While you, Rubellius, on your birth rely;
Though you refemble your great family
No more, than thofe rough ftatues on the road
(Which we call Mercuries) are like that God:
Your blockhead though excels in this alone,
You are a living statue, 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 instance-We commend a horse
(Without regard of pafture or of breed)
For his undaunted mettle and his speed;
Who wins moft plates with greatest eafe, 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 stallion we retain,
And no refpect for the degenerate strain;

The worthless 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 juftly we bestow
On those bleft shades to whom you all things owe.

This may fuffice the haughty youth to shame, Whofe fwelling veins (if we may credit fame) Burst 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 sense with an exalted fortune join'd.'

Be a good foldier, or upright trustee, An arbitrator from corruption free. And if a witnefs in a doubtful caufe, Where a brib'd judge means to elude the laws; Though Phalaris's brazen bull were there, And he would dictate what he 'd have you swear, Be not fo profligate, but rather chufe To guard your honor, and your life to lofe, Rather than let your virtue be betray'd; Virtue the nobleft caufe for which you 're made.

"Improperly we measure 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 ftate were laid,
And to the world, 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 flave.

To what the laws enjoin, fubmiffion 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 fubfiit 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 feize.

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

When Rome at first 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 rest.
All treasuries aid 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 statues 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 stand,
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 design fucceed,
They drive the father of the herd away,
Making both stallion and his pafture prey.
'Their rapine is so 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 please.

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 sturdy 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 should leave them bare "Of gold and filver, fwords and darts remain, "And will avenge the wrongs which they fuftain; "The plunder'd still 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;
Choofe him that has moft 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 aflizes 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 feandals fuch as thefe;
Then trace your birth from Picus, if you please:
If he 's too modern, and your pride afpire
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, luftful, vain;
Or could you fee with pleafure and difdain,
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 expofe your shame;
"For ftill more public fcandal vice extends,
"As he is great and noble who offends."

How dare then
you your high extraction plead?
Yet blush not when you go to forge a deed,
In the fame temple which your grandfire 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 justice, '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,
Fie 'll play the groom, give oats, and rub them down.
If, after Numa's ceremonial way,
He at Jove's altar would a victim Gay,

To no clean goddefs he directs his prayers,

But by Hippona moft devoutly fwears,

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

When he has run his length, and does begin
To steer his course directly for the inn
(Where they have watch'd, expecting him all night,)
A greafy Syrian, ere he can alight,

66

Prefents him eflence, while his courteous hoft
(Well knowing nothing by good-breeding's lot)
Tags every fentence with fome fawning word,
Such as "My King, my Prince," at least “* My Lord;"
And a tight maid, ere he for wine can ask,
Gueffes his meaning, and unoils the flask.
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 paft,
The frolic humour did no longer last;
We did not cherish and indulge the crime:
What 's foul in acting, should be left in time.
'Tis true, fome faults, of courfe, with childhood end,
We therefore wink at wags when they offend,
And fpare 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 tallers;
With Cybele's priests, who, weary'd with procethions,
Drink there, and fleep with knaves of all profeffions,
A friendly gang! each equal to the beft;
And all, who can, have liberty to jeft:

One flaggon walks the round, that none should think
They either change, or flint him of his drink:
And, left exceptions may for place be found,
Their ftools are all alike, their table round.

What think you, Ponticus, yourself might do,
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 ftage his laft retreat,
And pawns his voice, the all he has, for meat:
For now he muft (fince 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 stage and lifts were both in fight,
And you must either choose to act, or fight;
Death never fure bears fuch a ghastly 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 monstrous 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 shown, 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 whofe 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 worse
To aggravate the wretched nation's curse?

Thefe are the bleft endowments, ftudies, 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 fome 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 houfes 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 share 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, firft 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 fuch 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.

Nicely he gain'd, and well poffeft the throne,
Not for his father's merit, but his own,
And reign'd, himself a family alone.

When Tarquin, his proud fucceffor, was quell'd,
And with him Luft and Tyranny expell'd,
The confuls fons (who, for their country's good,
And to inhance the honour of their blood,
Should have afferted what their father won,
And, to confirm that liberty, have done
Actions which Cocles might have with'd his own;
What might to Mutius wonderful appear,
And what bold Clelia might with envy hear)
Open'd the gates, endeavouring to restore
Their banish'd king, and arbitrary power:
Whilst a poor flave, with scarce a name, betray'd
The horrid ills thefe well-born rogues had laid;
Who therefore for their treafon justly bore
The rods and ax, ne'er us'd in Rome before.

If you have strength Achilles' arms to bear, And courage to fuftain a ten years war ; Though foul Therfites got thee, thou shalt be More lov'd by all, and more efteem'd by me, Than if by chance you from fome hero came, In nothing like your father but his name.

Boaft then your blood, and your long lineage ftretch As high as Rome, and its great founders reach; You'll find, in these hereditary tales, Your ancestors the fcum of broken jails; And Romulus, your honour's ancient fource, But a poor fhepherd's boy, or fomething worse.

With links, because they would not drudge To fave their ladies longing.

V.

But Val the eunuch cannot be
A colder cavalier than he,

In all fuch love-adventures:
Then pray do you, dear Molly, take
Some Chriftian care, and do not break
Your conjugal indentures.

VI.

Bellair! (who does not Bellair know?
The wit, the beauty, and the beau)
Gives out, he loves you dearly:
And many a nymph attack'd with fighs,
And foft impertinence and noife,
Full oft has beat a parley.

VII.

But, pretty turtle, when the blade Shall come with amorous serenade,

Soon from the window rate him: But if reproof will not prevail, And he perchance attempt to scale, Discharge the jordan at him.

HORACE. BOOK IV. ODE IX.

V

I.

All poets are by their blind captain led,
(For none e'er had the facrilegious pride
To tear the well plac'd laurel from his aged head.)
Yet Pindar's rolling dithyrambic tide
Hath ftill this praife, that none presume to fly
Like him, but flag too low, or foar too high.
Still does Stefichorus's tongue

Sing fweeter than the bird which on it bung
Anacreon ne'er too old can grow,

Love from every verfe does flow;

Still Sappho's ftrings do feem to move,
Inftructing all her fex to love.

II.

Golden rings of flowing hair

More than Helen did enfnare; Others a prince's grandeur did admire, And, wondering, melted to defire.

Not only fkilful Teucer knew

To direct arrows from the bended yew.
Troy more than once did fall,

Though hireling gods rebuilt its nodding

Was Sthenelus the only valiant he,

A fubject fit for lafting poetry?

Was Hector that prodigious man alone,

Who, to fave others lives, expos'd his own?
Was only he fo brave to dare his fate,
And be the pillar of a tottering ftate?
No; others bury'd in oblivion lie,
As filent as their grave,
Because no charitable poet gave

Their well-deferv'd immortality.