When in the fiery car Elijah fled,

His fpirit doubled on his partner's head;
So will thy people's love, now Mary 's gone,
Unite both ftreams, and flow on thee alone.
The grateful fenate with one voice combine
To breathe their forrows, and to comfort thine,
By bringing to thy view how Europe's fate
Does on thy counfels and thy courage wait:
But, when the vastness of thy grief they see,
They own 'tis juft, and melt in tears with thee.

Blush not, great foul, thus to reveal thy wee;
Sighs will have vent, and eyes too full o'erflow;
Shed by degrees, they pafs unfelt away;
But raife a ftorm and deluge where they stay.

The braveft heroes have the fofteft mind,
Their nature's, like the Gods, to love inclin'd.
Homer, who human paffions nicely knew,
When his illuftrious Grecian chief he drew,
Left likewife in his foul one mortal part,
Whence love and anguish too might reach his heart;
For a loft mistress, in defpair he fate,

And let declining Troy ftill ftruggle with her fate:
But when the partner of his cares lay dead,
Like a rous'd lion from his tent he fled,
Whole hecatombs of trembling Trojans flew,
And mangled Hector at his chariot drew.

Still greater is thy lofs,-
-be fuch thy rage,
As conquer'd Gallia only may affwage.

She who on earth fecur'd thee by her prayer, Return'd to heaven, fhall prove thy guardian angel there, And, hovering round thee with her heavenly fhield, Unfeen protect thee in the doubtful field.

Go then, by different paths to glory go,

The church's both eftates with Mary fhow;
And while above the triumphs, fight below.-

'Tis done-our Monarch to the camp returns,-
The Gallic armies fly-their navy burns,
And earth and feas all bow at his command,
And Europe owns her peace from his victorious hand

The mifer fpies a thief, or a new hoard,
The cit's a knight, the fycophant a lord.
Thus fancy's in the wild diftraction loft,
With what we most abhor, or covet most.
But of all paffions that our dreams control,
Love prints the deepeft image in the foul;
For vigorous fancy and warm blood dispense
Pleasures fo lively that they rival fenfe.
Such are the tranfports of a willing maid,
Not yet by time and place to act betray'd,
Whom fpies or feme faint virtue forc'd to fly
That fcene of joy, which yet the dies to try.
Till fancy bawds, and, by myfterious charms,
Brings the dear object to her longing arms;
Unguarded then the melts, acts fierce delight,
And curfes the return; of envious light.
In fuch bleft dreams Byblis enjoys a flame,
Which waking fhe detefts, and dares not name.
Ixion gives a loose to his wild love,
And in his airy vifions cuckolds Jove.
Honors and ftate before this phantom fall;
For fleep, like death its image, equals all.

While you, Rubellius, on your birth rely;
Though you refemble your great family
No more, than those rough statues on the road
(Which we call Mercuries) are like that God:
Your blockhead though excels in this alone,
You are a living ftatue, that of stone.

Great fon of Troy, who ever prais'd a beast
For being of a race above the reft,
But rather meant his courage, and his force?
To give an inftance-We commend a horse
(Without regard of pafture or of breed)
For his undaunted mettle and his speed;

Who wins most plates with greatest ease, and first

Prints with his hoofs his conquefts on the dust.

But if fleet Dragon's progeny at laft

Prove jaded, and in frequent matches cast,

No favour for the ftallion we retain,

And no refpect for the degenerate strain;

The worthlefs brute is from New-Market brought,
And at an under-rate in Smithfield bought,
To turn a mill, or drag a loaded life
Beneath two panniers and a baker's wife.

That we may therefore you, not yours, admire;
First, Sir, fome honor of your own acquire;
Add to that stock which justly we bestow
On thofe bleft shades to whom you all things owe.

This may fuffice the haughty youth to shame, Whose swelling veins (if we may credit fame) Burft almost with the vanity and pride That their rich blood to Nero's is ally'd: The rumour's likely; for "We feldom find Much fenfe with an exalted fortune join'd.'

