With Iupiter takes wisht repast The sons of Leda stars are made And give the sinking Sea-man aid Good Bacchus crowned with Vine-leaves His drooping Voraries relieves ODE IX By Sir R. F. To LOLLIO That his writings shail never perish Vertue without the help of Verses is buried in oblivion That he will sing Lollio's praises whose vertue he now also celebrates LEast thou should'st think the words which I By sounding Aufid born compile To marry with the Lute b'a skill Never before reveal'd shall die Though Homer lead the Van the Muse Of Pindar nor Alcaeus heights Grave Stesichore nor Caean sighs Are silenc't or worn out of use Nor what of old Anacreon plaid Hath time defac't Love lights his fire And with his Quiver wears the Lyre Of the yet fresh Aeolian Maid Helen was not the onely she A curled gallant did inflame The splendour of his Royal train And Gold and Pearls embroyderie Nor Teucâ—r first that drew a strong Cydonian Bow Trojans had fought Before nor that age onely wrought Deeds worthy of the Muses song Nor valiant Hâ—ctor and the brave Deiphob were the onely men Receiv'd deep wounds upon them then Their children and chafte wives to save Men slasht ere Diomed was made But all are in oblivion drown'd And put unmourn'd into the ground For lack of Sacred Poets aid Vertue that 's buried and dead Sloth Differ not much Un-understood Thou shalt not die nor so much good As thou host acted feed the Moth. Lollio thou art a man hast skill To fathome things that being tride In either Fortune could'st abide In both up-right and Lollio still Of coverous fraud a scourge severe On whom the all-attracting Gold Could with its Tenters ne'r take hold Nor Consul of one year When ere Avertuous Magistrate and true Shall call good gain bid Bribes avaunt Upon Opposers bellies plant His conqu'ring Flags Lollio that 's you He is not happy that hath much But who so can his mind dispose To use aright what Heaven bestows He justly is accounted such If he know how hard want to bear And fear a crime more then his end If for his Country or his Friend To stake his life he doth not fear And
Death and hold their tongue As their Souls were Planet-strook 'T is so dire Fates the Romans haunt And a Fratricidal guilt Since blood of Remus innocent On the cursed ground was spilt EPODE VIII To a Lustful old Woman Argument The fulsome shape and vitious life Of a lascivious aged wife Rogare Longo THou to demand of rot-consumed date What should my strength emasculate When all thy teeth black-furr'd with Canker show And Old-age wrinckle plows thy brow And filthy arse 'twixt buttocks wither-dry'd Like some raw-bon'd Cows gapes so wide But thy down-swagging breasts extub'rant teats Like Mares dugs kindle Cupids heats Thy down-soft bellie and thy spindle thighs Sustain'd on legs which pregnant rise Live happily let Statutes triumphal Adorn thy pompous funeral Nor may more precious chains of pearl invest ' Ere any marri'd womans brest How is 't that Stoic Treatises are by And 'mongst thy silken pillows lie Are rustick Loons less pollent at the sports Or doth their courage less retort Whose that thou may'st urge to spend Thou must with contend EPODE IX By Sir T. H. To MAECENAS He beforehand feels the contentment he shall take from Augustus his victory against M. Anthony and Cleopatra VVHen shall I Caecube wines that stored lie For banquets glad at Caesars victory So Iove will have it in thy stately house With thee my dear Maecenas free carrouze Resounding notes that mingle Flutes with Lyre This Dorique speaking joy that Phrygian Ire As when Neptunian Pompey droven fled Through straigthned seas with navie ruined Who Rome had threatned with those chains which he Had ta'ne from treacherous Servitors made free The Roman Souldier by a woman ty'd In slavish bands ah this will be deny'd By after times lugs armes earth stakes and tent Striving her with'red Eunuches to content And Phoebus 'mongst their ensignes doth espy Her net-like and lascivious canopie But the bold French proclaiming Caesars name Thence with two thousand Horse straight hither came And the swift prowess of hostile vessels lie Turn'd to the left hand ready set to flie O gladsome triumph thou retard'st the drift Of golden chariot and young beifers gift O gladsome triumph from Iugurthian war Thou brought'st no captain might with this compare Nor African whose