Hoc genus, Hora quota eft? Threx eft Gallina
Matutina parum cautos jam frigora mordent:
Et quae rimofa bene deponuntur in aure.
Per totum hoc tempus, fubjectior in diem et horam
Invidiae nofter. ludos fpectaverit una:
Luferit in campo: Fortunae filius, omnes.
Frigidus a Roftris manat per compita rumor:
Quicunque obvius eft, me confulit; O bone (nam te
Scire, Deos quoniam propius contingis, oportet) ̈·
Num quid de Dacis audifti? Nil equidem. Ut tu
Semper eris derifor! At omnes Dî exagitent me,
Si quicquam. Quid? militibus promiffa Triquetra
Praedia Caefar, an eft Itala tellure daturus?
Or gravely try to read the lines
Writ underneath the Country Signs;
Or, “Have you nothing new to-day
"From Pope, from Parnel, or from Gay?"
Such tattle often entertains
My Lord and me as far as Stains,
As once a week we travel down
To Windfor, and again to Town,
Where all that paffes, inter nos,
Might be proclaim'd at Charing-Crofs.
Yet fome I know with envy fwell,
Because they see me us'd fo well:
"How think you of our Friend the Dean?
"I wonder what fome people mean ;
"My Lord and he are grown fo great,
"Always together, tête à tête,
"What, they admire him for his jokes"See but the fortune of fome Folks!
There flies about a ftrange report
Of fome Exprefs arriv'd at Court;
I'm stopp'd by all the fools I meet,
And catechis'd in ev'ry street.
"You, Mr. Dean, frequent the Great ;
"Inform us, will the Emp'ror treat?
"Or do the Prints and Papers lye?
Faith, Sir, you know as much as I.
"Ah Doctor, how you love to jeft ?
" 'Tis now no fecret - I protest
'Tis one to me- " Then tell us, pray,
"When are the Troops to have their pay?
And, tho' I folemnly declare
I know no more than my Lord Mayor,
Jurantem me fcire nihil miratur, ut unum
Scilicet egregii mortalem altique filentî.
Perditur haec inter mifero lux; non fine votis,
O rus, quando ego te afpiciam? quandoque licebit,
Nunc veterum libris, nunc fomno et inertibus horis,
Ducere folicitae jucunda oblivia vitae ?
O quando faba Pythagorae cognata, fimulque
Uncta fatis pingui ponentur oluscula lardo?
O noctes coenaeque Deum! quibus ipfe meique,
Ante Larem proprium vefcor, vernafque procaces
Pafco libatis dapibus: cum, ut cuique libido eft,
Siccat inaequales calices conviva, folutus
Legibus infanis feu quis capit acria fortis
Pocula; feu modicis uvefcit laetius. ergo
Sermo oritur, non de villis domibusve alienis,
Nec male necne Lepos faltet: fed quod magis ad
Pertinet, et nefcire malum eft, agitamus; utrumne
They stand amaz'd, and think me grown
The closest mortal ever known.
THUS in a sea of folly tofs'd,
My choiceft Hours of life are loft;
Yet always wishing to retreat,
Oh, could I see my Country Seat!
There leaning near a gentle Brook.
My Friends above, my Folks below,
Chatting and laughing all-a-row,
A Neighbour's Madness, or his Spouse's,
Or what's in either of the Houses:
But something much more our concern,
And quite a scandal not to learn:
VER. 125. Thus in a fea, etc.] Our Poet excels his friend in his own way of modernizing Horace. But this way is infinitely inferior to his own. For tho' Horace be
eafy, he is not familiar; or, if he be, it is the familiarity of Courts, which is never without its dignity. These things burlesque verfe cannot reconcile, nor indeed any other, that I know of, but the fore-going imitations of our Poet.
Divitiis homines, an fint virtute beati:
Quidve ad amicitias, ufus rectumne, trahat nos:
Et quae fit natura boni, fummumque quid ejus.
Cervius haec inter vicinus garrit aniles
Ex re fabellas. fi quis nam laudat Arellì
Solicitas ignarus opes; fic incipit: Olim
Rufticus urbanum murem mus paupere fertur
Accepiffe cavo, veterem vetus hofpes amicum;
Afper, et attentus quaefitis; ut tamen arctum
Solveret hofpitiis animum. quid multa? neque ille
Sepofiti ciceris, nec longae invidit avenae :
Aridum et ore ferens acinum, femesaque lardi
Frufta dedit, cupiens varia faftidia coena
Vincere tangentis male fingula dente fuperbo:
Cum pater ipfe domus palea porrectus in horna
Effet ador loliumque, dapis meliora relinquens.
Tandem urbanus ad hunc, Quid te juvat, inquit,
amice,
Praerupti nemoris patientem vivere dorfo?
Vin' tu homines urbemque feris praeponere fylvis?
Carpe viam (mihi crede) comes: terreftria quando
Mortales
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