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THE
WORKS
OF
JOHN DRYDEN.
THE
WORKS
OF
JOHN DRYDEN,
NOW FIRST COLLECTED
IN EIGHTEEN VOLUMES.
ILLUSTRATED
WITH NOTES,
HISTORICAL, CRITICAL, AND EXPLANATORY,
AND
A LIFE OF THE AUTHOR,
BY
WALTER SCOTT, ESQ.
VOL. XIII.
LONDON :
PRINTED FOR WILLIAM MILLER, ALBEJMARLK STREET,
BY JAMES BALLANTYNE AND CO. Et
1808.
College
Library
Of
VOLUME THIRTEENTH.
FAGE.
TRANSLATIONS FROM JUVENAL.
Essay on Satire ; addressed to Charles, Earl of Dor-
set and Middlesex, ,..... 3
The First Satire of Juvenal, . 119
The Third Satire of Juvenal, . 13O
The Sixth Satire of Juvenal, 143
The Tenth Satire of Juvenal, , 179
The Sixteenth Satire of Juvenal, 198
TRANSLATIONS FROM PERSIUS..
The First Satire of Persius, . 205
Notes, 217
The Second Satire of Persius, 221
Notes, 227
The Third Satire of Persius, 30
Notes, 2.39
The Fourth Satire of Persius, 242
Notes, 248
The Fifth Satire of Persius, inscribed to the Rev.
Dr Busby, '^^fc: 251
Notes, '
I
.' ~< f'-- \ < r*n -^
w. in. i , ' a
11 CONTENTS.
PAGE.
The Sixth Satire of Persius, 267
Notes, 274
THE WORKS OF VIRGIL, TRANSLATED INTO ENGLISH
VERSE.
Names of Subscribers to the Cuts of Virgil, 285
Recommendatory Poems on the Translation of Vir-
gil, 289
The Life of Publius Virgilius Maro, by William
Walsh, _. 297
PASTORALS,
Dedication of the Pastorals, to Lord Clifford, Baron
of Chudleigh, , 337
Preface to the Pastorals, with a short defence of
Virgil, by William Walsh, 345
Pastoral I. or Tityrus and Meliboeus, 369
II. or Alexis, , 374
III. or Palasmon, 378
IV. or Pollio, 386
V. or Daphnis, SQ1
VI. or Silenus, 397
VII. or Melibceus, 402
VIII. or Pharmaceutria, 407
IX. or Lycidas and Maeris, 413
X. or Gallus, 417
FROM
JUVENAL.
VOL. XIII.
ESSAY ON SATIRE :
ADDRESSED TO
THE RIGHT HONOURABLE
^ CHARLES, ;
EARL OF DORSET AND MIDDLESEX,
LORD CHAMBERLAIN OF HIS
MAJESTY'S HOUSEHOLD, KNIGHT OF THE MOST NOBLR
ORDER OF THE GARTER, &C.*
MY LORD,
THE wishes and desires of all good men, which
have attended your lordship from your first appear-
ance in the world, are at length accomplished, from
your obtaining those honours and dignities which
you have so long deserved. There are no factions,
* Our author's connection with this witty and accomplished
nobleman is fully traced in Dryden's Life. He was created Earl
of Middlesex in 1675, and after the Revolution became Lord
Chamberlain, and a knight of the garter. Dryden alludes to these
last honours in the commencement of the dedication, which was
prefixed to a version of the Satires of Juvenal by our author and
others, published in 1693.
4 ESSAY ON SATIRfc.
though irreconcileable to one another, that are not
united in their affection to you, and the respect they
pay you. They are equally pleased in your prosperi-
ty, and would be equally concerned in your afflictions.
Titus Vespasian was not more the delight of human
kind The universal empire made him only more
known, and more powerful, but could not make him
more beloved. He had greater ability of doing good,
but your inclination to it is not less ; and though you
could not extend your beneficence to so many per-
sons, yet you have lost as few days as that excellent
emperor ; and never had his complaint to make when
you went to bed, that the sun had shone upon you
in vain, when you had the opportunity of relieving
some unhappy man. This, my lord, has justly ac-
quired you as many friends as there are persons who
have the honour to be known to you. Mere ac-
quaintance you have none ; you have drawn them
all into a nearer line ; and they who have conver-
sed with you are for ever after inviolably yours.
This is a truth so generally acknowledged, that it
needs no proof: it is of the nature of a first princi-
ple, which is received as soon as it is proposed ; and
needs not the reformation which Descartes used to
his ; for we doubt not, neither can we properly say,
we think we admire and love you above all other
men ; there is a certainty in the proposition, and
we know it. With the same assurance I can ;>ay,
you neither have enemies, nor can scarce have any;
for they who have never heard of you, can neither
love or hate you ; and they who have, can have no
other notion of you, than that which they receive
from the public, that you are the best of men. Af-
ter this, my testimony can be of no farther use, than
to declare jt to be day-light at high-noon ; and all
who have the benefit of sight, can look up as well,
and see the sun.
SSAY ON SATIRE. 5
It is true, I have one privilege which is almost
particular to myself, that I saw you in the east at
your first arising above the hemisphere : I was as
soon sensible as any man of that light, when it was
but just shooting out, and beginning to travel up-
wards to the meridian. I made my early addresses
to your lordship, in my " Essay of Dramatic Poe-
try ;" and therein bespoke you to the world, where-
in I have the right of a first discoverer. *. When I
was myself in the rudiments of my poetry, without
name or reputation in the world, having rather the
ambition of a writer, than the skill ; when I was
drawing the outlines of an art, without any living
master to instruct me in it; an art which had been
better praised than studied here in England, wherein
Shakespeare, who created the stage among us, had
rather written happily, than knowingly and justly,
and Jonson, who, by studying Horace, had been
acquainted with the rules, yet seemed to envy to pos-
terity that knowledge, and, like an inventor of some
useful art, to make a monopoly of his learning;
when thus, as I may say, before the use of the load-
stone, or knowledge of the compass, I was sailing
in a vast ocean, without other help than the pole-
star of the ancients, and the rules of the French
stage amongst the moderns, which are extremely
different from ours, by reason of their opposite taste;
yet even then, I had the presumption to dedicate
to your lordship a very unfinished piece, I must
confess, and which only can be excused by the lit-
tle experience of the author, and the modesty of
the title " An Essay." Yet I was stronger in pro-
phecy than I was in criticism ; I was inspired to
* See Introduction to the " Essay on Dramatic Poetry."
6 ESSAY ON SATIRE.
foretell you to mankind, as the restorer of poetry,
the greatest genius, the truest judge, and the best
patron.
Good sense and good nature are never separated,
though the ignorant world has thought otherwise.
Good nature, by which I mean beneficence and
candour, is the product of right reason; which of ne-
cessity will give allowance to the failings of others,
by considering that there is nothing perfect in man-
kind ; and by distinguishing that which comes near-
est to excellency, though not absolutely free from
faults, will certainly produce a candour in the judge.
It is incident to an elevated understanding, like
your lordship's, to find out the errors of other men ;
but it is your prerogative to pardon them ; to look
with pleasure on those things, which are somewhat
congenial, and of a remote kindred to your own
conceptions; and to forgive the many failings of
those, who, with their wretched art, cannot arrive
to those heights that you possess, from a happy,
abundant, and native genius : which are as inborn
to you, as they were to Shakespeare ; and, for aught
I know, to Homer; in either of whom we find all
arts and sciences, all moral and natural philosophy,
without knowing that they ever studied them.
There is not an English writer this day living,
who is not perfectly convinced, that your lordship
excels all others in all the several parts of poetry
which you have undertaken to adorn. The most
vain, and the most ambitious of our age, have not
dared to assume so much, as the competitors of
Themistocles : they have yielded the first place with-
out dispute ; and have been arrogantly content to
be esteemed as second to your lordship ; and even
that also, with a longo, sed proximi intervallo. If
there have been, or are any, who go farther in their
Self-conceit, they must be very singular in their opi-
ESSAY ON SATIRE. 7
nion; they must be like the officer in a play, who
was called Captain, Lieutenant, and Company. The
world will easily conclude, whether such unattend-
ed generals can ever be capable of making a revo-
lution in Parnassus.
I will not attempt, in this place, to say any thing
particular of your Lyric Poems, though they are the
delight and wonder of this age, and will be the envy
of the next. * The subject of this book confines
me to satire ; and in that, an author of your own
quality, (whose ashes I will not disturb,) has given
you all the commendation which his self-sufficiency
could afford to any man : " The best good man, with
the worst-natured muse."t In that character, me-
thinks, I am reading Jonson's verses to the memory
of Shakespeare ; an insolent, sparing, and invidious
panegyric : where good nature, the most godlike
commendation of a man, is only attributed to your
person, and denied to your writings ; for they are
every where so full of candour, that, like Horace,
you only expose the follies of men, without arraign-
ing their vices ; and in this excel him, that you add
* These Lyrical Pieces, after all, are only a few smooth songs,
where wit is sufficiently overbalanced by indecency.-
f Alluding to Rochester's well-known couplet :
For pointed satire I would Buckhurst chuse ;
The best good man, with the worst-natured rouse.
Allusion to Horace's 10th Satire, Btiok I.
The satires of Lord Dorset seem to have consisted in short lam-
poons, if we may judge of those which have been probably lost,
from such as are known to us. His mock " Address to Mr Ed-
ward Howard, on his incomparable and incomprehensible Poem,
called the British Princes ;" another to the same on his plays ; a
lampoon on an Irish lady ; and one on Lady Dorchester, are the
only satires of his lordship's which have been handed down to us.
lie probably wrote other light occasional pieces of the same nature.
8 ESSAY OX SATIRE.
that pointedness of thought, which is visibly want-
ing in our great Roman. There is more of salt in
all your verses, than I have seen in any of the mo-
derns, or even of the ancients ; but you have been
sparing of the gall, by which means you have plea-
sed all readers, and offended none. Donne alone, of
all our countrymen, had your talent ; but was not
happy enough to arrive at your versification ; and
were he translated into numbers, and English, he
would yet be wanting in the dignity of expression.
That which is the prime virtue, and chief ornament,
of Virgil, which distinguishes him from the rest of
writers, is so conspicuous in your verses, that it
casts a shadow on all your contemporaries ; we can-
not be seen, or but obscurely, while you are pre-
sent. You equal Donne in the variety, multiplici-
ty, and choice of thoughts ; you excel him in the
manner and the words. I read you both with the
same admiration, but not with the same delight. He
affects the metaphysics, not only in his satires, but
in his amorous verses, where nature only should
reign ; and perplexes the minds of the fair sex with
nice speculations of philosophy, when he should en-
gage their hearts, and entertain them with the soft-
nesses of love. In this (if I may be pardoned for so
bold a truth) Mr Cowley has copied him to a fault ;
so great a one, in my opinion, that it throws his
Mistress infinitely below his Pindarics, and his latter
compositions, which are undoubtedly the best of
his poems, and the most correct. For my own
part, I must avow it freely to the world, that I ne-
ver attempted any thing in satire, wherein 1 have
not studied your writings as the most perfect mo-
del. I have continually laid them before me ; and
the greatest commendation, which my own partiali-
ty can give to my productions, is, that they are
copies, and no farther to be allowed, than as they
ESSAY ON SATIRE. $
have something more or less of the original. Some
few touches of your lordship, some secret graces
which I have endeavoured to express after your
manner, have made whole poems of mine to pass
with approbation ; but take your verses altogether,
and they are inimitable. If therefore I have not
written better, it is because you have not written
more. You have not set me sufficient copy to
transcribe ; and I cannot add one letter of my own
invention, of which I have not the example there.
It is a general complaint against your lordship*
and I must have leave to upbraid you with it, that,
because you need not write, you will not. Man-
kind, that wishes you so well in all things that re-
late to your prosperity, have their intervals of wish-
ing for themselves, and are within a little of grud-
ging you the fulness of your fortune : they would
be more malicious if you used it not so well, and
with so much generosity.
Fame is in itself a real good, if we may believe
Cicero, who was perhaps too fond of it ; but even
fame, as Virgil tells us, acquires strength by going
forward. Let Epicurus give indolency as an attri-
bute to his gods, and place in it the happiness of
the blest ; the divinity which we worship has given
us not only a precept against it, but his own exam-
ple to the contrary. The world, my lord, would
be content to allow you a seventh day for rest ; or
if you thought that hard upon you, we would not
refuse you half your time : if you came out, like
some great monarch, to take a town but once a
year, as it were for your diversion, though you had
no need to extend your territories. In short, if you
were a bad, or, which is worse, an indifferent poet,
we would thank you for our own quiet, and not ex-
pose you to the want of yours. 13ut when you are
so great and so successful, and when we have that
10 ESSAY ON SATIRE.
necessity of jour writing, that we cannot subsist
entirely without it, any more (I may almost say)
than the world without the daily course of ordinary
providence, methinks this argument might prevail
with you, my lord, to forego a little of your repose
lor the public benefit. It is not that you are un-
der any force of working daily miracles, to prove
your being; but now and then somewhat of extra-
ordinary, that is, any thing of your production, is
requisite to refresh your character.
This, I think, my lord, is a sufficient reproach to
you ; and should I carry it as far as mankind would
authorise me, would be little less than satire. And,
indeed, a provocation is almost necessary, in behalf
of the world, that you might be induced sometimes
to write ; and in relation to a multitude of scribblers,
who daily pester the world with their insufferable
stuff, that they might be discouraged from writing
any more. 1 complain not of their lampoons and
libels, though I have been the public mark for many
years. I am vindictive enough to have repelled
force by force, if I could imagine that any of them
had ever reached me ; but they either shot at ro-
vers, * and therefore missed, or their powder was so
weak, that I might safely stand them, at the nearest
distance. I answered not the " Rehearsal,' 9 because
1 knew the author sat to himself when he drew the
picture, and was the very Bayes of his own farce :
because also I knew, that my bettersf were more
concerned than I was in that satire : and, lastly,
* Shooing at rams* in archery, b opposed to shooting at
boits : IB the famaMi rnrrrn* the bowman shoots at randoa,
nierelv :: *i-^- b. .-w :-.: -.-. c~- Hrr.-i i-. .-.::.*.
t Probably BManng Sir Robert Howard, with whom oar au-
thor was now rccoocikd, and perhaps Sir William IXAvenant.
ESSAY ON SATIRE. 1 1
because Mr Smith and Mr Johnson, the main pillars
of it, were two such languishing gentlemen in their
conversation, that I could liken them to nothing
but to their own relations, those noble characters of
men of wit and pleasure about the town. The tike
considerations have hindered me from dealing with
the lamentable companions of their prose and dog-
greL I am so far from defending my poetry against
them, that I will not so much as expose theirs.
And for my morals, if they are not proof against
their attacks, let me be thought by posterity, what
those authors would be thought, if any memory of
them, or of their writings, could endure so long as
to another age. But these dull makers of lam-
poons, as harmless as they have been to me, are yet
of dangerous example to the public. Some witty
men may perhaps succeed to their designs, and,
mixing sense with malice, blast the reputation of
the most innocent amongst men, and the most vir-
tuous amongst women.
Heaven be praised, our common libellers are as
free from the imputation of wit as of moralitv ;
and therefore whatever mischief they have design-
ed, they have performed but little of it. Yet these
ill writers, in all justice, ought themselves to be ex-
posed ; as Persius has given us a fair example in his
first satire, which is levelled particularly at them ; *
and none is so fit to correct their faults, as he who
is not only clear from any in his own writings, but
is also so just, that he will never defame the good ;
and is armed with the power of verse, to punish
* The First Satire of Persius is doubtless levelled agaimt bad
poets ; but that author rather engages in the defence of satire, op-
posed to the silly or bombastic verses of his contemporaries, thaa
in censuring freedoms used with prime characters.
12 ESSAY ON SATIRE.
and make examples of the bad. But of this I shall
have occasion to speak further, when I come to
give the definition and character of true satires.
In the mean time, as a counsellor bred up in the
knowledge of the municipal and statute laws, may
honestly inform a just prince how far his preroga-
tive extends ; so I may be allowed to tell your lord-
ship, who, by an undisputed title, are the king of
poets, what an extent of power you have, and how
lawfully you may exercise it, over the petulant
scribblers of this age. As lord chamberlain, I know,
you are absolute by your office, in all that belongs
to the decency and good manners of the stage.
You can banish from thence scurrility and pro-
faneness, and restrain the licentious insolence of
poets, and their actors, in all things that shock the
public quiet, or the reputation of private persons,
tinder the notion of humour. But I mean not the
authority, which is annexed to your office ; I speak
of that only which is inborn and inherent to your per-
son ; what is produced in you by an excellent wit,
a masterly and commanding genius over all writers :
whereby you are empowered, when you please, to
give the final decision of wit ; to put your stamp
on all that ought to pass for current ; and set a
brand of reprobation on clipped poetry, and false coin.
A shillingdipped in the Bath may go for gold amongst
the ignorant, but the sceptres on the guineas show
the difference.* That your lordship is formed by
nature for this supremacy, I could easily prove,
(were it not already granted by the world,) from
the distinguishing character of your writing: which
is so visible to me, that I never could be imposed
* The four sceptres were placed saltier-wise upon the reverse ef
guineas, till the gold coinage of his present majesty.
ESSAY ON SATIRE. IS
on to receive for yours, what was written by any
others ; or to mistake your genuine poetry for their
.spurious productions. I can farther add, with truth,
(though not without some vanity in saying it,) that
in the same paper, written by divers hands, where-
of your lordship's was only part, I could separate your
gold from their copper ; and though I could not give
back to every author his own brass, (for there is not
the same rule for distinguishing betwixt bad and
bad, as betwixt ill and excellently good,) yet I ne-
ver failed of knowing what was yours, and what
was not ; and was absolutely certain, that this, or
the other part, was positively yours, and could not
possibly be written by any other.
True it is, that some bad poems, though not all,
carry their owners' marks about them. There is
some peculiar awkwardness, false grammar, imper-
fect sense, or, at the least, obscurity ; some brand
or other on this buttock, or that ear, that it is no-
torious who are the owners of the cattle, though they
should not sign it with their names. But your lord-
ship, on the contrary, is distinguished, not only by
the excellency of your thoughts, but by your style
and manner of expressing them. A painter, judge-
ing of some admirable piece, may affirm, with cer-
tainty, that it was of Holbein, or Vandyck ; but
vulgar designs, and common draughts, are easily
mistaken, and misapplied. Thus, by my long study
of your lordship, I am arrived at the knowledge of
your particular manner. In the good poems of
other men, like those artists, I can only say, this is
like the draught of such a one, or like the colour-
ing of another. In short, I can only be sure, that
it is the hand of a good master; but in your per-
formances, it is scarcely possible for me to be de-
ceived. If you write in your strength, you stand
revealed at the first view; and should you write
under it, you cannot avoid some peculiar graces,
14 ESSAY ON SATIRE.
which only cost me a second consideration to dis-
cover you : for I may say it, with all the severity
of truth, that every line of yours is precious. Your
lordship's only fault is, that you have not written
more ; unless I 'could add another, and that yet
greater, hut I fear for the public the accusation
would not be true, that you have written, and out
of a vicious modesty will not publish.
Virgil has confined his works within the com-
pass of eighteen thousand lines, and has not treated
many subjects; yet he ever had, and ever will have,
the reputation of the best poet. Martial says of
him, that he could have excelled Varius in tragedy,
and Horace in lyric poetry, but out of deference to
his friends, he attempted neither. *
The same prevalence of genius is in your lord-
ship, but the world cannot pardon your concealing
it on the same consideration ; because we have nei-
ther a living Varius, nor a Horace, in whose excel-
lencies, both of poems, odes, and satires, you had
equalled them, if our language had not yielded to
the Roman majesty, and length of time had not add-
ed a reverence to the works of Horace. For good
sense is the same in all or most ages ; and course
of time rather improves nature, than impairs her.
What has been, may be again : another Homer, and
another Virgil, may possibly arise from those very
causes which produced the first ; though it would
be impudence to affirm, that any such have yet ap-
peared.
It is manifest, that some particular ages have
been more happy than others in the production of
Sic Maro nee Calabri tentavit carmina Flacci,
Pindaricos posset cum superare modos ;
Et Vario cessit Romani lande cothurni,
Cum posset tragico for tins ore loqui. ? . 4
MART. lib. VIII, epig. XVHL
ESSAY ON SATIRE. 15
great men, in all sorts of arts and sciences ; as that
of Euripides, Sophocles, Aristophanes, and the rest,
for stage poetry amongst the Greeks ; that of Au-
gustus, for heroic, lyric, dramatic, elegiac, and in^
deed all sorts of poetry, in the persons of Virgil,
Horace, Varius, Ovid, and many others ; especially
if we take into that century the latter end of the
commonwealth, wherein we find Varo, Lucretius,
and Catullus ; and at the same time lived Cicero,
and Sallust, and Caesar. A famous age in modern
times, for learning in every kind, was that of Lo-
renzo de Medici, and his son Leo the Tenth ; where-
in painting was revived, and poetry flourished, and
the Greek language was restored.
Examples in all these are obvious : but what I
would infer is this ; that in such an age, it is possi-
ble some great genius may arise, to equal any of the
ancients ; abating only for the language. For great
contemporaries whet and cultivate each other ; and
mutual borrowing, and commerce, makes the com-
mon riches of learning, as it cjoes of the civil go-
vernment.
But suppose that Homer and Virgil were the only
of their species, and that nature was so much worn
out in producing them, that she is never able to
bear the like again, yet the example only holds in
heroic poetry : in tragedy and satire, I offer myself
to maintain against some of our modern critics, that
this age and the last, particularly in England, have
excelled the ancients in both those kinds ; and I
would instance in Shakespeare of the former, of
your lordship in the latter sort. *
* " Would it be imagined," says Dr Johnson, " that, of this rival
to antiquity, all the satires were little personal invectives, and that
his longest composition was a song of eleven stanzas ? The blame,
however, of this exaggerated praise falls on the encomiast, not
upon the author ; whose performances are, what they pretend tp
pe, the effusions of a man of wit; gay, vigorous, and airy."
16 ESSAY ON SATIRE.
Thus I might safely confine myself to my native
country ; but if I would only cross the seas, I might
find in France a living Horace and a Juvenal, in the
person of the admirable Boileau ; whose numbers
are excellent, whose expressions are noble, whose
thoughts are just, whose language is pure, whose
satire is pointed, and whose sense is close ; what he
borrows from the ancients, he repays with usury or
his own, in coin as good, and almost as universally
valuable : for, setting prejudice and partiality apart,
though he is our enemy, the stamp of a Louis, the
patron of all arts, is not much inferior to the medal
of an Augustus Csesar. Let this be said without
entering into the interests of factions and parties,
and relating only to the bounty of that king to men
of learning and merit; a praise so just, that even
we, who are his enemies, cannot refuse it to him.
Now if it may be permitted me to go back again to
the consideration of epic poetry, I have confessed,
that no man hitherto has reached, or so much as ap-
proached, to the excellencies of Homer, or of Vir-
gil ; I must farther add, that Statius, the best versi-
ficator next to Virgil, knew not how to design after
him, though he had the model in his eye; that
Lucan is wanting both in design and subject, and
is besides too full of heat and affectation ; that
amongst the moderns, Ariosto neither designed just-
ly, nor observed any unity of action, or compass of
time, or moderation in the vastness of his draught :
his style is luxurious, without majesty or decency,
and his adventures without the compass of nature
and possibility. Tasso, whose design was regular,
and who observed the rules of unity in time and
place more closely than Virgil, yet was not so
happy in his action ; he confesses himself to have
been too lyrical, that is, to have written beneath
the dignity of heroic verse, in his Episodes of So-
phronia, Erminia, and Armida. His story is not s<f
ESSAY ON SATIRE. 17
pleasing as Ariosto's ; he is too flatulent sometimes,
and sometimes too dry ; m;.ny times unequal, and
almost always forced ; and, besides, is full of con-
ceipts, points of epigram, and witticisms ; all which
are not only below the dignity of heroic verse, but
contrary to its nature : Virgil and Homer have not
one of them. And those who are guilty of so boyish
an ambition in so grave a subject, are so far from
being considered as heroic poets, that they ought
to be turned down from Homer to the Anthologia,
from Virgil to Martial and Owen's Epigrams, and
from Spenser to Flecno ; that is, from the top to
the bottom of all poetry. But to return to Tasso :
he borrows from the invention of Boiardo, and in
his alteration of his poem, which is infinitely for the
worse, imitates Homer so very servilely, that (for
example) he gives the king of Jerusalem fifty sons,
only because Homer had bestowed the like number
on king Priam ; he kills the youngest in the same
manner, and has provided his hero with a Patro-
clus, under another name, only to bring him back
to the wars, when his friend was killed. * The French
have performed nothing in this kind which is not
far below those two Italians, and subject to a thou-
sand more reflections, without examining their St
Lewis, their Pucelle, or their Alarique. f The Eng-
lish have only to boast of Spenser and Milton, who
neither of them wanted either genius or learning
to have been perfect poets, and yet both of them
* Dryden's recollection seems here deficient. There is, no doubt,
,a close imitation of the Iliad throughout the Jerusalem ; but the
death of the Swedish Prince was so far from being the motive of
Rinaldo's return to the wars, that Rinaldo seems never to have
heard either of that person or of his fate until he wa-> delivered from
the garden of Armida, and on his voyage to join Godire^'s arrny.
t Epic poems by Le Moyne, Chapelain, and Scuderi ; of which
it may be enough to say, that they are in the stale, weary, flat,
and unprofitable taste of all French heroics.
VOL. XIII. B
18 ESSAY ON SATIRE.
are liable to many censures. For there is no uni-
formity in the design of Spenser : he aims at the
accomplishment of no one action ; he raises up a
hero for every one of his adventures ; and endows
each of them with some particular moral virtue,
which renders them all equal, without subordina-
tion, or preference. Every one is most valiant in
his own legend : only we must do him that justice
to observe, that magnanimity, which is the charac-
ter of Prince Arthur, shines throughout the whole
poem ; and succours the rest, when they are in dis-
tress. The original of every knight was then living
in the court of Queen Elizabeth; and he attributed
to each of them that virtue, which he thought was
most conspicuous in them ; an ingenious piece of
flattery, though it turned not much to his account.
Had he lived to finish his poem, in the six remain-
ing legends, it had certainly been more of a piece ;
but could not have been perfect, because the model
was not true. But Prince Arthur, or his chief pa-
tron Sir Philip Sydney, whom he intended to make
happy by the marriage of his Gloriana, dying before
him, deprived the poet both of means and spirit
to accomplish his design. * For the rest, his obsolete
* This passage is certainly inaccurate in one particular, and
probably in the rest. Sir Philip Sydney was killed at the battle of
Zutphen, Ifjth October, 1586, and the " Faery Queen" was then
only commenced. For, -in a dialogue written by Bryskett, as Mr
Malone conjectures, betwixt 1584 and 1586, Spenser is intro-
duced describing himself as having undertaken a work in heroical
verse, under the title of a " Faerie Queene;" and it is clear that
he continued to labour in that task till 1594s when we learn, from
his 80th sonnet, that he had just composed six books :
After so long a race as I have run
Through Faery Land, which those six books compile.
Give leave to rest me, being half foredonne,
And gather to myself new breath awhile ;
Then, as a steed refreshed after toyle,
Out of my prison will I break anew,
And stoutly will that second work assoyle,
With strong eadevour, and attention due.
ESSAY ON SATIRE. 1
language, f an ^ tne ill choice of his stanza, are
faults but of the second magnitude ; for, notwith-
standing the first, he is still intelligible, at least
after a little practice ; and for the last, he is the
more to be admired, that, labouring under such a
difficulty, his verses are so numerous, so various,
and so harmonious, that only Virgil, whom he pro-
fessedly imitated, has surpassed him among the
Romans ; and only Mr Waller among the English.
