Idoat on Womankind with all its Faults,
Love turns my Satyr into softeft Thoughts;
Of all that Paffion which our Peace deftroys,
Instead of Mischiefs I describe the Joys.
But short will be its Reign (I fear too short)
And present Cares fhall be my future Sport.

Then, Love's bright Torch put out, his Arrows broke,
Loofe from kind Chains, and from obliging Yoke,
To all fond Thoughts I'll fing fuch counter Charms,
The Fair fhall liften in their Lovers Arms.
Now the Enthusiastick Fit is spent,

1 feel my Weakness, and too late repent.
As they, who walk in Dreams oft climb too high
For Senfe to follow with a waking Eye;
And, in fuch dang'rous Paths, are blindly bold,
Which afterward they tremble to behold;
So I review the Sallies of my Pen,

And modeft Judgment is return'd agen;
My Confidence I curfe, my Fate accuse,
Scarce hold from cenfuring the facred Mufe.
No wretched Poet of the railing Pit,
No Critick curs'd with the wrong-fide of Wit,.
Is more fevere from Ignorance and Spite,
Than I with Reason against all I Write.

The Speeches of Brutus and Cato. Tran flated from Lucan, Lib. z. Lin. 234.

By Mr. ROWE.

In the latter part of the First Book, and the beginning of the Second, the Poet, after having defcrib'd the Prodi gies that fore-ran the Civil Wars, gives an Account of the general Confternation every Body was under at Rome, from an Apprehenfion of the Calamities they were to fuffer between the two. Eactions. From thence

he takes an occafion to introduce the Famous M. Bru tus confulting Cato concerning the War that was likely to enfue, which is the Subject of the two following Speeches.

D

Iftracted thus with Fears, prefaging Rome

Labour'd with Evils that were yet to come,
But Brutus Temper fail'd not with the reft,
Nor with the common Weakness was oppreft,
But kept the Native Peace within his manly Breaft.
'Twas when the folemn dead of Night came on,
When bright Califto, with her fhining Son,

Now half their Circle round the Pole had run;
When Brutus, on the bufie Times intent,
To virtuous Cato's humble Dwelling went.
Waking he found him, careful for the State,
Grieving and fearing for his Country's Fate.
For Rome, and wretched Rome alone he fear'd;
Secure within himself, and for the worst prepar'd,
To him thus Brutus fpoke. O thou, to whom
Forfaken Virtue flies, as to her Home :
Driv'n out, and by an impious Age oppreft,
She finds no room on Earth but Cato's Breaft;
There, in her one good Man, fhe reigns fecure,
Fearless of Vice, or Fortune's Hoftile Pow'r.
Then teach my Soul, to Doubt and Error prone,
Teach me a Refolution like thy own.
Let partial Favour, Hopes, or Int'reft guide,
By various Motives, all the World befide,
To Pompey's, or ambitious Cafar's Side;
Thou, Cato, art my Leader. Whether Peace
And calm Repose, amidst these Storms shall please;
Or whether War thy Ardour fhall engage,
To gratifie the Madness of this Age, [Rage:
Herd with the factious Chiefs, and urge the People's
The Ruffian, Bankrupt, loose Adulterer,
All who the Pow'r of Laws and Justice fear,
From Guilt learn specious Reasons for the War.

By Starving, Want and Wickedness prepar'd,
Wifely they arm for Safety and Reward;

But oh what Caufe, what Reafon can'ft thou find?
Art thou to Arms, for love of Arms, inclin'd?
Haft thou the Manners of this Age withstood,
And for fo many Years been fingly good,
To be repaid with Civil Wars and Blood?
Let those to Vice enur'd for Arms prepare,
In thee 'twill be Impiety to dare;

Preferve at least, ye Gods, these Hands from War.
Nor do thou meanly with the Rabble join,

Nor grace their Cause with such an Arm as thine.
To thee the Fortune of the Fatal Field
Inclining, unaufpicious Fame fhall yield;
Each to thy Sword fhall prefs, and wish to be
Imputed as thy Crime, and charg'd on thee.
Happier thou wert, if with Retirement bleft,
Which Noife and Faction never fhould moleft,
Nor break the facred Quiet of thy Breaft ;
Where Harmony and Order ne'er should cease,
But ev'ry Day should take its Turn in Peace;
So in Eternal fteddy Motion roll

The radiant Spheres around the starry Pole.