noble valours praise Did lasting monuments or'e Carthage raise The foe by Sea and Land now vanquish'd fears And a black Cassock for a purple wears Not knowing whither adverse windes will cast Him on rich Crete with hundred Cities grac'd Or on the Quick-sands with South-billows toss'd Or the wide main in danger to be lost Boy cups bring hither for a larger draught Let Chian or the Lesbian grape be sought Or fill Caecubian wines without delay Which may a queezie loathing drive away The care and fear of Caesars happy state Let us with merry Bacchus dissipate EPODE X. Against Maetius a Poet. Argument He wisheth raging stormes may rise And Maetius with wrack surprize Mala Soluta THe ship inauspicaâ—ely quits the Bay And noisome Maetius hoists away Anster see thou impeâ—uously rave Dashing both sides with furious wave Let gloomy Eurus with his stormes adverse The Tacklings and broke Oars disperse 〈…〉 such violent 〈◊〉 extend As from high hills an Holm 〈…〉 On pitchie nights let no stars luster shine When sad Orion doth decline Nor let the Ocean tranquiller stand Than for the Grecians conquering band When wrathful Pallas waving fired Troy Would impious Ajax sail destroy O how do thy industrious sailers sweat Thy self with pallid fear repleat Howling out sadly woman-like laments And vows which ireful Iove resents When showry Notus lowdly bellowing I' th' Adrian Gulph doth ship-wrack bring But if the crooktly-winding shore display Thy still stretch'd limbs for Corm'rants prey A lustful Goat and a She-lambkin shall A Sacrifice to tempests fall EPODE XI To Pettius his Chamber-fellow Argument He Cupid-struck cannot the while To compose Verses frame his stile Petti nil me PEttius I take no pleasure as before In writing Verse Now Cupids arrows pierce Cupid who me ' â—ove all inflameth sore With wilder heat Of Youths and Virgins neat Now three Decembers woods have shed their glory Since ore I gave For Inachia to rave Oh shameful folly what a Citie-storie 'lass I became My junkettings I blame When paleness silence and long sighs exhal'd From lungs profound Descri'd my passions wound And I lamentful moan'd that wealth prevail'd 'Gainst honestie And distress'd ingeny When debaucht Bacchus did my secrets broach From heated breast With fervent liquors prest But if free indignation once approach My boyling blood And this distasteful flood Expel which nought allaies my maladie Shame profligate With great ones strife will hate When I thou hearing these extoll'd on high Charg'd to get home I rov'd with vagrant roam To those ah flintie thresholds unkind posts Which as I li'd All bruis'd my shins and side Me now Lyciscas love ore-rules who boasts T' exceed each she In soft effeminacie From whence no faithful counsels can me free A friend affords Nor contumelious words A new flame of some Virgin it must be Or youth plump-round With long hair backward wound EPODE XII Against a libidinous old Woman Argument He scolds a Whore who did him court To sate her Lust with Venus sport Quid tibi vis WHat mean'st thou Woman for black El'phants fit Why send'st me tokens why are letters writ To me nor vig'rous nor obtuse of nose For I quick-sented can as soon disclose A Polype or an arm-pits rammish scent As well nos'd hounds explore where sows are pent What â—tench what sweat her wizned limbs hath drench'd When Natures kneener ardours in me quench'd She hastes to satisfie her unbridled lust Nor bides her all sweat-steeped cheeks cerust Or dawb'd with Crocodiles ordure with mad reaks She now both Bed-stock and the Matt'ress breaks Thus jears my Languors with revileful flout Thou with Inachia could'st hold longer out Yea thrice a night with me at once thou 'rt tir'd A Pox take Lesâ—ia who when I enquir'd For tuff-back'd Actors shew'd me thee so dull Choan Amyntas giving me my full Whose unfoyl'd more stiff erected Then ere a sapling in the loftie wood For whom were garments which twice tincted show In Tyrian purple made for thee I trow Least 'mongst his equals ere a guest should be Whom his dear sweet-heart better lov'd than thee Oh wretch am I whom thou eschews as much As Lambes fierce Wolves or Goats the Lions clutch EPODE XIII By Sir T. H. To his merry Friends that they should pass the VVinteâ— pleasantly ROugh tempests have the brow of heaven bent And showers and snows cause thickned airs descent Now Thracian North windes Seas and woods affray Friends let us take occasion from the day While strength is fresh and us it well becomes Let 's old age banish which the brow benumns Boy see you broach those elder Wines were prest When Torquat first the Consulship possest Speak not of other things God will perchance Them to their