As for Mr Milton, whom we all admire with so
much justice, his subject is not that of an heroic
poem, properly so called. His design is the losing
of our happiness ; his event is not prosperous, like
It was not, therefore, the death of Sir Philip Sydney which de-
prived him of spirit to continue his captivating poem, since the
greater part was written after that event ; but the poet's domestic
misfortunes, occasioned by Tyrone's rebellion, which seem at once to
have ruined his fortune, and broken his heart. See TODD'S Life
of Spenser, and MALONE'S Note on this passage.
It seems unlikely, that Sydney was Spenser's Prince Arthur.
Upton more justly considers Leicester, a worthless character, but
the favourite of Gloriana, (Queen Elizabeth,) and who aspired to
share her bed and throne, as depicted under that character. See
TODD'S Spenser, Vol. I. Life, p. clxviii.
f This was a charge brought against Spenser so early as the days
of Ben Jonson ; who says, in his Discoveries, "Spenser, in affecting
the ancients, writ no language ; yet I would have him read for his
matter, but as Virgil read Ennius." This has been generally sup-
posed to apply only to Spenser's " Pastorals ;" but as in these he
imitates rather a coarse and provincial than an obsolete dialect,
the limitation of Jonson's censure is probably imaginary. It is
probable, that, as the style of poetry in the latter part of Queen
Elizabeth s reign, and in that of her successor, had become labour-
ed and ornate, Spenser's imitations of the old metrical romances
had to his contemporaries an antique air of rude and naked sim-
plicity, although his " Faery Queen" seems more intelligible to us
than the compositions of Jonson himself. Dryden, whose charge
was afterwards echoed by Pope, probably adopted it without very
accurate investigation. Our idea of what is ancient does not ne-
cessarily imply obscurity ; on the contrary, I am afraid that to
modern ears the style of Addison sounds more antiquated than
that of Dr Johnson ; so that simplicity may produce the same effect
as unintelligibility.
20 ESSAY ON SATIRE.
that of all other epic works ; his heavenly machines
are many, and his human persons are but two. But I
will not take Mr Rymer's work out of his hands :
he has promised the world a critique on that author; *
wherein, though he will not allow his poem for
heroic, I hope he will grant us, that his thoughts
are elevated, his words sounding, and that no man
has so happily copied the manner of Homer, or so
copiously translated his Grecisms, and the Latin
elegancies of Virgil. It is true, he runs into a flat '
of thought, sometimes for a hundred lines together,
but it is when he has got into a track of scripture.
His antiquated words were his choice, not his ne-
cessity ; for therein he imitated Spenser, as Spenser
did Chaucer. And though, perhaps, the love of
their masters may have transported both too far,
in the frequent use of them, yet, in my opinion,
obsolete words may then be laudably revived, when
either they are more sounding, or more significant,
than those in practice ; and when their obscurity is
taken away, by joining other words to them, which
clear the sense; according to the rule of Horace,
for the admission of new words, f But in both
* Mr Rymer, who was pleased to call himself a critic, had pro-
mised to favour the public with " some reflections on that Para-
dise Lost of Milton, which some are pleased to call a poem, and
to assert rhime against the slender sophistry wherewith he attacks
it." But this promise, which is given in the end of his " Remarks
on the Tragedies of the last Age," he never filled up the measure
of his presumption, by attempting to fulfil.
r Dixeris egrcgie, notum si callida verbum
Reddiderit junctura novum
This passage, as our author observes, (p. 221. vol. iv.) is vari-
ously construed by expositors; and the meaning which he there
adopts, that of " applying received words to a new signification,"
seems fully as probable as that adopted in the text. Mr Malone
has given the opinions of Hurd, Beattie, and De Nores, upon this
disputed passage.
ESSAY ON SATIRE. 21
cases a moderation is to be observed in the use of
them : for unnecessary coinage, as well as unne-
cessary revival, runs into affectation ; a fault to be
avoided on either hand. Neither will 1 justify
Milton for his blank verse, though I may excuse
him, by the example of Hannibal Caro, and other
Italians, who have used it ; for whatever causes he
alleges for the abolishing of rhyme, (which I have
not now the leisure to examine,) his own particular
reason is plainly this, that rhyme was not his talent;
he had neither the ease of doing it, nor the graces
of it; which is manifest in his "Juvenilia.," or verses
written in his youth, where his rhyme is always
constrained and forced, and comes hardly from
him, at an age when the soul is most pliant, and the
passion of love makes almost every man a rhymer,
though not a poet.
By this time, my lord, I doubt not but that you
wonder, why I have run off from my bias so long
together, and made so tedious a digression from
satire to heroic poetry. But if you will not excuse
it, by the tattling quality of age, which, as Sir
William D'Avenant says, is always narrative, yet I
hope the usefulness of what I have to say on this
subject will qualify the remoteness of it ; and this
is the last time I will commit the crime of prefaces,
or trouble the world with my notions of any thing
that relates to verse. * I have then, as you see, ob-
served the failings of many great wits amongst the
moderns, who have attempted to write an epic
poem. Besides these, or the like animadversions of
them by other men, there is yet a farther reason
given, why they cannot possibly succeed so well
This resolution our author fortunately did not adhere to.
22 ESSAY ON SATIRE.
as the ancients, even though we could allow them
not to be inferior, either in genius or learning, or
the tongue in which they write, or all those other
wonderful qualifications which are necessary to the
forming of a true accomplished heroic poet. The
fault is laid on our religion ; they say, that Chris-
tianity is not capable of those embellishments
which are afforded in the belief of those ancient
heathens.
And it is true, that, in the severe notions of our
faith, the fortitude of a Christian consists in pa-
tience, and suffering, for the love of God, whatever
hardships can befal in the world ; not in any great
attempts, or in performance of those enterprizes
which the poets call heroic, and which are com-
monly the effects of interest, ostentation, pride,
and worldly honour : that humility And resigna-
tion are our prime virtues ; and that these include
no action, but that of the soul ; when as, on the
contrary, an heroic poem requires to its necessary
design, and as its last perfection, some great action
of war, the accomplishment of some extraordinary-
undertaking ; which requires the strength and vi-
gour of the body, the duty of a soldier, the capacity
and prudence of a general, and, in short, as much,
or more, of the active virtue, than the suffering.
But to this the answer is very obvious. God has
placed us in our several stations ; the virtues of a
private Christian are patience, obedience, submis-
sion, and the like ; but those of a magistrate, or
general, or a king, are prudence, counsel, active
fortitude, coercive power, awful command, and the
exercise of magnanimity, as well as justice. So
that this objection hinders not, but that an epic
poem, or the heroic action of some great comman-
der, enterprized for the common good, and honour
' of the Christian cause, and executed happily, may
ESSAY ON SATIRE. 23
be as well written now, as it was of old by the
heathens; provided the poet be endued with the
same talents ; and the language, though not of
equal dignity, yet as near approaching to it, as our
modern barbarism will allow ; which is all that can
be expected from our own, or any other now ex-
tant, though more refined ; and therefore we are to
rest contented with that only inferiority, which is
not possibly to be remedied.
I vish I could as easily remove that other difficulty
which yet remains. It is objected by a great French
critic, as well as an admirable poet, yet living, and
whom I have mentioned with that honour which
his merit exacts from me, I mean Boileau, that
the machines of our Christian religion, in heroic
poetry, are much more feeble to support that weight
than those of heathenism. Their doctrine, ground-
ed as it was on ridiculous fables, was yet the belief
of the two victorious monarchies, the Grecian and
Roman. Their gods did not only interest them-
selves in the event of wars, (which is the effect of a
superior providence,) but also espoused the several
parties, in a visible corporeal descent, managed their
intrigues, and fought their battles sometimes in op-
position to each other : though Virgil (more dis-
creet than Homer in that last particular) has con-
tented himself with the partiality of his deities,
their favours, their counsels or commands, to those
whose cause they had espoused, without bringing
them to the outrageousness of blows. Now, our
religion (says he) is deprived of the greatest part of
those machines ; at least the most shining in epic
poetry. Though St Michael, in Ariosto, seeks out
Discord, to send her among the Pagans, and finds
her in a convent of friars, where peace should reign,
which indeed is fine satire ; and Satan, in Tasso, ex-
24 ESSAY ON SATIRE.
cites Solyman to an attempt by night on the Chris-
tian camp, and brings an host of devils to his as-
sistance; yet the archangel, in the former example,
when Discord was restive, and would not be drawn
from her beloved monastery with fair words, has
the whip-hand of her, drags her out with many
stripes, sets her, on God's name, about her business,
and makes her know the difference of strength be-
twixt a nuncio of heaven, and a minister of hell.
The same angel, in the latter instance from Tasso,
(as if God had never another messenger belonging
to the court, but was confined like Jupiter to Mer-
cury, and Juno to Iris,) when he sees his time, that
is, when half of the Christians are already killed,
and all the rest are in a fair way to be routed,
stickles betwixt the remainders of God's host, and
the race of fiends ; pulls the devils backward by
the tails, and drives them from their quarry ; or
otherwise the whole business had miscarried, and
Jerusalem remained untaken. This, says Boileau,
is a very unequal match for the poor devils, who
are sure to come by the worst of it in the combat ;
for nothing is more easy, than for an Almighty
Power to bring his old rebels to reason, when he
pleases. Consequently, what pleasure, what enter-
tainment, can be raised from so pitiful a machine,
where we see the success of the battle from the
very beginning of it ; unless that, as we are Chris-
tians, we are glad that we have gotten God on our
side, to maul our enemies, when we cannot do the
work ourselves ? For, if the poet had given the
faithful more courage, which had cost him nothing,
or at least have made them exceed the Turks in
number, he might have gained the victory for
us Christians, without interesting heaven in the
quarrel ; and that with as much ease, and as little
ESSAY OX SATIRE. 5
credit to the conqueror, as when a party of a
hundred soldiers defeats another which consists
only of fifty.
This, my lord, I confess, is such an argument
against our modern poetry, as cannot be answered
by those mediums which have been used. We
cannot hitherto boast, that our religion has fur-
nished us with any such machines, as have made
the strength and beauty of the ancient buildings.
But what if I venture to advance an invention of
my own, to supply the manifest defect of our new
writers ? I am sufficiently sensible of my weakness;
and it is not very probable that I should succeed in
such a project, whereof I have not had the least
hint from any of my predecessors, the poets, or any
of their seconds and coadjutors, the critics. Yet
we see the art of war is improved in sieges, and
new instruments of death are invented daily ;
something new in philosophy, and the mechanics,
is discovered almost every year ; and the science of
former ages is improved by the succeeding. I will
not detain you with a long preamble to that, which
better judges will, perhaps, conclude to be little
worth.
It is this, in short that Christian poets have not
hitherto been acquainted with their own strength.
If they had searched the Old Testament as they
ought, they might there have found the machines
which are proper for their work ; and those more
certain in their effect, than it may be the New Tes-
tament is, in the rules sufficient for salvation. The
perusing of one chapter in the prophecy of Daniel,
and accommodating what there they find with the
principles of Platonic philosophy, as it is now chris-
tianized, would have made the ministry of angels as
strong an engine, for the working up heroic poetry,
E3SAY ON SATIRE.
in our religion, as that of the ancients has been to
raise theirs by all the fables of their gods, which
were only received for truths by the most ignorant
and weakest of the people. *
* The passages of Scripture, on which Dryden founds his idea
of the machinery of guardian angels, are the following, which 1 in-
sert for the benefit of such readers as may not have at hand the
old-fashioned book in which they occur.
" Then I lifted up mine eyes, and looked, and, behold, a cer-
tain man clothed in linen, whose loins were girded with fine gold
of Uphaz: His body also was like the beryl, and his face as the
appearance of lightning, and his eyes as lamps of fire, and his arms
and his feet like in colour to polished brass, and the voice of his
words like the voice of a multitude. And I Daniel alone saw the
vision ; for the men that were with me saw not the vision ; but a
great quaking fell upon them, so that they fled to hide themselves.
Therefore I was left alone, and saw this great vision, and there re-
mained no strength in me : for my comeliness was turned in me
into corruption, and I retained no strength. Yet heard I the voice
of his words : and when I heard the voice of his words, then was
I in a deep sleep on my face, and my face towards the ground.
** And, behold, an hand touched me, which set me upon my
knees and upon the palms of my hands : And he said unto me, O
Daniel, a man greatly beloved, understand the words that I speak
unto thee, and stand upright : for unto thee am I now sent. And,
when he had spoken this word unto me, 1 stood trembling. Then
said he unto me, Fear not, Daniel : for from the first day that thou
didst set thine heart to understand, and to chasten thyself before
thy God, thy words were heard, and I am come for thy words.
But the prince of the kingdom of Persia withstood me one and
twenty days : but, lo, Michael, one of the chief princes, came to
help me ; and I remained there with the kings of Persia. Now I
am come to make thee understand what shall befall thy people in
the latter days : for yet the vision is for many days. And when
he had spoken such words unto me, I set ray face toward the
ground, and I became dumb. And, behold, one like the simili-
tude of the sons of men touched my lips : then 1 opened my mouth,
and spake, and said unto him that stood before me, O my lord,
by the vision my sorrows are turned upon me, and I have retained
no strength. For how can the servant of this my lord talk with
this my lord ? for, as for me, straightway there remained no
ESSAY ON SATIRE. S7
It is a doctrine almost universally received by
Christians, as well Protestants as Catholics, that
there are guardian angels, appointed by God Al-
mighty, as his vicegerents, for the protection and
government of cities, provinces, kingdoms, and mo-
narchies ; and those as well of heathens, as of true
believers. All this is so plainly proved from those
texts of Daniel, that it admits of no farther contro-
versy. The prince of the Persians, and that other
of the Grecians, are granted to be the guardians
and protecting ministers of those empires. It can-
not be denied, that they were opposite, and resisted
one another. St Michael is mentioned by his name
as the patron of the Jews,* and is now taken by the
Christians, as the protector-general of our religion.
These tutelar genii, who presided over the several
people and regions committed to their charge, were
watchful over them for good, as far as their com-
missions could possibly extend. The general pur-
pose, and design of all, was certainly the service of
strength in me, neither is there breath left in me. Then there
came again and touched me one like the appearance of a man, and
he strengthened me. And said, O man greatly beloved, fear not;
peace be unto thee, be strong, yea, be strong. And, when he had
spoken unto me, I was strengthened, and said, Let my lord speak ;
for thou hast strengthened me. Then said he, knowest thou where-
fore I come unto thee ? and now will 1 return to fight with the
prince of Persia: and when I am gone forth, lo, the prince of
Grecia shall come. But I will shew thee that which is noted in
the scripture of truth : and there is none that holdeth with me in
these things, but Michael your prince." Dan. x. 5 21.
It may, however, be doubted, whether any poetical use could
be made of the guardian angels here mentioned ; since our ideas of
their powers are too obscure and indefinite to afford any scope for
description.
* In the beginning of the 12th chapter, as well as in the pas-
sage quoted, Michael is distinguished as " the great prince which
standeth up for the children of Daniel's people."
28 ESSAY ON SATIRE.
their Great Creator. But it is an undoubted truth,
that, for ends best known to the Almighty Majesty
of heaven, his providential designs for the benefit
of his creatures, for the debasing and punishing of
.some nations, and the exaltation and temporal re-
ward of others, were not wholly known to these his
ministers ; else why those factious quarrels, contro-
versies, and battles amongst themselves, when they
were all united in the same design, the service and
honour of their common master ? But being in-
structed only in the general, and zealous of the
main design ; and, as finite beings, not admitted in-
to the secrets of government, the last resorts of pro-
vidence, or capable of discovering the final purposes
of God, who can work good out of evil as he
pleases, and irresistibly sways all manner of events
on earth, directing them finally for the best, to his
creation in general, and to the ultimate end of his
own glory in particular; they must, of necessity, be
sometimes ignorant of the means conducing to those
ends, in which alone they can jar and oppose each
other. One angel, as we may suppose the Prince
of Persia, as he is called, judging, that it would be
more for God's honour, and the benefit of his people,
that the Median and Persian monarchy, which de-
livered them from the Babylonish captivity, should
still be uppermost ; and the patron of the Grecians,
to whom the will of God might be more particular-
ly revealed, contending, on the other side, for the
rise of Alexander and his successors, who were ap-
pointed to punish the backsliding Jews, anothere-
by to put them in mind of their offences, that they
might repent, and become more virtuous, and more
observant of the law revealed. But how far these
controversies, and appearing enmities, of those glo-
rious creatures may be carried ; how these opposi-
tions may be best managed, and by what means con-
ESSAY ON SATIRE. 2<)
ducted, is not my business to show or determine ;
these things must be left to the invention and judge-
ment of the poet; if any of so happy a genius be
now living, or any future age can produce a man,
who, being conversant in the philosophy of Plato,
as it is now accommodated to Christian use, (for,
as Virgil gives us to understand by his example,
that is the only proper, of all others, for an epic
poem,) who, to his natural endowments, of a large
invention, a ripe judgment, and a strong memory,
has joined the knowledge of the liberal arts and
sciences, and particularly moral philosophy, the ma-
thematics, geography, and history, and with all
these qualifications is born a poet; knows, and can.
practise the variety of numbers, and is master of the
language in which he writes ; if such a man, 1 say,
be now arisen, or shall arise, I am vain enough to
think, that I have proposed a model to him, by
which he may build a nobler, a more beautiful, and
more perfect poem, than any yet extant since the
ancients.
There is another part of these machines yet want-
ing ; but, by what I have said, it would have been
easily supplied by a judicious writer. He could not
have failed to add the opposition of ill spirits to the
good; they have also their design, ever opposite to
that of heaven ; and this alone has hitherto been
the practice of the moderns : but this imperfect
system, if I may call it such, which I have given,
will infinitely advance and carry farther that hypo-
thesis of the evil spirits contending with the good.
For, being so much weaker, since their fall, than
those blessed beings, they are yet supposed to have
a permitted power from God of acting ill, as, from
their own depraved nature, they have always the
will of designing it. A great testimony of which
we find in holy writ, when God Almighty suifered
50 ESSAY ON SATIRE.
Satan to appear in the holy synod of the angels, (a
thing not hitherto drawn into example by any of
the poets,) and also gave him power over all things
belonging to his servant Job, excepting only life.
Now, what these wicked spirits cannot compass,
by the vast disproportion of their forces to those of
the superior beings, they may, by their fraud and
cunning, carry farther, in a seeming league, confe-
deracy, or subserviency to the designs of some good
angel, as far as consists with his purity to suffer
such an aid, the end of which may possibly be dis-
guised, and concealed from his finite knowledge.
This is, indeed, to suppose a great error in such a
being : yet since a devil can appear like an angel of
light; since craft and malice may sometimes blind,
for a while, a more perfect understanding; and,
lastly, since Milton has given us an example of the
like nature, when Satan, appearing like a cherub to
Uriel, the intelligence of the sun, circumvented him
even in his own province, and passed only for a cu-
rious traveller through those new-created regions,
that he might observe therein the workmanship of
God, and praise him in his works, I know not
why, upon the same supposition, or some other, a
fiend may not deceive a creature of more excellency
than himself, but yet a creature; at least, by the
connivance, or tacit permission, of the Omniscient
Being.
Thus, my lord, I have, as briefly as I could, given
your lordship, and by you the world, a rude draught
of what I have been long labouring in my imagina-
tion, and what I had intended to have put in prac-
tice, (though far unable for the attempt of such a
poem,) and to have left the stage, (to which my ge-
nius never much inclined me,) for a work which
would have taken up my life in the performance of
it. This, too, I had intended chiefly for the honour
ESSAY ON SATIRE. 31
of my native country, to which a poet is particular-
ly obliged. Of two subjects, both relating to it,. I
was doubtful whether 1 should choose that of tving
Arthur conquering the Saxons, which, being rar-
ther distant in time, gives the greater scope to my
invention ; or that of Edward, the kiack Prince,
in subduing Spain, and restoring it to the lawful
prince, though a great tyrant, Don Pedro the Cruel :
which, for the compass of time, including only the
expedition of one year; for the greatness of the ac-
tion, and its answerable event; for the magnanimity
of the English hero, opposed to the ingratitude of
the person whom he restored; and for the many
beautiful episodes, which I had interwoven with
the principal design, together with the characters
of the chiefest English persons ; (wherein, after Vir-
gil and Spenser, I would have taken occasion to re-
present my living friends and patrons of the noblest
families, and also shadowed the events of future
ages, in the succession of our imperial line,) with
these helps, and those of the machines, which I
have mentioned, I might perhaps have done as well
as some of my predecessors, or at least chalked
out a way for others to amend my errors in a like
design ; but being encouraged only with fair words
by King Charles II., my little salary ill paid, and
110 prospect of a future subsistence, I was then dis-
couraged in the beginning of my attempt ; and now
age has overtaken me, and want, a more insufferable
evil, through the change of the times, has wholly
disenabled me. Though I must ever acknowledge,
to the honour of your lordship, and the eternal me-
mory of your charity, that, since this revolution,
wherein I have patiently suffered the ruin of my
small fortune, and the loss of that poor subsistence
which I had from two kings, whom I had served
more faithfully than profitably to my self, then your
32 ESSAY ON SATIRE.
lordship was pleased, out of no other motive but
your own nobleness, without any desert of mine, or
the least solicitation from me, to make me a most
bountiful present, which, at that time, when I was
most in want of it, came most seasonably and un-
expectedly to my relief. That favour, my lord, is
of itself sufficient to bind any grateful man to a
perpetual acknowledgment, and to all the future
service, which one of my mean condition can ever
be able to perform. May the Almighty God return
it for me, both in blessing you here and rewarding
you hereafter! I must not presume to defend the
cause for which I now suffer, because your lordship
is engaged against it; but the more you are so, the
greater is my obligation to you, for your laying
aside all the considerations of factions and parties,
to do an action of pure disinterested charity. This
is one amongst many of your shining qualities,
which distinguish you from others of your rank.
But let me add a farther truth, that, without these
ties of gratitude, and abstracting from them all, I
have a most particular inclination to honour you ;
and, if it were not too bold an expression, to say, I
love you. It is no shame to be a poet, though it is
to be a bad one. Augustus Ca3sar of old, and Car-
dinal Richiieu of late, would willingly have been
such; and David and Solomon were such. You
who, without flattery, are the best of the present
age in England, and would have been so, had you
been born in any other country, will receive more
honour in future ages, by that one excellency, than
by all those honours to which your birth has enti-
tled you, or your merits have acquired you.
Ne, forte, pudori
Sit tibi Musa lyrce solers, et cantor Apollo.
I have formerly said in this epistle, that I could dis-
ESSAY ON SATIRE. 53
tinguish your writings from those of any others ; it
is now time to clear myself from any imputation of
self-conceit on that subject. I assume not to my-
self any particular lights in this discovery ; they are
such only as are obvious to every man of sense and
judgment, who loves poetry, and understands it.
Your thoughts are always so remote from the com-
mon way of thinking, that they are, as I may say,
of another species, than the conceptions of other
poets ; yet you go not out of nature for any of
them. Gold is never bred upon the surface of the
ground, but lies so hidden, and so deep, that the
mines of it are seldom found ; but the force of wa-
ters casts it out from the bowels of mountains, and
exposes it amongst the sands of rivers ; giving us
of her bounty, what we could not hope for by our
search. This success attends your lordship's thoughts,
which would look like chance, if it were not perpe-
tual, and always of the same tenor. If I grant that
there is care in it, it is such a care as would be
ineffectual and fruitless in other men. It is the
curiosa fdicitas which Petronius ascribes to Horace
in his Odes. We have not wherewithal to imagine
so strongly, so justly, and so pleasantly ; in short,
if we have the same knowledge, we cannot draw
out of it the same quintessence ; we cannot give it
such a turn, such a propriety, and such a beauty ;
something is deficient in the manner, or the words,
but more in the nobleness of our conception. Yet
when you have finished all, and it appears in its full
lustre, when the diamond is not only found, but the
roughness smoothed, when it is cut into a form,
and set in gold, then we cannot but acknowledge,
that it is the perfect work of art and nature ; and
every one will be so vain, to think he himself could
have performed the like, until he attempts it. It is
VOL. XIII. C
34 ESSAY ON SATIRE.
just the description that Horace makes of such a fi-
nished piece : it appears so easy,
-Ut sibi quivis
Speret idem, sudet multiim y frustraque laboret,
Ausus idem.
And, besides all this, it is your lordship's particular
talent to lay your thoughts so close together, that,
were they closer, they would be crowded, and even
a due connection would be wanting. We are not
kept in expectation of two good lines, which are to
come after a long parenthesis of twenty bad ; which
is the April poetry of other writers, a mixture of
rain and sunshine by fits: you are always bright,
even almost to a fault, by reason of the excess.
There is continual abundance, a magazine of thought,
and yet a perpetual variety of entertainment; which
creates such an appetite in your reader, that he is not
cloyed with any thing, but satisfied with all. It is
that which the Romans call, c&na dubia; where
there is such plenty, yet withal so much diversity,
and so good order, that the choice is difficult be-
twixt one excellency and another ; and yet the con-
clusion, by a due climax, is evermore the best ; that
is, as a conclusion ought to be, ever the most pro-
per for its place. See, my lord, whether I have not
studied your lordship with some application; and,
since you are so modest that you will not be judge
and party, I appeal to the whole world, if I have
not drawn your picture to a great degree of likeness,
though it is but in miniature, and that some of the
best features are yet wanting. Yet what I have
done is enough to distinguish you from any other,
which is the proposition that I took upon me to de-
monstrate.
And now, my lord, to apply what I have said to
my present business. The Satires of Juvenal and
ESSAY ON SATIRE. '35
Persius appearing in this new English dress, cannot
so properly be inscribed to any man as to your lord-
ship, who are the first of the age in that way of
writing. Your lordship, amongst many other favours,
has given me your permission for this address ; and
you have particularly encouraged me by your peru-
sal and approbation of the Sixth and Tenth Satires
of Juvenal as I have translated them My fellow-la-
bourers have likewise commissioned me, to perform,
in their behalf) this office of a dedication to you ;
and will acknowledge, with all possible respect and
gratitude, your acceptance of their work. Some of
them have the honour to be known to your lordship
already ; and they who have not yet that happiness,
desire it now. Be pleased to receive our common
endeavours with your wonted candour, without en-
titling you to the protection of our common failings
in so difficult an undertaking. And allow me your
patience, if it be not already tired with this long
epistle, to give you, from the best authors, the ori-
gin, the antiquity, the growth, the change, and the
completement of satire among the Romans ; to de-
scribe, if not define, the nature of that poem, with
its several qualifications and virtues, together with
the several sorts of it; to compare the excellencies
of Horace, Persius, and Juvenal, and show the par-
ticular manners of their satires ; and, lastly, to give
an account of this new way of version, which is at-
tempted in our performance : all which, according
to the weakness of my ability, and the best lights
which I can get from others, shall be the subject of
my following discourse.
The most perfect work of poetry, says our master
Aristotle, is tragedy. His reason is, because it is the
most united ; being more severely confined within
the rules of action, time, and place. The action is en-
tire, of a piece, and one, without episodes ; the time
4
36 ESSAY ON SATIRE.
limited to a natural day ; and the place circumscribed
at least within the compass of one town, or city.
Being exactly proportioned thus, and uniform in all
its parts, the mind is more capable of comprehend-
ing the whole beauty of it without distraction.
But, after all these advantages, an heroic poem is
certainly the greatest work of human nature. The
beauties and perfections of the other are but me-
chanical ; those of the epic are more noble : though
Homer has limited his place to Troy, and the fields
about it; his actions to forty-eight natural days,
whereof twelve are holidays, or cessation from bu-
siness, during the funeral of Patroclus. To pro-
ceed ; the action of the epic is greater ; the exten-
tion of time enlarges the pleasure of the reader, and
the episodes give it more ornament, and more
variety. The instruction is equal; but the first is
only instructive, the latter forms a hero, and a
prince.
