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What life in all that ample body, say?
What heav'nly particle inspires the clay?
The Soul fubfides, and wickedly inclines
To feem but mortal, ev'n in found Divines..
• On morning wings how active springs the Mind
That leaves the load of yesterday behind?
How eafy ev'ry labour it purfues?

How coming to the Poet ev'ry Mufe?

h Not but we may exceed, fome holy time,

Or tir'd in fearch of Truth, or fearch of Rhyme;
Ill health fome juft indulgence may engage,
And more the fickness of long life, Old age;
i For fainting Age what cordial drop remains,
If our intemp❜rate Youth the veffel drains?




* Our fathers prais'd rank Ven'son. You suppose Perhaps, young men! our fathers had no nose. Not fo: a Buck was then a week's repast, And 'twas their point, I ween, to make it laft; 100 More pleas'd to keep it till their friends should come Than eat the sweetest by themselves at home.


him and so has added furprizing humour and spirit to the eafy elegance of the Original,

VER. 82. On morning wings etc.] Much happier and nobler than the Original.

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VER. 87. Ortir'd in fearch of Truth, or fearch of Rhyme.] A fine ridicule on the extravagance of human puriuits; where the moft trifling and most important concerns of life fucceed one another, indifferently.

Integrum edax dominus confumeret. hos utinam


Heroas natum tellus me prima tuliffet.

Das aliquid famae, quae carmine gratior aurem Occupet humanam ? grandes rhombi, patinaeque Grande ferunt una cum damno dedecus. adde


• Iratum patruum, vicinos, te tibi iniquum, Et fruftra mortis cupidum, cum deerit egenti PAs, laquei pretium.

Jure, inquit, Traufius iftis

Jurgatur verbis: ego vectigalia magna,
Divitiafque habeo tribus amplas regibus.



Quod fuperat, non eft melius quo infumere poffis?
Cur eget indignus quifquam, te divite? quare

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Templa ruunt antiqua Deûm? cur, improbe, carae

Non aliquid patriae tanto emetiris acervo ?

Uni nimirum tibi recte femper erunt res?


VER. 128. As M**o's was, etc.] I think this light ftroke of fatire ill placed; and hurts the dignity of the


1 Why had not I in those good times my birth, 'Ere coxcomb-pyes or coxcombs were on earth? Unworthy he, the voice of Fame to hear, m That sweetest music to an honeft ear; (For 'faith, Lord Fanny! you are in the wrong, The world's good word is better than a song) Who has not learn'd, a fresh fturgeon and ham-pye Are no rewards for want, and infamy! When Luxury has lick'd up all thy pelf, Curs'd be thy neighbours, thy trustees, thyself, To friends, to fortune, to mankind a shame, Think how pofterity will treat thy name; And buy a rope, that future times may tell P Thou haft at least bestow'd one penny well.




"Right, cries his Lordship, for a rogue in need "To have a Tafte is infolence indeed :

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"In me 'tis noble, fuits my birth and state,
"My wealth unwieldy, and my heap too great."
Then, like the Sun, let Bounty spread her ray, 121
And shine that fuperfluity away.
Oh Impudence of wealth! with all thy ftore,
How dar'ft thou let one worthy man be poor?
Shall half the new-built churches round thee fall?
Make Keys, build Bridges, or repair White-hall;
Or to thy Country let that heap be lent,
As M**o's was, but not at five per cent.


preceding morality. Horace was very serious, and properly fo, when he said,

O magnus pofthac inimicis rifus! uterne

" Ad cafus dubios fidet fibi certius? hic, qui
Pluribus affuerit mentem corpufque fuperbum ;
An qui contentus parvo metuenfque futuri,
In pace, ut fapiens, aptarit idonea bello?

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Quo magis his credas: puer hunc ego parvus


Integris opibus novi non latius ufum,
Quam nunc accifis. Videas, metato in agello,
Cum pecore et gnatis, fortem mercede colonum,
Non ego, narrantem, temere edi luce profesta
Quidquam, praeter * olus fumofae cum pede pernae.
Ac mihi feu longum poft tempus venerat hofpes,
Sive operum vacuo gratus conviva per imbrem
Vicinus; bene erat, non pifcibus urbe petitis,
Sed pullo atque hoedo: tum penfilis uva fecundas




cur, Improbe! carae

Non aliquid patriae tanto emetiris acervo.

He remembered, and hints with juft indignation, at those luxurious Patricians of his old party; who, when they had agreed to eftablish a fund in the cause of Freedom, under the conduct of Brutus, could never be perfuaded to withdraw from their expenfive pleasures what was fufficient for the fupport of fo great a caufe. He had prepared his

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* Who thinks that fortune cannot change her mind, Prepares a dreadful jeft for all mankind. And "who ftands fafeft? tell me, is it he That spreads and fwells in puff'd Prosperity, Or bleft with little, whofe preventing care In peace provides fit arms against a war? ▾ Thus BETHEL fpoke, who always fpeaks his thought,


And always thinks the very thing he ought:
His equal mind I copy what I can,

And as I love, would imitate the Man.

In South-fea days not happier, when furmis'd
The Lord of Thousands, than if now w Excis'd; 140

In forest planted by a Father's hand,

Than in five acres now of rented land.

Content with little, I can piddle here

On * brocoli and mutton, round the year;

But y ancient friends (tho' poor, or out of play)

That touch my bell, I cannot turn away.


'Tis true, no Turbots dignify my boards,

But gudgeons, flounders, what my Thames affords:


apology for this liberty, in the preceding line, where he pays a fine compliment to Auguftus:

quare Templa ruunt antiqua Deûm? :

which oblique Panegyric the Imitator has very properly turned into a juft stroke of fatire.


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