thus run on who should we meet But my friend C passing cross the street C straight found what kind of man he was Nor to see through him needed he his Glass So when the usual complements were past I trod on 's Toes and softly him imbrac't I winkt and shruug'd and many signes I gave Which silently did his assistance crave But my unmerciful malitious friend Seem'd not to understand what I intend Enjoy'd my misery and smil'd to see What small thin Plots I made to be set free Dear friend d' you remember who last night Did us to dine with him to day invite I well rember it but yet in troth I have no mind to go for I am loth To break a fasting day as we shall there That 's nought I have a dispensation here I 've none sayes he I 'm going another way I 'le keep my conscience and the Church obey This said my witty Friend with cruel spight Leaves me even when the Butchers going to smite Under what cursed Planet was I born By my companion to be left forlorn Condemn'd to suffer this incessant breath And by perpetual chattring talk'd to death But now at last by great good hap there was A Bailiff seas'd on him as he did pass O have I caughr you Sir you must with me Pray Sir will you against him witness be Along they go I for revenge too joyn'd But in the Hall we so great tumult find Such heaps of Women follow'd us and Boyes That I with ease escapt amidst the noise Sure great was my distress when even a throng Of Lawyers was relief against his tongue SATYRE X. By A. B. Another Discourse of POETRY I Said indeed the Verse Lucilius writ Were rough 't is true and who 's so void of wit Tâ—ough ne're so much his Patron or his Friend That him against this censure can defend But in that very Page I said withal That with great Wit he does the City maul And did commend him for it much But yet Though I allow him that I don't admit Lucilius was so thorough-pac'd a Wit As to be good at every thing for so That fool Laberius Dogrel Rhimes might go For exc'lent Poems and be much admir'd Though 't be a vertue and to be desir'd To make an Audience laugh well yet there be More things requir'd to make a Poet he Must be caucise his Verse must smoothly flow And not be clogg'd with needless words that grow A burden to the Reader who is tir'd With reading that which he at first desir'd Sometimes 't is good to use a doleful strain But most of all the brisk and aiery vain Now play the Rhetorician and then To the Poetical raptures fly again Sometimes write like a Gentleman whose part Is to write easily without much art A Drolling merry stile does better hit Great matters then a down-right railing Wit The antient Comick Poets on this ground Are imitable and to be renown'd But those our spruce Gallants about the Town Because they understand them not cry down To sing what Calvus and Catullus writ Is th' heighth of all their learning and their wit He that say they in 's Latine Verses can Mix ends of Greek that that 's the onely man You aged Block-heads who so doat upon That Rhodian Dunce Poet Pytholeon And think that Pie-bald way in which he went To be both difficult and excellent But oh an elegant discourse you 'l say Made up of Greek and Latine words looks gay 'T is just like Chian Wine when mixt among The Wine that to Falernum does belong When thou wouldest Verses make imagine thou Wert for thy life to plead thy own cause now As did that criminal Petillus once Would'st thou thy Native language quite renounce While the Kings Council in their Mother tongue Tug for thy Condemnation right or wrong To â—nterlace thy speech would'st thou incline With forein words and like the Canusine Speak a compounded Gibrish But when I Who am an In-land Poel went to try To make Greek Verses after mid-night when Those things are real which are dreamt by men Romulus straight appear'd to me and told me All men would for as great a mad-man hold me If I attempt t' encrease that tedious store Of the Greek Poets too too large before As if I should Coals to New-castle send This to my Graecian versing put an end While swelling