If it signifies any thing which of them is of the
more ancient family, the best and most absolute he-
roic poem was written by Homer long before tra-
gedy was invented. But if we consider the natural
endowments, and acquired parts, which are neces-
sary to make an accomplished writer in either kind,
tragedy requires a less and more confined know-
ledge; moderate learning, and observation of the
rules, is sufficient, if a genius be not wanting. But
in an epic poet, one who is worthy of that name,
besides an universal genius, is required universal
learning, together with all those qualities and acqui-
sitions which I have named above, and as many
more as I have, through haste or negligence, omit-
ted. And, after all, he must have exactly studied
Homer and Virgil, as his patterns ; Aristotle and Ho-
race, as his guides ; and Vida and Bossu, as their
commentators; with many others, both Italian an<J
ESSAY ON SATIRE, 37
French critics, which I want leisure here to recom-
mend.
In a word, what I have to say in relation to this
subject, which does not particularly concern satire,
is, that the greatness of an heroic poem, beyond
that of a tragedy, may easily be discovered, by ob-
serving how few have attempted that work in com-
parison to those who have written dramas ; and, of
those few, how small a number have succeeded.
But leaving the critics, on either side, to contend
about the preference due to this or that sort of poet-
ry, I will hasten to my present business, which is
the antiquity and origin of satire, according to those
informations which I have received from the learn-
ed Casaubon, Heinsius, Rigaltius, Dacier, and the
Dauphin's Juvenal ; to which I shall add some ob-
servations of my own.
There has been a long dispute among the modern
critics, whether the Romans derived their satire
from the Grecians, or first invented it themselves.
Julius Scaliger, and Heinsius, are of the first opi-
nion ; Casaubon, Rigaltius, Dacier, and the pub-
lisher of the Dauphin's Juvenal, maintain the latter.
If we take satire in the general signification of the
word, as it is used in all modern languages, for an
invective, it is certain that it is almost as old as
verse ; and though hymns, which are praises of God,
may be allowed to have been before it, yet the defa-
mation of others was not long after it. After God
had cursed Adam and Eve in Paradise, the husband
and wife excused themselves, by laying the blame
on one another; and gave a beginning to those
conjugal dialogues in prose, which the poets have
perfected in verse. The third chapter of Job is one
of the first instances of this poem in holy scripture ;
unless we will take it higher, from the latter end of
the second, where his wife advises him to curse his
Maker.
38 ESSAY ON SATIRE.
This original, I confess, is not much to the ho-
nour of satire ; but here it was nature, and that de-
praved : when it became an art, it bore better fruit.
Only we have learnt thus much already, that scoffs
and revilings are of the growth of all nations; and,
consequently, that neither the Greek poets borrow-
ed from other people their art of railing, neither
needed the Romans to take it from them. But, con-
sidering satire as a species of poetry, here the war
begins amongst the critics. Scaliger, the father,
will have it descend from Greece to Rome ; and de-
rives the word satire from Satyrus, that mixed kind of
animal, or, as the ancients thought him, rural god,
made up betwixt a man and a goat ; with a human
head, hooked nose, pouting lips, a bunch, or struma,
under the chin, pricked ears, and upright horns;
the body shagged with hair, especially from the
waist, and ending in a goat, with the legs and feet
of that creature. But Casaubon, and his followers,
with reason, condemn this derivation; and prove,
that from Satyrus, the word satira, as it signifies a
poem, cannot possibly descend. For satira is not
properly a substantive, but an adjective ; to which
the woid lanx (in English, a charger, or large plat-
ter) is understood ; so that the Greek poem, made
according to the manners of a Satyr, and expressing
his qualities, must properly be called satyrical, and
not satire And thus far it is allowed that the Gre-
cians had such poems ; but that they were wholly
different in species from that to which the Romans
gave the name of satire.
Aristotle divides all poetry, in relation to the pro-
gress of it, into nature without art, art begun, and
art completed. Mankind, even the most barbarous,
have the seeds of poetry implanted in them. The
first specimen of it was certainly shown in the
praises of the Deity, and prayers to him ; and as
ESSAY ON SATIRE. 39
they are of natural obligation, so they are likewise
of divine institution : which Milton observing, in-
troduces Adam and Eve every morning adoring God
in hymns and prayers. The first poetry was thus
begun, in the wild notes of natural poetry, before
the invention of feet, and measures. The Grecians
and Romans had no other original of their poetry.
Festivals and holidays soon succeeded to private
worship, and we need not doubt but they were en-
joined by the true God to his own people, as they
were afterwards imitated by the heathens ; 'who, by
the light of reason, knew they were to invoke some
superior Being in their necessities, and to thank him
for his benefits. Thus, the Grecian holidays were
celebrated with offerings to Bacchus, and Ceres, and
other deities, to whose bounty they supposed they
were owing for their corn and wine, and other helps
of life ; and the ancient Romans, as Horace tells us,
paid their thanks to mother Earth, or Vesta, to Sil-
vanus, and their Genius, in the same manner. But
as all festivals have a double reason of their institu-
tion, the first of religion, the other of recreation, for
the unbending of our minds, so both the Grecians
and Romans agreed, after their sacrifices were per-
formed, to spend the remainder of the day in sports
and merriments ; amongst which, songs and dances,
and that which they called wit, (for want of know-
ing better,) were the chiefest entertainments. The
Grecians had a notion of Satyrs, whom I have al-
ready described ; and taking them, and the Sileni,
that is, the young Satyrs and the old, for the tutors,
attendants, and humble companions of their Bac-
chus, habited themselves like those rural deities, and
imitated them in their rustic dances, to which they
joined songs, with some sort of rude harmony, but
without certain numbers ; and to these they added
a kind of chorus.
40 ESSAY ON SATIRE.
The Romans, also, (as nature is the same in all
places,) though they knew nothing of those Grecian
demi-gods, nor had any communication with Greece,
yet had certain young men, who, at their festivals,
danced and sung, after their uncouth manner, to a
certain kind of verse, which they called Saturnian.
What it was, we have no certain light from anti-
quity to discover; but we may conclude, that, like
the Grecian, it was void of art, or, at least, with
very feeble beginnings of it. Those ancient Ro-
mans, at these holidays, which were a mixture of
devotion and debauchery, had a custom of reproach-
ing each other with their faults, in a sort of extem-
pore poetry, or rather of tunable hobbling verse ; and
they answered in the same kind of gross raillery ;
their wit and their music being of a piece. The
Grecians, says Casaubon, had formerly done the
same, in the persons of their petulant Satyrs. But I
am afraid he mistakes the matter, and confounds
the singing and dancing of the Satyrs, with the rus-
tical entertainments of the first Romans. The rea-
son of my opinion is this ; that Casaubon, finding
little light from antiquity of these beginnings of
poetry amongst the Grecians, but only these repre-
sentations of Satyrs, who carried canisters and cor-
nucopias full of several fruits in their hands, and
danced with them at their public feasts ; and after-
wards reading Horace, who makes mention of his
homely Romans jesting at one another in the same
kind of solemnities, might suppose those wanton
Satyrs did the same; and especially because Horace
possibly might seem to him, to have shown the ori-
ginal of all poetry in general, including the Gre-
cians as well as Romans ; though it is plainly other-
wise, that he only described the beginning, and
first rudiments, of poetry in his own country. The
verses are these, which he cites froin the First Epjs-
ESSAY ON SATIRE. 41
tie of the Second Book, which was written to Au-
gustus :
Agricolce prisci, fortes, parvoque beati,
Cundita post frumenta, lecantes temporefesto
Corpus, et ipsum animum spejinis dura ferentem,
Cum sociis operum, et pueris, et conjugejidd,
Tellurem porco, Silvanum lacte piabant ;
Floribus et vino Genium memorem brems cevi.
Fescennina per hunc inventa licentia morem
Versibus alternis opprobria rusticafudit.
Our brawny clowns, of old, who turned the soil,
Content with little, and inured to toil,
At harvest-home, with mirth and country cheer,
Restored their bodies for another year ;
Refreshed their spirits, and renewed their hope
Of such a future feast, and future crop.
Then, with their fellow-joggers of the ploughs,
Their little children, and their faithful spouse,
A sow they slew to Vesta's deity,
And kindly milk, Silvanus, poured to thee ;
With flowers, and wine, their Genius they adored j
A short life, and a merry, was the word.
From flowing cups, defaming rhymes ensue,
And at each other homely taunts they threw.
Yet since it is a hard conjecture, that so great a
man as Casaubon should misapply what Horace
writ concerning ancient Rome, to the ceremonies
and manners of ancient Greece, I will not insist on
this opinion; but rather judge in general, that since
all poetry had its original from religion, that of
the Grecians and Rome had the same beginning.
Both were invented at festivals of thanksgiving,
and both were prosecuted with mirth and raillery,
and rudiments of verses: amongst the Greeks, by
those who represented Satyrs ; and amongst the Ro-
mans, by real clowns.
For, indeed, when- 1 am reading Casaubon on
these two subjects, methinks I hear the same story
42 ESSAY ON SATIRE.
told twice over with very little alteration. Of which
Dacier taking notice, in his interpretation of the
Latin verses which I have translated, says plainly,
that the beginning of poetry was the same, with a
small variety, in both countries ; and that the mo-
ther of it, in all nations, was devotion. But, what
is yet more wonderful, that most learned critic takes
notice also, in his illustrations on the First Epistle of
the Second Book, that as the poetry of the Romans,
and that of the Grecians, had the same beginning,
(at feasts and thanksgiving, as it has been observed,)
and the old comedy of the Greeks, which was in-
vective, and the satire of the Romans, which was of
the same nature, were begun on the very same oc-
casion, so the fortune of both, in process of time,
was just the same ; the old comedy of the Grecians
was forbidden, for its too much licence in exposing
of particular persons; and the rude satire of the
Romans was also punished by a law of the Decem-
viri, as Horace tells us, in these words :
Libertasque recurrentes accepta per annos
Lusit amabiliter ; donee jam scevus apertam
In rabiem verti ccepitjocus, et per honestas
Ire domos impune minax : doluere cruento
Dente lacessiti; fuit intactis quoque euro
Conditione super communi : quinetiam lex,
Pcenaque lata, malo quce nollet carmine quenquam
Describi : vertere modum,Jormidinefustis
Ad benedictndum delectandumque redacti.
The law of the Decemviri was this : Siquis occen-
tassit malum carmen, sivecondidisit,quod infamiamjaxit^
Jlagitiumve alteri, capital esto. A strange likeness,
and barely possible ; but the critics being all of the
same opinion, it becomes me to be silent, and to
submit to better judgments than my own.
But, to return to the Grecians, from whose sati-
ric dramas the elder Scaliger and Heinsius will have
ESSAY ON SATIRE. 43
the Roman satire to proceed, I am to take a view
of them first, and see if there be any such descent
from them as those authors have pretended.
Thespis, or whoever he were that invented tra-
gedy, (for authors differ,) mingled with them a cho-
rus and dances of Satyrs, which had before been
used in the celebration of their festivals ; and there
they were ever afterwards retained. The character
of them was also kept, which was mirth and wan-
tonness ; and this was given, I suppose, to the fol-
ly of the common audience, who soon grow weary
of good sense, and, as we daily see in our own age
and country, are apt to forsake poetry, and still
ready to return to buffoonery and farce. From
hence it came, that, in the Olympic games, where
the poets contended for four prizes, the satiric tra-
gedy was the last of them ; for, in the rest, the Sa-
tyrs were excluded from the chorus. Among the
plays of Euripides which are yet remaining, there
is one of these SATYRICS, which is called " The Cy-
clops;" in which we may see the nature of those
poems, and from thence conclude, what likeness
they have to the Roman SATIRE.
The story of this Cyclops, whose name was Po^
lyphemus, so famous in the Grecian fables, was,
that Ulysses, who, with his company, was driven on
the coast of Sicily, where those Cyclops inhabited,
coming to ask relief from Silenus, and the Satyrs,
who were herdsmen to that one-eyed giant, was
kindly received by them, and entertained ; till, be-
ing perceived by Polyphemus, they were made pri-
soners against the rites of hospitality, (for which
Ulysses eloquently pleaded,) were afterwards put
down into the den, and some of them devoured ; af-
ter which Ulysses, having made him drunk, when
he was asleep, thrust a great firebrand into his eye,
and so, revenging his dead followers, escaped with
44 ESSAY ON SATIRE.
the remaining party of the living; and Silenus and
the Satyrs were freed from their servitude under
Polyphemus, and remitted to their first liberty of
attending and accompanying their patron, Bac-
chus.
This was the subject of the tragedy ; which, be-
ing one of those that end with a happy event, is
therefore, by Aristotle, judged below the other sort,
whose success is unfortunate. Notwithstanding
which, the Satyrs, who were part of the dramatis
persona, as well as the whole chorus, were properly
introduced into the nature of the poem, which is
mixed of farce and tragedy. The adventure of
Ulysses was to entertain the judging part of the an-
dience ; and the uncouth persons of Silenus, and the
Satyrs, to divert the common people with their gross
railleries.
Your lordship has perceived by this time, that
this SATIRIC tragedy, and the Roman SATIRE, have
little resemblance in any of their features. The very
kinds are different ; for what has a pastoral tragedy
to do with a paper of verses satirically written ?
The character and raillery of the Satyrs is the only
thing that could pretend to a likeness, were Scali-
ger and Heinsius alive to maintain their opinion.
And the first farces of the Romans, which were the
rudiments of their poetry, were written before they
had any communication with the Greeks, or in-
deed any knowledge of that people.
And here it will be proper to give the definition
of the Greek satyric poem from Casaubon, before I
leave this subject. " The SATIRIC," says he, " is
a dramatic poem, annexed to a tragedy, having a
chorus, which consists of Satyrs. The persons re-
presented in it are illustrious men ; the action of it
is great ; the style is partly serious, and partly jo-
ESSAY ON SATIRE. 45
cular ; and the event of the action most commonly
is happy.''
The Grecians, besides these SATIRIC tragedies, had
another kind of poem, which they called Silli, which
were more of kin to the Roman satire. Those Silli
wereindeed invective poems, but of a different species
from the Roman poems of Ennius, Pacuvius, Luci-
lius, Horace, and the rest of their successors. They
were so called, says Casaubon in one place, from
Silenus, the foster-father of Bacchus ; but, in ano-
ther place, bethinking himself better, he derives their
name, euro r* <nAA.a/W, from their scoffing and petu-
lancy. From some fragments of the Silli, written
by Timon, we may find, that they were satiric
poems, full of parodies ; that is, of verses patched
up from great poets, and turned into another sense
than their author intended them. Such, amongst
the Romans, is the famous Cento of Ausonius ;
where the words are Virgil's, but, by applying them
to another sense, they are made a relation of a
wedding-night; and the act of consummation ful-
somely described in the very words of the most mo-
dest amongst all poets. Of the same manner are
our songs, which are turned into burlesque, and the
serious words of the author perverted into a ridicu-
lous meaning. Thus in Timon's Silli the words
are generally those of Homer, and the tragic poets ;
but he applies them, satirically, to some customs and
kinds of philosophy, which he arraigns. But the
Romans, not using any of these parodies in their
satires, sometimes, indeed, repeating verses of
other men, as Persius cites some of Nero's, but not
turning them into another meaning, the Silli can-
not be supposed to be the original of Roman sa-
tire. To these Silli, consisting of parodies, we may
properly add the satires which were written against
particular persons; such as were the Iambics of
46 ESSAY ON SATIRE.
Archilochus against Lycambes, which Horace un-
doubtedly imitated in some of his Odes and Epodes,
whose titles bear sufficient witness of it. I might
also name the invective of Ovid against Ibis, and
many others ; but these are the under-wood of sa-
tire, rather than the timber-trees : they are not of
general extension, as reaching only to some indivi-
dual person. And Horace seems to have purged
himself from those splenetic reflections in those
Odes and Epodes, before he undertook the noble
work of Satires, which were properly so called.
Thus, my lord, I have at length disengaged my-
self from those antiquities of Greece ; and have
proved, I hope, from the best critics, that the Ro-
man satire was not borrowed from thence, but of
their own manufacture. I am now almost gotten
into my depth ; at least, by the help of Dacier, I
am swimming towards it. Not that I will promise
always to follow him, any more than he follows
Casaubon ; but to keep him in my eye, as my best
and truest guide ; and where I think he may possi-
bly mislead me, there to have recourse to my own
lights, as I expect that others should do by me.
Quintilian says, in plain words, Satira quidem
tota nostra est ; and Horace had said the same thing
before him, speaking of his predecessor in that sort
of poetry, Et Greeds intacti carminis auctor No-
thing can be clearer than the opinion of the poet,
and the orator, both the best critics of the two best
ages of the Roman empire, that satire was whol-
ly of Latin growth, and not transplanted to Rome
from Athens. * Yet, as I have said, Scaliger,
* I shall imitate my predecessor, Mr Malone, in presenting the
reader with Spanheim's summary of the notes of distinction be-
ESSAY ON SATIRE. 47
the father, according to his custom, that is, inso-
lently enough, contradicts them both ; and gives
no better reason, than the derivation of satyrus
from <r*6v, salacltas ; and so, from the lechery of
those fauns, thinks he has sufficiently proved, that
satire is derived from them : as if wantonness and
lubricity were essential to that sort of poem, which
ought to be avoided in it. His other allegation,
which I have already mentioned, is as pitiful ; that
tvveen the Greek satirical drama, and the satirical poetry of the
Romans.
" La premiere difference, qui est ifi a remarquer et dont on ne
peut disconvenir, c'est que les Satyres ou poemes satyriques des
Grecs, etoient des pieces dramatiques, ou de theatre ; ce qu'on ne
peut point dire des Satires Romanies, prises dans tous ces trois
genres, dont je viens de parler, et auxquelles on a applique ce
mot. II y auroit peut-fitre plus de sujet d'en douter, a 1'egard de
ces premieres Satires des anciens Romains, dont il a ete fait men-
tion, et dont il ne nous est rien reste, si les passages de deux au-
teurs Latins et de T. Live entre autres, qui en parlent, ne mar-
quoient en termes expr^s, qu'elles avoient pr6cede parmi eux les
pieces dramatiques, et etoient en effet d'une autre espece. D'ou
vient aussi, que les Latins, quand ils font mention de la poesie
Grecque, et d'ailleurs se contentent de donner aux premieres ce
nom de potme, comme Ciceron le donne aux Satires de Varron,
et d'autres un nom pareil a celles de Lucilius ou d'Horace.
" La seconde difference entre les poemes satyriques des Grecs,
et les Satires des Latins, vient de ce qu'il y a mme quelque diver-
site dans le nom, laquelle ne paroitpasautrement dans les langues
vulgaires. C'est qu'en effet les Grecs donnoient aux leurs le nom
de Satyrus ou Satiri, de Satyriques, de pieces Satyriques, par rap-
port, s'entend, aux Satyres, ces hostes de bois, et ces compagnons
de Baccus, qui y jouoient leur role : et d'ou vient aussi, qu'Ho-
race, comme nous avons deja vu, les appelle agrestes Satyros, et
ceux, qui en etoient les auteurs, du nom de Satyrorum Scriptor.
Au lieu que les Romains ont dit Satira ou Satura de ces poemes,
auxquels ils en ont applique et restraint le nom ; que leurs au-
teur^ et leurs grammairiens donnent une autre origine, et une au-
tre signification de ce mot, comme celle d'un melange de plusieurs
fruits de la terre, ou bien de plusieurs mets dans un plat ; dela
48 ESSAY ON SATIRE.
the Satyrs carried platters and canisters full of
fruit in their hands. If they had entered empty-
handed, had they been ever the less Satyrs ? Or
were the fruits and flowers, which they offered,
any thing of kin to satire ? Or any argument that
celle d'un melange de plusieurs loix comprises dans une, ou enfin
la signification d'un poeme m&le de plusieurs choses.
" La troisieme difference entre ces mfemes Satires et les pieces
satyriques des Grecs est, qu'en effet 1'introduction des Silenes et
des Satyres, qui composoient les choeurs de ces dernieres, etoient
tellement de leur essence, que sans eux elles ne pouvoient plus
porter le nom de Satyres. Tellement qu'Horace, parlarit entre
autres de la nature de ces Satyres ou poemes satyriques des Grecs,
s'arrete a montrer, en quelle maniere on y doit faire parler Silene,
ou les Satyres ; ce qu'on leur doit faire eviter ou observer. Ce
qu'l n'auroit pas fait avec tant de soin, s'il avoit cru, que la pre-
sence des Satyres ne fut pas de la nature et de 1'essence, comme
je viens de dire, de ces sortes de pieces, qui en portoient le nom.
" C'est d quoi on peut aj outer 1'action de ces monies Satyres,
et qui etoient propres aux pieces, qui en portoient le nom. C'est
qu'en effet les danses etoient si fort de leur essence, que non seule-
ment Aristote, comme nous avons deja veu, joint ensemble la
poesie satyrique et faite pour la danse ; mais qu'un autre auteur
Grec [Lucianus 7rep op^rjo-ea'?] parle nommement des trois differen-
tes sortes de danses attaches au theatre, la tragique, la comique, et
la satyrique. D'ou vient aussi, comme il le remarque ailleurs,
que les Satires en prirent le nom de Sicynnistes ; c'est a dire d'une
sorte de danse, qui leur etoit particuliere, comme on peut voir en-
tre autres de ce qu'en dit Silene dans le Cyclope, a la veuti
des Satyres ; et ainsi d'ou on peut asses comprendre la force de
1'epithete de saltantes Satyros, que Virgile leur donne en quelque
endroit ; ou de ce qu'Horace, dans sa premiere Ode, parie des
danses des Nymphes et des Satyres, Nympharumque leues cum Saty-
ris chori. Tout cela, comme chacun voit, n'avoit aucun raport
avec les Satires Romaines, et il n'est pas necessaire, d'cn dire da-
vantage, pour le faire entendre.
" La quatrieme difference resulte des sujets asses divers des uns
et des autres. Les Satyres des Grecs, comme il a deja ete re-
marque, et qu'on peut juger par les titres, qui nous en restent,
prenoient d'ordinaire, non seulement des sujets connus, mais fa-
buleux ; ce qui fait dire la-dessus a Horace, ex noto carmen
ESSAY ON SATIRE. 49
this poem was originally Grecian ? Casaubon judged
better, and his opinion is grounded on sure autho-
rity, that satire was derived from satura, a Roman
word, which signifies full and abundant, and full
also of variety, in which nothing is wanting to its
due perfection. It is thus, says Dacier, that we say
a full colour, when the wool has taken the whole
tincture, and drunk in as much of the dye as it can
receive. According to this derivation, from satur
sequar ; des heros, parexemple, ou des demi-dieux des siecles pas-
ses, a quoi le meme poete venoit de faire allusion. Les Satires
Romaines, comme leurs auteurs en parlent eux-memes, et qu'ils le
pratiquent, s'attachoient a reprendre les vices ou les erreurs de
leur siecle et de leur patrie ; a y jouer des particuliers de Rome,
un Mutius entre autres, et un Lupus, avec Lucilius ; un Milonius
et un Nomentanus, avec Horace ; un Crispinus et un Locustus,
avec Juvenal ; c'est a dire des gens, qui nous seroient peu connus
aujourdhui, sans la mention, qu'ils ont trouve a propos d'en faire
dans leurs satires.
" La cinquierae difference paroit encore dans la maniere, de la-
quelle les uns et les autres traitent leurs sujets, et dans le but
principal, qu'ils s'y proposent. Celui de la poiisie satyrique des
Grecs, etoit de tourner en ridicule des actions serieuses, comme
1'enseigne le meme Horace, vertere seria ludo ; de travestir pour ce
sujet leurs dieux ou leurs heros, d'en changer le caractere, selon
le besoin ; de faire par exemple d'un Achille un homme mol, sui-
vant qu'un autre poete Latin y fait allusion, Nee nocet autori, qui
mollem fecit Achillem. C'etoit en un mot leur but principal, de
rire et de plaisanter ; et d'ou vient non seulement le mot de Risus,
comme il a deja ete remarque, qu'on a applique a ces sortes
d'ouvrages, mais aussi ceux en Grec dejeux, ou meme de jouets,
et dejoci en Latin, comme fait encore Horace, ou il parle de
1'auteur tragique, qui parmi les Grecs fut le premier, qui composa
de ces pieces satyriques, et suivant qu'il dit, incolumi gravitate jo-
cum tentavit. Nons pouvons meme comprendre de ce qu'il ajoute
dans la suite et des epilhetes, que d'autres leur donnent de ris ob-
scenes, que cette gravite, avec laquelle on avoit d'abord tempere
ces sortes d'ouvrages, en fut bannie dans la suite; que les regies
de la pudeur n'y furentgueres observees ; et qu'on en fit des spec-
tacles asses conformes a 1'humeur et a la conduite de tels acteurs
VOL. XIII. D
50 ESSAY ON SATIRE.
comes satura, or satyr a, according to the new spel-
ling ; as optumus and maa-umus are now spelled 0p&
mus and ma.iimus. Satura, as I have formerly no-
ted, is an adjective, and relates to the word lanx,
which is understood; and this latu\ in English a
charger, or large platter, was yearly filled with all
sorts of fruits, which were offered to the gods at
their festivals, as the prtmices, or first gatherings.
These offerings of several sorts thus mingled, it is
true, were not unknown to the Grecians, who called
them TTCLVKctfTrlv Sw'fltr, a sacrifice of all sorts of fruits;
and Tara-tf/a'fluywhen they offered all kinds of grain..
que des satires petulans ou protervi, comme Horace les appelle sur
ce meme sujet. Et c'est a quoi contribuerent d'ailleurs leurs
danses et leurs postures, dont il a ete parle, de meme que celles
des pantomimes parmi les Remains. An lieu que les Satires Ro-
maines, temoin celles qui nous restent, et a qui d'ailleurs ce nom
est demeure comine prop re et attache, avoient moins pour but de
plaisaiUer, que d'exciter ou de i'indignationyuu de la haine, facit
indignatio versum, ou du mepris ; qu'eiles s'attachent plus a re-
prendre et a mordre,. qu'a tair-e nre ou k folatrer. D'ou vient
aussi le mm de pue?ne wedtsaiit, que les grammairiens leur don-
nent, ou celui de vers mordents,- connne en parle Ovide dans un
passage, ou je trouve qu'il se defend de n'avoir point ecrit de Sa-
tyres.
Non ego mordaci di-strinxi carmine quemquam,
Nee metis ullius crimina versus hubct.
" Je ne touche pas enfin la difference, qu'on pnurroit encore al-
leiruer de la composition diveise des unes et desaulres; les Sa-
tires Romanies, dont il est ici proprement question, et qui ont ete
conservees jusques a nous, ayant ete ecrites en vers heroiques, et
les poismes satyriques des Grecs en vers jambiques. Ce qui dev-
roit neanmoins etre d'autant plus remarque, qu'Ilorace ne trouve
point d'autre difference entre I'inventeur des Satires Romaines et
les auteurs de 1'ancienne comedie, comme Cratinus et Eupolis, si
non que les Satires du premier etoient ecrites dans un autre genre
de vers." See Baron SPAN HE tin's Dissertation, Sur les Cesars
de Julien, et en general sur les outrages satyriques des Anciens y
prefixed to his translation of Julian's> work, Amsterdam, 1728, 4tOi
and Malone's " Dryden," Vol. IV. p. 130.
ESSAY ON SATIRE. 51
Virgil has mentioned these sacrifices in his " Geor-
gics :"
Lancibus et pandis fumantia reddimus exta:
and in another place, lancesqueet Jibaferemus: that is,
We offer the smoaking entrails in great platters,
and we will offer the chargers and the cakes.
The word satura has been afterwards applied to
many other sort of mixtures ; as Festus calls it a
kind of olla, or hotchpotch, made of several sorts of
meats. Laws were also called leges satura, M'hen
they were of several heads and titles, like our tack-
ed bills of parliament : and per saturam legemjer-
re, in the Roman senate, was to carry a law with-
out telling the senators, or counting voices, when
they were in haste. Sallust uses the word, per
saturam sententias evquirere ; when the majority was
visible on one side. From hence it may probably
be conjectured, that the Discourses, or Satires, of
Ennius, Lucilius, and Horace, as we now call them,
took their name ; because they are full of vari-
ous matters, and are also written on various sub-
jects, as Porphyrius says. But Dacier affirms,
that it is not immediately from thence that these
satires are so called ; for that name had been used
formerly for other things, which bore a nearer re-
semblance to those discourses of Horace. In ex-
plaining of which, continues Dacier, a method is to
be pursued, of which Casaubon himself has never
thought, and which will put all things into so clear
a light, that no farther room will be left for the
least dispute.