"Improperly we meafure life by breath; "Such do not truly live who merit death; Though they their wanton fenfes nicely please With all the charms of luxury and ease; Though mingled flowers adorn their careless brow, And round them coftly fweets neglected flow, As if they in their funeral state were laid, And to the worid, as they 're to virtue, dead. When you the province you expect, obtain, From paffion and from avarice refrain; Let our affociates poverty provoke

Thy generous heart not to increase their yoke,

Since riches cannot refcue from the grave,
Which claims alike the monarch and the flavc.

To what the laws enjoin, fubmiflion pay;
And what the Senate fhall command, obey.
Think what rewards upon the good attend,
And how thofe fall unpitied who offend:
Tutor and Capito may warnings be,
Who felt the thunder of the States decree,
For robbing the Cecilians, though they
(Like leffer pikes) only fubfift on prey.
But what avails the rigour of their doom?
Which cannot future violence o'ercome,
Nor give the miferable province eafe,

Since what one plunderer left, the next will feire.

Cherippus then, in time yourself bethink,
And what your rags will yield by auction, fink;
Ne'er put yourfelf to charges to complain
Of wrong which heretofore you did sustain,
Make not a voyage to detect the theft:
'Tis mad to lavish what their rapine left.

When Rome at firft our rich allies fubdued,
From gentle taxes noble spoils accrued;
Each wealthy province, but in part oppreft,
Thought the lofs trivial, and enjoy'd the reft.
All treafuries did then with heaps abound;
In every wardrobe coftly filks were found;
The leaft apartment of the meanest house
Could all the wealthy pride of art produce;
Pictures which from Parrhafius did receive
Motion and warmth; and ftatues taught to live:
Some Polycletes', fome Myron's work declar'd,
In others Phidias' mafter-piece appear'd;
And crowding plate did on the cupboard ftand,
Embofs'd by curious Mentor's artful hand.
Prizes like thefe oppreffors might invite,
Thefe Dolabella's rapine did excite,

Thefe Antony for his own theft thought fit,
Verres for thefe did facrilege commit;

And when their reigns were ended, fhips full fraught
The hidden fruits of their exaction brought,
Which made in peace a treasure richer far,
Than what is plunder'd in the rage of war.

This was of old; but our confederates now
Have nothing left but oxen for the plough,
Or fome few mares referv'd alone for breed;
Yet left this provident defign fucceed,
They drive the father of the herd away,
Making both ftallion and his pafture prey.
Their rapine is fo abject and prophane,
They not from trifles nor from Gods refrain;
But the poor Lares from the niches feize,
If they be little images that pleafe.
Such are the spoils which now provoke their theft,
And are the greateft, nay, they 're all that's left.

Thus may you Corinth or weak Rhodes opprefs, Who dare not bravely what they feel redress: For how can fops thy tyranny control, "Smooth limbs are fymptoms of a fervile foul." But trefpafs not too far on fturdy Spain, Sclavonia, France; thy gripes from those restrain, Who with their fweat Rome's luxury maintain, And fend us plenty, while our wanton day Is lavish'd at the Circus, or the play.

For,

For, fhould you to extortion be inclin'd,
Your cruel guilt will little booty find,
Since gleaning Marius has already feiz'd
All that from fun-burnt Afric can be squeez'd.

But, above all, "Be careful to with-hold "Your talons from the wretched and the bold; "Tempt not the brave and needy to defpair; "For, though your violence fhould leave them bare "Of gold and filver, fwords and darts remain, "And will avenge the wrongs which they fuftain; "The plunder'd ftill have arms

Think not the precept I have here laid down
A fond, uncertain notion of my own;
No, tis a Sibyl's leaf what I relate,
As fix'd and fure, as the decrees of fate.

Let none but men of honor you attend;
Choose him that has most virtue for your friend,
And give no way to any darling youth
To fell your favour, and pervert the truth.
Reclaim your wife-from ftrolling up and down,
To all affizes and through every town,
With claws like harpies, eager for the prey
(For which your justice and your fame will pay.)
Keep yourself free from scandals fuch as thefe;
Then trace your birth from Picus, if you please:
If he 's too modern, and your pride alpire
To feek the author of your being higher,
Choose any Titan who the Gods withstood
To be the founder of your ancient blood,
Prometheus, and that race before the flood,
Or any other story you can find

From heralds, or in poets, to your mind.