Alpin with his thundring Pen Murders poor slaughter'd Memnon o're again And by his barbarous Poetry destroyes Those things and persons which he goes to praise I sport my self with writing Lines which ne're Are spoken in Apollo's Temple where That pedant Tarpa does presume to sit And with much boldness judge of little wit Nor are they oft obtruded on the Stage To cloy the Stomack of the queazie age As now our modern Fundanus does Who is in scribling Playes facetious And with a subtle whore a cunning knave Cheating old men we the same fancy have In all his Playes And Tragick Pollio sings In his three-footed Verse the deeds of Kings But our ingenuous Varius does produce Better then any the Heroick Muse And the smooth Rural Muses do inspâ—re Virgil with soft and most facetious fire Hence 't is that I write better Satyrs then That blundring Varro and that sort of men Who have so often tri'd to write in vain Yet I fall short of our Lucilius strain Who first invented them nor will I dare To strip him from the Crown which did adhere T' his brows with so much glory though I said His Verses did run muddily yet they had More in them that deserv'd our great respect Then all those Vices which we should reject But prithee tell me Did thy learned eye Nothing to be reprov'd in Homer spie Did not Lucilius himself think fit To alter something of weak Accius wit Did he not laugh at Ennius lines as though Some things in them were not quite grave enough And when of thee he a discourse did move Thought thee as bad as those he did reprove And what should hinder but when ever we Do read Lucilius works we well may see If 't were the imperfection of his wit Or crabbed Nature of the things he writ Would not permit the Lines he made to be Elaborate or run more evenly Or if that any Poet took delight A Poem in Hexameter to write Contended onely that he had made up Two hundred Verses when he went to sup And after Supper just as many more Whose rhimes did run as Cassius heretofore More swift and raging then a Torrent does Which being condemn'd to fire as story goes Was burnt to ashes with the Books he writ The just reward of a voluminous wit If he were now alive and all that e're He found superfluous away should pare He 'ld scratch his head were he a Verse to write And often to the quick his nails would bite He that wouâ—d write what should twice reading stand Must often be upon the mending hand Ne're mind the
praise of the undiscerning Crew Content with learned Readers though but few Art thou so mad thy Poems to expose To Ballad-singers and to Puppet-shows Now I I vow I 'm like the bold wench that By all the people being baited at Since I quoth she am Minion to a Knight I all the inferiour rabble scorn and slight Shall such an Arse-worm as Pantilius Disturb may thoughts or when Demetrius does Behind my back traduce me or that Ass Fannius who once Tigellius Crony was Abuses me his envious rage to vent Shall I shall foolishly my self torment No let Maecenas and such men of wit As Virgil will but read what I have writ With many friends and learned persons more Whose names I do industriously pass ore Whom I desire to smile on what I write How ill soe'er But if they should delight Less then my expectation I should be Exceeding sorrowful But as for thee Demetrius thee Tigellius that be But Finding Rogues go fret your selves and pine 'Mongst your She-schollars at these lines of mine Sirrah make all the haste you can aud look That all I've said be added to my Book The end of the First Book of Satyrs SATYRES BOOK II. SATYRE I. By Sir R. F. He dilates upon the advice given him by Trebatius to write the actions of Augustus rather then Satyrs as things that are dangerous to meddle with and shews way he cannot obey him SOme think I am to sharp a Satyrist And that I stretch my work beyond the list Others what ere I write is neeless say And that like mine a thousand Lines a day May be spun What would'st thou advise me now Trebatius in this case Sit still As how Not to write Verse at all dost thou aver As thy Sense I doe Let me never stir If 't were not better But I cannot sleep For that swim Tyber nointed thrice or steep Thy brains at night in Wine If thou must needs Write dare to write unconquer'd Caesars deeds Great Rewards following Father that being it I 'de fain be at my will exceeds my wit Not every Pen can