During the space of almost four hundred years,
since the building of their city, the Romans had
never known any entertainments of the stage.
Chance andjollity first found out those verses which
they called Saturnian, and Fescenninc ; or rather
human nature, which is inclined to poetry, first
52 ESSAY ON SATIRE.
produced them, rude and barbarous, and unpolish-
ed, as all other operations of the soul are in their be-
ginnings, before they are cultivated with art and
study. However, in occasions of merriment they
were first practised ; and this rough-cast unhewn
poetry was instead of stage-plays, for the space of
an hundred and twenty years together. They
were made extempore, and were, as the French call
them, impromptus ; for which the Tarsians of old
were much renowned ; and we see the daily exam-
ples of them in the Italian farces of Harlequin
and Scaramucha. Such was the poetry of that
savage people, before it was turned into numbers,
and the harmony of verse. Little of the Saturniaii
verses is now remaining ; we only know from au-
thors, that they were nearer prose than poetry, with-
out feet, or measure. They were trpvd-poi, but note/*^-
trpot. Perhaps they might be used in the solemn part
of their ceremonies ; and the Fescennine, which
were invented after them, in the afternoon's de-
bauchery, because they were scoffing and obscene.
The Fescennine and Saturnian were the -same;
for as they were called Saturnian from their ancient-
ness, when Saturn reigned in Italy, they were also
called Ftscennine, from Fescennia, a town in the
same country, where they were first practised. The
actors, with a gross and rustic kind of raillery, re-
proached each other with their failings ; and at the
same time were nothing sparing of it to their au-
dience Somewhat of this custom was afterwards
retained in the Saturnalia, or feasts of Saturn, cele-
brated in December ; at least all kind of freedom
in speech was then allowed to slaves, even against
their masters ; and we are not without some imita-
tion of it in our Christmas gambols. Soldiers also
used those Fescennine verses, after measure and
numbers had been added to them, at the triumph
ESSAY ON SATIRE. 53
of their generals : of which we have an example, in
the triumph of Julius Caesar over Gaul, in these ex-
pressions : Ccesar Gallias tubegit, Nicomedes Ccesa-
rem. ' Ecce Casarnunc triumphat, qui subegit Gallias:
Nicomedes non triumphat, qu i .subegit Ccesarem. The va-
pours of wine made those first satirical poets amongst
the Romans ; which, says Dacier, we cannot better
represent, than by imagining a company of clowns
on a holiday, dancing lubberly, and upbraiding one
another, in extempore doggrel, with their defects and
vices, and the stories that were told of them in
bake-houses and barbers' shops.
When they began to be somewhat better bred,
and were entering, as I may say, into the first ru-
diments of civil conversation, they left these hedge-
notes for another sort of poem, somewhat polished,
which was also full of pleasant raillery, but without
any mixture of obscenity. This sort of poetry ap-
peared under the name of satire, because of its va-
riety; and this satire was adorned with composi-
tions of music, and with dances ; but lascivious
postures were banished from it In the Tuscan
language, says Livy, the word hister signifies a
player ; and therefore those actors, which were first
brought from Etruria to Rome, on occasion of a
pestilence, when the Romans were admonished to
avert the anger of the Gods by plays, in the year
ab Urbe Condita cccxc., those actors, I say, were
therefore called histriones ; and that name has since
remained, not only to actors Roman born, but to
all others of every nation. They played not the
former extempore stuflfof Fescennine verses, or clown-
ish jests ; buj; what they acted was a kind of civil,
cleanly farce, with music and dances, and motions
that were proper to the subject
In this condition Livius Andronicus found the
stage, when he attempted first, instead of farces, to
54 ESSAY ON SATIRE.
supply it with a nobler entertainment of tragedies
and comedies. This man was a Grecian born, and
being made a slave by Livius Salinator, and brought
to Home, had the education of his patron's children
committed to him ; which trust he discharged so
much to the satisfaction of his master, that he gave
him his liberty.
Andronicus, thus become a freeman of Rome, ad-
ded to his own name that of Livius his master;
and, as I observed, was the first author of a regu-
lar play in that commonwealth. Being already in-
structed, in his native country, in the manners and
decencies of the Athenian theatre, and conversant
in the Archcta comcedia, or old comedy of Aristo-
phanes, and the rest of the Grecian poets, he took
from that model his own designing of plays for
the Roman stage ; the first of which was represent-
ed in the year cccccxiv., since the building of Rome,
as Tully, from the commentaries of Atticus, has as-
sured us: it was after the end of the first Punic
war, the year before Ennius was born. Dacier has
not carried the matter altogether thus far ; he only
savs, that one Livius Andronicus was the first
stage-poet at Rome. But I will adventure on this
hint, to advance another proposition, which I hope
the learned will approve. And though we have not
any thing of Andronicus remaining to justify my
conjecture, yet it is exceedingly probable, that, ha-
ving read the works of those Grecian wits, his
countrymen, he imitated not only the groundwork,
but also the manner of their writing ; and how
grave soever his tragedies might be, yet, in his co-
medies, he expressed the way of Aristophanes, Eu-
Eolis, and the rest, which was to call some persons
y their own names, and to expose their defects to
the laughter of the people : the examples of which
we have in the fore-mentioned Aristophanes, who
ESSAY ON SATIRE. 55
turned the wise Socrates into ridicule, and is also
very free with the management of Cleon, Alcibia-
des, and other ministers of the Athenian govern-
ment. Now, if this be granted, we may easily
suppose, that the first hint of satirical plays on
the Roman stage was given by the Greeks : not
from the.Satirica, for that has been reasonably ex-
ploded in the former part of this discourse; but
from their old comedy, which was imitated first by
Livius Andronicus. And then Quintilian and Ho-
race must be cautiously interpreted, where they af-
firm, that satire is wholly Roman, and a sort of
verse, which was not touched on by the Grecians.
The reconcilement of my opinion to the standard
of their judgment is not, however, very difficult,
since they spoke of satire, not as in its first ele-
ments, but as it was formed into a separate work ;
begun by Ennius, pursued by Lucilius, and com-
pleted afterwards by Horace. The proof depends
only on this post tda turn, that the comedies of .
Andronicus, which were imitations of the Greek,
were also imitations of their railleries, and reflec-
tions on particular persons. For, if this be granted
me, which is a most probable supposition, it is easy
to infer, that the first light which was given to the
Roman theatrical satire, was from the plays of Li-
vius Andronicus; which will be more manifestly
discovered, when I come to speak of Ennius. In
the meantime I will return to Dacier.
The people, says he, ran in crowds to these new
entertainments of Andronicus, as to pieces which
were more noble in their kind, and more perfect
than their former satires, which for some time they
neglected ami abandoned. But not long after,
they took them up again, and then they joined
them to their comedies ; playing them at the end
of every drama, as the French continue at this
56 ESSAY ON SATIRE.
day to act their farces, in the nature of a separate
entertainment from their tragedies. But more par-
ticularly they were joined to the Atellane fables,
says Casaubon ; which were plays invented by the
Osci. Those fables, says Valerius Maximus, out of
Livy, were tempered with the Italian seventy, and
free from any note of infamy, or obsceneness ; and,
as an old commentator of Juvenal affirms, the Exo-
diarii, which were singers and dancers, entered to
entertain the people with light songs, and mimical
gestures, that they might not go away oppressed
with melancholy, from those serious pieces of the
theatre. So that the ancient satire of the Romans
was in extempore reproaches ; the next was farce,
which was brought from Tuscany ; to that suc-
ceeded the plays of Andronicus, from the old co-
medy of the Grecians; and out of all these sprung
two several branches of new Roman satire, like dif-
ferent scions from the same root, which I shall
prove with as much brevity as the subject will al-
low.
A year after Andronicus had opened the Roman
stage with his new dramas, Ennius was born ; who,
when he was grown to man's estate, having serious-
ly considered the genius of the people, and how
eagerly they followed the first satires, thought it
would be worth his pains to refine upon the pro-
ject, and to write Satires, not to be acted on the
theatre, but read. He preserved the ground-work
of their pleasantry, their venom, and their raillery
on particular persons, and general vices ; and by
this means, avoiding the danger of any ill success
in a public representation, he hoped to be as well
received in the cabinet, as Andronicus had been up-
on the stage. The event was answerable to his ex-
pectation. He made discourses in several sorts of
verse, varied often in the same paper; retaining
5
ESSAY ON SATIRE. 57
| r
still in the title their original name of Satire. Both
in relation to the subjects, and the variety of mat-
ters contained in them, the Satires of Horace are
entirely like them ; only Ennius, as I said, confines
not himself to one sort of verse, as Horace does ;
but, taking example from the Greeks, and even
from Homer himself in his MARGITES, which is a
kind of Satire, as Scaliger observes, gives himself
the licence, when one sort of numbers comes not
easily, to run into another, as his fancy dictates.
For he makes no difficulty to mingle hexameter
with iambick trimeters, or with trochaick tetra-
meters; as appears by those fragments which are
yet remaining of him. Horace has thought him
worthy to be copied ; inserting many things of his
into his own Satires, as Virgil has done into his
^Eneids.
Here we have Dacier making out that Ennius was
the first satirist in that way of writing, which was
of his invention ; that is, satire abstracted from the
stage, and new modelled into papers of verses on se-
veral subjects. But he will have Ennius take the
ground- work of satire from the first farces of the Ro-
mans, rather than from the formed plays of Livius
Andronicus, which were copied from the Grecian co-
medies. It may possibly be so ; but Dacier knows
no more of it than I do. And it seems to me the
more probable opinion, that he rather imitated the
fine railleries of the Greeks, which he saw in the
pieces of Andronicus, than the coarseness of his old
country-men, in their clownish extemporary way of
jeering.
But besides this, it is universally granted, that
Ennius, though an Italian, was excellently learned
in the Greek language. His verses were stuffed
with fragments of it, even to a fault ; and he him-
self believed, according-to the Pythagorean opinion,
58 ESSAY ON SATIRE.
that the soul of Homer was transfused into him ;
which Persius observes, in his Sixth Satire : Post-
quam desterluit esse Maomdes. But this being only
the private opinion of so inconsiderable a man as I
am, I leave it to the farther disquisition of the cri-
tics, if they think it worth their notice. Most evi-
dent it is, that whether he imitated the Roman,
farce, or the Greek comedies, he is to be acknow-
ledged for the first author of Roman satire, as it is
properly so called, and distinguished from any sort
of stage-play.
Of Pacuvius, who succeeded him, there is little
to be said, because there is so little remaining of
him ; only that he is taken to be the nephew of
Ennius, his sister's son ; that in probability he was
instructed by his uncle, in his way of satire, which
we are told he has copied : but what advances he
made we know not.
Lucilius came into the world, when Pacuvius
flourished most. He also made satires after the man-
ner of Ennius, but he gave them a more graceful
turn, and endeavoured to imitate more closely the
vetus comcedia of the Greeks, of the which the old
original Roman satire had no idea, till the time of
Livius Andronicus. And though Horace seems to
have made Lucilius the first author of satire in verse
amongst the Romans, in these words,
Quid ? cum est Lucilius avsus
Primus in hunc opens componere carmina moron,
he is only thus to be understood ; that Lucilius had
given a more graceful turn to the satire of Ennius
and Pacuvius, not that he invented a new satire of
his own : and Quintilian seems to explain this pas-
sage of Horace in these words : Satira quidem tota
nostra cst ; in qua primus insignem laudem adeptus est
Lucilius.
ESSAY ON SATIRE. 59
Thus, both Horace and Quintilian give a kind of
primacy of honour to Lucilius, amongst the Latin
satirists. * For, as the Roman language grew more
refined, so much more capahle it was of receiving
the Grecian beauties, in his time. Horace and
Quintilian could mean no more, than that Lucilius
writ better than Ennius and Pacuvius ; and on the
same account we prefer Horace to Lucilius. Both
of them imitated the old Greek comedy ; and so
did Ennius and Pacuvius before them. The polish-
ing of the Latin tongue, in the succession of times,
made the only difference ; and Horace himself* in
two of his Satires, written purposely on this subject,
thinks the Romans of his age were too partial in
their commendations of Lucilius ; who writ not
* Horace, in the beginning of the Fourth Satire of his First
Book, introduces Lucilius as imitating the ancient Greek come-
dians :
Hinc omni$ pendet Lucilius, hoscc secittus,
Mutatis tantum pedibus numerisque ; facetus,
Emunctie naris, durus componere versus.
Namfuit hoc vitiosus : in hora s<epe dttcentos,
Ut magnum, versus dictabat stuns pede in uno.
Cutn Jiueret tutulentus, erat quod tollere velles ;
Garralus, atque piger scribendi jerre laborem ;
Scribendi recte ; nam utmultum, nun moror.
Towards the end of the Tenth Satire, the poet resumes the sub-
ject, and vindicates his character of Lucilius against those who
had accused him of too much seventy towards the ancient satirist ;
and again accuses him of carelessness, though he acknowledges his
superiority to the more ancient models :
-fuerit Lucilius, inquam,
Camis et urbanus ; fuerit limatior idem,
Quam rudis, et Greeds intacti carminis auctor,
Quamque poetatum seniorum turba : Sed Me,
Siforet hoc nottrumfato dilatus in iLVtim,
Detereret sibi multa : recideret omne, quod ulfa
Perfectum traheretur : et in versufaciendo
Saepe caput scaberet, vivos et roderet ungues.
^
60 ESSAY ON SATIRE.
only loosely, and muddily, with little art, and much
less care, but also in a time when the Latin tongue
was not yet sufficiently purged from the dregs of
barbarism ; and many significant and sounding words,
which the Romans wanted, were not admitted even
in the times of Lucretius and Cicero, of which both
complain.
But to proceed : Dacier justly taxes Casaubon,
saying, that the Satires of Lucilius were wholly dif-
ferent in specie, from those of Ennius and Pacuvius.
Casaubon was led into that mistake by Diomedes
the grammarian, who in effect says this : " Satire
amongst the Romans, but not amongst the Greeks,
was a biting invective poem, made after the model of
the ancient comedy, for the reprehension of vices ;
such as were the poems of Lucilius, of Horace, and
of Persius. But in former times, the name of Sa-
tire was given to poems, which were composed of
several sorts of verses, such as were made by En-
nius and Pacuvius ; more fully expressing the ety-
mology of the word satire, from wtura, which we
have observed." Here it is manifest, that Dio-
medes makes a specifical distinction betwixt the Sa-
tires of Ennius, and those of Lucilius. But this,
as we say in English, is only a distinction with-
out a difference ; for the reason of it is ridiculous,
and absolutely false. This was that which cozened
honest Casaubon, who, relying on Diomedes, had
not sufficiently examined the origin and nature of
those two satires ; which were entirely the same,
both in the matter and the form : for all that Lu-
cilius performed beyond his predecessors, Ennius
and Pacuvius, was only the adding of more polite-
ness, and more salt, without any change in the sub-
stance of the poem. And though Lucilius put not
together in the same satire se\ eral sorts of verses,
as Ennius did, yet he composed several satires, of
ESSAY ON SATIRE. 6l
several sorts of verses, and mingled them with
Greek verses : one poem consisted only of hexa-
meters, and another was entirely of iambicks ; a
third of tiochaicks; as is visible by the fragments
yet remaining of his works. In short, if the Satires
of Lucilius are therefore said to be wholly different
from those of Ennius, because he added much more
of beauty and polishing to his own poems, than are
to be found in those before him, it will follow from
hence, that the Satires of Horace are wholly differ-
ent from those of Lucilius, because Horace has not
less surpassed Lucilius in the elegancy of his wri-
ting, than Lucilius surpassed Ennius in the turn
and ornament of his. This passage of Diomedes
has also drawn Dousa, the son, into the same error
of Casaubon, which I say, not to expose the little
failings of those judicious men, but only to make it
appear, with how much diffidence and caution we
are to read their works, when they treat a subject
of so much obscurity, and so very ancient, as is this
of satire.
Having thus brought down the history of Satire
from its original to the times of Horace, and shown
the several changes of it, I should here discover
some of those graces which Horace added to it, but
that I think it will be more proper to defer that un-
dertaking, till I make the comparison betwixt him
and Juvenal. In the mean while, following the
order of time, it will be necessary to say somewhat
of another kind of satire, which also was descended
from the ancients ; it is that which we call the Var-
ronian satire, (but which Varro himself calls the
Menippean,) because Varro, the most learned of the
Romans, was the first author of it, who imitated, in
his works, the manner of Menippus the Gadarenian,
who professed the philosophy of the Cynicks.
This sort of satire was not only composed of se-
62. ESSAY ON SATIRE.
veral sorts of verse, like those of Ennius, but was
also mixed with prose; and Greek was sprinkled
amongst the Latin. Quintilian, after he had spoken
of the satire of Lucilius, adds what follows ; " There
is another and former kind of satire, composed by
Terentius Varro, the most learned of the Romans ;
in which he was not satisfied alone with mingling
in it several sorts of verse." The only difficulty of
this passage is, that Quintilian tells us, that this
satire of Varro was of a former kind. For how can
we possibly imagine this to be, since Varro, who was
contemporary to Cicero, must consequently be af-
ter Lucilius ? But Quintilian meant not, that the sa- ,
tire of Varro was in order of time before Lucilius;
he would only give us to understand, that the Var-
jonian satire, with mixture of several sorts of verses,
was more after the manner of Ennius and Pacuvius,
than that of Lucilius, who was more severe, and
more correct ; and gave himself less liberty in the
mixture of his verses in the same poem.
We have nothing remaining of those Varronian
satires, excepting some inconsiderable fragments,
and those for the most part much corrupted. Ihe
titles of many of them are indeed preserved, and
they are generally double ; from whence, at least,
we may understand, how many various subjects
were treated by that author. Tully, in his " Aca-
demics," introduces Varro himself giving us some
light concerning the scope and design of those
works. Wherein, after he had shown his reasons
why he did not tx professo write of philosophy, he
adds what follows : " Notwithstanding," says he,
" that those pieces of mine, wherein I have, imita-
ted Menippus, though I have not translated him,
are sprinkled with a kind of mirth and gaiety, yet
many things are there inserted, which are drawn
from the very entrails of philosophy, and many
ESSAY ON SATIRE. 63
things severely argued ; which I have mingled with
pleasantries on purpose, that they may more easily
go down with the common sort of unlearned read-
ers.' The rest of the sentence is so lame, that we
can only make thus much out of it, that in the
composition of his satires, he so tempered philology
with philosophy, that his work was a mixture of
them both.* And Tully himself confirms us in this
opinion, when a little after he addresses himself to
Varro in these words :- " And you yourself have
composed a most elegant and complete poem ; you
have begun philosophy in many places; sufficient
to incite us, though too little to instruct us." Thus
it appears, that Varro was one of those writers whom
they called <nr*loy*Koioi, studious of laughter ; and
that, as learned as he was, his business was more to
divert his reader, than to teach him. And he enti-
tled his own satires Menippean ; not that Menip-
pus hail written any satires, (for his were either dia-
logues or epistles,) but that Varro imitated his style,
his manner, his facetiousness. All that we know
farther of Menippus and his writings, which are
wholly lost, is, that by some he is esteemed, as,
amongst the rest, by Varro ; by others he is noted
of cynical impudence, and obscenity : that he was
much given to those parodies, which I have already
mentioned ; that is, he often quoted the verses of
Homer and the tragic poets, and turned their seri-
* The original runs thus: " Et tanien in illis veteribus nostrls
quiz Menippum imitati, non interprttati, quadam hilaritute conspersi-
miis, inultu ad mis a ex intima pldlosophia, mnlta dicta dialectics, qiuE
quo fiicilius minus docti intelligerent jucunditate quadain ad legendum
invituti ; in laudationibus, in Us ipsis antiquitatum procendis, philoso-
p/tice scribere volutmus si modo consecuti swnus." Academic, lib. iii.
sect. 2. The sense of the last clause seems to be, that Varro had
attempted, even in panegyrics, and studied imitations of the ancient
satirists, to write philosophically, although he modestly affects to
doubt of his having been able to accomplish his purpose.
64 ESSAY ON SATIRE.
ous meaning into something that was ridiculous ;
whereas Varro's satires are by Tully called absolute,
and most elegant, and various poems. Lucian, who
was emulous of this Menippus, seems to have imif
tated both his manners and his style in many of his
dialogues ; where Menippus himself is often intro-
duced as a speaker in them, and as a perpetual buf-
foon ; particularly his character is expressed in the
beginning of that dialogue, which is called Ntxuo-
pctYTia.. But Varro, in imitating him, avoids his im-
pudence and filthiness, and only expresses his witty
pleasantry.
This we may believe for certain, that as his sub-
jects were various, so most of them were tales or
stories of his own invention. Which is also mani-
fest from antiquity, by those authors who are ac-
knowledged to have written Varronian satires, in
imitation of his ; of whom the chief is Petronius
Arbiter, whose satire, they say, is now printed in
Holland, wholly recovered, and made complete:
when it is made public, it will easily be seen by any
one sentence, whether it be supposititious, or ge-
nuine. * Many of Lucian's dialogues may also pro-
perly be called Varronian satires, particularly his
True History ; and consequently the " Golden Ass"
of Apuleius, which is taken from him. Of the same
stamp is the mock deification of Claudius, by Se-
neca : and the Symposium or " Caesars" of Julian, the
Emperor. Amongst the moderns, we may reckon the
" Encomium Moriae" of Erasmus, Barclay's " Euphor-
mio," and a volume of German authors, which my
ingenious friend, Mr Charles Killegrew, once lent
me. f In the English, I remember none which
* This pretended continuation of Petronius Arbiter was pub-
lished at Paris in 1693, and proved to be a forgery by one Nodot,
a Frenchman.
f Perhaps the Satires of Raiibner.
ESSAY ON SATIRE. (J5
are mixed with prose, as Varro's were ; but of the
same kind is " Mother Hubbard's Tale" in Spenser;
and (if it be not too vain to mention any thing of my
own,) the poems of " Absalom" and " Mac Flecnoe." *
This is what I have to say in general of satire:
only, as Dacier has observed before me, we may
take notice, that the word satire is of a more gene-
ral signification in Latin, than in French, or Eng-
lish For amongst the Romans it was not only
used for those discourses which decried vice, or ex-
posed folly, but for others also, where virtue was
recommended. But in our modern languages we
apply it only to invective poems, where the very
name of satire is formidable to those persons, who
would appear to the world what they are not in
themselves ; for in English, to say satire, is to mean
reflection, as we use that word in the worst sense ;
or as the French call it, more properly, medisance.
In the criticism of spelling, it ought to be with /,
and not with y, to distinguish its true derivation
from satura, not from satyrus. And if this be so,
then it is false spelled throughout this book ; for
here it is written ^ATYR : which having not consi-
dered at the first, I thought it not worth correcting
afterwards. But the French are more nice, and
never spell it any other way than SATIRE.
I am now arrived 'at the most difficult part of my
undertaking, which is, to compare Horace with
Juvenal and Persius. It is observed by Rigaltius,
in his pretace betore Juvenal, written to Thuanus,
* From this classification we may infer, that Dryden's idea of a
Varronian satire was, that, instead of being merely didactic, it
comprehended a fable or series of imaginary and ludicrous inci-
dents, in which the author engaged the objects of his satire. Such
be.ing his definition, it is surprising he should have forgotten Hu-
dibras, the best satire of this kind that perhaps ever was written ;
but this he afterwards apologizes for, as a slip of an old man's me-
mory.
VOL. XIII. E
66 ESSAT ON SATIRE.
that these three poets have all their particular par-
tisans, and favourers. Every commentator, as he has
taken pains with any of them, thinks himself ob-
liged to prefer his author to the other two ; to find
out their failings, and decry them, that he may
make room for his own darling. * Such is the par-
tiality of mankind, to set up that interest which
they have once espoused, though it be to the pre-
judice of truth, morality, and common justice ; and
especially in the productions of the brain. As au-
thors generally think themselves the best poets, be-
cause they cannot go out of themselves to judge
sincerely of their betters ; so it is with critics, who,
having first taken a liking to one of these poets,
proceed to comment on him, and to illustrate him ;
after which, they fall in love with their own la-
bours, to that degree of blind fondness, that at
length they defend and exalt their author, not so
much for his sake as for their own. It is a folly of
the same nature, with that of the Romans them-
selves ; in the games of the Circus. The spectators
were divided in their factions, betwixt the Veneti
and the Prasini; some were for the charioteer in
blue, and some for him in green. The colours
themselves were but a fancy ; but when once a man
had taken pains to set out those of his party, and
had been at the trouble of procuring voices for them,
the case was altered ; he was concerned for his own
labour, and that so earnestly, that disputes and
* Horatii Persiique Satyras Isaacus Casaubonus et Daniel Hein-
sius certatim laitdibvs extulere, ac Persium Hie suum tantopere
adornarit, ut nihil Horatio, nihil JuTcnali prxter indignationem
reliquisse videatur ; hie verb Horatium curiose considerando tarn
admirabilem esse docuit, ut plerisque jam in Persia nimia Stoici
supercilii morositas jure displiceat. Jubenalis ingenium ambo qui-
dem ccrti laudarcrunt, sic tamen ut in eo scepe etiam Rhetoricce
arrogantice quasi hsciviam, ac denique declamationem potitis quam
Satyram esse pronunciavervnt.
ESSAY ON SATIRE. 67
quarrels, animosities, commotions, and bloodshed,
often happened ; and in the declension of the Gre-
cian empire, the very sovereigns themselves enga-
ged in it, even when the barbarians were at their
doors ; and stickled for the preference of colours,
when the safety of their people was in question. I
am now myself on the brink of the same precipice ;
I have spent some time on the translation of Juve-
nal and Persius ; and it behoves me to be wary,
lest, for that reason, I should be partial to them, or
take a prejudice against Horace. Yet, on the other
side, I would not be like some of our judges, who
would give the cause for a poor man, right or
wrong ; for though that be an error on the better
hand, yet it is still a partiality : and a rich man, un-
heard, cannot be concluded an oppressor. I remem-
ber a saying of King Charles II. on Sir Matthew
Hale, (who was doubtless an uncorrupt and upright
man,) that his servants were sure to be cast on a trial,
which was heard before him ; not that he thought
the judge was possibly to be bribed, but that his
integrity might be too scrupulous ; and that the
causes of the crown were always suspicious, when
the privileges of subjects were concerned.*
* North has left the following account of this great lawyer's
prejudices. " He was an upright judge, if taken within himself;
and when he appeared, as he often did, and really was, partial, his
inclination or prejudice, insensibly to himself, drew his judgment
aside. His bias lay strangely for, and against, characters and de-
nominations ; and sometimes, the very habits of persons. If one
party was a courtier, and well dressed, and the other a sort of
puritan, with a black cap and plain clothes, he insensibly thought
the justice of the cause with the latter. If the dissenting, or anti-
court party was at the back of a cause, he was very seldom impar-
tial ; and the loyalists had always a great disadvantage before him.
And he ever sat hard upon his lordship, in his practice, in causes
of that nature, as may be observed in the cases of Cuts and Picker-
ing, just before, and of Soams and Bernardiston elsewheie, related,
S ESSAY ON SATIRE.
It had been much fairer, if the modern critics, who
have em harked in the quarrels of their favourite
authors, had rather given to each his proper due ;
without taking from another's heap, to raise their
own. There is praise enough for each of them in
particular, without encroaching on his fellows, and
detracting from them, or enriching themselves with
the spoils of others. But to come to particulars.
