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Ad fummam, fapiens uno y minor eft Jove, dives,

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z Liber, honoratus, pulcher, rex denique regum;

L.

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Praecipue fanus, nifi cum pituita molesta est.

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I plant, root up; 1 build, and then confound;
Turn round to fquare, and fquare again to round;

▾ You never change one muscle of your face, You think this Madness but a common cafe, Nor w

once to Chanc'ry, nor to Hale apply ;

Yet hang your lip, to fee a Seam awry!

171

Careless how ill I with myself agree,

Kind to my dress, my figure, not to Me.

175

Is this my * Guide, Philofopher, and Friend?

This, he who loves me, and who ought to mend ? Who ought to make me (what he can, or none,) That Man divine whom Wisdom calls her own; 180 Great without Title, without Fortune bless'd; Richev'n when plunder'd, honour'd while op

prefs'd;

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Lov'd a without youth, and follow'd without pow'r;
At home, tho' exil'd; free, tho' in the Tower;
In short, that reas'ning, high, immortal Thing, 185
Juft less than Jove, and much above a King,

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Nay, half in heav'n- except (what's mighty odd) A Fit of Vapours clouds this Demy-God.

* H

THE

SIXTH EPISTLE

OF THE

FIRST BOOK

OF

HORACE.

EPISTOLA A VI.

IL admirari, prope res eft una, Numici,

NIL

Solaque quae poffit facere et fervare beatum.

Hunc folem, et ftellas, et decedentia certis

Tempora momentis, funt qui

formidine nulla

Imbuti fpectent. d quid cenfes, munera terrae ?

Quid, maris extremos Arabas⚫ ditantis et Indos ?

NOTES.

VER. 3. Dear MURRAY] This piece is the most finished of all his imitations, and executed in that high manner the Italian Painters call con amore. By which they mean, the exertion of that principle, which puts the faculties on the stretch, and produces the fupreme degree of excellence. For the Poet had all the warmth of affection for the great Lawyer to whom it is addressed, and indeed no man ever more deserved to have a Poet for his friend. In the obtaining of which as neither vanity, party, or fear had any share, fo he supported his title to it by all the offices of true friendship,

VER. 4. Creech)] From whose translation of Horace the two first lines are taken. P.

VER. 8. trust the Ruler with the flies, To him commit the hour,] Our Author, in these imitations, has been all along careful to correct the loofe morals, and absurd divinity of his Original.

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