paint in horrid Field Thick Groves of Pikes Spears broke in French-men kill'd And a hurt Parthian dropping from his Horse His justice though thou maist and his mindes force As wise Lucilius those of Scipio I 'le not be wanting to my self if so Occasion serve The passage must be clear When Horace words pierce Caesars serious ear Whom stroaking if we think t' approach ' ware heels Is not that better then in Verse that reels To jeer this Gull that Prodigal when each Man thinks he 's meant tho quite from thy thoughts reach And hates thee for 't what should I do being hot i th' head and seeing double through the Pot Milonius frisks Castor on Horse-back fights The twin of the same Egg in Clubs delights As many thousand minds as men there be I Like Lucilius better then both we My words in Meeter love t' enclose and bind His way was in his Books to speak his mind As freely as his secrets he would tell To a tride friend and took it ill or well He held his Custome Hence it came to pass The old mans life is there as in a Glass His steps I follow whom you neither can Of Luca call nor an Appulian For the Venusian both their borders ploughs A Colony of Rome as old Fame shews The Sabells thence expell'd to stop that Gate And be an Out-work to the Roman State Yet I 'de not harm a Chicken with my will For shew and countenance bearing my Quill Like a Sword sheath'd which why should I draw not Set on by Rogues with Rust there may it rot O Iove Father and King and none bereave The peace I seek But if there do believe Me they will rew't when with my keen Stile stung Through the whole town they shall in pomp be sung Servius the penal Statutes anger'd threats Canidia to Witch them 'gainst whom she sets A mischief Turius to all those wage Law Where he 's a Judge That every one doth awe Them whom he fears with that where his strength is And that by Natures Law appears in this Wolves smite with teeth Buls with the horn this must Be taught them from within With Scaeva trust His long-liv'd Mother my head to a groat His pious hand shall never cut her throat Not his No more then an Oxe bite a Bear Kick thee but she shall die of poison There Now lies his skill Me whether in effect The quiet Harbour of old age exspect Or Death with sable wings hover about Rich Poor at Rome or by hard Fate thrust out Into exile in whatsoever way Of life I must write Verses that 's my play O Childe thy taper's near the end I doubt And that some great Mans brave will puff thee out Why When Lucilius durst begin this way Of writing Verses and the skins did flay In which the outward-fair disguis'd their shame Were Laelius and he that won a name From Carthage-raz'd offended with his wit Or did they winch Metallus being hit And Lupus stript and whipt in Verse yet he Spouted his Ink on men of each degree None spar'd but Vertue and her friends Nay when Retir'd were from the Stage and croud of men Scipio's exalted vertue and the mild Wisdom of Laelius Till the Broth was boild They both would play and toil with him ungirt Though I in wit and in condition short Am of Lucilius Envy shall confess Against her will I 've liv'd nevertheless Amongst great men and thinking to have stuff Here for her rotten teeth find I am tough If learn'd Trebatius take me at my rate Nay truly I can find nothing to bate Onely I warn thee least through ignorance Of setled Laws thou come to some mischance If any write base Verses against other It bears a suit If base I grant but Father If any write good verse that man 's prais'd Caesar the Judge If I the street have rais'd By baâ—â—ing at a Thief my self being none The 〈◊〉 with laughter cracks I freed go home SATYRE II. By A. B. The benefits of Temperance and Frugality HOw great a vertue 't is and how it tends To the good of humane life my worthy friends To live abstemiously is not to be Learn'd at great Feasts made up of luxury Amongst your polish'd Tables spread in State Loaden with Dishes of stupendious Plate Whose various splend our does amaze the Eye And make the puzled appetite pass by What 's good and choose the worse but when you be Fasting then come sift out this truth with me This is not my Sense onely but Offellus That Country wit this truth did long since tell us A prudent man yet walkt not by a rule Nor learn'd the formal Precepts of the School You 'l ask why fasting give me leave I 'le tell you You can no more with a full gorged belly Know vice from vertue then a Judge that is Corrupt discern 'twixt truth and falsities Suppose you