Heinsius and Dacier are the most principal of those,
who raise Horace above Juvenal and Persius. Sca-
liger the father, Rigaltius, and many others, de-
base Horace, that they may set up Juvenal ; and
Casaubon, j~ who is almost single, throws dirt on
Juvenal and Horace, that he may exalt Persius,
whom he understood particularly well, and better
than any of his former commentators ; even Stelluti,
who succeeded him. I will begin with him, who, in
my opinion, defends the weakest cause, which is that
of Persius ; and labouring, as Tacitus professes of
his own writing, to divest myself of partiality, or
prejudice, consider Persius, not as a poet whom I
have wholly translated, and who has cost me more
labour and time than Juvenal, but according to
what I judge to be his own merit ; which I think
not equal, in the main, to that of Juvenal or Ho-
race, and yet in some things to be preferred to both
of them.
First, then, for the verse ; neither Casaubon him-
self, nor any for him, can defend either his numbers,
It is said he was once caught. A courtier, who had a cause to be
tried before him, got one to go to him, as from the king, to speak
for favour to his adversary, and so carried his point ; tor the Chief
Justice could not think any person to be in the right, that carne so
unduly recommended." Life of Lord Keeper Guilford, p. 6l.
. f Casaubon published an edition of " Persius," with notes, and
a commentary. Francesco Stelluti's version was published at
Rome in 1630.
ESSAY ON SATIRE. $9
or the purity of his Latin. Casaubon gives this
point for lost, and pretends not to justify either
the measures, or the words of Persius ; he is evi-
dently beneath Horace and Juvenal in both.
Then, as his verse is scabrous, and hobbling, and
his words not every where well chosen, the purity
of Latin being more corrupted than in the time of
Juvenal, * and consequently of Horace, who writ
when the language was in the height of its perfec-
tion, so his diction is hard, his figures are generally
too bold and daring, and his tropes, particularly his
metaphors,, insufferably strained.
In the third place, notwithstanding all the dili-
gence of Casaubon, Stelluti, and a Scotch gentle-
man, f whom I have heard extremely commended
for his illustrations of him, yet he is still obscure :
whether he affected not to be understood, but with
difficulty ; or whether the fear of his safety under
Nero compelled him to this darkness in some places ;
or that it was occasioned by his close way of think-
ing, and the brevity of his style, and crowding of
his figures ; or lastly, whether, after so long a time,
many of his words have been corrupted, and many
customs, and stories relating to them, lost to us :
whether some of these reasons, or all, concurred to
render him so cloudy, we may be bold to affirm,
that the best of commentators can but guess at his
meaning, in many passages ; and none can be cer-
tain that he has divined rightly.
* This is a strange mistake in an author, who translated Per-
sius entirely, and great part of Juvenal. The satires of Persius
were written during the reign of Nero, and those of Juvenal in that
of Domitian. This error is the more extraordinary, .as Dryden
mentions, a little lower, the very emperors under whom these poets
flourished.
t David Wedderburn of Aberdeen, whose edition of " Persius,^
with a commentary, was published in Svo. at Amsterdam, l66'4.
70 ESSAY ON SATIRE.
After all, he was a young man, like his friend
and contemporary Lucan ; both of them men of ex-
traordinary parts, and great acquired knowledge,
considering their youth : * But neither of them had
arrived to that maturity of judgment, which is ne-
cessary to the accomplishing of a formed poet. And
this consideration, as, on the one hand, it lays some
imperfections to their charge, so, on the other side,
it is a candid excuse for those failings, which are
incident to youth and inexperience ; and we have
more reason to wonder how they, who died before
the thirtieth year of their age, could write so well,
and think so strongly, than to accuse them of those
faults, from which human nature, and more especi-
ally in youth, can never possibly be exempted.
To consider Persius yet more closely : he rather
insulted over vice and folly, than exposed them,
like Juvenal and Horace ; and as chaste and mo-
dest as he is esteemed, it cannot be denied, but that
in some places he is broad and fulsome, as the latter
verses of the fourth Satire, and of the sixth, suffici-
ently witnessed. And it is to be believed that he
who commits the same crime often, and without
necessity, cannot but do it with some kind of plea-
sure.
To come to a conclusion : he is manifestly below
Horace, because he borrows most of his greatest
beauties from him ; and Casaubon is so far from
denying this, that he has written a treatise purpose-
ly concerning it ; wherein he shews a multitude of
his translations from Horace, and his imitations of
him, for the credit of his author; which he calls
Imitatio Horatiana. *
* Persius died in his 30th year, in the 8th year of Nero's reign,
Lucan died before he was twenty-seven.
t Casaubon's edition is accompanied, " Cum Persiana JJoratii
imitatione,"
ESSAY ON SATIRE. 7*1
To these defects, which I casually observed, while
I was translating this author, Scaliger has added
others ; he calls him, in plain terms, a silly writer,
and a trifler, full of ostentation of his learning, and,
after all, unworthy to come into competition with
Juvenal and Horace.
After such terrible accusations, it is time to hear
what his patron Casaubon can allege in his de-
fence. Instead of answering, he excuses for the
most part ; and, when he cannot, accuses others of
the same crimes He deals with Scaliger, as a
modest scholar with a master. He compliments
him with so much reverence, that one would swear
he feared him as much at least as he respected him.
Scaliger will not allow Persius to have any wit;
Casaubon interprets this in the mildest sense, and
confesses his author was not good at turning things
into a pleasant ridicule ; or, in other words, that he
was not a laughable writer. That he was ineptus,
indeed, but that was non aptlssimus ad jocandum ;
but that he was ostentatious of his learning, that,
by Scaliger's good favour, he denies. Persius shew-
ed his learning, but was no boaster of it; he did
ostendere, but not ostentare; and so, he says, did
Scaliger : where, methinks, Casaubon turns it hand-
somely upon that supercilious critic, and silently
insinuates that he himself was sufficiently vain-glo-
rious, and a boaster of his own knowledge. All the
writings of this venerable censor, continues Casau-
bon, which are xpvn xfw'oTtpa., more golden than
gold itself, are every where smelling of that thyme,
which, like a bee, he has gathered from ancient
authors ; but far be ostentation and vain-glory
from a gentleman so well born, and so nobly edu-
cated as Scaliger. But, says Scaliger, he is so ob-
scure, that he has got himself the name of Scotinus,
a dark writer ; now, says Casaubon, it is a wonder
72 ESSAY ON SATIRE.
to me that any thing could be obscure to the divine
wit of Scaliger, from which nothing could be hid-
den. This is indeed a strong compliment, but no
defence ; and Casaubon, who could not but be
sensible of his author's blind side, thinks it time to
abandon a post that was untenable. He acknow-
ledges that Persius is obscure in some places ; but
so is Plato, so is Thucydides ; so are Pindar, Theo-
critus, and Aristophanes, amongst the Greek poets;
and even Horace and Juvenal, he might have ad-
ded, amongst the Romans. The truth is, Persius
is not sometimes, but generally, obscure ; and there-
fore Casaubon, at last, is forced to excuse him, by
alledging that it was se defendendo, for fear of Nero ;
and that he was commanded to write so cloudily by
Cornutus, *in virtue of holy obedience to his master.
I cannot help my own opinion ; I think Cornutus
needed not to have read many lectures to him on
that subject. Persius was an apt scholar ; and when
he was bidden to be obscure in some places, where
his life and safety were in question, took the same
counsel for all his books ; and never afterwards
wrote ten lines together clearly. Casaubon, being
upon this chapter, has not failed, we may be sure,
of making a compliment to his own dear comment.
If Persius, says he, be in himself obscure, yet my
interpretation has made him intelligible. There is
no question but he deserves that praise, which he
has given to himself ; but the nature of the thing,
as Lucretius says, will not admit of a perfect ex-
planation. Besides many examples which I could
urge, the very last verse of his last satire, upon which
he particularly values himself in his preface, is not
yet sufficiently explicated. It is true, Holyday has
* A Stoip philosopher to whom Persius addresses his 5th atire,
ESSAY ON SATIRE. 73
endeavoured to justify his construction ; but STtel-
luti is against it ; and, tor my part, I can have but
a very dark notion of it As for the chastity of his
thoughts, Casaubon denies not but that one parti-
cular passage, in the fourth satire, At si unctus cesses,
&c. is not only the most obscure, but the most ob-
scene of all his works. I understood it ; but for that
reason turned it over. In defence of his boisterous
metaphors, he quotes Longinus, who accounts them
as instruments of the sublime ; fit to move and stir
up the affections, particularly in narration. To which
it may be replied, that where the trope is far fetch-
ed and hard, it is fit for nothing but to puzzle the
understanding ; and may be reckoned amongst
those things of Demosthenes which ^Eschines call-
ed $.vp.a.Tct, not /^ara, that is, prodigies, not words.
It must be granted to Casaubon, that the know-
ledge of many things is lost in our modem ages,
which were of familiar notice to the ancients ; and
that satire is a poem of a difficult nature in itself)
and is not written to vulgar readers : and through
the relation which it has to comedy, the frequent
change of persons makes the sense perplexed, when
we can but divine who it is that speaks ; whether
Persius himself) or his friend and monitor; or, in
some places, a third person. But Casaubon comes
back always to himself, and concludes, that if Per-
sius had not been obscure, there had been no need
of him for an interpreter. Yet when he had once
enjoined himself so hard a task, he then considered
the Greek proverb, that he must ^xaVe? paye^ pj
fzyetv, either eat the whole snail, or let it quite
alone ; and so he went through with his labori-
ous task, as I have done with my difficult trans-
lation.
Thus far, my lord, you see it has gone very hard
74 ESSAY ON SATIRE.
with Persius : I think he cannot be allowed to
stand in competition either with Juvenal or Ho-
race. Yet for once I will venture to be so vain, as
to affirm, that none of his hard metaphors, or forced
expressions, are in my translation. But more of this
in its proper place, where I shall say somewhat in
particular, of our general performance, in making
these two authors English. In the mean time, I
think myself obliged to give Persius his undoubted
due, and to acquaint the world, with Casaubon, in
what he has equalled, and in what excelled, his two
competitors.
A man who is resolved to praise an author, with
any appearance of justice, must be sure to take him
on the strongest side, and where he is least liable
to exceptions. He is therefore obliged to chuse his
mediums accordingly. Casaubon, who saw that
Persius could not laugh with a becoming grace,
that he was not made for jesting, and that a merry
conceit was not his talent, turned his feather, like
an Indian, to another light, that he might give it
the better gloss. Moral doctrine, says he, and ur-
banity, or well-mannered wit, are the two things
which constitute the Roman satire ; but of the two,
that which is most essential to this poem, and is, as
it were, the very soul which animates it, is the
scourging of vice, and exhortation to virtue. Thus
wit, for a good reason, is already almost out of
doors ; and allowed only for an instrument, a kind
of tool, or a weapon, as he calls it, of which the
satirist makes use in the compassing of his design.
The end and aim of our three rivals is consequent-
ly the same. But by what methods they have prose-
cuted their intention, is farther to be considered.
Satire is of the nature of moral philosophy, as being
instructive : he, therefore, who instructs most use*
ESSAY ON SATIRE. 75
fully, will carry the palm from his two antagonists.
The philosophy in which Persius was educated, and
which he professes through his whole book, is the
Stoick ; the most nohle, most generous, most bene-
ficial to human kind, amongst all the sects, who
have given us the rules of ethics, thereby to form
a severe virtue in the soul ; to raise in us an un-
daunted courage against the assaults of fortune ;
to esteem as nothing the things that are without
us, because they are not in our power ; not to value
riches, beauty, honours, fame, or health, any farther
than as conveniencies, and so many helps to living
as we ought, and doing good in our generation : in
short, to be always happy, while we possess our
minds with a good conscience, are free from the
slavery of vices, and conform our actions and con-
versations to the rules of right reason. See here,
my lord, an epitome of Epictetus ; the doctrine of
Zeno, and the education of our Persius : and this
he expressed, not only in all his satires, but in the
manner of his life. I will not lessen this commen-
dation of the Stoick philosophy, by giving you an
account of some absurdities in their doctrine, and
some perhaps impieties, if we consider them by the
standard of Christian faith. Persius has fallen into
none of them ; and therefore is free from those im-
putations. What he teaches might be taught from
pulpits, with more profit to the audience, than all
the nice speculations of divinity, and controversies
concerning faith ; which are more for the profit of
the shepherd, than for the edification of the flock.
Passions, interest, ambition, and all their bloody
consequences of discord, and of war, are banished
from this doctrine. Here is nothing proposed but
the quiet and tranquillity of the mind ; virtue lod-
ged at home, and afterwards diffused in her general
76 ESSAY ON SATIRE.
effects, to the improvement and good of human
kind. And therefore I wonder not that the pre-
sent Bishop of Salisbury * has recommended this our
author, and the Tenth Satire of Juvenal, in his Pas-
toral Letter, to the serious perusal and practice of
the divines in his diocese, as the best common-places
for their sermons, as the store-houses and magazines
of moral virtues, from whence they may draw out,
as they have occasion, all manner of assistance for
the accomplishment of a virtuous life, which the
stoicks have assigned for the great end and perfec-
tion of mankind. Herein then it is, that Persius
has excelled both Juvenal and Horace. He sticks
to his own philosophy ; he shifts not sides, like
Horace, who is sometimes an Epicurean, sometimes
a Stoick, sometimes an Eclectic, as his present hu-
mour leads him ; nor declaims like Juvenal against
vices, more like an orator, than a philosopher. Per-
sius is every where the same ; true to the dogmas
of his master. What he has learnt, he teaches ve-
hemently ; and what he teaches, that he practises
himself. There is a spirit of sincerity in all he says ;
you may easily discern that he is in earnest, and is
persuaded of that truth which he inculcates. In
this I am of opinion that he excels Horace, who is
commonly in jest, and laughs while he instructs ;
and is equal to Juvenal, who was as honest and se-
rious as Persius, and more he could not be.
Hitherto I have followed Casaubon, and enlar-
ged upon him, because I am satisfied that he says
no more than truth ; the rest is almost all frivolous.
For he says that Horace, being the son of a tax-
* The famous Gilbert Burnet, the Buzzard of our author'^
" Hind and Panther," but for whom he seeras now disposed to e*
tertain some respect.
ESSAY ON SATIRE. 77
gatherer, or a collector, as we call it, smells every
where of the meanness of his birth and education :
his conceipts are vulgar,' like the subjects of his
satires ; that he does plebeium sapere, and writes
not with that elevation, which becomes a satirist :
that Persius, being nobly born, and of an opulent
family, had likewise the advantage of a better mas-
ter ; Cornutus being the most learned of his time,
a man of the most holy life, the chief of the Stoick
sect at Rome, and not only a great philosopher,
but a poet himself, and in probability a coadjutor
of Persius: that, as for Juvenal, he was long a
declaimer, came late to poetry, and has not been
much conversant in philosophy.
It is granted that the father of Horace was li-
bertinus, that is, one degree removed from his grand-
father, who had been once a slave. But Horace,
speaking of him, gives him the best character of a
father, which I ever read in history ; and I wish a
witty friend of mine, now living, had such another. *
He bred him in the best school, and with the best
company of young noblemen ; and Horace, by his
gratitude to his memory, gives a certain testimony
that his education was ingenuous. After this, he form-
ed himself abroad, by the conversation of great men.
Brutus found him at Athens, and was so pleased
with him, that he took him thence into the army,
* Dryden alludes to the beautiful description which Horace ha*
given of his father's paternal and watchful affection in the 6th
Satire of the 1st Book. Wycherley, the friend for whom he
wishes a father of equal tenderness, after having been gayest of
the gay, applauded by theatres, and the object of a monarch's jea-
lousy, was finally thrown into jail for debt, and lay there seven
lung years, his father refusing him any assistance. And, although,
in 1697, he was probably at liberty, tor King James had interposed
in his favour and paid a great part of his debts, he continued to-
labour under pecuniary embarrassments untill his father's death,,
and even after he had succeeded to his entailed property.
73 ESSAY ON SATIRE.
and made him tribunus militum, a colonel in &
legion, which was the preferment of an old soldier.
All this was before his acquaintance with Mecasnas,
and his introduction into the court of AugustuSj
and the familiarity of that great emperor ; which,
had he not been well-bred before, had been enough
to civilize his conversation, and render him accom-
plished and knowing in all the arts of complacency
and good behaviour; and, in short, an agreeable
companion for the retired hours and privacies of a
favourite, who was first minister. So that, upon
the whole matter, Persius may be acknowledged to
be equal with him in those respects, though better
born, and Juvenal inferior to both. If the advant-
age be any where, it is on the side of Horace ; as
much as the court of Augustus Caesar was superior
to that of Nero. As for the subjects which they
treated, it will appear hereafter, that Horace writ
not vulgarly on vulgar subjects, nor always chose
them. His style is constantly accommodated to his
subject, either high or low. If his fault be too much
lowness, that of Persius is the fault of the hardness
of his metaphors, and obscurity : and so they are
equal in the failings of their style ; where Juvenal
manifestly triumphs over both of them.
The comparison betwixt Horace and Juvenal is
more difficult ; because their forces were more
equal. A dispute has always been, and ever will
continue, betwixt the favourers of the two poets.
Non nostrum est tantas componere lites. I shall only
venture to give my own opinion, and leave it for bet-
ter judges to determine. If it be only argued in ge-
neral, uhich of them was the better poet, the victory
is already gained on the side of Horace. Virgil him-
self must yield to him in the delicacy of his turns,
his choice of words, and perhaps the purity of hi
Latin. He who says that Pindar is inimitable, is
ESSAY ON SATIRE. 79
himself inimitable in his Odes. But the contention
betwixt these two great masters, is for the prize of
Satire ; in which controversy, all the Odes and
Epodes of Horace are to stand excluded I say this,
because Horace has written many of them satyri-
cally, against his private enemies; yet these; if
justly considered, are somewhat of the nature of
the Greek Silli, which were invectives against par-
ticular sects and persons. But Horace has purged
himself of this choler, before he entered on those
discourses, which are more properly called the
Roman Satire. He has not now to do with a Lyce,
a Canidia, a Cassius Severus, or a Menas ; but is to
correct the vices and the follies of his time, and to
give the rules of a happy and virtuous life. In a
word, that former sort of satire, which is known in
England by the name of lampoon, is a dangerous
sort of weapon, and for the most part unlawful.
We have no moral right on the reputation of other
men. It is taking from them what we cannot re-
store to them. There are only two reasons, for
which we may be permitted to write lampoons ;
and I will not promise that they can always justify
us. The first is revenge, when we have been at-
fronted in the same nature, or have been any ways
notoriously abused, and can make ourselves no
other reparation. And yet we know, that, in chris-
tian charity, all offences are to be forgiven, as we
expect the like pardon for those which we daily
commit against Almighty God. And this consider-
ation has often made me tremble when I was say-
ing our Saviour's prayer ; for the plain condition of
the forgiveness which we beg, is the pardoning of
others the offences which they have done to us ;
for which reason I have many times avoided the
commission of that fault, even when I have been
Sft ESSAY ON SATIRE.
notoriously provoked. Let not this, my lord, pass
for vanity in me ; for it is truth. More libels have
been written against me, than almost any man now
living; and I had reason on my side, to have de-
fended my own innocence. I speak not of my
poetry, which I have wholly given up to the cri-
tics : let them use it as they please : posterity, per-
haps, may be more favourable to me ; for interest
and passion will lie buried in another age, and par-
tiality and prejudice be forgotten. I speak of my
morals, which have been sufficiently aspersed : that
only sort of reputation ought to be dear to every
honest man, and is to me. But let the world wit-
ness for me, that I have been often wanting to my-
self in that particular ; I have seldom answered any
scurrilous lampoon, when it was in my power to
have exposed my enemies : and, being naturally vin-
dicative, have suffered in silence, and possessed my
soul in quiet.
Any thing, though never so little, which a man
speaks of himself, in my opinion, is still too much ;
and therefore I will wave this subject, and proceed
to give the second reason which may justify a poet
when he writes against a particular person; and
that is, when he is become a public nuisance. All
those, whom Horace in his Satires, and Persius and
Juvenal have mentioned in theirs, with a brand of
infamy, are wholly such. It is an action of virtue
to make examples of vicious men. They may and
ought to be upbraided with their crimes and follies;
both for their amendment, if they are not yet in-
corrigible, and for the terror of others, to hinder
them from falling into those enormities, which they
see are so severely punished in the persons of others.
The first reason was only an excuse for revenge ;
but this second is absolutely of a poet's office to
perform : but how few lampooners are now living,
ESSAY ON SATIRE. 81
\vlio are capable of this duty ! * When they come
in my way, it is impossible sometimes to avoid read-
ing them. But, good God ! how remote they are,
in common justice, from the choice of such persons
as are the proper subject of satire! And how little
wit they bring for the support of their injustice !
The weaker sex is their most ordinary theme ; and
the best and fairest are sure to be the most severe-
ly handled. Amongst men, those who are prospe-
rously unjust, are entitled to panegyric; but afflict-
ed virtue is insolently stabbed with all manner of
reproaches ; no decency is considered, no fulsome-
ness omitted ; no venom is wanting, as far as dul-
ness can supply it : for there is a perpetual dearth
of wit ; a barrenness of good sense and entertain-
ment. The neglect of the readers will soon put an
end to this sort of scribbling. There can be no
pleasantry where there is no wit ; no impression
can be made, where there is no truth for the foun-
dation. To conclude : they are like the fruits of
the earth in this unnatural season ; the corn which
held up its head is spoiled with rankness ; but the
greater part of the harvest is laid along, and little
of good income and wholesome nourishment is re-
ceived into the barns. This is almost a digression,
I confess to your lordship ; but a just indignation
forced it from me. Now I have removed this rub-
bish, I will return to the comparison of Juvenal
and Horace.
* The abuse of personal satires, or lampoons, as they were
called, was carried to a prodigious extent in che days of Dryden,
when every man of fashion was obliged to write verses ; and those
who had neither poetry nor wit, had recourse to ribaldry and li-
belling. Some observations on these lampoons may be found pre-
fixed to the Epistle to Julian, among the pieces ascribed to Dry-
den.
VOL. XIII. F
82 ESSAY ON SATIRE.
I would willingly divide the palm betwixt them,
upon the two heads of profit and delight, which are
the two ends of poetry in general. It must be
granted, by the favourers of Juvenal, that Horace
is the more copious and profitable in his instruc-
tions of human life ; but, in my particular opinion,
which I set not up for a standard to better judge-
ments, Juvenal is the more delightful author. I
am profited by both, I am pleased with both ; but
I owe more to Horace for rny instruction, and more
to Juvenal for my pleasure. This, as I said, is my
particular taste of these two authors: they who
will have either of them to excel the other in both
qualities, can scarce give better reasons for their
opinion than I for mine. But all unbiassed readers
will conclude, that my moderation is not to be con-
demned: to such impartial men I must appeal; for
they who have already formed their judgment, may
justly stand suspected of prejudice ; and though
all who are my readers will set up to be my judges,
I enter my caveat against them, that they ought
not so much as to be of my jury ; or, if they be ad*
mitted, it is but reason that they should first hear
what I have to urge in the defence of my opinion.
That Horace is somewhat the better instructor of
the two, is proved from hence, that his instructions
are more general, Juvenal's more limited. So that,
granting that the counsels which they give are
equally good for moral use, Horace, who gives the
most various advice, and most applicable to all oc-
casions which can occur to us in the course of our
lives, as including in his discourses, not only all the
rules of morality, but also of civil conversation, is
undoubtedly to be preferred to him who is more
circumscribed in his instructions, makes them to
fewer people, and on fewer occasions, than the
other. I may be pardoned for using an old saying*
ESSAY ON SATIRE. 83
since it is true, and to the purpose : Bonum qud com-
munis, ed melius. Juvenal, excepting only his first
Satire, is in all the rest confined to the exposing of
some particular vice ; that he lashes, and there he
sticks. His sentences are truly shining and in-
structive ; but they are sprinkled- here and there.
Horace is teaching us in every line, and is perpe-
tually moral : he had found out the skill of Virgil,
to hide his sentences; to give you the virtue of
them, without shewing them in their full extent ;
which is the ostentation of a poet, and not his art :
and this Petronius charges on the authors of his
time, as a vice of writing which was then growing
on the age : ne sent entice extra corpus orationis
emineant : he would have them weaved into the bo-
dy of the work, and not appear embossed upon it,
and striking directly on the reader's view. Folly
was the proper quarry of Horace, and .not vice;
and as there are but few notoriously wicked men,
in comparison with a shoal of fools and fops, so it
is a harder thing to make a man wise than to make
him honest ; for the will is only to be reclaimed in
the one, but the understanding is to M&e informed
in the other. There are blind sides and follies,
even in the professors of moral philosophy ; and
there is not any one sect of them that Horace has
not exposed : which, as it was not the design of
Juvenal, who was wholly employed in lashing vi-
jces, some of them the most enormous that can be
imagined, so, perhaps, it was not so much his talent.
Omne vafer vitium ridenti Flaccus amico
Tangit, et admissus circuni prcecordia ludit.
This was the commendation which Persius grave him :
^j
where, by vitium, he means those little vices which
we call follies, the defects of human understanding,
or, at most, the peccadillos of life, rather than the
tragical vices, to which men are hurried by their un-
8i ESSAY ON SATIRE.
ruly passions and exorbitant desires. But, in the
Avord omiie, which is universal, he concludes with
nie, thatjbhe divine wit of Horace left nothing un-
touched; that he entered into the inmost recesses
of nature; found out the imperfections even of the
most wise and grave, as well as of the common
people ; discovering, even in the great Trebatius,
to whom he addresses the first Satire, his hunting
after business, and following the court, as well as
in the persecutor Crispinus, his impertinence and
importunity. It is true, he exposes Crispinus open-
ly, as a common nuisance ; but he rallies the other,
as a friend, more finely. The exhortations of Per-
sius are confined to noblemen ; and the stoick phi-
losophy is that alone which he recommends to
them ; Juvenal exhorts to particular virtues, as they
are opposed to those vices against which he de-
claims ; but Horace laughs to shame all follies, and
insinuates virtue, rather by familiar examples than
by the severity of precepts.
This last consideration seems to incline the ba-
lance on the side of Horace, and to give him the
preference .to Juvenal, not only in profit, but in
pleasure. But, after all, I must confess, that the
delight which Horace gives me is but languishing.
Be pleased still to understand, that I speak of my
own taste only : he may ravish other men ; but I
am too stupid and insensible to be tickled. Where
he barely grins himself, and, as Scaliger says, only
shows his white teeth, he cannot provoke me to anyg
laughter. His urbanity, that is, his good manners,
are to be commended, but his wit is faint; and his
salt, if I may dare to say so, almost insipid. Juvenal
is of a more vigorous and masculine wit ; he gives me
as much pleasure as I can bear ; he fully satisfies my
expectation; he treats his subject home : his spleen is
raised, and he raises mine : i have the pleasure of
ESSAY ON SATIRE. 85
concernment in all he says; he drives his reader
along with him ; and when he is at the end of his
way, I willingly stop with him. If he went another
stage, it would be too far; it would make a journey
of a progress, and turn delight into fatigue. When
he gives over, it is a sign the subject is exhausted,
and the wit -of man can carry it no farther. If a
fault can be justly found in him, it is, that he is
sometimes too luxuriant, too redundant ; says more
than he needs, like my friend the P lam- Dealer, *
but never more than pleases. Add to this, that his
thoughts are as just as those of Horace, and much
more elevated. His expressions are sonorous and
more noble ; his verse more numerouSj and his
words are suitable to his thoughts, sublime and
lofty. All these contribute to the pleasure of the
reader ; and the greater the soul of him who reads,
his transports are the greater. Horace is always
on the amble, Juvenal on the gallop ; but his way
is perpetually on carpet-ground. He goes with
more impetuosity than Horace, but as securely;
and the swiftness adds a more lively agitation to
the spirits. The low style of Horace is according to
his subject, that is, generally grovelling. I question
not but he could have raised it ; for the first epistle
of the second book, which he writes to Augustus,
(a most instructive satire concerning poetry,) is of
so much dignity in the words, and of so much ele-
gancy in the numbers, that the author plainly
shows, the sermo pedestris, in his other Satires, was
rather his choice than his necessity. He was a ri-
val to Lucilius, his predecessor, and was resolved to
surpass him in his own manner. Lucilius, as we
see by his remaining fragments, minded neither his
* Wycherlcy, author of the witty comedy so called.
