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And you shall see, the first warm weather, Me and the butterflies together.

My Lord, your favors well I know ; 'Tis with distinction you bestow, And not to ev'ry one that comes, Just as a Scotsman does his plums. • Pray take them, Sir-enough's a feast : • Eat some, and pocket up the rest What, rob your boys ? those pretty rogues ! • No, Sir, you'll leave them to the hogs.' Thus fools with compliments besiege ye, Contriving never to oblige ye. Scatter

your

favors on a fop,
Ingratitude's the certain crop;
And ’ris but just, I'll tell you wherefore,----
You give the things you never care for,
A wise man always is, or shou'd
Be, mighty ready to do good;
But makes a diff'rence in his thought
Betwixt a guinea and a groat,

Now this I'll say, You'll find in me
A safe companion, and a free ;
But if you'd have me always near-
A word, pray, in your Honor's ear:
I hope it is

resolution
To give me back my constitution!
The sprightly wit, the lively eye,
Th’ engaging smile, the gaiety
That laugh'd down many a summer sun,
And kept you up so oft till one,

your

And all that voluntary vein,
As when Belinda rais'd

my

strain. A Weasel once made shift to slink In at a corn-loft, through a chink, But having amply stuff'd his skin, Could not get out as he got in; Which one belonging to the house ('Twas not a man, it was a Mouse) Observing, cry'd, · You 'scape not so: • Lean as you came, Sir, you must go.'

Sir, you may spare your application, I'm no such beast, nor his relation ; Nor one that temperance advance, Cramm'd to the throat with ortolans; Extremely ready to resign All that may make me none of mine. South-sea subscriptions take who please, Leave me but liberty and ease. 'Twas what I said to Craggs and Child, Who prais'd my modesty and smild. Give me, I cry'd, (enough for me) My bread and independency! So bought an annual rent or two, And liv'd—just as you see I do; Near fifty, and without a wife, I trust that sinking fund my life. Can I retrench ? Yes, mighty well, Shrink back to my paternal cell; A little house with trees a-sow, And, like its master, very low;

There dy'd my father, no man's debtor, And there I'll die, nor worse nor better.

To set this matter full before ye, Our old friend Swift will tell his story.

• Harley, the riation's great support' But you may read it, I stop short.

HORACE, BOOK II. EPISTLE I.

IMITATED

Advertisement. THE reflections of Horace, and the judgments

passed in his Epistle to Augustus, seemed so seasonable to the present times, that I could not belp applying them to the use of my own country. The author thought them considerable enough to address them to his prince ; whom he paints with all the great and good qualities of a monarch upon whom the Romans depended for the increase of an absolute empire ; but to make the Poem entirely English, I was willing to add one or two of those which contribute to the happiness of a free people, and are more

consistent with the welfare of our neighbors. This Epistle will shew the learned world to have

fallen into two mistakes: one, that Augustus was a patron of poets in general ; whereas he not only prohibited all but the best writers to name him, but recommended that care even to the civil magistrate ; Admonebat prætores, ne paterentur nomen suum obsolefieri, &c.; the other, that this piece was only a general discourse of poetry; whereas it was an apology for the poets, in order to render Augustus more their patron. Horace here pleads the cause of his contemporaries ; first, against the taste of the Town, whose humor it was to magnify the authors of the preceding age; secondly, against the court and nobility, who encouraged only the * writers for the Theatre ; and, lastly, against the

Emperor himself, who had conceived them of little use to the government. He shews (by a view of the progress of learning, and the change

of taste, among the Romans) that the introduc. • tion of the polite arts of Greece had given the

writers of his time great advantages over their predecessors; that their morals were much im.

proved, and the license of those ancient poets restrained ; that Satire and Comedy were become more just and useful; that whatever extravagancies were left on the stage, were owing to the ill taste of the nobility; that poets, under due regulations, were in many respects useful to the state ; and concludes, that it was upon shem the

Emperor himself must depend for his fame with · posterity. We may further learn from this Epistle, tbat Ho.

race made his court to this great prince, by writing with a decent freedom towards him, with a just contempt of his low flatterers, and with a manly regard to his own characfer. P.

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