Old Greece a tale of Athos would make out, Cut from the continent, and sail'd about ;* Seas hid with navies, chariots passing o'er The channel, on a bridge from shore to shore: Rivers, whose depth no sharp beholder sees, Drunk at any army's dinner, to the lees; With a long legend of romantic things, Which in his cups the bowsy poet sings. But how did he return, this haughty brave, Who whipt the winds,and made the sea his slave? (Though Neptune took unkindly to be bound; And Eurus never such hard usage found In his Eolian prisons under ground;) What god so mean, e'en he who points the way, So merciless a tyrant to obey t But how return'd he? let us ask again : In a poor skiff he pass'd the bloody main, Chok'd with the slaughter'd bones of his train. For fame he pray'd, but let the event declare He had no mighty penn'worth of his pray'r. Jove, grant me length of life and years good

store

Heap on my bending back, I ask no more.
Both sick and healthful, old and young, conspire
In this one silly mischievous desire.
Mistaken blessing, which old age they call,
'Tis a long, nasty, darksome hospital,
A ropy chain of rheums; a visage rough
Deform'd, unfeatur'd, and a skin of buff.
A stitch-fall'n cheek, that hangs below the jaw;
Such wrinkles, as a skilful hand would draw
For an old grandam ape, when, with a grace,
She sits at squat, and scrubs her leathern face.
In youth, distinctions infinite abound;
No shape, or feature, just alike are found
The fair, the black, the feebie, and the strong;
But the same foulness does to age belong,
The selfsame palsy, both in limbs and tongue.
The skull and forehead one bald barren plain;
And gums unarm'd to mumble meat in vain :
Besides the eternal drivel, that supplies
The dropping beard, from nostrils, mouth, and

eyes.

• Xerxes is represented in history after a very romantic manner, affecting fame beyond measure, and doing the most extravagant things to compass it. Mount Athos made a prodigious promontory in the Egean sea; he is said to have cut a channel through it, and to have sailed round it. He made a bridge of boats over the Hellespont, where it was three iniles broad: and ordered a whipping for the winds and seas, because they had once crossed his designs, as we have a very solemn account of it in Herodotus. But after all these vain boasts, he was shamefully beaten by Themistocles at Salamis, and returned home, leaving most of his fleet behind him.

Mercury, who was a god of the lowest size, and employed always in errands between heaven and hell; and mortals used him accordingly, for his sta 1 were anciently placed where roads met, with directions on the fingers of them, pointing out the several ways to travellers.

His wife and children loathe him, and, what's

worse

Himself does his offensive carrion curse!
Flatt'rers forsake him too; for who would kili
Himself, to be remember'd in a will?
His taste, not only pall'd to wine and meat,
But to the relish of a nobler treat.
The limber nerve, in vain provok'd to rise,
Inglorious from the field of battle flies:
Poor feeble dotard, how could he advance
With his blue head-piece, and his broken lance?
Add, that endeavouring still without effect,
A lust more sordid justly we suspect.

Those senses lost, behold a new defeat,
The soul dislodging from another seat.
What music, or enchanting voice, can cheer
A stupid, old, impenetrable ear?
No matter in what place, or what degree
Of the full theatre, he sits to see;
Cornets and trumpets cannot reach his ear:
Under an actor's nose he's never near.

His boy must bawl, to make him under

stand

The hour: o' th' day, or such a lord's at hand :
The little blood that creeps within his veins,
Is but just warm'd in a hot fever's pains.
In fine, he wears no limb about him sound
With sores and sicknesses beleaguer'd round:
Ask me their names, I sooner could relate
How many drudges on salt Hippia wait;
What crowds of patients the town-doctor kills,
Or how, last fall, he rais'd the weekly bills.
What provinces by Basilus were spoil'd,
What herds of heirs by guardians are beguil'd:
How many bouts a day that bitch has tried;
How many boys that pedagogue can ride!
What lands and lordships for their owner know
My quondam barber, but his worship now.

This dotard of his broken back complains, One, his legs fail, and one, his shoulder pains Another is of both his eyes bereft;

And envies who has for one aiming left.
A fifth, with trembling lips expecting stands,
As in his childhood, cramm'd by others' hands,
One, who at sight of supper open'd wide
His jaws before, and whetted grinders tried
Now only yawns, and waits to be supplied:
Like a young swallow, when with weary wings
Expected food her fasting mother brings.

