Or, in a mortgage, prove a Lawyer's share;
Or, in a jointure, vanish from the heir;
Or in pure equity (the case not clear)
The Chanc'ry takes your rents for twenty year:
At beft, it falls to fome ungracious fon,

Who cries, "My father's damn'd, and all's my own. h Shades, that to Bacon could retreat afford, 175 Become the portion of a booby Lord;

And Hemfley, once proud Buckingham's delight,
Slides to a Scriv'ner or a city Knight.

Let lands and houses have what Lords they will,
Let Us be fix'd, and our own masters still.

180

170

in the concluding part, obliged him to diverfify the fentiment. They are equally noble: but Horace's is expressed with the greater force.

THE

FIRST EPISTLE

OF THE

FIRST BOOK

OF

HORACE.

EPISTOLA I

RIMA dicte mihi, fumma dicende camena,

PRI

Spectatum fatis, et donatum jam rude, quaeris,

Maecenas, iterum antiquo me includere ludo.

с

Non eadem eft aetas, non mens. Veianius, armis

Herculis ad poftem fixis, latet abditus agro;

Ne populum extremă toties exoret arenas

Eft mihi purgatam crebro qui perfonet aurem ;

Solve fenefcentem mature fanus equum, ne

Peccet ad extremum ridendus, et ilia ducat.

Nunc itaque et verfus, et caetera ludicra pono:

Vra. 16. You limp, like Blackmore on a Lord Mayor's boyfe,] The fame of this heavy Poet, however problematical elsewhere, was univerfally received in the City of London. His verfification is here exactly defcribed: ftiff, and not ftrong; ftately and

EPISTLE I.

To L. BOLINGBROKE.

S

с

T. JOHN, whofe love indulg'd my labours paft, Matures my prefent, and fhall bound my laft! Why will you break the Sabbath of my days? Now fick alike of Envy and of Praise. Public too long, ah let me hide my Age! See Modeft Cibber now has left the Stage: 3 Our Gen'rals now, retir'd to their Estates, Hang their old Trophies o'er the Garden gates, In Life's cool Ev'ning fatiate of Applaufe, Nor fond of bleeding, ev'n in BRUNSWICK'S caufe. f A voice there is, that whifpers in my ear, ('Tis Reason's voice, which fometimes one can hear) "Friend Pope! be prudent, let your & Mufe take breath, "And never gallop Pegafus to death;

II

1***

!S

"Left ftiff, and ftately, void of fire or force, "You limp, like Blackmore on a Lord Mayor's horse."

66

h

Farewell then Verfe and Love, and ev'ry Toy, The Rhymes and Rattles of the Man or Boy;

TRA NA SER

yet dull, like the fober and flow-paced Animal generally employed so mount the Lord Mayor: and therefore here humouroufly