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IMITATIONS

OF

HORACE.

EPISTOL A VII.

Q

UINQUE dies tibi pollicitus me rure futurum,

Sextilem totum mendax desideror. atqui,
Si me vivere vis fanum recteque valentem;
Quam mihi das aegro, dabis aegrotare timenti,
Maecenas, veniam : dum ficus prima calorque
Defignatorum decorat lictoribus atris :
Dum pueris omnis pater, et matercula pallet;
Officiosaque fedulitas, et opella forensis
Adducit febris, et teftamenta refignat.
Quod fi bruma nives Albanis illinet agris;
Ad mare defcendet vates tuus, et fibi parcet,
Contractusque leget; te, dulcis amice, reviset
Cum Zephyris, fi concedes, et hirundine prima,

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E PIST LE VII.

Imitated in the Manner of Dr. Swift,

'T

5

19

IS true, my Lord, I gave my word,

I would be with you, June the third;
Chang'd it to Auguft, and (in short)
Have kept it as you do at Court.
You humour me when I am fick,
Why not when I am splenetick?
In town, what Objects could I meet?
The shops shut up in ev'ry street,
And Fun'rals black’ning all the Doors,
And yet more melancholy Whores :
And what a dust in every place?
And a thin Court that wants your Face,
And Fevers raging up and down,
And W* and H** both in Town!

The Dog-days are no more the case.”
"Tis true, but Winter comes apace :
Then fouthward let your bard retire,
Hold out some Months 'twixt Sun and Fire,
And
you

shall see the first warm Weather, Me and the Butterflies together,

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20

Non, quo more pyris vesci Calaber jubet hofpes, Tu me fecisti locupletem. Vefcere sodes. Jam fatis eft. At tu quantumvis tolle. Benigne. Non invifa feres pueris munuscula parvis. Tam teneor dono, quam fi dimittar onuftus. Ut libet: haec porcis hodie comedenda relinques. Prodigus et stultus donat quae fpernit et odit : Haec feges ingratos tulit et feret omnibus annis. Vir bonus et fapiens, dignis ait effe paratus ! Nec tamen ignorat, quid distent aerą lupinis ? Dignum praeftabo me, etiam pro laude merentis. Quod fi me noles usquam discedere ; reddes Forte latus, nigros augusta fronte capillos : Reddes dulce loqui : reddes ridere decorum, et Inter vina fugam Cynarae moerere proterrae.

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My Lord your Favours 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 Feaft:
“ Eat fome, and pocket up the rest”-
What rob your Boys ? those pretry rogues !
“ No, Sir, you'll leave them to the Hogs."
Thus Fools with Compliments befiege ye,
Contriving never to oblige ye.
Scatter your

Favours on a Fop,
Ingratitude's the certain crop;
And 'tis but just, I'll tell ye wherefore,
You give the things you never care for.
A wiseman 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 fafe Companion, and a free;
But if you'd have me always near
A word, pray, in your Honour's ear.
I hope it is your 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 :

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