His loss of members is a heavy curse,
But all his faculties decay'd, a worse!
His servants' names he has forgotten quite;
Knows not his friend who supp'd with him last

night.

Not e'en the children he begot and bred;
Or his will knows 'em not: for, in their stead,
In form of law, a common hackney jade,
Sole heir, for secret services, is made:

So lewd, and such a batter'd

That she defies all comers at her door.
Well, yet suppose his senses are his own,
He lives to be chief mourner for his son:
Before his face his wife and brother burns,
He numbers all his kindred in their urns.
These are the fines he pays for living long;
And dragging tedious age in his own wrong
Griefs always green, a household still in tears,
Sad pomps, a threshold throng'd with daily
biers,

And liveries of black for length of years.

Next to the raven's age, the Pylian king*
Was longest liv'd of any two-legg'd thing;
Blest, to defraud the grave so long, to mount
His number'd years, and on his right hand count
Three hundred seasons, guzzling must of wine:
But, hold a while, and hear himself repine
At fate's unequal aws; and at the clue
Which, merciless in length, the midmost sister
drew.

When his brave son upon the fun'ral pyre
He saw extended, and his beard on fire;
He turn'd, and weeping, ask'd his friends, what
crime

Had curs'd his age to this unhappy time?
Thus mourn'd old Peleus for Achilles slain,
And thus Ulysses' father did complain.

[race

How fortunate an end had Priam made, Among his ancestors a mighty shade, Vail Troy yet stood; when Hector, with the Or royal bastards, might his fun'ral grace: Amidst the tears of Trojan dames inurn'd, And by his loyal daughters truly mourn'd! Had heav'n so blest him, he had died before The fatal fleet to Sparta Paris bore. But mark what age produc'd; he liv'd to see His town in flames, his falling monarchy: In fine, the feeble sire, reduc'd by fate, To change his sceptre for a sword, too late, His last effort before Jove's altar tries; A soldier half, and half a sacrifice : Falls like an ox, that waits the coming blow: Old and unprofitable to the plough.

At least, he died a man ; his queen surviv'd,§ To howl, and in a barking body liv’d.

Nestor, king of Pylos, who was 300 years old, ac. cording to Homer's account; at least, as he is understood by his expositors.

The ancier.ts courted by their fingers; their left hands served them till they came up to a hundred, after that they used their right, to express all greater numbers.

Whilst Troy was sacking by the Greeks, old King Priam is said to have buckled on his armour to oppose them: which he had no cooner done, but he was met by Pyrrhus, and slain bore the altar of Jupiter, in his own palace, are have the story finely told in Virgil's second Zeid.

Hecuba, his queen, escased the swords of the Grecians, and outlived him. It seems she behaved,

I hasten to our own; nor will relate Great Mithridates'|| and rich Crœsus'¶ fate, Whom Sulon wisely counsell'd to attend The name of happy, till he knew his end.

That Marius was an exile, that he fled,
Was ta'en, in ruined Carthage begg'd his bread,
All these were owing to a life too long:
For whom had Rome beheld so happy, young!
High in his chariot, and with laurel crown'd,
When he had led the Cimbrian captives round
The Roman streets; descending from his state,
In that blest hour he should have begg'd his
fate;

Then, then, he might have died of all admir'd,
And his triumphant soul with shouts expir'd.
Campania, fortune's malice to prevent,
To Pompey an indulgent fever sent ;**
But public prayers impos'd on heav'n, to give
Their much lov'd leader an unkind reprieve
The city's fate and his conspir'd to save
The head, reserv'd for an Egyptian slave.

Cethegus, though a traitor to the state,†† And tortur'd, scap'd this ignominious fate : And Sergius, who a bad cause bravely tried,‡‡ All of a piece, and undiminish'd, died.

To Venus, the fond mother makes a prayer, That all her sons and daughters may be fair: True, for the boys a mumbling vow she sends But, for the girls, the vaulted temple rends. They must be finish'd pieces: 't is allow'd Diana's beauty made Latona proud, And pleas'd, to see the wond'ring people pray To the new-rising sister of the day.

And yet Lucretia's fate would bar that vow: And fair Virginia would her fate bestow§§

herself so fiercely and uneasily to her husband's murderers while she lived, that the poets thought fit to turn her into a bitch. when she died.

Mithridates, after he had disputed the empire of the world, for forty years together, with the Ro mans, was at last deprived of life and empire by Pompey the Gre..

