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You said the same ; and are you discontent
With laws, to which you gave your own afsent? 30
Nay worse, to ask for Verse at such a time!
D'ye think me good for nothing but to rhyme ?
e In Anna's Wars, a Soldier


and old Had dearly earn'd a little purse of gold : Tir'd with a tedious march, one luckless night, 35 He slept, poor dog! and lost it, to a doit. This

put the man in such a defperate mind, Between revenge, and grief, and hunger join'd, Against the foe, himself, and all mankind, He leap'd the trenches, scald a Castle-wall, Tore down a Standard, took the Fort and all. Prodigious well ;" his great Commander cry'd, Gave him much praise, and some reward beside. Next, pleas’d his Excellence a town to batter (Its name I know not, and ’tis no great matter); 45

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Jurgares ad te quod epistola nulla veniret.
Quid tum profeci, mecum facientia jura
Si tamen attentas? quereris super hoc etiam, quod
Expectata tibi non mittam carmina mendax.

e Luculli miles collecta viatica multis
Aerumnis, lafsus dum noctu stertit, ad affem
Perdiderat: poft hoc vehemens lupus, et fibi et hofti
Iratus pariter, jejunis dentibus acer,
Praesidium regale loco dejecit, ut aiunt,
Summe munito, et multarum divite rerum.
Clarus ob id factum, donis ornatur honestis,
Accipit et bis dena super sestertia nunmûm.


“Go on, my Friend, (he cry'd) see yonder walls !
“ Advance and conquer ! go where glory calls !
“ More honours, more rewards, attend the brave.”
Don't you remember what reply he gave ?
“ D’ye think me, noble General, such a Sot?
" Let him take castles who has ne'er a groat."

f Bred up at home, full early I begun
To read in Greek the wrath of Peleus' son.
Besides, my Father taught me from a lad,
The better art to know the good from bad:

$$ (And little sure imported to remove, To hunt for Truth in Maudlin's learned grove.) But knottier points we knew not half so well, Depriv'd us foon of our paternal Cell;


Forte sub hoc tempus castellum evertere praetor
Nefcio quod cupiens, hortari coepit eundem
Verbis, quae timido quoque poffent addere mentem :
I, bone, quo virtus tua te vocat: i pede fausto,
Grandia laturus meritorum praemia : quid stas?
Poft haec ille catus, quantumvis rusticus, “ Ihit,
“ Ibit eo, quo vis, qui zonam perdidit, inquit.”

f Romae nutriri mihi contigit, atque doceri,
Iratus Graiis quantum nocuisset Achilles,
Adjecere bonae paulo plus artis Athenae:
Scilicet ut poffem curvo dignoscere rectum,
Atque inter fylvas Academi quaerere verum,
Dura fed emovere loco me tempora grato ;
Civilisque rudem belli tulit aestus in arma,
Caesaris Augusti non responsura lacertis.


And certain Laws, by fufferers thought unjust, 60
Deny'd all posts of profit or of trust :
Hopes after hopes of pious Papists fail'd,
While mighty William's thundering arm prevailid.
For Right Hereditary tax'd and fin'd,
He stuck to poverty with peace of mind;

And me, the Muses help?d to undergo it;
Convict a Papist he, and I a Poet.
But (thanks to Homer) since I live and thrive,
Indebted to no Prince or Peer alive,
Sure I should want the care of ten Monroes,

70 If I would scribble, rather than repose.

8 Years following years, steal fomething every day, At last thev steal us from ourselves away; In one our Frolics, one Amusements end, In one a Mistress drops, in one a Friend :

75 This subtle Thief of life, this paltry Time, What will it leave me, if it snatch my rhyme ? If every wheel of that unweary'd Mill, That turn'd ten thousand verses, now stands still?


Unde simul primum me demisere Philippi,
Decisis humilem pennis, inopemque paterni
Et laris et fundi, paupertas impulit audax
Ut versus facerem: fed, quod non desit, habentem,
Quae poterunt unquam


expurgare cicutae, Ni melius dormire putem, quam scribere versus ?

& Singula de nobis anni praedantur euntes; Eripuere jocos, venerem, convivia, ludum; Tendunt extorquere poemata. quid faciam vis ?


h But after all, what would you have me do? 80 When out of twenty I can please not two; When this Heroics only deigns to praise, Sharp Satire that, and that Pindaric lays ? One likes the Pheasant's wing, and one the leg; The vulgar boil, the learned roast an egg. Hard talk! to hit the palate of such guests, When Oldfield loves, what Dartineuf detests.

i But grant I may relapfe, for want of grace, Again to rhyme: can London be the place? Who there his Mufe, or self, or foul attends,

90 In crouds, and courts, law, bufinefs, feasts, and friends ? My counsel sends to execute a deed : A Poet begs me I will hear him read : In Palace-yard at nine you'll find me thereAt ten for certain, Sir, in Bloomsbury square- 95 Before the Lords at twelve my Cause comes on There's a Rehearsal, Sir, exact at one.

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A Denique non omnes eadem mirantur amantque.
Carmine tu gaudes : hic delectatur iambis;
Ille Bioneis sermonibus, et fale nigro.
Tres mihi convivae


diffentire videntur, Poscentes vario multum diversa palato. Quid dem ? quid non dem ? renuis quod tu, jubet alter : Quod petis, id fane est invisum acidumque duobus.

i Praeter caetera me Romaene poemata censes Scribere posse, inter tot curas totque

labores ? Hic fponsum vocat, hic auditum scripta, relietis Omnibus officiis : cubat hic in colle Quirini,


« Oh but a Wit can ftudy in the streets,
“ And raise his mind above the mob he meets."
Not quite so well however as one ought;
A hackney-coach may chance to spoil a thought;
And then a nodding beam, or pig of lead,
God knows, may hurt the very ableft head.
Have you not seen, at Guildhall's narrow pass,
Two Aldermen dispute it with an Ass ?

105 And Peers give way, exalted as they are, Ev'n to their own S-r-v-nce in a Car ?

k Go, lofty Poet! and in such a croud, Sing thy sonorous verse-but not aloud. Alas! to Grottoes and to Groves we run, To ease and silence, every Muse's son : Blackmore himself, for any grand effort, Would drink and doze at Tooting or Earl's-Court. How shall I rhyme in this eternal roar? How match the bards whom none e'er match'd before ?



Hic extremo in Aventino; visendus uterque.
Intervalla vides humane commoda. « Verum
“ Purae funt plateae, nihil ut meditantibus obftet.'
Festinat calidus mulis gerulisque redemtor :
Torquet nunc lapidem, nunc ingens machina tignum
Tristia robustis luctantur funera plauftris :
Hac rabiosa fugit canis, hac lutulenta ruit sus.
k I nunc, et versus tecum meditare canoros.
Scriptorum chorus omnis amat nemus, et fugit urbes,
Rite cliens Bacchi, fomno gaudentis et umbra.

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