8(5 ESSAY ON SATIRE.
style, nor his numbers, nor his purity of words, nor
his run of verse. Horace therefore copes with him
in that humble way of satire, writes under his own
force, and carries a dead-weight, that he may match
his competitor in the race. This, I imagine, was
the chief reason why he minded only the clearness
of his satire, and the cleanness of expression, with-
out ascending to those heights to which his own
vigour might have carried him. But, limiting his
desires only to the conquest of Lucilius, he had his
ends of his rival, who lived before him ; but madp
way for a new conquest over himself, by Juvenal,
his successor. He could not give an equal plea-
sure to his reader, because he used not equal instru-
ments. The fault was in the tools, and not in the
workman. But versification and numbers are the
greatest pleasures of poetry : Virgil knew it, and prac-
tised both so happily, that, for aught I know, his
greatest excellency is in his diction. In all other
parts of poetry, he is faultless ; but in this he placed
his chief perfection. And give me leave, my lord,
since I have here an apt occasion, to say, that Virgil
could have written sharper satires than either Horace
or Juvenal, if he would have employed his talent that
way. I will produce a verse and half of his, in one
of his Eclogues, to justify my opinion ; and with
commas after every word, to show, that he has gi-
ven almost as many lashes as he has written sylla-
bles : it is against a bad poet, whose ill verses he
describes :
-non til, in triviis, indoctc, solebas
Stridenti, miserum, stipuld, disperdere carmen ?
But, to return to my purpose. When there is any
thing deficient in numbers and sound, the reader is
uneasy and unsatisfied ; he wants something of his
complement, desires somewhat which he finds not :
and this being the manifest defect of Horace, it is
ESSAY ON SATIRE. g~
no wonder that, finding it supplied in Juvenal, we
are more delighted with him. And, besides this, the
sauce of Juvenal is more poignant, to create in us
an appetite of reading him. The meat of Horace
is more nourishing ; but the cookery of Juvenal
more exquisite : so that, granting Horace to be the
more general philosopher, we cannot deny that Ju-
venal was the greater poet, I mean in satire. His
thoughts are sharper ; his indignation against vice
is more vehement; his spirit has more of the com-
monwealth genius ; he treats tyranny, and all the
vices attending it, as they deserve, with the utmost
rigour : and consequently, a noble soul is better
pleased with a zealous vindicator of Roman liber-
ty, than with a temporising poet, a well-mannered
court-slave, and a man who is often afraid of laugh-
ing in the right place ; who is ever decent, because
he is naturally servile After all, Horace had the
disadvantage of the times in which he lived ; they
were better for the man, but worse for the satirist.
It is generally said, that those enormous vices
which were practised under the reign of Domitian,
were unknown in the time of Augustus Cassar ;
that therefore Juvenal had a larger field than Ho-
race. Little follies were out of doors, when op-
pression was to be scourged instead of avarice : it
was no longer time to turn into ridicule the false
opinions of philosophers, when the Roman liberty
was to be asserted. There was more need of a Bru-
tus in Domitian's days, to redeem or mend, than of
a Horace, if he had then been. living, to laugh at a
fly-catcher. * This reflection at the same time ex-
* The precise dates of Juvenal's birth and death are disputed ;
but it is certain he flourished under Domitian, famous for his
cruelty against men and insects. Juvenal was banished by the ty-
88 ESSAY ON SATIRE.
cuses Horace, but exalts Juvenal. I have ended,
before I was aware, the comparison of Horace and
Juvenal, upon the topics of instruction and delight;
and, indeed, I may safely here conclude that com-
mon-place ; for, if we make Horace our minister of
state in satire, and Juvenal of our private pleasures,
I think the latter has no ill bargain of it. Let pro-
fit have the pre-eminence of honour, in the end of
poetry. Pleasure, though but the second in de-
gree, is the first in favour. And who would not
chuse to be loved better, rather than to be more
esteemed ? But I am entered already upon another
topic, which concerns the particular merits of these
two satirists. However, I will pursue my business
where I left it, and carry it farther than that com-
mon observation of the several ages in which these
authors flourished.
When Horace writ his Satires, the monarchy
of his Caesar was in its newness, and the go-
vernment but just made easy to the conquered
people. They could not possibly have forgotten
the usurpation of that prince upon their freedom,
nor the violent methods which he had used, in the
compassing that vast design : they yet remembered
his proscriptions, and the slaughter of so many
noble Romans, their defenders : amongst the rest,
that horrible action of his, when he forced Livia
from the arms of her husband, who was constrain-
ed to see her married, as Dion relates the story,
and, big with child as she was, conveyed to the
bed of his insulting rival. The same Dion Cassius
gives us another instance of the crime before men-
tioned; that Cornelius Sisenna being reproached,
rant, in consequence of reflecting upon the actor Paris. He is
generally said to have died of grief; but Lepsius contends, that he
survived even the accession of Hadrian.
ESSAY ON SATIRE. 8$)
in full senate, with the licentious conduct of his
wife, returned this answer, " that he had married
her by the counsel of Augustus ;" intimating, says
my author, that Augustus had obliged him to that
marriage, that he might, under that covert, have
the more free access to her. His adulteries were
still before their eyes: but they must be patient
where they had not power. In other things that
emperor was moderate enough : propriety was ge-
nerally secured ; and the people entertained with
public shows and donatives, to make them more
easily digest their lost liberty. But Augustus, who
was conscious to himself of so many crimes which
he had committed, thought, in the first place, to
provide for his own reputation, by making an edict
against Lampoons and Satires, and the authors of
those defamatory writings, which my author Taci-
tus, from the law-term, calls famosos libellos.
In the first book of his Annals, he gives the fol-
lowing account of it, in these words: Primus Au-
gustus cognitionem defamosis libellis, specie legis ejus,
tractamt ; commotus Cassii Seven libidine, qua viros
jceminasque illustj'es, procadbus scriptis dijjamaverat.
Thus in English: "Augustus was the first, who
under the colour of that law took cognisance of
lampoons ; being provoked to it, by the petulancy
of Cassius Severus, who had defamed many illustri-
ous persons of both sexes, in his writings " The
law to which Tacitus refers, was Lex Icesx Majts-
tatis ; commonly called, for the sake of brevity,
Majestas ; or, as we say, high treason. He means
not, that this law had not been enacted formerly :
for it had been made by the Decemviri, and was
inscribed amongst the rest in the Twelve Tables ; to
prevent the aspersion of the Roman majesty, either
of the people themselves, or their religion, or their
90 ESSAY ON SATIRE.
magistrates : and the infringement of it was capi-
tal ; that is, the offender was whipt to death, with
the fasces, which were borne before their chief offi-
cers of Rome But Augustus was the first, who
restored that intermitted law. By the words, under
colour of that law, he insinuates that Augustus
caused it to be executed, on pretence of those
libels, which were written by Cassius Severus,
against the nobility ; but, in truth, to save himself
from such defamatory verses. Suetonius likewise
makes mention of it thus : Sparsos de se in curia
famosos libellos, nee expavit, et magnd curd redarguit.
Ac ne requisitis quidem auctoribus, id modo censuit,
cognosccndum postliac de us qui libellos aut carmina
adinfamiam cujuspiam sub alieno nomine edant. " Au-
gustus was not afraid of libels," says that author;
" yet he took all care imaginable to have them an-
swered ; and then decreed, that for the time to
come, the authors of them should be punished."
But Aurelius makes it yet more clear, according to
my sense, that this emperor for his own sake durst
not permit them : Fecit id Augustus in speciem, et
quasi gratijicaretur populo Romano, et primoribus ur-
bis ; sed revera ut sibi consuleret : nam habuit in ani-
mo, comprimere nimiani quorundam procacitatem in
loquendo, a qua nee ipse exemptus fuit. Nam suo
nomine compescere erat invidiosum, sub alieno facile et
utile. Ergo specie kgis tractavit, quasi populi Ro-
maui majestas injamaretur. This, 1 think, is a suf-
ficient comment on that passage of Tacitus. I will
add only by the way, that the whole family of the
Csesars, i.nd all their relations, were included in the
law; because the majesty of the Romans, in the
time of the empire, was wholly in that house ;
omma Ccesar erat : they were all accounted sacred
who belonged to him. As for Cassius Severus, he
was contemporary with Horace ; and was the same
ESSAY ON SATIRE. 91
poet against whom he writes in his Epodes, under
this title, In Cassium Severum maledicum poet am ;
perhaps intending to kill two crows, according to
our proverb, with one stone, and revenge both him-
self and his emperor together.
From hence I may reasonably conclude, that Au-
gustus, who was not altogether so good as he was
wise, had some by-respect in the enacting of this
law ; for to do any thing for nothing, was not his
maxim. Horace, as he was a courtier, complied
with the interest of his master ; and, avoiding the
lashing of greater crimes, confined himself to the
ridiculing of petty vices and common follies ; ex-
cepting only some reserved cases, in his Odes and
Epodes, of his own particular quarrels, which either
with permission of the magistrate, or without it,
every man will revenge, though I say not that he
should ; for prior Icesif is a good excuse in the civil
law, if Christianity had not taught us to forgive.
However, he was not the proper man to arraign
great vices, at least if the stories which we hear of
him are true, that he practised some, which I will
not here mention, out of honour to him. It was
not for a Clodius to accuse adulterers, especially
when Augustus was of that number ; so that though
his age was not exempted from the worst of vil-
lanies, there was no freedom left to reprehend
them by reason of the edict ; and our poet was not
fit to represent them in an odious character, be-
cause himself was dipt in the same actions. Upon
this account, without farther insisting on the diffe-
rent tempers of Juvenal and Horace, I conclude,
that the subjects which Horace chose for satire, are
of a lower nature than those of which Juvenal has
written.
Thus I have treated, in a new method, the com-
parison betwixt Horace, Juvenal, and Persius ;
02 ESSAY ON SATIRE.
somewhat of their particular manner belonging to
all of them is yet remaining to be considered. Per-
sins was grave, and particularly opposed his gravity
to lewdness, which was the predominant vice in
Nero's court, at the time when he published his
Satires, which was before that emperor fell into the
excess of cruelty. Horace was a mild admonisher,
a court-satirist, fit for the gentle times of Augustus,
and more fit, for the reasons which I have already
given. Juvenal was as proper for his times, as they
for theirs ; his was an age that deserved a more se-
vere chastisement ; vices were more gross and open,
more flagitious, more encouraged by the example of
a tyrant, and more protected by his authority.
Therefore, wheresoever Juvenal mentions Nero, he
means Domitian, whom he dares not attack in his
own person, but scourges him by proxy. Heinsius
urges in praise of Horace, that, according to the an-
cient art and law of satire, it should be nearer to
comedy than tragedy ; not declaiming against vice,
but only laughing at it. Neither Persius nor Juve-
nal were ignorant of this, for they had both studied
Horace. And the thing itself is plainly true. But
as they had read Horace, they had likewise read
Lucilius, of whom Persius says, secuiturbem;... et
gemiinumjrcgit inillis ; meaning Mutius and Lupus;
and Juvenal also mentions him in these words :
Ense velut stricto, quoties Lucilim ardens
Infremuit, rubet auditor, cuifrigida mens est
Criminibus, tacitd sudant pmcordia culpa.
So that they thought the imitation of Lucilius
Avas more proper to their purpose than that of
Horace. " They changed satire, (says Holyday) but
they changed it for the better ; for the business
being to reform great vices, chastisement goes
farther than admonition ; whereas a perpetual grin,
Jike that of Horace, does rather anger than amend
a man."
OS
ESSAY ON SATIRE.
Thus far that learned critic, Barten Holyda-are
whose interpretation and illustrations of Juvenal av,
as excellent, as the verse of his translation and his
English are lame and pitiful. For it is not enough
to give us the meaning of a poet, which I acknow-
ledge him to have performed most faithfully, but
he must also imitate his genius, and his numbers, as
far as the English will come up to the elegance of
the original. In few words, it is only for a poet to
translate a poem. Holyday and Stapylton f had not
enough considered this, when they attempted Ju-
venal : but I forbear reflections ; only I beg leave
to take notice of this sentence, where Holyday says,
" a perpetual grin, like that of Horace, rather an-
gers than amends a man.'' I cannot give him up
the manner of Horace in low satire so easily. Let
* The learned Barten Holyday was horn at Oxford, in the end
of the l6th century. Wood says, he was second to none for his
poetry and sublime fancy, and brings in witness his " smooth tran-
slation of rough Persius," made before he was twenty years of
age. He wrote a play called " Technogamia, or the Marriage of
the Arts," which was acted at Christ Church College, before
James I., and, though extremely dull and pedantic, was ill received
by his Majesty. Holyday's version of Juvenal was not published
till after his death, when, in 1&73, it was inscribed to the dean and
canons of Christ Church. As he had adopted the desperate reso-
lution of comprizing every Latin line within an English one, the
modern reader has often reason to complain, with the embarrassed
gentleman in the " Critic," that the interpreter is the harder to be
understood of the two.
f Sir Robert Stapylton, a gentleman of an ancient family in
Yorkshire, who followed the fortune of Charles I. in the civil war,
besides several plays and poems, published a version of Juvenal, un-
der the title of " The manners ot Men described in sixteen Satires
by Juvenal." There are two editions, the first published in l647,
and the last and most perfect in 16'60. Sir Robert Stapylton died
in l66"9. His verse is as harsh and uncouth as that of Holyday, who
indeed charged him with plagiary ; though one would have thought
the nature of the commodity would have set theft at defiance.
ESSAY ON SATIRE.
sonv chastisement of Juvenal be never so necessary
a jl his new kind of satire ; let him declaim as wit-
s Jily and sharply as he pleases ; yet still the nicest
and most delicate touches of satire consist in fine
raillery. This, my lord, is your particular talent, to
which even Juvenal could not arrive. It is not
reading, it is not imitation of an author, which can
produce this fineness ; it must be inborn ; it must
proceed from a genius, and particular way of think-
ing, which is not to be taught ; and therefore not
to be imitated by him who has it not from nature.
How easy is it to call rogue and villain, and that
wittily ! But how hard to make a man appear a fool,
a blockhead, or a knave, without using any of those
opprobrious terms! To spare the grossness of the
names, and to do the thing yet more severely, is to
draw a full face, and to make the nose and cheeks
stand out, and yet not to employ any depth of sha-
dowing. This is the mystery of that noble trade,
which yet no master can teach to his apprentice ;
he may give the rules, but the scholar is never the
nearer in his practice. Neither is it true, that this
fineness of raillery is offensive. A witty man is
tickled while he is hurt in this manner, and a fool
feels it not. The occasion of an offence may pos-
sibly be given, but he cannot take it. If it be
granted, that in effect this way does more mischief;
that a man is secretly wounded, and though he be
not sensible himself, yet the malicious world will
find it out for him ; yet there is still a vast dif-
ference betwixt the slovenly butchering of a man,
and the fineness of a stroke that separates the head
from the body, and leaves it standing in its place.
A man may be capable, as Jack Ketch's f wife said
} I presume, this celebrated finisher of the law, who bequeath-
ESSAY ON SATIRE. 95
of his servant, of a plain piece of work, a bare
banging ; but to make a malefactor die sweetly,
was only belonging to her husband. I wish 1 could
apply it to myself, if the reader would be kind
enough to think it belongs to me. The character
of Zimri in my " Absalom," is, in my opinion, worth
the whole poem : it is not bloody, but it is ridicu-
lous enough ; and he, for whom it was intended,
was too witty to resent it as an injury, j~ If I had
railed, I might have suffered for it justly ; but I
managed my own work more happily, perhaps more
dexterously. I avoided the mention of great crimes,
and applied myself to the representing of blind-
sides, and little extravagancies ; to which, the wit-
tier a man is, he is generally the more obnoxious.
It succeeded as I wished ; the jest went round, and
he was laughed at in his turn who began the frolic.
And thus, my lord, you see I have preferred the
manner of Horace, and of your lordship, in this
kind of satire, to that of Juvenal, and I think, rea-
sonably. Holyday ought not to have arraigned so
great an author, for that which was his excellency
and his merit : or if he did, on such a palpable mis-
take, he might expect that some one might possi-
bly arise, either in his own time, or after him, to
rectify his error, and restore to Horace that corn-
ed his name to his successors in office, was a contemporary of our
poet. In the time of the rebellion, that operator was called Gre-
gory, and is supposed, with; some probability, to have beheaded
Charles I. See the evidence for the prisoner in Mulct's trial after
the Restoration. State Trials, Vol. II. p. 388.
f This is a strange averment, considering the " Reflections up-
on Absalom and Achitophel, by a Person of Honour," in compo-
sing and publishing which, the Duke of Buckingham, our author's
Zimri, shewed much resentment and very little wit. See Vol. IX,
p. 272.
ESSAY ON SATIRE.
mendation, of which he has so unjustly robbed him.
And let the manes of Juvenal forgive me, if I say,
that this way of Horace was the best for amending
manners, as it is the most difficult. His was an
ense rescindendum ; but that of Horace was a plea-
sant cure, with all the limbs preserved entire ;
and, as our mountebanks tell us in their bills, with-
out keeping the patient within doors for a day.
What they promise only, Horace has effectually
performed : yet I contradict not the proposition
which I formerly advanced. Juvenal's times re-
quired a more painful kind of operation ; but if he
had lived in the age of Horace, I must needs affirm,
that he had it not about him. He took the method
which was prescribed him by his own genius, which
was sharp and eager ; he could not rally, but he
could declaim ; and as his provocations were great,
he has revenged them tragically. This notwith-
standing, I am to say another word, which, as true
as it is, will yet displease the partial admirers of our
Horace. I have hinted it before, but it is time for
me now to speak more plainly.
This manner of Horace is indeed the best ; but
Horace has not executed it altogether so happily,
at least not often. The manner of Juvenal is con-
fessed to be inferior to the former, but Juvenal has
excelled him in his performance. Juvenal has pailed
more wittily than Horace has rallied. Horace means
to make his readers laugh, but he is not sure of his
experiment. Juvenal always intends to move your
indignation, and he always brings about his pur-
pose. Horace, for aught I know, might have tick-
led the people of his age ; but amongst the mo-
derns he is not so successful. They, who say he
entertains so pleasantly, may perhaps value them-
selves on the quickness of their own understand-
ings, that they can see a jest farther off than .other
ES6AY ON SATIRE.' 97
men ; they may find occasion of laughter in the
wit- battle of the two buffoons, Sarmentus and Ci-
cerrus ; and hold their sides for fear of bursting,
when Rupilius and Persius are scolding. For my
own part, I can only like the characters of all four,
which are judiciously given ; but for my heart I
cannot so much as smile at their insipid raillery. I
see not why Persius should call upon Brutus to re-
venge him on his adversary; and that because he
had killed Julius Caesar, for endeavouring to be a
king, therefore he should be desired to murder Ru-
pilius, only because his name was Mr King.* A
miserable clench, in my opinion, for Horace to re-
cord : I have heard honest Mr Swan| make many
a better, and yet have had the grace to hold my
countenance. But it may be puns were then in
fashion, as they were wit in the sermons of the last
age, and in the court of King Charles II. I am
sorry to say it, for the sake of Horace ; but certain
it is, he has no fine palate who can feed so heartily
on garbage.
But I have already wearied myself, and doubt not
* Persius exclamat, Per magtws, Brute, deos te
Oro, qui regis consueris toilers, cur non
Hunc Regemjvgulas ? Operum hoc mihi crede tuorum est.
HOR. Satire 8. Lib. I.
f- This gentleman, who was as great a gambler as a punster, re-
galed with his quibbles the minor class of the frequenters of Will's
coffee-house, who, having neither wit enough to entitle them to
mix with the critics who associated with Dryden, and were called
The Witty Club, or gravity enough to discuss politics with those
who formed the Grave Club, were content to laugh heartily at the
puns and conundrums of Captain Swan.
VOL. XIII. G
98 ESSAY ON SATIRE.
but I have tired your lordship's patience, with this
long, rambling, and, I fear, trivial discourse. Upon
the one half of the merits, that is, pleasure, I can-
not but conclude that Juvenal was the better sa-
tirist. They, who will descend into his particular
praises, may find them at large in the Dissertation
of the learned Rigaltius to Thuanus. As for Per-
sius, I have given the reasons why I think him in-
ferior to both of them ; yet I have one thing to add
on that subject.
Barten Holyday, who translated both Juvenal and
Persius, has made this distinction betwixt them,
which is no less true than witty, that in Persius the
difficulty is to find a meaning, in Juvenal to chuse
a meaning : so crabbed is Persius, and so copious is
Juvenal ; so much the understanding is employed
in one, and so much the judgment in the other ;
so difficult it is to find any sense in the former, and
the best sense of the latter.
If, on the other side, any one suppose I have
commended Horace below his merit, when I have
allowed him but the second place, I desire him to
consider, if Juvenal, a man of excellent natural en-
dowments, besides the advantages of diligence and
study, and coming after him, and building upon his
foundations, might not probably, with all these
helps, surpass him ; and whether it be any disho-
nour to Horace to be thus surpassed, since no art or
science is at once begun and perfected, but that it
must pass first through many hands, and even through
several ages. If Lucilius could add to Ennius, and
Horace t.o Lucilius, \vl.y, without any diminution to
the fame of Horace, might not Juvenal give the last
perfection to that work ? Or, rather, what disrepu-
tation is it to Horace, that Juvenal excels in the
tragical satire, as Horace does in the comical ? 1
ESSAY ON SATIRE. 99
have read over attentively both Heinsius and Da-
cier, in their commendations of Horace ; but I can
find no more in either of them, for the preference
of him to Juvenal, than the instructive part; the
part of wisdom, and not that of pleasure ; which,
therefore, is here allowed him, notwithstanding what
Scaliger and Rigaltius have pleaded to the contrary
for Juvenal. And, to show that I am impartial, I
will here translate what Dacier has said on that sub-
ject.
" I cannot give a more just idea of the two books
of Satires made by Horace, than by comparing them
to the statues of the Sileni, to which Alcibiades com-
pares Socrates in the Symposium. They were figures,
which had nothing of agreeable, nothing of beauty,
on their out-side; but when any one took the pains
to open them, and search into them, he there found
the figures of ail the deities. So, in the shape that
Horace presents himself to us in his Satires, we see
nothing, at the first view, which deserves our atten-
tion : it seems that he is rather an amusement for
children, than for the serious consideration of men.
But, when we take away his crust, and that which
hides him from our sight, when we discover him to
the bottom, then we find all the divinities in a full
assembly ; that is to say, all the virtues which ought
to be the continual exercise of those, who seriously
endeavour to correct their vices."
It is easy to observe, that Dacier, in this noble si-
militude, has confined the praise of his author whol-
ly to the instructive part ; the commendation turns
on this, and so does that which follows.
" In these two books of satire, it is the business of
Horace to instruct us how to combat our vices, ^b
regulate our passions, to follow nature, to give
bounds to our desires, to distinguish betwixt truth
and falsehood, and betwixt our conceptions of things,
and things themselves ; to come back from our pre-
100 ESSAY ON SATIRE.
judicate opinions, to understand exactly the princi-
ples and motives of all our actions ; and to avoid
the ridicule, into which all men necessarily fall, who
are intoxicated with those notions which they have
received from their masters, and which they obsti-
nately retain, without examining whether or no
they be founded on right reason.
" Jn a word, he labours to render us happy in rela-
tion to ourselves; agreeable and faithful to our
friends ; and discreet, serviceable, and well-bred, in
relation to those with whom we are obliged to live,
and to converse. To make his figures intelligible,
to conduct his readers through the labyrinth of some
perplexed sentence, or obscure parenthesis, is no
great matter; and, as Epictetus says, there is no-
thing of beauty in all this, or what is worthy of a
prudent man. The principal business, and which is
of most importance to us, is to show the use, the
reason, and the proof of his precepts.
" They who endeavour not to correct themselves,
according to so exact a model, are just like the pa-
tients who have open before them a book of admi-
rable receipts for their diseases, and please them-
selves with reading it, without comprehending the
nature of the remedies, or how to apply them to
their cure."
Let Horace go off with these encomiums, which
he has so well deserved.
To conclude the contention betwixt our three
poets, I will use the words of Virgil, in his fifth
^Eneid, where tineas proposes the rewards of the foot-
race to the three first who should reach the goal.
Tres prtfmia primi
Accipient,jlavdque caput nectentur olivd.
Let these three ancients be preferred to all the mo-
derns, as first arriving at the goal ; let them all be
crowned, as victors, with the wreath that properly
ESSAY ON SATIRE. 101
belongs to satire ; but, after that, with this distinc-
tion amongst themselves,
Primus equum p/ialeris insignem victor habeto.
Let Juvenal ride first in triumph;
Alter Amazoniam pharetram, plenamque sagittis
Thrciciis, lato quam circumplectitur auro
JZalteus, et tereti subnectit fibula gemma.
Let Horace, who is the second, and but just the se-
cond, carry off the quivers and the arrows, as the
badges of his satire, and the golden belt, and the
diamond button;
Terthts Argolico hoc clypeo contentus abito.
And let Persius, the last of the first three worthies,
be contented with this Grecian shield, and with
victory, not only over all the Grecians, who were
ignorant of the Roman satire, but over all the mo-
derns in succeeding ages, excepting Boileau and
your lordship.
And thus I have given the history of Satire, and
derived it as far as from Knnius to your lordship ; that
is, from its first rudiments of barbarity to its last po-
lishing and perfection ; which is, with Virgil, in his
address to Augustus,
Nomenfamd tot ferre per annos,
Tithoni primd quut abcst ab origine Cccsar.
I said only from Ennius ; but I may safely carry it
higher, as far as JLivius Andronicus , who, as I have
said formerly, taught the first play at Rome, in the
year ab urbe condita cccccxiv. I have since de-
sired my learned friend, Mr Maidwell,* to compute
* Mr Lewis Maidwell, the author of a comedy called " The
Generous Enemies," represented by the Duke's company 1680.
102 ESSAY ON SATIRE.
the difference of times, betwixt Aristophanes and
Livius Andronicus ; and he assures me, from the
best chronologers, that " Plutus," the last of Aristo-
phanes's plays, was represented at Athens, in the
year of the 97th Olympiad; which agrees with the
year urbis conditce ccci xiv. So that the difference
of years betwixt Aristophanes and Andronicus is
150; from whence I have probably deduced, that
Livius Andronicus, who was a Grecian, had read
the plays of the old Comedy, which were satirical,
and also of the new; for Menander was fifty years
before him, which mu->t needs be a great light to
him in his own plays, that were of the satirical na-
ture. That the Romans had farces before this it is
true ; but then they had no communication with
Greece; so that Andronicus was the first who wrote
after the manner of the old comedy in his plays :
he was imitated by Ennius, about thirty years af-
terwards. Though the former writ fables, the lat-
ter, speaking properly, began the Roman satire ; ac-
cording to that description, which Juvenal gives of
it in his first :
2uicquid agunt homines, votum, timor, ira, voluptas,
Gaudia, discursus, nostri est farrago libelli.
This is that in which I have made bold to differ
from Casaubon, Rigaltius, Dacier, and indeed from
In the prologue, as Mr Malone informs us, there is an allusion to
Rochester's mean assault on Dryderi :
Who dares be witty now, and with just rage
Disturb the vice and follies of the age ?
With knaves and fools, satire's a dangerous fault ;
They will not let you rub their sores wita salt:
ENe Rose street umkuscades shall break your head,
And life in verse shall lay the poet dead.
It is only farther known ot this gentleman, that he was a friend of
Shad well, who gave him the epilogue for his comedy, and that he
taught a private school.
ESSAY ON SATIRE. 103
all the modern critics, that not Ennius, but An-
dronicus was the first, who, by the Archcea Co-
madia of the Greeks, added many beauties to the
first rude and barbarous Roman satire : which sort
of poem, though we had not derived from Rome,
yet nature teaches it mankind in all ages, and in
every country.
It is but necessary, that after so much has been
said of Satire, some definition of it should be given.
