« EelmineJätka »
SA TIRE I.
To Mr. FORTESCUE.
, ) a There are, to whom my Satire seems too bold: Scarce to wise Peter complaisant enough, And fomething faid of Chartres much too rough. B The lines are weak, another's pleas’d to say, 5 Lord Fanny spins a thousand such a day. Timorous by nature, of the Rich in awe, c I come to Council learned in the Law : You'll give me, like a friend both sage and free, Advice; and (as you use) without a Fee. F. d I'd write no more.
HORATIUS. •Sunt quibus in Satira videar nimis acer, et ultra Legem tendere opus ; b fine nervis altera, quidquid Composui, pars effe putat, fimilesque meorum Mille die versus deduci posse. Trebati, Quid faciam? praescribe.
H. Ne faciam, inquis, Omnino versus ?
P. Not write ? but then I think,
F. You could not do a worse thing for your life. 15 Why, if the nights seem tedious-take a wife : f Or rather truly, if your point be rest, Lettuce and cowslip wine ; “ Probatum est." But talk with Celsus, Celsus will advise Hartshorn, or something that shall close your eyes. & Or, if you needs must write, write Cæsar's Praise, n You 'll gain at least a Knighthood, or the Bays. P. What? like Sir i Richard, rumbling, rough, and
fierce, With Arms and George and Brunswick crowd the
verse, Rend with tremendous sound your ears afunder,
25 With Gun, Drum, Trumpet, Blunderbuss, and Thun
H. Peream male, fi non
T. f Ter uneti
8 Aut fi tantus amor scribendi te rapit, aude Cæsaris invicti res dicere, h multa laborum Praemia laturus.
H. Cupidum, Pater optime, vires Deficiunt : i neque enim quivis horrentia pilis
Or nobly wild, with Budgell's fire and force,
F. k Then all your Muse's softer art display,
30 Lull with Amelia's liquid name the Nine, And sweetly flow through all the Royal Line.
P. 1 Alas! few verses touch their nicer ear; They scarce can bear their Laureate twice a year; And justly Cæsar scorns the Poet's lays,
55 It is to History he trusts for Praise.
F. m Better be Cibber, I'll maintain it still, Than ridicule all Taste, blaspheme Quadrille, Abuse the City's best good men in metre, And laugh at Peers that put their trust in Peter. 40 Ev'n those touch not, hate you.
P. What should ail them? F. A hundred smart in Timon and in Balaam :
Agmina, nec fracta pereuntes cuspide Gallos,
T. * Attamen et juftum poteras et scribere fortem, Scipiadam ut fapiens Lucilius.
H. Haud mihi deero, Cum res ipsa feret : 1 nisi dextro tempore, Flacci Verba per attentam non ibunt Cæsaris aurem : Cui male si palpere, recalcitrat undique tutus. T. m Quanto rectius hoc, quam trifti lædere versu Pantolabum (curram, Nomentanumve nepotem ? * Cum sibiquisque timet, quamquam est intactus, et odit.
The fewer ftill you name, you wound the more;
P. • Each mortal has his pleasure : none deny
friend the less lament my fate.
H. - Quid faciam ? faltat Milonius, ut femel icto
My head and heart thus flowing through my quill,
s Satire's my weapon, but I'm too discreet To run a-muck, and tilt at all I meet ;
70 t I only wear it in a land of Hectors, Thieves, Supercargoes, Sharpers, and Directors. u Save but our army! and let Jove incrust Swords, pikes, and guns, with everlasting rust! w Peace is my dear delight—not Fleury's more: 75 But touch me, and no minister fo fore. Whoe'er offends, at some unlucky time, * Slides into verse, and hitches-in a rhyme,
Votiva pateat veluti descripta tabella