A learned friend he could confide on, The next, a critic, grave and big, Who in his manner, mien, and shape was Wonder'd that men of such discerning 'It came (says he), or I will be whipp'd, From Memphis in the Lower Egypt. Soon as the Nile's prolific flood Has fill'd the plains with slime and mud, Which bill or beak, upon my word, The very bird whose numerous tribe is That these two curves, which wave and float thus, Are but the tendrils of the lotus, Which, as Herodotus has said, The' Egyptians always eat for bread.' He spoke, and heard, without a pause, But ah! what arts by fate are tried, And echo through the house convey'd And ask whate'er they pleased to want else. Soon as the synod he came near, Strange mingled sounds, in pompous style, And soon in Romans' hand he spies And peeps, and snuffs, and peeps again : And, big with laughter and surprise, To them a curiosity? If this is your best proof of science, On Romans' brow black thunders hung, The tempest eyed, Tom speeds his flight, CAWTHORN. HORACE'S FIRST SATIRE MODERNIZED, AND ADDRESSED TO JACOB HENRIQUEZ. Advertisement. It is hardly necessary to apprise the attentive reader that the honest Hebrew is by no means introduced in this satire as a real miser, but merely as an actor, extremely well qualified by his comic powers to personate the character. Pray, gentlefolks, cease your scoffing. Swift. PRAY tell me, friend Jacob, how comes it to pass That, say what we will, every man is an ass? Against his own lot everlastingly braying, And for change of condition still whining and praying? The soldier worn out with fatigues and with scars, As he hobbles to Chelsea, cries, Curse on the wars!' He envies the merchant the ease of his gain, The merchant, at mercy of winds and of waves, When he thinks upon war, all its dangers he braves; 'What's in it?' he cries, why, you hear the bombs thunder, [plunder.' Death relieves you at once or you're loaded with The lawyer indulging his afternoon nap, [rap, When he starts from his chair at his client's loud To burn all his briefs, in a rage makes a vow, And swears by St. Edward-he'll follow the plough. [to the city, While the poor country clown, dragg'd by writ As he gapes at the signs, cries, 'Ola! 'tis so pretty!' His eyes full of wonder he greedily feasts, With St. Paul's, and the giants, the bridge, and the beasts; On return to his cot, 'tis his glory to tell, [bell. How all pleasure's confined to the sound of Bow But enough of examples-no more can be wanted; That all men are grumblers, we'll now take for granted: [spirit lodges For to ransack each breast where this cursed cryer, [desire, 'Twas his pleasure to grant all these knaves their Make the merchant a soldier, the lawyer a plough man; Pass--presto 'tis done. 、 [now, man? Ha! what ails you What the devil, not stir?-Give a shake to that fellow; arguing? [lowThe dog has been drinking, and got himself mel"Twould be cruel to force, and what signifies [their bargain. Now their prayers have been heard they repent of Why such shuffling as this would provoke a Divinity! [I'd ha' gi'n it ye? Ye damn'd rogues! What ye ask'd-don't ye see Now-mind what I say-Should you tease me [laughter.' Your prayers will be only received with horse hereafter, But, joking apart, for you'll say 'tis beguilingYet I know not that truth ever suffer'd by smiling; Nay, a laugh gilds a pill, makes it sweeter to swallow; [Apollo; Your dry stuff won't be read were it writ by |