But fhould you prove ambitious, lustful, vain;
Or could you fee with pleasure and disdain,
Rods broke on our affociates bleeding backs,
And heads-men labouring till they blunt their ax;
Your father's glory will your fin proclaim,
And to a clearer light expose your shame;
"For ftill more public fcandal vice extends,
"As he is great and noble who offends."

How dare you then your high extraction plead?
Yet blush not when you go to forge a deed,
In the fame temple which your grandlire built;
Making his ftatue privy to the guilt.
Or in a bawdy masquerade are led,
Muffled by night, to fome polluted bed.

Fat Lateranus does his revels keep
Where his forefathers peaceful afhes fleep;
Driving himself a chariot down the hill,
And (though a conful) links himself the wheel:
To do him juftice, 'tis indeed by night,
Yet the moon fees, and every fmaller light
Pries as a witnefs of the fhameful fight.
Nay when his year of honor's ended, foon
He'll leave that nicety, and mount at noon;
Nor blufh fhould he fome grave acquaintance meet,
But, proud of being known, will jerk and greet:
And when his fellow-beafts are weary grown,

He il play the groom, give oats, and rub them down.
If, after Numa's ceremonial way,
He at Jove's altar would a victim flay,

To no clean goddess he directs his prayers,

But by Hippona moft devoutly fwears,

Or fome rank deity, whofe filthy face We fuitably o'er ftinking ftables place.

My Lord,"

When he has run his length, and does begin
To fteer his courfe directly for the inn
(Where they have watch'd, expecting him all night,)
A greafy Syrian, ere he can alight,
Prefen's him effence, while his courteous hoft
(Well knowing nothing by good-breeding 's loft)
Tags every fentence with fome fawning word,
Such as "My King, my Prince," at least **
And a tight maid, ere he for wine can ask,
Gueffes his meaning, and unoils the flusk.
Some, friends to vice, induftriously defend
These innocent diverfions, and pretend
That I the tricks of youth too roughly blame,
Alledging that when young we did the fame.
I grant we did, yet when that age was past,
The frolic humour did no longer laft;
We did not cherish and indulge the crime:
What 's foul in acting, should be left in time.
'Tis true, fome faults, of course, with childhood end,
We therefore wink at wags when they offend,
And spare the boy, in hopes the man may mend.

But Lateranus (now his vigorous age
Should prompt him for his country to engage,
The circuit of our empire to extend,
And all our lives in Cæfar's to defend)
Mature in riots, places his delight

All day in plying bumpers, and at night
Reels to the bawds, over whofe doors are fet
Pictures and bills, with "Here are whores to let.”

Should any defperate unexpected fate

Summon all heads and hands to guard the ftate,
Cæfar, fend quickly to fecure the port;
"But where's the general? where does he refort?"
Send to the futler's; there y' are fure to find
'The bully match'd with rafcals of his kind,
Quacks, coffin-makers; fugitives and failors;
Rooks, common foldiers, hangmen, thieves, and tailor;
With Cybele's priefts, who, weary'd with procefiors,
Drink there, and fleep with knaves of all profeffioni,
A friendly gang! each equal to the beft;
And all, who can, have liberty to jest :
One flaggon walks the round, that none fhould think
They either change, or tint him of his drink:
And, left exceptions may for place be found,
Their ftools are all alike, their table round.

What think you, Ponticus, yourfelf might de,
Should any flave fo lewd belong to you?
No doubt, you'd fend the rogue in fetters bound
To work in Bridewell, or to plough your ground:
But, nobles, you who trace your birth from Troy,
Think, you the great prerogative enjoy
Of doing ill, by virtue of that race;
As if what we efteem in coblers bafe,
Would the high family of Brutus grace.