Heinsius, in his " Dissertations on Horace," makes
it for me, in these words : " Satire is a kind of poe-
try, without a series of action, invented for the pur-
ging of our minds ; in which human vices, ignorance,
and errors, and all things besides, which are pro-
duced from them in every man, are severely repre-
hended ; partly dramatically, partly simply, and
sometimes in both kinds of speaking; but, for the
most part, figuratively, and occultly ; consisting in
a low familiar way, chiefly in a sharp and pungent
manner of speech; but partly, also, in a facetious
and civil way of jesting ; by which either hatred, or
laughter, or indignation, is moved.'' Where I can-
not but observe, that this obscure and perplexed
definition, or rather description, of satire, is wholly
accommodated to the Horatian way ; and excluding
the works of Juvenal and Persius, as foreign from
that kind of poem. The clause in the beginning of
it (" without a series of action") distinguishes satire
properly from stage-plays, which are all of one ac-
tion, and one continued series of action. The end
or scope of satire is to purge the passions ; so far it
is common to the satires of Juvenal and Persius.
The rest which follows is also generally belonging
to all three ; till he comes upon us, with the ex-
cluding clause "consisting in a low familiar way of
speech," which is the proper character of Horace;
and from which, the other two, for their honour be
it spoken, are far distant. But how come lowness
104 ESSAY ON SATIRE.
of style, and the familiarity of words, to be so much
the propriety of satire, that without them a poet can
be no more a satirist, than without risibility he can
be a man? Is the fault of Horace to be made the
virtue and standing rule of this poem ? Is the grande
sophos * of Persius, and the sublimity of Juvenal, to
be circumscribed with the meanness of words and
vulgarity of expression ? If Horace refused the
pains of numbers, and the loftiness of figures, are
they bound to follow so ill a precedent ? Let him
walk a-foot, with his pad in his hand, for his own
pleasure; but let not them be accounted no poets,
who chuse to mount, and show their horsemanship.
Holyday is not afraid to say, that there was never
such a fall, as from his Odes to his Satires, and that
he, injuriously to himself, untuned his harp. The
majestic way of Persius and Juvenal was new when
they began it, but it is old to us ; and what poems
have not, with time, received an alteration in their
fashion? " which alteration," says Holyday, " is to
after times as good a warrant as the first," Has not
Virgil changed the manners of Homer's heroes in his
jEneid? Certainly he has, and for the better: for
Virgil's age was more civilized, and better bred;
and he writ according to the politeness of Rome,
under the reign of Augustus Caesar, not to the rude-
ness of Agamemnon's age, or the times of Homer,
Why should we offer to confine free spirits to one
form, when we cannot so much as confine our bo-
dies to one fashion of apparel ? Would not Donne's
satires, which abound with so much wit, appear
more charming, if he had taken care of his words,
and of his numbers? But he followed Horace so ve-
ry close, that of necessity he must fall with him ;
* The Roman exclamation of high contentment at a recitation,
like our bravo ! bravissimo !
ESSAY ON SATIRE. 105
and I may safely say it of this present age, that if
we are not so great wits as Donne, yet, certainly,
we are better poets.
But I have said enough, and it may be too much,
on this subject. Will your lordship be pleased to
prolong my audience, only so far, till I tell you my
-own trivial thoughts, how a modern satire should
be made. I will not deviate in the least from the
precepts and examples of the ancients, who were
always our best masters. I will only illustrate them,
and discover some of the hidden beauties in their
designs, that we thereby may form our own in imi-
tation of them. Will you please but to observe, that
Persius, the least in dignity of all the three, has not-
withstanding been the first, who has discovered to
us this important secret, in the designing of a per-
fect satire, that it ought only to treat of one sub :
ject; to be confined to one particular theme; or, at
least, to one principally. If other vices occur in the
management of the chief, they should only be tran-
siently lashed, and not be insisted on, so as to make
the design double. As in a play of the English fa-
shion, which we call a tragi-comedy, there is to be
but one main design ; and though there be an un-
derplot, or second walk of comical characters and
adventures, yet they are subservient to the chief
fable, carried along under it, and helping to it; so
that the drama may not seem a monster with two
heads. Thus, the Copernican system of the planets
makes the moon to be moved by the motion of the
earth, and carried about her orb, as a dependent of
her's. Mascardi, in his discourse of the Doppia fa-
vola, or double tale in plays, gives an instance of it
in the famous pastoral of Guarini, called // Pastor
Fido ; where Corisca and the Satyr are the under
parts ; yet we may observe, that Corisca is brought
into the body of the plot, and made subservient to
it. It is certain, that the divine wit of Horace was
106 ESSAY ON SATIRE.
not ignorant of this rule, that a play, though it con-
sists of many parts, must yet be one in the action,
and must drive on the accomplishment of one de-
sign ; for he gives this very precept, Sit quody'is sim-
plex duntaxat et tinum ; yet he seems not much to
mind it in his Satires, many of them consisting of
more arguments than one; and the second without
dependence on the first. Casaubon has observed
this before me, in his preference of Persius to Ho-
race ; and will have his own beloved author to be
the first who found out and introduced this method
of confining himself to one subject. I know it may
be urged in defence of Horace, that this unity is not
necessary ; because the very word satura signifies
a dish plentifully stored with all variety of fruit and
grains. Yet Juvenal, who calls his poems a farra-
go, which is a word of the same signification with
satura, has chosen to follow the same method of
Persius, and not of Horace ; and Boileau, whose
example alone is a sufficient authority, has wholly
confined himself, in all his satires, to this unity of
design. That variety, which is not to be found in
any one satire, is, at least, in many, written on se-
veral occasions. And if variety be of absolute ne-
cessity in every one of them, according to the ety-
mology of the word, yet it may arise naturally from
one subject, as it is diversely treated, in the several
subordinate branches of it, all relating to the chief.
It may be illustrated accordingly with variety of
examples in the subdivisions of it, and with as ma-
ny precepts as there' are members of it ; which, al-
together, may complete that olla, or hotch-potch,
which is properly a satire.
Under this unity of theme, or subject, is compre-
hended another rule for perfecting the design of true
satire. The poet is bound, and that ex officio, to give
his reader some one precept of moral virtue, and to
ESSAY ON SATIRE. 10?
caution him against some one particular vice or folly.
Other virtues, subordinate to the first, may be re-/
commended under that chief head; and other vices
or follies may be scourged, besides that which he
principally intends. But he is chiefly to inculcate
one virtue, and insist on that. ....Thus Juvenal, in
every satire excepting the first^ies himself to one
principal instructive point, or to the shunning of
moral evil. Even in the sixth, which seems only
an arraignment of the whole sex of womankind,
there is a latent admonition to avoid ill women, by
showing how very few, who are virtuous and good,
are to be found amongst them. But this, though
the wittiest of all his satires, has yet the least
of truth or instruction in it. He has run himself
into his old declamatory way, and almost forgotten
that he was now setting up for a moral poet.
Persius is never wanting to us in some profitable
doctrine, and in exposing the opposite vices to it.
His kind of philosophy is one, which is the stoick ;
and every satire is a Comment on one particular
dogma of that sect, unless we will except the first,
which is against bad writers ; and yet even there
he forgets not the precepts of the Porch. In gene-
ral, all virtues are every where to be praised and
recommended to practice ; and all vices to be re-
prehended, and made either odious or ridiculous ;
or else there is a fundamental error in the whole
design.
I have already declared who are the only per-
sons that are the adequate object of private satire,
and M r ho they are that may properly be exposed by
name for public examples of vices and follies ; and
therefore I will trouble your lordship no farther
with them. Of the best and finest manner of satire,
I have said enough in the comparison betwixt Ju-
venal and Horace : it is that sharp, well-mannered
108 ESSAY ON SATIRE.
way of laughing a folly out of countenance, of
which your lordship is the best master in this age.
I will proceed to the versification, which is most
proper for it, and add somewhat to what I have
said already on that subject. r lhe sort of verse
which is called burlesque, consisting of eight sylla-
bles, or four feet, is that which our excellent Hudi-
bras has chosen I ought to have mentioned him
before, when I spoke of Donne ; but by a slip of an
old man's memory he was forgotten. Tine worth
of his poem is too well known to need my com-
mendation, and he is above my censure. His satire
is of the Varronian kind, though unmixed with
prose. The choice of his numbers is suitable enough
to his design, as he has managed it; but in any
other hand, the shortness of his verse, and the quick
returns of rhyme, had debased the dignity of style.
And besides, the double rhyme, (a necessary com-
panion of burlesque writing,) is not so proper for
manly satire; for it turns earnest too much to jest,
and gives us a boyish kind of pleasure. It tickles
aukwardly with a kind of pain, to the best sort of
readers : we are pleased ungratefully, and, if I may
say so, against our liking. We thank him not for
giving us that unseasonable delight, when we know
he could have given us a better, and more solid.
He might have left that task to others, who, not
being able to put in thought, can only make us grin/
with the excrescence of a word of two or three sylla-?
p
bles in the close. It is, indeed, below so great a mas-- ',
ter to make use of such a little instrument. * But I
his good sense is perpetually shining through all he /
* Dryden, in his Epistle to Sir George Etherege, has shewn,
however, how completely he was master even of a measure he de-
spised.
ESSAY ON SATIRE. 109
writes ; it affords us not the time of finding faults.
We pass through the levity of his rhyme, and
are immediately carried into some admirable useful
thought. After all, he has chosen this kind of
verse, and has written the best in it : and had he
taken another, he would always have excelled :
as we say of a court-favourite, that whatsoever his
office be, he still makes it uppermost, and most be-
neficial to himself.
The quickness of your imagination, my lord, has
already prevented me ; and you know beforehand,
that I would prefer the verse often syllables, which
we call the English heroic, to that of eight. This
is truly my opinion ; for this sort of number is
more roomy ; the thought can turn itself with
greater ease in a larger compass. When the rhyme
comes too thick upon us, it straitens the expres-
sion ; we are thinking of the close, when we should
be employed in adorning the thought. It makes a
poet giddy with turning in a space too narrow for
his imagination ; he loses many beauties, without
gaining one advantage. For a burlesque rhyme
I have already concluded to be none ; or, if it were,
it is more easily purchased in ten syllables than in
eight. In both occasions it is as in a tennis-court,
when the strokes of greater force are given, when.
we strike out and play at length. Tassoni and
Boileau have left us the best examples of this way,
in the " Secchia Rapita," and the " Lutrin ;" and next
them Merlin Cocaius in his " Balclus." I will speak
only of the two former, because the last is written
in Latin verse. The " Secchia Rapita" is an Italian,
poem, a satire of the Varronian kind. It is writ-
ten in the stanza of eight, which is their measure
for heroic verse. The words are stately, the num-
bers smooth, the turn both of thoughts and words
is happy. The first six lines of the stanza seem ma-
110 ESSAY ON SATIRE.
jestical and severe ; but the two last turn them all
into a pleasant ridicule. Boileau, if I am not much
deceived, has modelled from hence his famous " Lu-
trin." He had read the burlesque poetry of Scarron, *
with some kind of indignation, as witty as it was,
and found nothing in France that was worthy of
his imitation ; but he copied the Italian so well,
that his own may pass for an original. He writes
it in the French heroic verse, and calls it an heroic
poem ; his subject is trivial, but his verse is noble.
I doubt not but he had Virgil in his eye, for we
find many admirable imitations of him, and some
parodies ; as particularly this passage in the fourth
of the ^Eneids :
Nee till diva parens, generis nee Dardanvs auctor,
Perfide ; sed duris genuit te cautibus hor<en$
Caucacus ; Hyrcanceque admomnt ubera tigres :
which he thus translates, keeping to the words,
but altering the sense :
Non, ton pere a Paris, ne fut point boulanger:
Et tu n'es point du sang de Gervais, 1'horloger :
Ta mere ne fut point la maitresse d'un coche ;
Caucase dans ses flancs te forma d'une roche :
Une tigresse affreuse, en quelque antre ecarte,
Te fit, avec son lait, succer sa cruaute.
And, as Virgil in his fourth Georgick, of the Pees,
perpetually raises the lowness of his subject, by the
loftiness of his words, and ennobles it by compari-
sons drawn from empires, and from monarchs;
Admiranda tibi levium spectacula rerum,
Magnanimosque duces, totiusque ordine gentis
Mores et studio, et populos, et prodia dicam.
Scarron's Virgile Travesti.
ESSAY ON SATIRE. Ill
And again :
At genus immortale manet ; multosque per annos
Statfortuna domus, et am numerantur avorum ;
we see Boileau pursuing him in the same flights,
and scarcely yielding to his master. This, I think,
my lord, to be the most beautiful, and most noble
kind of satire. Here is the majesty of the heroic,
finely mixed with the venom of the other ; and
raising the delight which otherwise would be flat
and vulgar, by the sublimity of the expression. I
could say somewhat more of the delicacy of this
and some other of his satires ; but it might turn to
his prejudice, if it were carried back to France.
I have given your lordship but this bare hint, in what
verse and in what manner this sort of satire may be
best managed. Had I time, I* could enlarge on the
beautiful turns of words and thoughts, which are as
requisite in this, as in heroic poetry itself, of which
the satire is undoubtedly a species. With these beau-
tiful turns, I confess myself to have been unacquaint-
ed, till about twenty years ago, in a conversation
which I had with that noble wit of Scotland, Sir
George Mackenzie, * he asked me why I did not
imitate in my verses the turns of Mr Waller and
Sir John Denham ; of which he repeated many to
* Sir George Mackenzie of Rosehaugh was lord advocate for
Scotland, during the reigns of Charles II. and his successor. Hi
works are voluminous, and upon various subjects, but chiefly his-
torical and juridical. He left, however, one poem called " Ci-
lia's Country-house," and some essays on moral subjects. The
memory of Sir George Mackenzie is not in high estimation as a
lawyer, and his having been the agent of the crown, during the cruel
persecution of the fanatical Cameronians, renders him still execrat-
ed among the common people of Scotland. But he was an accom-
plished scholar, of lively talents, and ready elocution, and very
well deserved the appellation of a " noble wit of Scotland."
112 ESSAY ON SATIRE.
me. I had often read with pleasure, and with some
profit, those two fathers of our English poetry; but
had not seriously enough considered those beauties
which give the last perfection to their works. Some
sprinklings of this kind I had also formerly in my
plays ; but they were casual, and not designed.
But this hint, thus seasonably given me, first made
me sensible of my own wants, and brought me af-
terwards to seek for the supply of them in other
English authors. I looked over the darling of my
youth, the famous Cow ley ; there I found, instead
of them, the points of wit, and quirks of epigram,
even in the " Davideis," an heroic poem, which is of
an opposite nature to those puerilities ; but no ele-
gant turns either on the word or on the thought.
Then I consulted a greater genius, (without offence
to the manes of that noble author,) I mean Milton ;
but as he endeavours every where to express Ho-
mer, whose age had not arrived to that fineness, I
found in him a true sublimity, lofty thoughts, which
were cloathed with admirable Grecisms, and anci-
ent words, which he had been digging from the
mines of Chaucer and Spenser, and which, with all
their rusticity, had somewhat of venerable in them.
But I found not there neither that for which I look-
ed. At last I had recourse to his master, Spenser,
the author of that immortal poem, called the " Fairy
Queen;" and there J^met with that which I had
been looking for so long in vain. Spenser had
~ O I . _
studied Virgil to as much advantage as Milton had
done Homer ; and amongst the rest of his excel-
lencies had copied that. Looking farther into the
Italian, I found Tasso had done the same; nay
more, that all the sonnets in that language are on
the turn of the first thought ; which Mr Walsh, in
his late ingenious preface to his poems, has observed.
In short, Virgil and Ovid are the two principal foun-
ESSAY ON SATltfE. 113
tains of them in Latin poetry. And the French at
this day are so fond of them, that they judge them
to be the first beauties : delicate et bien tourn, are
the highest commendations which they bestow, on
somewhat which they think a master-piece.
An example of the turn on words, amongst a
thousand others, is that in the last book of Ovid'*
" Metamorphoses :"
Heu ! quantum scelus est, in viscera, viscera condi !
Congestoque aridum pinguescere corpore corpus ;
Alteriusque animantem animantis vivere leto.
An example on the turn both of thoughts and
words, is to be found in Catullus, in the complaint
of Ariadne, when she was left by Theseus ;
Turn jam nulla virojurantifccmina credat ;
Nulla viri speret serniones essejideles ;
Qui, dum aliquid cupiens animus prcegestit apisci,
JVJY mctuunt jurare, nihil promittere parcunt :
Sed simul ac cupidce mentis satiata libido est,
Dicta nihil met acre, nihil perjuria curant.
An extraordinary turn upon the words, is that in
Ovid's " Epistolas Heroidum," of Sappho to Phaon .
Si, nisi quceformd poterit te digna videri,
Nulla futura tua est, nulla jutura tua est.
Lastly : A turn, which I cannot say is absolutely
on words, for the thought turns with them, is in the
fourth Georgick of Virgil ; where Orpheus is to
receive his wife from hell, on express condition not
to look on her till she was come on earth :
Cum subita incautum dementia cepit amantem ;
Ignoscenda quidem, scirent si ignoscere Manes.
I will not burthen your lordship with more of
them; for I write to a master who understands
VOL. XIII, H
1 14 ESSAY ON SATIRE.
them better than myself. But I may safely con-
clude them to be great beauties. I might descend
also to the mechanic beauties of heroic verse ; but
we have yet no English prosodia, not so much as a
tolerable dictionary, or a grammar ; so that our lan-
guage is in a manner barbarous ; and what govern-
ment will encourage any one, or more, who are
capable of refining it, I know not : but nothing un-
der a public expence can go through with it. And
I rather fear a declination of the language, than
hope an advancement of it in the present age.
I am still speaking to you, my lord, though, in
all probability, you are already out of hearing. No-
thing, which my meanness can produce, is worthy
of this long attention. But I am come to the last
petition of Abraham; if there be ten righteous
lines, in this vast preface, spare it for their sake ;
and also spare the next city, because it is but a little
one.
I would excuse the performance of this transla-
tion, if it were all my own ; but the better, though
not the greater part, being the work of some gen-
tlemen, who have succeeded very happily in their
undertaking, let their excellencies atone for my
imperfections, and those of my sons. I have pe-
rused some of the satires, which are done by other
hands ; and they seem to me as perfect in their
kind, as any thing I have seen in English verse.
The common way which we have taken, is not a
literal translation, but a kind of paraphrase ; or
somewhat, which is yet more loose, betwixt a para-
phrase and imitation. It was not possible for us,
or any men, to have made it pleasant any other
way. If rendering the exact sense of those au-
thors, almost line for line, had been our business,
Barten Holyday had done it already to our hands :
and, by the help of his learned notes and illustra-
ESSAY ON SATIRE. 115
tions, not only Juvenal and Persius, but, what yet is
more obscure, his own verses, might be understood.
But he wrote for fame, and wrote to scholars :
we write only for the pleasure and entertainment of
those gentlemen and ladies, who, though they are
not scholars, are not ignorant : persons of under-
standing and good sense, who, not having been
conversant in the original, or at least not having
made Latin verse so much their business as to be
critics in it, would be glad to find, if the wit of our
two great authors be answerable to their fame and
reputation in the world. We have, therefore, en-
deavoured to give the public all the satisfaction we
are able in this kind.
And if we are not altogether so faithful to our
author, as our predecessors fiolyday and Stapylton,
yet we may challenge to ourselves this praise, that
we shall be far more pleasing to our readers. We
have followed our authors at greater distance, though
not step by step, as the} have done : for oftentimes
they have gone so close, that they have trod on the
heels of Juvenal and Persius, and hurt them by
their too near approach. A noble author would not
be pursued too close by a translator. We lose his
spirit, when we think to take his body The gros-
ser part remains with us, but the soul is flown away
in some noble expression, or some delicate tarn of
words, or thought. Thus Holyday, who made this
way his choice, seized the meaning of Juvenal; but
the poetry has always escaped him.
They who will not grant me, that pleasure is one
of the ends of poetry, but that it is only a means
of compassing the only end, which is instruction,
must yet allow, that, without the means of plea-
sure, the instruction is but a bare and dry philoso-
phy : a crude preparation of morals, which \ve may
nave from Aristotle and Epictetus, with more pro-
1 16 ESSAY ON SATIRE.
fit than from any poet. Neither Holyday nor Sta-
pylton have imitated Juvenal in the poetical part
of him his diction and his elocution. Nor had
they been poets, as neither of them were, yet, in
the way they took, it was impossible for them to
have succeeded in the poetic part.
The English verse, which we call heroic, consists
of no more than ten syllables ; the Latin hexameter
sometimes rises to seventeen ; as, for example, this
verse in Virgil :
Pulveruknta putrem sonitu qnatit ungula campum,
Here is the difference of no less than seven syl-
lables in a line, betwixt the English and the Latin.
Now the medium of these is about fourteen syl-
lables ; because the dactyle is a more frequent
foot in hexameters than the spondee. But Ho-
lyday, without considering that he wrote with
the disadvantage of four syllables less in every
verse, endeavours to make one of his lines to com-
prehend the sense of one of Juvenal's. According
to the falsity of the proposition was the success.
He was forced to crowd his verse with ill-sounding
monosyllables, of which our barbarous language af-
fords him a wild plenty ; and by that means he ar-
rived at his pedantic end, which was to make a li-
teral translation. His verses have nothing of verse
in them, but only the worst part of it the rhyme;
and that, into the bargain, is far from good. But,
which is more intolerable, by cramming his ill-cho-
sen, and worse-sounding monosyllables so close to-
gether, the very sense which he endeavours to ex-
plain, is become more obscure than that of his au-
thor; so that Holyday himself cannot be under-
stood, without as large a commentary as that which
he makes on his two authors. For my own part, I
ESSAY ON SATIRE. 1 \J
can make a shift to find the meaning of Juvenal
without his notes : but his translation is more diffi-
cult, than his author. And I find beauties in the La-
tin to recompense my pains ; but, in Holyday and
Stapylton, my ears, in the first place, are mortally
offended ; and then their sense is so perplexed, that
I return to the original, as the more pleasing task,
as well as the more easy. *
This must be said for our translation, that, if we
give not the whole sense of Juvenal, yet we give
the most considerable part of it : we give it, in ge-
neral, so clearly, that few notes are sufficient to
make us intelligible. We make our author at least
appear in a poetic dress. We have actually made
him more sounding, and more elegant, than he was
before in English ; and have endeavoured to make
him speak that kind of English, which he would
have spoken had he lived in England, and had
written to this age. If sometimes any of us (and
it is but seldom) make him express the customs
and manners of our native country rather than of
Rome, it is, either when there w r as some kind of
analogy betwixt their customs and ours, or when,
to make him more easy to vulgar understandings,
we give him those manners which are familiar to
* In illustration of Holyday's miserable success in his despe-
rate attempt, we need only take the lines with which he opens :
Shall I be still an auditor, and ne'er
Repay that have so often had mine eare
Vexed with hoarse Codrus Theseads ? shall one swet
While his gownd coraique sceane he does repeat,
Another while his elegies soft strain
The reader ? and shall not I vex them agaki f
Shall mighty Telephus be unrequited,
That spends a day in being all recited ?
| Or volmne-swoln Orestes, that does fill
The margin of an ample booke ; yet still,
As if the book were mad too, is extended
Upon the very back, nor yet is ended.
118 ESSAY ON SATIRE.
us. But I defend not this innovation, it is enough
if I can excuse it For, to speak sincerely, the man-
ners of nations and ages are not to be confounded ;
we should either make them English or leave them
Roman. If this can neither be defended nor ex-
cused, let it be pardoned at least, because it is ac-
knowledged; and so much the more easily, as being
a fault which is never committed without some
pleasure to the reader.
Thus, my lord, having troubled you with a tedi-
ous visit, the best manners will be shewn in the
least ceremonj'. T will slip away while your back
is turned, and while you are otherwise employed;
with gieat confusion for having entertained you so
long \yith this discourse, and for having no other
recom pence to make you, than the worthy labours
of my fellow-undertakers in this work, and the
thankful acknowledgments, prayers, and perpetual
good wishes, of,
Mr LORD,
Your Lordship's
Most obliged, most humble,
And most obedient servant,
JOHN DRYDEN.
dug. 18, 1692.
or
JUVENAL.
THE ARGUMENT. .
The Poet gives us first a kind of humorous reason for his writing: that
being provoked by hearing so many ill poets rehearse their works, he
does himself justice on them, by giving them as bad as they bring.
But since no man will rank himself with ill writers, it is easy to
conclude, that if such wretches could draw an audience, he thought
it no hard matter to excel them, and gain a greater esteem with the
public. Next, he informs us more openly, why he rather addicts
himself to satire than any other kind of poetry. And here he dis-
covers, that it is not so much his indignation to ill poets as to ill
men, which has prompted him to write. He, therefore, gives ws a
summary and general view of the vices and follies reigning in his
time. So that this first satire is the natural ground-work of all the
rest. Herein he confines himself to no one subject, but strikes indif-
ferently at all men in his way : in every following satire he has cho-
sen some particular moral which he would inculcate ; and lashes
some particular vice or folly, (an art with which our lampooners
are not much acquainted). But our poet being desirous to reform
his own age, and not daring to attempt it by an overt-act of naming
living persons, inveighs only against those who were infamous in the
times immediately preceding his, whereby he not only gives a fair
120 THE FIRST SATIRE
warning to great men, that their memory lies at the mercy of future
poets and historians, but also, with a finer stroke of Ins pen, brands
even the living, and personates them under dead men's names.
I have avoided, as much as I could possibly, the borrowed learning of
marginal notes and illustrations, and for that reason have transla-
ted this satire somewhat largely ; and freely own, (if it be a fault,)
that I have likewise omitted most of the proper names, because I
thought they would not much edify the reader. To conclude, if in
two or three places I have deserted all the commentators, it is be-
cause I thought they first deserted my author, or at least have left
him in so much obscurity, that too much room is left for -guessing.
STILL shall I hear, and never quit the score,
Stunned with hoarse Codrus'* Theseid, o'er and o'er?
Shall this man's elegies and Mother's play
Unpunished murder a long summer's day ?
Huge Telephus, f a formidable page,
Cries vengeance; and Orestes'^ bulky rage,
Unsatisfied with margins closely writ,
Foams o'er the covers, and not finished yet.
No man can take a more familiar note
Of his own home, than I of Vulcan's grott,
Or Mars his grove, or hollow winds that blow
From ^Etna's top, or tortured ghosts below.
I know by rote the famed exploits of Greece,
The Centaurs' fury, and the Golden Fleece;
Through the thick shades the eternal scribbler bawls,
And shakes the statues on their pedestals.
* Codrus, or it may be Cordus, a bad poet, who wrote the life
and actions of Theseus. [This and almost all the following notes
are taken Irom Dr) den's first edition. Those which are supplied
by the present Editor, are distinguished by the letter E.]
1 The name of a tragedy.
J Another tragedy.
borne commentators take this grove to be a place where poets
Were user! to repeat their works to the people ; but more pro-
bably, both this ami Vulcan's erott, or cave, and the rest of the
places and names here mentioned, are only meant for the com-
paon places of Homer in his Iliads and Odyssies,
OF JUVENAL. 121
The best and worst* on the same theme employs
His muse, and plagues us with an equal noise.
Provoked by these incorrigible fools,
I left declaiming in pedantic schools;
Where, with men-boys, I strove to get renown,
Advising Sylla to a private gown, f
But, since the world with writing is possest, Y
I'll versify in spite; apd do my best,
To make as much waste paper as the rest. j
But why I lift aloft the satire's rod,
And tread the path which famed Lucilius J trod,
Attend the causes which my muse have led :
When sapless eunuchs mount the marriage-bed;
\Vhen mannish Mas via, that two-handed whore,
Astride on horseback hunts the Tuscan boar;
When all our lords are by his wealth outvied,
Whose razor on my callow beard was tried ; ||
When I behold the spawn of conquered Nile,
Crispinus, both in birth and manners vile, ^f
Pacing in pomp, with cloak of Tyrian dye,
Changed oft a- day for needless luxury;
And finding oft occasion to be fanned,
Ambitious to produce his lady-hand ;
Charged with light summer- rings his fingers sweat, **
Unable to support a gem of weight :
* That is, the best and the worst poets.
f This was one of the themes given in the schools of rhetori-
cians, in the deliberative kind ; whether Sylla should lay down
the supreme power of dictatorship, or still keep it ?
