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IMITATIONS

OF

HORACE.

VOL. VI.

B

EPISTOLA VII.

O

turum,

Sextilem totum mendax defideror. atqui,
Si me vivere vis fanum recteque valentem;
Quam mihi das aegro, dabis aegrotare timenti,
Maecenas, veniam: dum ficus prima calorque
Defignatorem decorat lictoribus atris:

UINQUE dies tibi pollicitus me rure fu

Dum pueris omnis pater, et matercula pallet;
Officiofaque fedulitas, et opella forenfis
Adducit febris, et teftamenta refignat.
Quod fi bruma nives Albanis illinet agris;
Ad mare defcendet vates tuus, et fibi parcet,
Contractufque leget; te, dulcis amice, revifet
Cum Zephyris, fi concedes, et hirundine prima.

EPISTLE VII.

Imitated in the Manner of Dr. SWIFT.

'T

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 fhut up in ev'ry street,
And Fun'rals black'ning all the Doors,
And yet more melancholy Whores:
And what a duft 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 cafe." 'Tis true, but Winter comes apace: Then fouthward let your bard retire, Hold out fome months 'twixt Sun and Fire, And you shall see the first warm Weather, Me and the Butterflies together.

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Non, quo more pyris vefci Calaber jubet hofpes, Tu me fecifti locupletem. Vefcere fodes. Jam fatis eft. At tu quantumvis tolle. Benigne. Non invifa feres pueris munufcula parvis. Tam teneor dono, quam fi dimittar onuftus. Ut libet: haec porcis hodie comedenda relinques. Prodigus et ftultus 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 diftent aera lupinis? Dignum praeftabo me, etiam pro laude merentis. Quod fi me noles ufquam difcedere; reddes Forte latus, nigros angufta fronte capillos:

My Lord, your Favours well I know;
'Tis with Diftinction you bestow;
And not to ev'ry one that comes,
Juft as a Scotfman does his Plumbs.

Pray take them, Sir,---Enough's a Feast:
"Eat fome, and pocket up the rest---
What rob your Boys? thofe pretty 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 juft, I'll tell
You give the things you never care for.
A wife man always is or fhou'd

wherefore,

ye

Be mighty ready to do good;
But makes a diff'rence in his thought
Betwixt a Guinea and a Groat.

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Now this I'll fay, you'll find in me
A fafe Companion, and a free;
But if you'd have me always near---
Honour's ear.
A word, pray, in your
I hope it is your Refolution
To give me back my Constitution!

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