Shameful are thefe examples, yet we find (To Rome's difgrace) far worse than thefe behind; Poor Damafippus, whom we once have known Fluttering with coach and fix about the town, Is forc'd to make the stage his laft retreat, And pawns his voice, the all he has, for meat: For now he must (ince his eftate is loft) Or reprefent, or be himself, a ghoft:

And

And Lentulus acts hanging with fuch art,
Were I a judge, he should not feign the part.
Nor would I their vile infolence acquit,
Who can have patience, nay diverfion, fit,
Applauding my lord's buffoonry for wit.
And clapping farces acted by the court,
While the peers cuff, to make the rabble sport:
Or hirelings, at a prize, their fortunes try;
Certain to fall unpity'd if they die;
Since none can have the favourable thought
That to obey a tyrant's will they fought,
But that their lives they willingly expofe,
Bought by the Prætors to adorn their shows.

Yet fay, the ftage and lifts were both in fight,
And you must either choose to act, or fight;
Death never fure bears fuch a ghaftly shape,
That a rank coward bafely would escape
By playing a foul harlot's jealous tool,
Or a feign'd Andrew to a real fool.
Yet a peer actor is no monftrous thing,
Since Rome has own'd a fidler for a king:
After fuch pranks, the world itself at best
May be imagin'd nothing but a jest.

Go to the lifts where feats of arms are fhown, There you'll find Gracchus (from patrician) grown A fencer and the fcandal of the town.

Nor will he the Mirmillo's weapons bear,
The modeft helmet he difdains to wear;
As Retiarius he attacks his foe;
First waves his trident ready for the throw,
Next cafts his net, but neither level'd right,
He ftares about expos'd to public fight,
Then places all his fafety in his flight.
Room for the noble gladiator! See
His coat and hatband fhew his quality.
Thus when at last the brave Mirmillo knew
'Twas Gracchus was the wretch he did pursue,
To conquer fuch a coward griev'd him more,
Than if he many glorious wounds had bore.

Had we the freedom to exprefs our mind,
There's not a wretch fo much to vice inclin'd,
But will own, Seneca did far excel
His pupil, by whose tyranny he fell:
To expiate whofe complicated guilt,
With fome proportion to the blood he fpilt,

}

VOL. II.

For what could Nero's felf have acted worfe
To aggravate the wretched nation's curfe?

These are the bleft endowments, studies, arts,
Which exercise our mighty Emperor's parts;
Such frolics with his roving genius fuit,
On foreign theatres to prostitute
His voice and honour, for the poor renown
Of putting all the Grecian actors down,
And winning at a wake their parsley-crown,
Let this triumphal chaplet find some place
Among the other trophies of thy race;
By the Domitii's ftatues fhall be laid
The habit and the mask in which you play'd
Antigone's, or bold Thyeftes' part,
(While your wild nature little wanted art)
And on the marble pillar fhall be hung
The lute to which the Royal Madman fung.

Who, Catiline, can boast a nobler line
Than thy lewd friend Cethegus's, and thine?
Yet you took arms, and did by night confpire
To fet your houses and our gods on fire.
(An enterprize which might indeed become
Our enemies, the Gauls, not fons of Rome,
To recompence whose barbarous intent

Pitch'd fhirts would be too mild a punishment):
But Tully, our wife conful, watch'd the blow,
With care difcover'd, and difarm'd the foe;
Tully, the humble mushroom, scarcely known,
The lowly native of a country town

(Who till of late could never reach the height
Of being honour'd as a Roman knight),
Throughout the trembling city plac'd a guard,
Dealing an equal fhare to every ward,
And by the peaceful robe got more renown
Within our walls, than young Octavius won
By victories at Actium, or the plain
Of Theffaly, difcolour'd by the flain :
Him therefore Rome in gratitude decreed
The Father of his Country, which he freed.

Marius (another conful we admire)
In the fame village born, first plow'd for hire;
His next advance was to the foldier's trade,
Where, if he did not nimbly ply the spade,
His furly officer ne'er failed to crack
His knotty cudgel on his tougher back :
Yet he alone fecur'd the tottering state,
Withstood the Cimbrians, and redeem'd our fate:
So when the eagles to their quarry flew
(Who never such a goodly banquet knew)
Only a fecond laurel did adorn

His colleague Catulus, though nobly born;
He fhar'd the pride of the triumphal bay,
But Marius won the glory of the day.

}