For her lov'd nurfling, ftrung with nerves of wire,
Tough to the last, and with no toil to tire:
Unconscionable vows, which when we use,
We teach the Gods, in reason, to refuse.
Suppofe they were indulgent to thy with:
Yet the fat entrails, in the fpacious dish,
Would ftop the grant: the very over-care
And naufeous pomp, would hinder half the prayer.
Thou hop'ft with facrifice of oxen slain
To compass wealth, and bribe the God of gain,
To give thee flocks and herds, with large increase;
Fool! to expect them from a bullock's greafe!
And, think?st that, when the fatten'd flames aspire,
Thou feeft th' accomplishment of thy defire!
Now, now, my bearded harvest gilds the plain,
The fcanty folds can scarce my fheep contain,
And showers of gold come pouring in amain!
Thus dreams the wretch, and vainly thus dreams on,
Till his lank purse declares his money gone.
Should I prefent them with rare figur'd plate,
Or gold as rich in workmanship as weight;
O how thy rising heart would throb and beat,
And thy left fide, with trembling pleasure, fweat!
Thou meafur'st by thyself the Powers Divine;
Thy Gods are burnish'd gold, and filver is their fhrine.
Thy puny Godlings of inferior race,
Whofe humble ftatues are content with brass,
Should fome of thefe, in vifions purg'd from phlegm, Foretel events, or in a morning dream ;
'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 fouls, 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 caffia one th' ingredients takes,
And, of the mixture, a rich ointment anakes:
Another finds the way to dye in grain;
And makes Calabrian wool receive the Tyrian stain;
Or from the fhells their orient treasure takes,
Or, for their golden ore, in rivers rakes;
Then melts the mafs: all these are vanities!
Yet ftill fome profit from their pains may rife:
But tell me, priest, if I may be fo bold,
What are the Gods the better for this gold?
The wretch that offers from his wealthy ftore
These presents, bribes the Powers to give him mora:
As maids to Venus offer baby-toys,
To blefs 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 fpeculation shine:
A genuine virtue, of a vigorous kind,
Pure in the laft receffes of the mind:
When with fuch offerings to the Gods I come,
A cake, thus given, is worth a kecatomb.
OUR author has made two fatires concerning ftudy the first and the third: the firft related to men ; this to young ftudents, whom he defired to be educated in the ftoick philofophy: he himself fuftains the perfon of the mafter, or præceptor, in this admirable fatire; where he upbraids the youth of floth, and negligence in learning. Yet he begins with one fcholar reproaching his fellow-students with late rifing to their books. After which he takes upon him the other part of the teacher. And addreffing himself particularly to young noblemen, tells them, that by reafon of their high birth, and the great poffeffions of their fathers, they are careless of adorning their minds with precepts of moral philofophy: and withal, inculcates to them the miferies which will attend them in the whole courfe of their life, if they do not apply themselves betimes to the knowledge of virtue, and the end of
their creation, which he pathetically infinuates to them. The title of this fatire, in fome ancient manuscripts, was "The Reproach of Idleness;" though in others of the fcholiafts it is infcribed, "Against the Luxury and Vices of the Rich." In both of which the intention of the poet is purfued; but principally in the former.
[I remember I tranflated this fatire, when I was a King's scholar at Weftminster-fchool, for a Thurfday-night's exercife; and believe that it, and many other of my exercifes of this nature, in English verfe, are still in the hands of my learned maffer, the reverend Doctor Busby.].
Is this thy daily courfe? The glaring fun
Breaks in at every chink: the cattle run
To fhades, and noon-tide rays of summer-fhun,
Yet plung'd in floth we lie; and fnore supine,
As fill'd with fumes of indigefted wine.
This grave advice fome fober ftudent bears; And loudly rings it in his fellow's ears. The yawning youth, scarce half awake, effays His lazy limbs and dozy head to raise : Then rubs his gummy eyes, and fcrubs his pate; And cries, I thought it had not been fo late: My cloaths make hafte: why then! if none be near, He mutters firft, and then begins to fwear: And brays aloud, with a more clamorous note, Than.an Arcadian afs can ftretch his throat.
With much ado, his book before him laid,
And parchment with the smoother fide difplay'd;
He takes the papers; lays them down again;
And, with unwilling fingers, tries the pen:
Some peevish quarrel ftreight he strives to pick;
His quill writes double, or his ink's too thick ;
Infuse more water; now 'tis grown fo thin
It finks, nor can the characters be feen.'
O wretch, and still more wretched every day!
Are mortals born to fleep their lives away?
Go back to what thy infancy began,
Thou who wert never meant to be a man:
Eat pap and spoon-meat; for thy gewgaws cry:
Be fullen, and refufe the lullaby.
No more accufe thy pen: but charge the crime
On native floth, and negligence of time.
Think'st thou thy mafter, or thy friends, to cheat?
Fool, 'tis thyfelf, and that's a worfe deceit.
Beware the public laughter of the town;
Thou fpring'ft a leak already in thy crown.
A flaw is in thy ill bak'd vessel found;
'Tis hollow, and returns a jarring found.
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-feat, secure
By a just title; coftly furniture;
A fuming-pan thy Lares to appease :
What need of learning, when a man's at ease?
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