Croesus, in ne midst of his p:osperity, making his boast to Solon how happy he was, received this answer from the wise man: "That no one could pronounce himself happy till he saw vrat his end should be." The truth of this Croesus found, when he was put in chains by Cyrus, and condemned to die.

Pompey, in the midst of his glory, fell into a dangerous fit of sickness at Naples; a great many cities then made public supplications for him; he recovered, was beaten at Pharsalia, fled to Ito.emy, king of Egypt, and, instead of receiving protection at his court, had his head struck off by his order, to please Cæsar.

Cethegus was one that conspired with Catiline, and was put to death by the Senate. Catiline died fighting.

55 Virginia was killed by her own father, to pre. vent her being exposed to the lust of Appius Claudius, who had ill designs upon her. The story at large is in Livy's third book; and it is a remarkable one, as it gave occasion to the putting down the power of the Decemviri, of whom Appius was one.

On Rutila; and change her faultless make
For the foul rumple of her camel back.

But, for his mother's boy, the beau, what frights

His parents have by day, what anxious nights!
Form join'd with virtue is a sight too rare:
Chaste is no epithet to suit with fair.
Suppose the same traditionary strain
Of rigid manners in the house remain,
Inveterate truth, an old plain Sabine's heart;
Suppose that Nature, too, has done her part;
Infus'd into his soul a sber grace,
And blush'd a modest blood into his face
(For Nature is a better guardian far,
Than saucy pedants, or dull tutors are :)
Yet still the youth must ne'er arrive at man ;
(So much almighty bribes and presents can ;)
E'en with a parent, where persuasions fail,
Money is impudent, and will prevail.

We never read of such a tyrant king,
Who gelt a boy deform'd, to hear him sing.
Nor Nero, in his more luxurious rage,
E'er made a mistress of an ugly page:
Sporus, his spouse, nor crooked was, nor lame,
With mountain back, and belly, from the game
Cross-barr'd: but both his sexes well became.
Go, boast your springal, by his beauty curst
To ills, nor think I have declar'd the worst:
His form procures him journey-work; a strife
Betwixt town-madans, and the merchant's
wife :

Guess, when he undertakes this public war,
What furious beasts offended cuckolds are.

Adult'rers are with dangers round beset;'
Born under Mars, they cannot scape the net;
And from revengeful husbands oft have tried
Worse handling, than severest laws provide:
One stabs; one slashes; one, with cruel art,
Makes colon suffer for the peccant part.
But your Endymion, your smooth, smock-

fac'd boy,

Unrivall'd, shall a beauteous dame enjoy :
Not so: one more salacious, rich, and old,
Outbids, and buys her pleasure for her gold:
Now he must moil, and drudge, for one he loaths,
She keeps him high in equipage and clothes:
She pawns her jewels, and her rich attire,
And thinks the workman worthy of his hire:
In all things else immoral, stingy, mean;
But, in her lusts, a conscionable queen.

She may be handsome, yet be chaste, you

say;

Good observator, not so fast away:
Did it not cost the modest youth his life,*
Who shunn'd th' embraces of his father's wife?

Hippolytus, the son of Theseus, was loved by his mother-in-law Phædra; but he not complying with ner she procured his death.

And was not t'other stripling forc'd to fly,
Who coldly did his patron's queen deny,
And pleaded laws of hospitality?
The ladies charg'd 'em home, and turn'd the
tale;

With shame they redden'd, and with spite grew pale.

'T is dang'rous to deny the longing dame : She loses pity, who has lost her shame.

Now Silius wants thy counsel, give advice,
Wed Cæsar's wife, or die; the choice is nice,
Her comet-eyes she darts on ev'ry grace;
And takes a fatal liking to his face.
Adorn'd with bridal pomp she sits in state,
The public notaries and Aruspex wait :
The genial bed is in the garden drest :
The portion paid, and ev'ry rite express'd
Which in a Roman marriage is profest.
'Tis no stol'n wedding this, rejecting awe,
She scorns to marry, but in form of law:
In this moot case, your judgment: to refuse
Is present death, besides the night you lose⚫
If you consent, 't is hardly worth your pain
A day or two of anxious life you gain:
Till loud reports through all the town have past,
And reach the prince: for cuckolds hear the
last.

Indulge thy pleasure, youth, and take thy swing;
For not to take is but the selfsame thing;
Inevitable death before thee lies;
But looks more kindly through a lady's eyes.