them to exeâ—cise theâ—r pride And all that waâ—t for business to deride While we within in private shut the while With such vain tattle do the time beguile What is the clock 't is very cold to day How do you like these Verses or that Play Such were the grave affairs of State that we Transacted in our envy'd secresie Yet by this means 't was nois'd about the Town That I a mighty favorite was grown D' ye hear the news sayes one our friend did ride Last night with my Lord Chancellor side by side He is a rising man and happy me I him to day at least two hours did see In private with his Highness and his Grace Gave him a Friendly smile as he did pass When once the World hath taken this report Then all the Mounsieurs brisk about the Court Where e're I meet them kindly me salute Y' are well met Sir you know without dispute How matters goe say they for now you are Acquainted with all States-men secrets here And how and how and when d' ye expect the Fleet When will the King set forth the Queâ—n to meet I know not Come you 'r such another man Lâ—t all the Gods their judgements on me rain If I know any things And what d' ye hear When did the Portuguez resign Tangier Is all in Ireland quiet still or no When will my Lord Lieutenant thither goe Which way are things accommodated there For the old Irish or the Purchaser Still I persist that I do nothing know At my reserv'dness they much wonder shew That I 'm a close and trusty man they swear Fit to be made a Privy-counsellor Thus I my time to â—uch vain fopperies give And onely in my wishes truly live Oh when shall I the Country see again When in a medow or a shady plain Shall I once more securely read and sleep And no account of the dayes motion keep But by a pleasant thoughtful idleness Of humane life make the long journey less Oh Beans and Bacon O delicious meal Such as the first and innocent men did eat Of fruits for which Pythagoras was wise When he all other dainties did despise Oh nights and suppers fit for Gods to eat For even the Gods have sometimes lov'd retreat There o're my merry Servants I am King Yet fear no Poison in what e're they bring There free from all the gentle rudeness which The Laws of Drinking in the City teach One takes a Brimmer up another cries Hold hold pray not too much that will suffice All drink what e're they please and none by stealth Need put this Glass by or escape that health There no discourse of other men comes in Nor who this Race who did that Cock-match win Not who commands the fashion of the Town Who the best Actor is Lacy or Mohume We talk of things that nearer us concern And which 't is more material to learn What kind of life a prudent man should chuse Or to be rich or to be virtuous What into strongest friendship men doth bind Profit and interest or the Goods o th' mind What of true happiness the nature is What are its measures properties degrees C the while for he too did the same Forsook the world with me and thither came C still mingles things that are more gay Rough Morals with old Stories doth allay Yet not that all our talk should stories be But onely when they genuine come and free Then if some new arriv'd half-witted Guest Half witted sure he needs must be at best Admires the City and the glories there How splendidly these Lords or those appear Against him which such railery he disputes And with a Mouses Argument confutes By Mr. A. Cowley AT the large Foot of a fair hallow tree Close by plow'd grounds seated commodiously His antient and hereditary house There dwelt a good substantial Country Mouse Frugal and grave and careful of the main Yet one who nobly once did entertain A City Mouse well coated sleek and gay A Mouse of high degree who lost his way Wantonly walking forth to take the air And arriv'd early and belighted there For a dayes lodging the good hearty Host The antient plenty of his Hall to boast Did all the stores produce that might excuse With various taste the Courtiers appetite Chitches and beans peason and oats and wheat And a large Chesnut the delicious meat Which Iove himself were he a Mouse would eat And for a haut-guest there was mixt with these The sword of Becon and the coat of cheese The precious relicks which at Harvest