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Fierce Lightnings, Meteors, and the Winter's Storm,
Earth, and the Face of lower Heav'n deform;
Whilft all by Nature's Laws is calm above,

No Tempeft rages in the Court of Jove.
Light Particles and idle Atoms fly,

Toft by the Winds, and scatter'd round the Sky,
While the more folid Parts the Force refift,

And fix'd and ftable on their Centre reft.
Cafar fhall hear with Joy, that thou art join'd
With fighting Factions, to difturb Mankind;
Tho' fworn his Foe, he shall applaud thy Choice,
And think his wicked War approv'd by Catu's Voice.
See, how to fwell their mighty Leader's State,
The Confuls and the fervile Senate wait;

Ev'n Cato's felf to Pompey's Yoak must bow,
And all Mankind are Slaves, but Cafar, now
If War, however, be at laft our Doom,
If we muft Arm for Liberty and Rome,
While undecided yet their Fate depends,
Cafar and Pompey are alike my Friends;
Which Party I fhall chufe is yet to know,
That let the War decide; who Conquers is my Fee
Thus fpoke the Youth: When Cato thus expreft
The facred Counfels of his inmost Breaft.
Brutus, with thee, I own the Crime is great,
With thee, this impious Civil War I hate;
But Virtue blindly follows, led by Fate.
Answer your felves, ye Gods, and fet me free,
If I am guilty, 'tis by your Decree.

If yon fair Lamps above fhould lofe their Light,
And leave the wretched World in endless Night;
If Chaos fhould in Heav'n and Earth prevail,
And univerfal Nature's Frame fhould fail,
What Stoick would not the Misfortune fhare,
Nor think that Defolation worth his Care?
Princes and Nations, whom wide Seas divide,
Where other Stars far diftant Heav'ns do guide,
Have brought their Enfigns to the Roman Side;
Avert it, Gods' When barb'rous Scythians come
From their cold North, to prop declining Rome,
That I fhou'd fee her fall, and fit fecure at home.
As an unhappy Sire, by Death undone,

Robb'd of his Age's Joy, his only Son,
Attends him to the Tomb with pious Care,
To pay his laft Paternal Office there;
Takes a fad Pleafure in the Croud to go,
And be himself part of the pompous Woe;
Then waits 'till, ev'ry Ceremony past,
His own fad Hand may light the Pile at laft.
So fix'd, fo faithful to thy Cause, O Rome,
With fuch a Conftancy and Love I come;

Refolv'd for thee and Liberty to mourn,
And never! never! from your Sides be torn;
Refolv'd to follow ftill your common Fate,

And on your very Names, and laft Remains to wait
Thus let it be, fince thus the Gods oidain;

Since Hecatombs of Romans must be flain,
Affift the Sacrifice with ev'ry Hand,

And give 'em all the Slaughter they demand.
O! were the Gods contented with my Fall,
If Cato's Life could anfwer for you all,

Like the devoted Decius would I go,

To force from either Side fome Mortal Blow: [Foe. 2

And, for my Country's fake, wish to be thought her
To me, ye Romans, all your Rage confine;
To me, ye Nations from the barb'rous Rhine;
Let all the Wounds this War fhall make, be mine.
Open my Vital Streams, and let 'em run,
And let the Purple Sacrifice attone

For all the Ills offending Rome has done.
If Slavery be all the Faction's End,

If Chains the Prize for which the Fools contend,
To me convert the War, let me be flain;

Me, only me, who fondly ftrive in vain,

Their useless Laws and Freedom to maintain.
So may the Tyrant fafely mount his Throne,
And rule his Slaves in Peace, when I am gone.
Howe'er, fince free as yet from his Command,
For Pompey and the Common wealth we stand.
Nor he, if Fortune fhould attend his Arms,
Is Proof against Ambition's fatal Charms;
But, urg'd with Greatness and Defire of Sway,
May dare to make the vanquish'd World his Prey.
Then, least the Hopes of Empire fwell his Pride,
Let him remember I was on his Side;
Nor think he conquer'd for himself alone,
To make the Harveft of the War his own,
Where half the Toil was ours. So spoke the Sage;
His Words the lift'ning, eager Youth engage
Too much to love of Arms, and heat of Civil Rage.

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