What then remains? Are we depriv'd of will,
Must we not wish, for fear of wishing ill?
Receive my council, and securely move
Intrust thy fortune to the Powers above,
Leave them to manage for thee, and to grant
What their unerring wisdom sees thee want;
In goodness as in greatness they excel;
Ah that we lov'd ourselves but half so well!
We, blindly by our headstrong passions led,
Are hot for action, and desire to wed:
Then wish for heirs : but to the gods alone
Our future offspring, and our wives are known:
Th' audacious strumpet, and ungracious son.

Yet not to rob the priests of pious gain, That altars be not wholly built in vain; Forgive the gods the rest, and stand confin'd To health of body, and content of mind:

+ Bellerophron, the son of king Glaucus, resid ing some time at the court of Pætus, king of the Argives, the queen, Sthenoba, fell in love with him; but he refusing her, she turned the accusation upon him, and he narrowly escaped Pætus's vengeance.

: Messalina, wife to the emperor Claudius, in famous for her lewdness. She set her eyes upon C. Silius, a fine youth, forced him to quit his own wife, and marry her with all the formalities of a wedding, whilst Claudius Cæsar was sacrificing at Hostia. Upon his returr, he put both Silius and her to death.

A soul, that can securely death defy:
And count it nature's privilege, to die;
Serene and manly, harden'd to sustain
The load of life, and exercis'd in pain:
Guiltless of hate, and proof against desire;
That all things weighs, and nothing can admire:
That dares prefer the toils of Hercules
To dalliance, banquet, and ignoble ease.

The path to peace is virtue: what I show, Thyself may freely on thyself bestow : Fortune was never worshipp'd by the wise; But, set aloft by fools, usurps the skies.

THE SIXTEENTH SATIRE OF JUVENAL.

THE ARGUMENT.

The poet in this satire proves, that the condition of a soldier is much better than that of a country. man: first, because a countryman, however affronted, provoked and struck himself, dares not strike a soldier; who is only to be judged by a court martial: and by the law of Camillus, which obliges him not to quarrel without the trenches, he is also assured to have a speedy hearing, and quick despa.ch: whereas the townsman or

peasant is delayed in his suit by frivolous pretences, and not sure of justice when he is heard in the court. The soldier is also privileged to make a will, and to give away his estate, which he got in war, to whom he pleases, without consideration of parentage or relations, which is denied to all other Romans. This satire was written by Juvenal when he was a commander in Egypt: itis certainly his, though I think it not finished. And if it be well observed, you will find he intended an invective against a standing army. WHAT vast prerogatives,* my Gallus, are Accruing to the mighty man of war: For, if into a lucky camp I light, Though raw in arms, and yet afraid to fight, Befriend me, my good stars, and all goes right: One happy hour is to a soldier better, Than mother Juno's recommending letter, t Or Venus, when to Mars she would prefer My suit, and own the kindness done to her. See what our common privileges are: As, first, no acy citizen shall dare

To strike a soldier, nor, when struck, recent
The wrong, for fear of farther punishment:
Not though his teeth are beaten out, his eyes
Hang by a string, in bumps his forehead rise,
Shail he presume to mention his disgrace,
Or beg amends for his demolish'd face.
A booted judge shall sit to try his cause,
Not by the statute, but by martial laws;

What vast prerogatives] This satire is much Inferior to the rest. The old scholiast denies that it is by Juvenal. I suppose Dryden was forced to add it to fill up his volume.-Barten Holyday's notes, added to his translation of Juvenal, are worth reading. Dr. J. W.

Juno was mother to Mars the god of war: Venus was his mistress.

VOL. 1.-24

Which old Camillust order'd, to confine
The brawls of soldiers to the trench and line;
A wise provision; and from thence 't is clear,
That officers a soldier's cause should hear:
And taking cognizance of wrongs receiv'd,
An honest man may hope to be reliev'd.
So far 't is well: but with a gen❜ral cry,
The regiment will rise in mutiny,
The freedom of their fellow-rogue demand,
And, if refus'd, will threaten to disband.
Withdraw thy action, and depart in peace;
The remedy is worse than the disease:
This cause is worthy him,§ who in the hall
Would for his fee, and for his client, bawl:
But wouldst thou, friend, who hast two legs
alone
[thy own,)
(Which, heav'n be prais'd, thou yet mayst call
Wouldst thou to run the gauntlet these expose
To a whole company of hob-nail'd shoes ?||
Sure the good-breeding of wise citizens
Should teach 'em more good-nature to their
shins.
[friend,