he Had gatheâ—'d from the Reapers luxury Freely said he fall on and do not spare The bounteous Gods will for to morrow care And thus at ease on Beds of straw they lay And to their Genius sacrific'd the day Yet the nice Guests mind Though breeding made him civil seem and kind Despis'd this Countrey Feast and still his thought Upon the cakes and pies of London wrought Your bouâ—ty and civility said he Which I 'm surpris'd in these rude parts to see Shews that the Gods have given you a mind Too noble for the fare which here you find Why should a Soul so virtuous and so great Loose it self thus in an obscure retreat Let Savage Beasts lodge in a Countrey Den You should see Towns and manners and know men And taste the generous luxury of the Court Where all the Mice of qualitie resort Where thousand beauteous shee s about you move And by high fare are pliant made to love We all ere long must render up our â—reath No Cave or Hole can shelter us from Death Since life is so uncertain and so short Let 's spend it all in feasting and in sport Come worthy Sir come with me and partake All the great things that Mortals happy make Alas what vertue has sufficient armes T' oppose bright Honour and soft pleasures charms What wisdome can their Magick force repel It draws this Reverend Hermit from his Cell It was the time when witty Poets tell That Phoebus into Tethys bosome fell She blusht at first and then put out her light And drew the modest Curtains of the night Plainly the truth to tell the Sun was set And to the town the wearied travâ—llers get To a Lords house as Lordly as can be Made for the use of pride and luxury They come the gentile Courtier at the door Stopt and will hardly enter in before But this Sir you command and being so I 'm sworn t' obedience and so in they go Behind a Hanging in a spacious room The richest work of Mortelacks noble Loom They wait a while their wearied Limbs to rest Till silence should invite them to their fâ—ast Alont the hour that Cynâ—hia's silver light Had toucht the pale meridies of night At last the various Supper being done It hapned that the company was gone Into a room remote Servants and all To please their noble fancies with a Ball. Our Host leads forth his stranger and does
up with better chear Or by his Girl Sabinus shall be here Each Guest may bring his shadow But the sweat Will be offensive if too close we set Thy number write and all things laid aside Thy Clients bobb'd out at the back door glide EPISTLE VI. By A. B. To NUMICIUS Not to trouble himself with worldly matters NUmicius to admire nothing at all VVhich in this world to Mortals may befal Is one if not the onely thing which can Make and continue thee a happy man Philosophy renders some men so bold They 're not affrighted when they do behold The Sun and Stars so variously appear In all the different seasons of the year Or in unusual motions why should'st thou Be more transported with the things below Why should'st thou mind the treasures of the earth Those gums to which Arabia gives birth Or Silver Gold and pretious jems with which Both Indies do the rest o' th' world enrich Pleasure or Honour or those gifts which come From the self-ended Citizens of Rome With what a mind and look should these things be Possess'd or but reflected on by thee He that the contrary to this does fear His passions like th' Admirers passions are A mind disturb'd which way soe're it come On one side and the other is trouble some And sudden apprehension of all things To those that fear or love much terror brings What is it to the purpose whether we Desire and fear and sad or joyful be Who when a thing befals him bad or good If more or other then he thought it wou'd Do'st presently look blank upon 't and grow Aâ—tonish'd both in mind and body too The wiseman is an Ass the just man grows Unjust if they would be too virtuous Go now and gaze upon thy massie plate Thy Brass and Marble pillars made for State Thy costly Hangings of rich Tapestry And costly garments of the Tyrian Die And hug thy self when thou shalt thousands see While thou art making speeches gaze on thee Rise early in the morn away to th' Hall And till 't is late at night there tug and bawl Least Mutius grow rich before thee he Who is by birth inferiour much to thee Shall such a sneaking fellow as he is Be thy example when thou should'st be his