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m Oldfield with more than Harpy throat endu'd,25 Cries "Send me, Gods! a whole Hog barbecu'd!" Oh blaft it," South-winds! till a ftench exhale Rank as the ripeness of a rabbit's tail.

By what Criterion do ye eat, d'ye think,

If this is priz'd for sweetness, that for ftink? 30
When the tir'd glutton labours thro' a treat,
He finds no relish in the sweetest meat,
He calls for fomething bitter, fomething four,
And the rich feaft concludes extremely poor:
Cheap eggs, and herbs, and olives still we fee;
Thus much is left of old Simplicity!

P The Robin-red-breast till of late had reft,
And children facred held a Martin's neft,

Till Becca-ficos fold fo dev'lish dear


To one that was, or would have been, a Peer.40
Let me extol a Cat, on oyfters fed,

I'll have a party at the Bedford-head;
Or ev❜n to crack live Crawfish recommend;
I'd never doubt at Court to make a friend.

r "Tis yet in vain, I own, to keep a pother 45 About one vice, and fall into the other;


a hog roasted whole, ftuffed with spice, and bafted with Madera wine. P.


VER. 27. Ob blast it, South-winds !] This has not the force, nor gives us the pleasant allufion in the original, coquite. VER. 42. Bedford-head;] A famous Eating-house. VER. 33. Or eơn to crack live Crawfish] There is force G


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Ac, nifi mutatum, parcit defundere vinum; et

Cujus odorem olei nequeas perferre (licebit
Ille repotia, natales, aliofque dierum


Feftos albatus celebret) cornu ipfe bilibri

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Caulibus inftillat, veteris non parcus aceti.

Quali igitur victu fapiens utetur, et horum

Utrum imitabitur? hac urget lupus, hac canis, aiunt. › Mundus erit, qua non offendat fordibus, atque


In neutram partem cultus mifer. Hic neque fervis

Albutî fenis exemplo, dum munia didit,

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Saevus erit; nec fic ut fimplex Naevius, unctam

Convivis praebebit aquam: vitium hoc quoque



and humour in dixerit and farebit, which the imitation does

not reach.

Between Excefs and Famine lies a mean;

Plain, but not fordid; tho' not splendid, clean.


* Avidien, or his Wife (no matter which,


For him you'll call a dog, and her a bitch) 50

Sell their presented partridges, and fruits,

And humbly live on rabbits and on roots:

▾ One half-pint bottle ferves them both to dine, And is at once their vinegar and wine.

But on fome "lucky day (as when they found 55 A loft Bank bill, or heard their Son was drown'd) At fuch a feaft, old vinegar to fpare,

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Is what two fouls fo gen'rous cannot bear:
Oyl, tho' it stink, they drop by drop impart,
But fowse the cabbage with a bounteous heart. 60

" He knows to live, who keeps the middle state, And neither leans on this fide, nor on that;


Nor ftops, for one bad cork, his butler's

Swears, like Albutius, a good cook away;


Nor lets, like Nævius, ev'ry error pass,


The musty wine, foul cloth, or greasy glass.



VER. 50. For him you'll call a dog, and her a bitch] Our Poet had the art of giving wit and dignity to his Billingsgate, which Horace seems not to have learnt.

'Accipe nunc, victus tenuis quae quantaque fecum

Afferat. In primis valeas bene; nam variae res

Ut noceant homini, credas, memor illius efcae,

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VER. 79, 80. The Soul fubfides, and wickedly inclines-To feem but mortal ev'n in found Divines.] Horace was an Epicurean, and laughed at the immortality of the foul. He therefore defcribes that languor of the mind proceeding from intemperance, on the idea, and in the Terms of Plato,

affigit humo divinae particulam aurae.

To this his ridicule is pointed. Our Poet, with more sobriety

"Now hear what bleffingsTemperance can bring: (Thus faid our Friend, and what he faid I fing) First Health: The ftomach (cramm'd from ev'ry


A tomb of boil'd and roast, and flesh and fish, 70 Where bile, and wind, and phlegm, and acid jar, And all the man is one inteftine war)


Remembers oft the School-boy's fimple fare,

The temp'rate fleeps, and spirits light as air. 74 How pale, each Worshipful and Rev'rend guest Rise from a Clergy, or a City feast!

What life in all that ample body, say?

What heav'nly particle inspires the clay?
The Soul fubfides, and wickedly inclines

To seem but mortal, ev'n in found Divines. 80
8 On morning wings how active springs the Mind
That leaves the load of yesterday behind?
How eafy ev'ry labour it pursues?

How coming to the Poet ev'ry Muse?


and judgment, has turned the ridicule, from the Doctrine, which he believed, upon thofe Preachers of it, whofe feafts and compotations in Taverns did not edify him: and fo has added furprizing humour and spirit to the eafy elegance of the Original. VER. 81. On morning wings etc.] Much happier and nobler than the original.

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