Besides, whom canst thou think so much thy
Who dares appear thy business to defend?
Dry up thy tears, and pocket up th' abuse,
Nor put thy friend to make a bad excuse:
The judge cries out, Your evidence produce.
Will he, who saw the soldier's mutton-fist,
And saw thee maul'd, appear within the list,
To witness truth? When I see one so brave
The dead, think I, are risen from the grave;
And with their long spade beards, and matted
hair,

Our honest ancestors are come to take the air.
Against a clown, with more security,
A witness may be brought to swear a lie,
To vouch a truth against a man of war.
Than, though his evidence be full and fair,

More benefits remain, and claim'd as rights,
Which are a standing army's perquisites.
If any rogue vexatious suits advance
Against me for my known inheritance,
Enter by violence my fruitful grounds,
Or take the sacred landmark from my bounds,

:Camillus (who being first banished by his ungrateful countrymen the Romans, afterwards returned, and freed them from the Gauls) made a law, which prohibited the soldiers from quarrelling without the camp, lest upon that pretence they might happen to be absent when they ought to be on duty.

This cause is worthy him, &c.] The poet names a Modenese lawyer, whom he calls Vagellius; who was so impudent that he would plead any cause, right or wrong, without shame or fear.

Hob-nail'd shoes] The Roman soldiers wore piates of iron under their shoes, or stuck them with nails, as countrymen do now.

Landmarks were used by the Romans, almost in the same manner as now; and as we go once a year in procession, about the bounds of parishes, and renew them, so they offered cakes upon the stone or land.

Those bounds which, with procession and with pray'r,

And offer'd cakes, have been my annual care:
Or if my debtors do not keep their day,
Deny their hands, and then refuse to pay;
I must with patience all the terms attend,
Among the common causes that depend,
Till mine is call'd; and that long look'd-for day
Is still encumber'd with some new delay:
Perhaps the cloth of state is only spread,*
Some of the quorum may be sick a-bed; [this
That judge is hot, and doffs his gown, while
O'er night was bousy, and goes out to piss:
So many rubs appear, the time is gone
For hearing, and the tedious suit goes on:
But buff and beltman never know these cares,
No time, no trick of law, their action bars:
Their cause they to an easier issue put:
'They will be heard, or they lug out, and cut.
Another branch of their revenue still
Remains beyond their boundless right to kill,

The Courts of Judicature were hung and spread, as with us; but spread only before the hundred judges were to sit and judge public causes, which were called by lot.

Their father yet alive, impower'd to make a
will.t
[clares,

For, what their prowess gain'd, the law de-
Is to themselves alone, and to their heirs:
No share of that goes back to the begetter,
But if the son fights well, and plunders better,
Like stout Coranus, his old shaking sire
Does a remembrance in his will desire:
Inquisitive of fights, and longs in vain
To find him in the number of the slain:
But still he lives, and, rising by the war,
Enjoys his gains, and has enough to spare;
For 't is a noble general's prudent part
To cherish valour, and reward desert: [whore
Let him be daub'd with lace, live high, and
Sometimes be lousy, but be never poor.

The Roman soldiers had the privilege of ma king a will, in their father's life-time, of what they had purchased in the wars, as being no part of their patrimony. By this will they had power of excluding their own parents, and giving the estate so gotten to whom they pleased. Therefore, says the poet, Coranus (a soldier contemporary with Juvenal, who had raised his fortune by the wars) was courted by his own father, to make him his heir.

THE FIRST SATIRE OF PERSIUS.

ARGUMENT OF THE PROLOGUE.

The design of the author was to conceal his name and quality. He lived in the dangerous times of the tyrant Nero; and aims particularly at him in most of his satires. For which reason, though he was a Roman knight,and of a plentiful fortune,he would appear in this prologue but a beggarly poet, who writes for bread. After this, he breaks into the business of the first satire; which is chiefly to decry the poetry then in fashion, and the impudence of those who were endeavouring to pass their stuff upon the world.

PROLOGUE TO THE FIRST SATIRE.

I NEVER did on cleft Parnassus dream,
Nor taste the sacred Heliconian stream;
Nor can remember when my brain inspir'd,
Was by the Muses into madness fir'd.
My share in pale Pyrene I resign;
And claim no part in all the mighty Nine.
Statues, with winding ivy crown'd, belong
To nobler poets, for a nobler song:
Heedless of verse, and hopeless of the crown,