What ere is hidden time will bring to light And that will vanish which now shines so bright Nay thou who on th' Exchange and at the Hall Art so well known and honour'd too by all Forsaking all these things must go at last Where our Fore-fathers are whose dayes are past If thou do'st any sharp disease indure Use all thy Wits to get a present cure Wilt thou live well who would not Virtue is The onely way to gain true happiness And therefore all thy vanities thrown by To it couragiously thy mind apply Make that thy business and do not suppose That to talk much is to be virtuous That words together put will vertue prove As Trees together put will make a Grove But if wealth be thy aim pursue thy Trade Take heed no other Merchant do invade Those Ports thou traffick'st to and take from thee Thy businesses which now so gainful be Heap up a thousand talents then one more Add a third thousand and then make'â—m four This mighty Monarch Money to us sends Fair Wives great Portions Reputation Friends This makes us Noble though our Birth be base And givâ—s our persons comesiness and grace That man who has his pockets lin'd with Chink All men ingenious and handsome think The Cappadocian King though he had store Of Slaves was in 's Exchequer very poor But be not thou like that unhappy King T' aboundin one and not in every thing Lucullus was desir'd the story sayes To lend a hundred Cloaks for some new Playes Where should I have so many Cloaks said he But yet I 'le look and what I have send t' ye A little after this he sends them word That he 5000 Garments could afford Which in his house lay by unknown to him And that they might have part or all of them That house is much unfurnish'd where there are Not many things superfluous and to spare Goods which the Owner knows not of but may Be unconcern'd when they are stoln away If as Mimnermus said nothing can be Delightsome without love and jollity Then live in love and jollitie farewel If thou of any better Rules can'st tell Then these impart them candidlie If not I pray make use of these with me The same by J. W. Esq IF then wealth onely makes and keeps man blest Make that thy first of works and leave it last If publick Honour buy some progging Slave May point thee who goes by what names they have Pluck thee by th' sleeve and tell thee such or such Are worth your hand you can't reach 't out too much His interest lies here and t'others there Make 'um your friends and you are Consul clear Thus putting on a pleasant face to all As their years are this son him father call If eating be the business let 's away In order to 't we stay too long ' tiâ— day Rouse our dull Servants make one take the Nets Another hunting Poles a third the Spear And so returning through the gaping Fare Lead a tall Mule home laden with a Boare Not kill'd as they suppose but bought before Let 's bathe on a full stomack as forgot Whither convenient for our health or not Right Cerites lawless very Greeks that think Their Countrey far of less esteem then drink If as Mimnermus nothing's to be done That has not Love and Pleasure in 't Let one Live and farewel And if yo 've better chear Impart it pray if not be merry hear EPISTLE VII By A. B. To MAECENAS That Liberty is more acceptable to a friend than costly Entertainmâ—nt I Promâ—s'd when I left you last 't is true Within five dayes to come again to you Into the Country and you look'd for me All August long to come accordinglie Yet I have fail'd you now I 'll tell you why Not that I slight such worthy company But your hard drinking kills me I profess You 'ld love me better if you 'ld love me less If you 'ld have me live long and heathfully Give me now I am well that liberty Which were I sick I 'm sure you would allow For I fear sâ—ckness though I 'm healthy now In these hot Dog-dayes when each little thing That stirs the blood does mortal sickness bring Autum the Sextons harvest when we meet Mourners and funerals in every street When Women send their Children out for fear They should be â—â—lled by the City air The Lawyers venting mercenary breath Brings Feavers and a happy riddance death But when the Winter comes and heav'n bestrews The shabbed ground with frequent frosts and snows Then comes your Poet to the waters side Where he t' ndulge his body will abide And study very little And if you Will give me leave I 'll wait upon