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Ev’n those thou would'st in veneration hold;
And, if not faces, give them beards of gold.
The priests in temples, now, no longer care
For Saturn's brafs, or Numa's earthen-ware;
Or vestal urns, in each religious rite:
This wicked gold has put them all to flight.
O souls, in whom no heavenly fire is found,
Fat minds, and ever groveling on the ground !
We bring our manners to the blest abodes,
And think what pleases us must please the Gods.
Of oil and cassia one th'ingredients takes,
And, of the mixture, a rich ointment makes :
Another finds the way to dye in grain;
And makes Calabrian wool receive the Tyrian stain;
Or froin the shells their orient treasure takes,
Or, for their golden ore, in rivers rakes;
Then melts the mass : all these are vanities !
Yet still some profit from their pains may rise :
But tell me, priest, if I may be so bold,
What are the Gods the better for this gold ?
The wretch that offers from his wealthy store
These presents, bribes the Powers to give him more ;
As maids to Venus offer baby-toys,
To bless the marriage-bed with girls and boys.
But let us for the Gods a gift prepare,
Which the great man's great charges cannot bear:
A foul, where laws both human and divine,
In practice more than speculation shine:
A genuine virtue, of a vigorous kind,
Pure in the last receffes of the mind :
When with such offerings to the Gods I come,
A cake, thus given, is worth a hecatomb.
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ARGU Μ Ε Ν Τ. OUR author has made two satires concerning study;

the first and the third : the first related to men ; this to young students, whom he desired to be educated in the stoick philosophy: he himself sustains the person of the master, or præceptor, in this admirable fatire ; where he upbraids the youth of Noth, and negligence in learning. Yet he begins with one scholar reproaching his fellow-students with late rising to their books. After which he takes upon him the other part of the teacher. And addressing himself particularly to young noblemen, tells them, that by reason of their high birth, and the great possessions of their fathers, they are careless of adorning their minds with precepts of moral philosophy: and withal, inculcates to them the miseries which will attend them in the whole course of their life, if they do not apply themselves betimes to the knowledge of virtue, and the end of

their creation, which : he pathetically insinuates to thein. The title of this fatire, in some ancient manuscripts, was. “ The Reproach of Idleness ;) though in others of the scholiasts it is inscribed, “ Against the Luxury and Vices of the Rich.” In both of which the intention of the poet is pursued ; but principally in the former..


[I remember I. translated this satire, when I was a

King's scholar at Westminster-school, for a Thurfday-night's exercise; and believe that it, and many other of my exercises of this nature, in English verse, are still in the hands of my learned inafter, the reverend Doctor Bulby.),


I So this thy daily course ? The glåring sun

Breaks in at every chink : the cattle run
To Nades, and noon-tide rays of summer-shun,
Yet plung'd in Noth we lie; and snore supine,
As fill’d with’fumes of indigested wine.

This grave advice fome sober student bears;
And loudly rings it in his fellow's ears.
The yawning youth, scarce half awake, essays
His lazy limbs and dozy head to raise :
Then rubs his gummy eyes, and scrubs his pate;
And cries, I thought it had not been so late :
My cloaths make haste: why then! if none be near,
He mutters first, and then begins to fwear :
And brays aloud, with a more clamorous note,
Than an Arcadian ass can stretch his throat.


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With much ado, his book before him laid,
And parchment with the smoother side display'd;
He takes the papers; lays them down again ;
And, with unwilling fingers, tries the pen :
Some peevish quarrel streight he strives to pick;
His quill writes double, or his ink's too thick ;
Infuse more water ; now 'tis grown so thin
It sinks, nor can the characters be seen.

O wretch, and still more wretched every day?
Are mortals born to sleep their lives away?
Go back to what thy infancy began,

Thou who wert never meant to be a man:

pap and spoon-meat; for thy gewgaws cry:
Be fullen, and refuse the lullaby.
No more accuse thy pen : but charge the crime
On native floth, and negligence of time.
Think'st thou thy master, or thy friends, to cheat?
Fool, 'tis thyself, and that 's a worse deceit.
Beware the public laughter of the town;
Thou spring'st a leak already in thy crown.
A fiaw is in thy ill bak'd vesiel found;
'Tis hollow, and returns, a jarring sound.

Yet, thy moist clay is pliant to command;
Unwrought, and easy to the potter's hand :
Now take the mold; now bend thy mind to feel
The first sharp motions of the forming wheel.

But thou hast land; a country-seat, secure
By a juft title ; caftly furniture ;
A fuming-pan thy Lares to appease :
"l'hat need of learning, when a man's at ease?



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If this be not enough to swell thy soul,
Then please thy pride, and search the herald's roll,
Where thou shalt find thy famous pedigree
Drawn from the root of some old Tuscan tree;
And thou, a thousand off, a fool of long degree.
Who, clad in purple, canst thy cenfor greet;
And, loudly, call him cousin, in the street.

pageantry be to the people shown:
There boast they horse's trappings, and thy own :
I know thee to thy bottom ; from within
Thy shallow center, to the utmost skin :
Doft thou not blush to live fo like a beait,
So trim, so dissolute, fo loosely drelt?

But 'tis in vain : the wretch is drench’d too deep;
His foul is stupid, and his heart asleep;
Fattend in vice ; so callous, and so gross,
He fins, and fees not; senseless of his loss.
Down goes the wretch at once, unskill'd to swim,
Hopeless to bubble up, and reach the water's briin.

Great Father of the Gods, when, for our crimes, Thou send'st some heavy judgment on the times ; Some tyrant-king, the terror of his age, The type, and true vicegerent of thy rage; Thus punish him : fet virtue in his figlit, With all her charms adorn’d, with all her graces

bright: But set her diftant, make him pale to see His gains outweigh’d by loft felicity!

Sicilian tortures, and the brazen bull, Are emblems, rather than express the full

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