J Lucilius, the first satirist of the Romans, who wrote long be-
fore Horace.
Masvia, a name put for any impudent or mannish woman*
|| Juvenal's barber, now grown wealthy.
5f Crispinus, an Egyptian slave ; now, by his riches, transformed
into a nobleman.
** The Romans were grown so effeminate in Juvenal's time, that
they wore light rings in the summer, and heavier in the winter.
122 THE FIRST SATIRE
Such fulsome objects meeting every where,
Tis hard to write, but harder to forbear.
To view so lewd a town, and to refrain,
What hoops of iron could my spleen contain !
When pleading Matho, borne abroad for air, *
With his fat paunch fills his new-fashioned chair,
And after him the wretch in pomp conveyed,
Whose evidence his lord and friend betrayed,
And but the wished occasion does attend "j
From the poor nobles the last spoils to rend,
Whom even spies dread as their superior fiend, 3
And bribe with presents ; or, when presents fail,
They send their prostituted wives for bail :
When night- performance holds the place of merit,
And brawn and back the next of kin disherit;
(For such good parts are in preferment's way,)
The rich old madam never fails to pay
Her legacies, by nature's standard given,
One gains an ounce, another gains eleven :
A dear-bought bargain, all things duly weighed,
For which their thrice concocted blood is paid.
With looks as wan, as he who in the brake
At unawares has trod upon a snake ;
Or played at Lyons a declaiming prize,
For which the vanquished rhetorician dies, f
What indignation boils within my veins,
When perjured guardians, proud with impious
gains,
Choke up the streets, too narrow for their trains !
Whose wards, by want betrayed, to crimes are led
Too foul to name, too fulsome to be read !
* Matho, a famous lawyer, mentioned in other places by Juve-
nal and Martial.
f Lyons, a city in France, where annual sacrifices and games
were made in honour of Augustus Caesar.
OF JUVENAL. 123
When he who pilled his province 'scapes the laws,
And keeps his money, though he lost his cause ;
His fine begged off, contemns his infamy,
Can rise at twelve, and get him drunk ere three ;
Enjoys his exile, and, condemned in vain,
Leaves thee, prevailing province, to complain, *
Such villanies roused Horace into wrath;
And 'tis more nob'e to pursue his path, f
Than an old tale of Diomede to repeat, "^
Or labouring after Hercules to sweat, >
Or wandering in the winding maze of Crete ; j
Or with the winged smith aloft to fly,
Or fluttering perish with his foolish boy.
With what impatience must the muse behold
The wife, by her procuring husband sold ?
For though the law makes null the adulterer's deed
Of lands to her, the cuckold may succeed,
Who his taught eyes up to the cieling throws,
And sleeps all aver but his wakeful nose.
When he dares hope a colonel's command,
Whose coursers kept, ran out his father's land ;
Who yet a stripling, Nero's chariot drove,
Whirled o'er the streets, while his vain master!
strove
With boasted art to please his eunuch love.
Would it not make a modest author dare
To draw his table-book within the square,
* Here the poet complains, that the governors of provinces be-
ing accused for their unjust exactions, though they were condemn-
ed at their trials, >et got off by bribery.
t Horace, who wrote satires; it is more noble, says our au-
thor, to imitate him in that wa\ , than to write th j labours of Her-
cules, the sufferings of Diomedes and his followers, or the flight of
Daedalus, who made the Labyrinth, and the death of his son Ica-
rus.
J Nero married Sporus, an eunuch ; though it may be, the poet
meant Nero's mistress in man's apparel.
124 THE FIRST SATIRE
And fill with notes, when, lolling at his ease,
JVIecaenas-like, * the happy rogue he sees
Borne by six wearied slaves in open view,
Who cancelled an old will, and forged a new;
Made wealthy at the small expence of signing
With a wet seal, and a fresh interlining ?
The lady, next, requires a lashing line,
Who squeezed a toad into her husband's wine :
So well the fashionable medicine thrives,
That now 'tis practised even by country wives ;
Poisoning, without regard of fame or fear,
And spotted corpse are frequent on the bier.
Wouldst thou to honours and preferments climb?
Be bold in mischief, dare some mighty crime,
Which dungeons, death, or banishment deserves;
For virtue is but dryly praised, and starves.
Great men to great crimes owe their plate embost,^
Fair palaces, and furniture of cost,
And high commands ; a sneaking sin is lost. .J
Who can behold that rank old 1 etcher keep
His son's, corrupted wife, and hope to sleep ? j"
Or that male-harlot, or that unfledged boy,
Eager to sin, before he can enjoy?
If nature could not, anger would indite
Such woful stuff as I or Sh 11 J write.
Count from the time, since old Deucalion's boat,
Raised by the flood, did on Parnassus float,
* Mecoenas is often taxed by Seneca and others for his effemi-
nacy.
f The meaning is, that the very consideration of such a crim
will hinder a virtuous man from taking his repose.
J Shadwell, our author's old enemy. E.
Deucalion and Pyrrha, when the world was drowned, escaped
to the top of Mount Parnassus, and were commanded to restore
mankind, by throwing stones over their heads; the stones he threw
became men, and those she threw became women.
OF JUVENAL. 125
And, scarcely mooring on the cliff, implored
An oracle how man might be restored ;
When softened stones and vital breath ensued,
And virgins naked were by lovers viewed ;
What ever since that golden age was done,
What human kind desires, and what they shun;
Rage, passions, pleasures, impotence of will,
Shall this satirical collection fill.
What age so large a crop of vices bore,
Or when was avarice extended more ?
When were the dice with more profusion thrown?
The well-filled fob not emptied now alone,
But gamesters for whole patrimonies play ;
The steward brings the deeds which must convey
The lost estate : what more than madness reigns,
When one short sitting many hundreds drains,
And not enough is left him to supply V
Board-wages, or a footman's livery ?
What age so many summer-seats did see ?
Or which of our forefathers fared so well,
As on seven dishes at a private meal ?
Clients of old were feasted ; now, a poor
Divided dole is dealt at the outward door ;
Which by the hungry rout is soon dispatched :
The paltry largess, too, severely watched,
Ere given ; and every face observed with care,
That no intruding guest usurp a share.
Known, you receive ; the crier calls aloud
Our old nobility of Trojan blood,
Who gape among the crowd for their precarious |
food.
The prsetor's and the tribune's voice is heard ;
The freedman jostles, and will be preferred ;
First come, first served, he cries ; and I, in spite
Of your great lordships, will maintain my right;
126* THE FIRST SATIRE
Though born a slave, though my torn ears are bored,*
Tis not the birth, 'tis money makes the lord.
The rents of five fair houses I receive ;
"What greater honours can the purple give ?
The poor patrician is reduced to keep,
In melancholy walks, a grazier's sheep :
Not Pallus nor Liciniusf had my treasure;
Then let the sacred tribunes wait my leisure.
Once a poor rogue, 'tis true, 1 trod the street,
And trudged to Rome upon my naked feet :
Gold is the greatest God ; though yet we see
No temples raised to money's majesty;
No altars fuming to her power divine,
Such as to valour, peace, and virtue shine,
And faith, and concord ; where the stork on high J ^
Seems to salute her infant progeny, S
Presaging pious love with her auspicious cry. )
But since our knights and senators account,
To what their sordid begging vails amount,
Judge what a wretched share the poor attends,
Whose whole subsistence on those alms depends !
Their household fire, their raiment, and their food,
Prevented by those harpies ; when a wood
* The ears of all slaves were bored, as a mark of their servi-
tude; which custom is still usual in the East Indies, and in other
parts, even for whole nations, who bore prodigious holes in their
ears, and wear vast weights at them.
f Pallus, a slave freed by Claudius Caesar, and raised by his fa-
vour to great riches. Licinius was another wealthy freedman be-
longing to Augustus.
J Perhaps the storks were used to build on the top of the tem-
ple dedicated to Concord.
He calls the Roman knights, &c. harpies, or devourers. In
those days, the rich made doles intended for the poor ; but the
great were either so covetous, or so needy, that they came in their
litters to demand their shares of the largess ; and thereby prevent-
ed, and consequently starved, the poor,
2
OF JUVfiNAL. 127
Of litters thick besiege the donor's gate,
And begging lords and teeming ladies wait
The promised dole; nay, some have learned the trick
To beg for absent persons ; feign them sick,
Close mewed in their sedans, for fear of air; ^
And for their wives produce an empty chair.
This is my spouse; dispatch her with her share; V
'Tis Galla. Let her ladyship but peep.
No, sir, 'tis pity to disturb her sleep. *
Such fine employments our whole days divide :
The salutations of the mornmg tide
Call up the sun ; those ended, to the hall
We wait the patron, hear the lawyers bawl ;
Then to the statues; where amidst the race V
Of conquering Rome, some Arab shows his face, >
Inscribed with titles, and profanes the place ; f J
Fit to be pissed against, and somewhat more. ,
The great man, home conducted, shuts his door.
Old clients, wearied out with fruitless care,
Dismiss their hopes of eating, and despair ;
Though much against the grain, forced to retire,
Buy roots for supper, and provide a fire.
* The meaning is, that noblemen would cause empty litters to
be carried to the giver's door, pretending their wives were within
them. " 'Tis Galla," that is, my wife ; the next words, " Let her
ladyship but peep," are of the servant who distributes the dole ;
" Let me see her, that I may be sure she is within the litter." The
husband answers, " She is asleep, and to open the litter would
disturb her rest."
f- The poet here tells you how the idle passed their time; in
going first to the levees of the great; then to the hall, that is, to
the temple of Apollo, to hear the lawyers plead ; then to the mar-
ket-place of Augustus, where the statues of the famous Romans
were set in ranks on pedestals ; amongst which statues were seen
those of foreigners, such as Arabs, &c. who, for no desert, but
only on account of their wealth, or favour, were placed amongst
the noblest.
128 THE FIRST SATIRE
Meantime his lordship lolls within at ease,
Pampering "his paunch with foreign rarities ;
Both sea and land are ransacked for the feast,
And his own gut the sole invited guest.
Such plate, such tahles, dishes dressed so well,
That whole estates are swallowed at a meal.
Even parasites are banished from his board;
(At once a sordid and luxurious lord;)
Prodigious throat, for which whole boars are drest ;
(A creature formed to furnish out a feast.)
But present punishment pursues his maw,
When, surfeited and swelled, the peacock raw
He bears into the bath ; whence want of breath,
Repletions, apoplex, intestate death.
His fate makes table-talk, divulged with scorn,
And he, a jest, into his grave is borne.
; No age can go beyond us ; future times
Can add no farther to the present crimes.
Our sons but the same things can wish and do ;
Vice is at stand, and at the highest flow.
Then, Satire, spread thy sails, take all the winds)
can blow !
Some may, perhaps, demand what muse can yield
Sufficient strength for such a spacious field ?
From whence can be derived so large a vein,
Bold truths to speak, and spoken to maintain,
When godlike freedom is so far bereft
The noble mind, that scarce the name is left ?
Ere scandalum magnatum was begot,
No matter if the great forgave or not ;
But if that honest licence now you take, ^
If into rogues omnipotent you rake,
Death is your doom, impaled upon a stake,* V
Smeared o'er with wax, and set on fire, to light
The streets, and make a dreadful blaze by night.
Shall they, who drenched three uncles in a draught
Of poisonous juice, be then in triumph brought,
OF JUVENAL. 129
Make lanes among the people where they go, }
And, mounted high on downy chariots, throw
Disdainful glances on the crowd below ? j
Be silent, and beware, if such you see ;
'Tis defamation but to say, That's he !
Against bold Turnus the great Trojan arm,
Amidst their strokes the poet gets no harm :
Achilles may in epic verse be slain,
And none of all his myrmidons complain :
Hylas may drop his pitcher, none will cry,
Not if he drown himself for company;
But when Lucilius brandishes his pen,
And flashes in the face of guilty men,
A cold sweat stands in drops on every part,
And rage succeeds to tears, revenge to smart. *
Muse, be advised ; 'tis past considering time,
When entered once the dangerous lists of rhime;
Since none the living villains dare implead,
Arraign them in the persons of the dead.
* A poet may safely write an heroic poern, such as that of Vir-
gil, who describes the duel of Turnus and ^Eneas ; or of Homer,
who writes of Achilles and Hector ; or the death of Hylas, the ca-
tamite of Hercules, who, stooping for water, dropt his pitcher, and
fell into'the well after it : but it is dangerous to write satire, like
Lucilius.
VOL. xnr.
THE
THIRD SATIRE
OF
JUVENAL.
THE ARGUMENT.
The story of this satire speaks itself. Umbritius, the supposed
friend of Juvenal, and himself a poet, is leaving Rome, and re-
tiring to Cumae. Our author accompanies him out of town.
Before they take leave of each other, Umbritius tells his friend
the reasons which oblige him to lead a private life, in an obscure
place. He complains, that an honest man cannot get his bread at
Rome ; that none but flatterers make their fortunes there ; that
Grecians, and other foreigners, raise themselves by those sordid
arts which he describes, and against which he bitterly inveighs.
He reckons up the several inconveniences which arise from a city
life, and the many dangers which attend it ; upbraids the no-
blemen with covetousness,for not rewarding good poets ; and ar-
raigns the government for starving them. The great art of this
satire is particularly shown in common-places ; and drawing in
as many vices, as could naturally fall into the compass of it,
CJTRIEVED though I am an ancient friend to lose,^
I like the solitary seat ]\e chose,
In quiet Cumae * fixing his repose : j
* Cumae, a small city in Campania, near Puteoli, or Puzzolo,
as it is called. The habitation of the Cumaean Sybil.
THE THIRD SATIRE OF JUVENAL. 131
Where, far from noisy Rome, secure he lives,
And one more citizen to Sybil gives ;
The road to Baice, * and that soft recess
Which all the gods with all their bounty bless ;
Though I in Prochy ta f with greater ease
Could live, than in a street of palaces.
What scene so desert, or so full of fright, "J
As towering houses, tumbling in the night,
And Rome on fire beheld by its own blazing light ?j
But worse than all the clattering tiles, and worse
Than thousand padders, is the poet's curse ;
Rogues, that in dog-days cannot rhyme forbear,
But without mercy read, and make you hear.
Now while my friend, just ready to depart,
Was packing all his goods in one poor cart,
He stopt a little at the Conduit-gate,
Where Numa modelled once the Roman state,
In mighty councils with his nymph retired ; ^f
Though now the sacred shades and founts are hired
By banished Jews, who their whole wealth can lay
In a small basket, on a wisp of hay ; ||
* Baiae, another little town in Campania, near the sea : a
pleasant place.
t Prochy ta, a small barren island belonging to the kingdom of
Naples.
I The poets in Juvenal's time used to rehearse their poetry in
August.
Numa, the second king of Rome, who made their laws, and
instituted "their religion.
1f Algeria, a nymph, or goddess, with whom Numa feigned to
converse by night ; and to be instructed by her, in modelling his
superstitions.
|| We have a similar account of the accommodation of these va-
gabond Israelites, in the Sixth Satire, where the prophetic Jewess
plies her customers :
cophino,f<noque relicto.
Her goods a basket, and old hay her bed ;
She strolls, and telling fortunes, gains her bread. EDITOR.
132 THE THIRD SATIRE
Yet such our avarice is, that every tree
.Pays for his head, nor sleep itself is free;
Nor place, nor persons, now are sacred held,
From their own grove the muses are expelled.
Into this lonely vale our steps we hend,
I and my sullen discontented friend;
The marble caves and aqueducts we view ;
But how adulterate now, and different from the
true !
How much more beauteous had the fountain been
Embellished with her first created green,
Where crystal streams through living turf had run,
Contented with an urn of native stone !
Then thus Umbritius, with an angry frown,
And looking back on this degenerate town :
Since noble arts in Rome have no support,
And ragged virtue not a friend at court,
No profit rises from the ungrateful stage,
My poverty encreasing with my age ;
'Tis time to give my just disdain a vent,
And, cursing, leave so base a government.
Where Daedalus his borrowed wings laid by, *
To that obscure retreat I chuse to fly :
While yet few furrows on my face are seen, -\
While I walk upright, and old age is green,
And Lachesis has somewhat left to spin, f }
Now, now 'tis time to quit this cursed place,
And hide from villains mv too honest face:
* Daedalus, in his flight from Crete, alighted at Cumae.
f Lachesis is one of the three destinies, whose office was to spin
the life of every man ; as it was of Clotho to hold the distaff, and
Atropos to cut the thread.
OF JUVENAL. 135
Here let Arturius live, * and such as he ;
Such manners will with such a town agree.
Knaves, who in full assemblies have the knack
Of turning truth to lies, and white to black,
Can hire large houses, and oppress the poor
By farmed excise ; can cleanse the common-shore,
And rent the fishery ; can bear the dead, -^
And teach their eyes dissembled tears to shed ; f
All this for gain; for gain they sell their veryf
head.
These fellows (see what fortune's power can do!)
Were once the minstrels of a country show ;
Followed the prizes through each paltry town,
By trumpet-cheeks and bloated faces known.
But now, grown rich, on drunken holidays,
At their own costs exhibit public plays ;
Where, influenced by the rabble's bloody will,
With thumbs bent back, they popularly kill, f
From thence returned, their sordid avarice rakes
In excrements again, and hires the jakes.
Why^nTre they not the town, not every thing,
Since such as they have fortune in a string,
Who, for her pleasure, can her fools advance,
And toss them topmost on the wheel of chance ?
What's Rome to me, what business have I there ?
I who can neither lie, nor falsely swear?
Nor praise my patron's undeserving rhymes,
Nor yet comply with him, nor with his times?
Unskilled in schemes by planets to foreshow,
Like canting rascals, how the wars will go :
* Arturius means any debauched wicked fellow, who gains
by the times.
f In a prize of sword-players, when one of the fencers had the
other at his mercy, the vanquished party implored the clemency of
the spectators. If they thought he deserved it not, they held up
their thumbs, and bent them backwards in sign of death.
134 THE THIRD SATIRE
I neither will, nor can. prognosticate
To the young gaping heir, his father's fate ;
Nor in the entrails of a toad have pried,
Nor carried"bawdy presehtslD a bride :
For want of these town-virtues, thus alone
I go, conducted on my way by none;
Like a dead member from the body rent,
Maimed, and unuseful to the government.
Who now is loved, but he who loves the times,
Conscious of close intrigues, and dipt in crimes,
Labouring with secrets which his bosom burn,
Yet never must to public light return ?
They get reward alone, who can betray ;
For keeping honest counsels none will pay.
He who can Verres * when he will accuse,
The purse of Verres may at pleasure use :
But let not all the gold which Tagus hides,
And pays the sea in tributary tides, f
Be bribe sufficient to corrupt thy breast,
Or violate with dreams thy peaceful rest.
Great men with jealous eyes the friend behold,
Whose secrecy they purchase with their gold.
I haste to tell thee, nor shall shame oppose,-
What confidents our wealthy Romans chose ;
And whom I must abhor: to speak my mind,
I hate, in Rome, a Grecian town to find ;
To see the sQum of Greece transplanted here,
Received Ii<fg5ds, is what I cannot bear.
* Verres, praetor in Sicily, contemporary with Cicero, by
whom accused of oppressing the province, he was ( condemned : his
name is used here for any rich vicious man.
t Tagus, a famous river in Spain, which discharges itself into
the ocean near Lisbon, in Portugal. It was held of old to be full
of golden sands.
OF JUVENAL. 135
Nor Greeks alone, but Syrians here abound ;
Obscene Orontes, * diving under ground,
Conveys his wealth to Tyber's hungry shores,
And fattens Italy with foreign whores :
Hither their crooked harps and customs come;
All find receipt in hospitable Rome.
The barbarous harlots crowd the public place : "\
Go, fools, and purchase an uncleanjembrace ; f
The painted mitre court, and the more painted i
face. *
Old Romulus, f and father Mars, look down ! }
Your herdsman primitive, your homely clown, \
Is turned a beau in a loose tawdry gown.
His once unkem'd and horrid locks, behold
'Stilling sweet oil ; his neck enchained with gold ;
Aping the foreigners in every dress,
Which, bought at greater cost, becomes him less.
Meantime they wisely leave their native land ;
From Sycion, Samos, and from Alaband,
And Amydon, to Rome they swarm in shoals :
So sweet and easy is the gain from fools.
Poor refugees at first, they purchase here ;
And, soon as denizened, they domineer ;
Grow to the great, a flattering, servile rout,
Work themselves imvard, and their patrons out.
Quick-witted, brazen-faced, with fluent tongues,
Patient of labours, and dissembling wrongs.
Riddle me this, and guess him if you can,
Who bears a nation in a single man ?
A cook, a conjurer, a rhetorician, ^
A painter, pedant, a geometrician,
A dancer on the ropes, and a physician ; 3
* Orontes, the greatest river of Syria. The poet here puts the
river for the inhabitants of Syria.
t Romulus was the first king of Rome, and son of Mars, as the
poets feign. The first Romans were herdsmen.
136 THE THIRD SATIRE
All things the hungry Greek exactly knows,
And bid him go to heaven, to heaven he goes.
In short, no Scythian, Moor, or Thracian born,
But in that town which arms and arts adorn. *
Shall he be placed above me at the board,
In purple clothed, and lolling like a lord ?
Shall he before me sign, whom t'other day ~\
A small-craft vessel hither did convey,
Where, stowed with prunes, and rotten figs, he lay ?3
How little is the privilege become
Of being born a citizen of Rome !
The Greeks get all by fulsome flatteries ;
A most peculiar stroke they have at lies.
They make a wit of their insipid friend,
His blubber-lips and beetle-brows commend,
His long crane-neck and narrow shoulders praise,
You'd thinlr~they were describing Hercules.
A creaking voice for a clear treble goes ;
Though harsher than a cock, that treads and crows.
We can as grossly praise ';' But, to our grief,
No flattery but from Grecians gains belief.
Besides these qualities, we must agree,
They mimic better on the stage than we :
The wife, the whore, the shepherdess, they play,
In such a free, and such a graceful way,
TJiat we believe a very woman shown,
And fancy something underneath the gown.
But not Antiochus, nor Stratocles, f -j
Our ears and ravished eyes can only please;
The nation is composed of such as these. j
All Greece is one comedian; laugh, and they
Return it louder than an ass can bray ;
* Athens, of which Pallas, the Goddess of Arms and Arts,
was patroness.
f Antiochus and Stratocles, two famous Grecian mimics, op
Actors, in the poet's time.
OF JUVENAL. 137
Grieve, and they grieve ; if you weep silently,
There seems a silent echo in their eye ;
They cannot mourn like you, but they can cry.
Call for a fire, their winter clothes they take ;
Begin but you to shiver, and they shake ;
In frost and snow, if you complain of heat,
They rub the unsweating brow, and swear they
sweat.
We live not on the square with such as these ;
Such are our betters who can better please ;
Who day and night are like a looking-glass,
Still ready to reflect their patron's face;
The panegyric hand, and lifted eye,
Prepared for some new piece of flattery.
Even nastiness occasions will afford;
They praise a belching, or well-pissing lord.
Besides, there's nothing sacred, nothing free
From bold attempts of their rank lechery.
Through the whole family their labours run ; 1
The daughter is debauched, the wife is won ;
Nor 'scapes the bridegroom, or the blooming son. *
If none they find for their lewd purpose fit,
They with the walls and very floors commit.
They search the secrets of the house, and so
Are worshipped there, and feared for what they
know.
And, now we talk of Grecians, cast a view 1
On what, in schools, their men of morals do.
A rigid stoick his own pupil slew ; J
A friend, against a friend of his own cloth,
Turned evidence, and murdered on his oath. *
What room is left for Romans in a town
Where Grecians rule, and cloaks controul the gown ?
* Publius Egnatius,? a stoick, falsely accused Bareas Soranus,
Tacitus tells us.
138 THE THIRD SATIUfi
Some Diphilus, or some Protogenes, *
Look sharply out, our senators to seize ;
Engross them wholly, by their native art,
And fear no rivals in their bubbles' heart :
One drop of poison in my patron's ear,
One slight suggestion of a senseless fear,
Infused with cunning, serves to ruin me ;
Disgraced, and banished from the family.
In vain forgotten services I boast ;
My long dependence in an hour is lost.
Look round the world, what country will appear,
Where friends are left with greater ease than^ here ?
At Rome (nor think me partial to the poor)
All offices of ours are out of door :
In vain we rise, and to the levees run ;
My lord himself is up before, and gone :
The prjetor bids his lictors mend their pace,
Lest his colleague outstrip him in the race.
The childless matrons are, long since, awake,
And for affronts the tardy visits take.
Tis frequent here to see a free-born son
On the left hand of a rich hireling run ;
Because the wealthy rogue can throw away,
For half a brace of bouts, a tribune's pay ;
But you, poor sinner, though you love the vice,
And like the whore, demur upon the price ;
And, frighted with the wicked sum, forbear
To lend a hand, and help her from the chair.
Produce a witness of unblemished life,
Holy as Numa, or as Numa's wife,
Or him who bid the unhallowed flames retire,
And snatched the trembling goddess from the fire ;f
* Grecians living in Rome.
t Lucius Metellus, the high priest, who, when the temple of
Vesta was on fire, saved the Palladium.
OF JUVENAL. 139
The question is not put how far extefcds
His piety, but what he yearly spends ;
Quick, to the business ; how he lives and eats ;
How largely gives ; how splendidly he treats ;
How many thousand acres feed his sheep ;
What are his rents ; what servants does he keep ?
The account is soon cast up ; the judges rate
Our credit in the court by our estate.
Swear by our gods, or those the Greeks adore,
Thou art as sure forsworn, as thou art poor :
The poor must gain their bread by perjury ; *\
And e'en the gods, that other means deny,
In conscience must absolve them, when they lie. 3
Add, that the rich have still a gibe in store,
And will be monstrous witty on the poor ;
For the torn surtout and the tattered vest,
The wretch and all his wardrobe, are a jest ;
The greasy gown, sullied with often turning,
GiveSTgbod hint, to say, The man's in mourning j
Or, if the shoe be ripped, or patches put,
He's wounded ! see the plaister on his foot.
Want is the scorn of every wealthy fool,
And wit in rags is turned to ridicule.
Pack hence, and from the covered benches rise,
(The master of the ceremonies cries,)
This is no place for you, whose small estate
Is not the value of the settled rate ;
The sons of happy punks, the pandar's heir, 1
Are privileged to sit in triumph there, r
To clap the first, and rule the theatre.
Up to the galleries, for shame, retreat ;
For, by the Roscian law, * the poor can claim no seat.
* Roscius, a tribune, ordered the distinction of places at public
shows, betwixt the noblemen of Rome and the plebeians.^
I
140 THE THIRD SATIRE
Who ever brought to his rich daughter's bed,
The man that polled but twelve pence for his head ?
Who ever named a poor man for his heir,
Or called him to assist the judging chair?
The poor were wise, who, by the rich oppressed,
Withdrew, and sought a secret place of rest. *
Once they did well, to free themselves from scorn ;
But had done better, never to return.
Rarely they rise by virtue's aid, who lie
Plunged in the depth of helpless poverty.
At Rome 'tis worse, where house-rent by the year,
And servants' bellies, cost so devilish dear,
And tavern-bills run high for hungry cheer.
To drink or eat in earthen-ware we scorn,
W'hich cheaply country-cupboards does adorn,
And coarse blue hoods on holidays are worn.
Some distant parts of Italy are known,
Where none but only dead men wear a gown ; f
On theatres of turf, in homely state,
Old plays they act, old feasts they celebrate ;
The same rude song returns upon the crowd,
And, by tradition, is for wit allowed.
The mimic yearly gives the same delights;
And in the mother's arms the clownish infant frights.
Their habits (undistinguished by degree) ~)
Are plain, alike; the same simplicity, >
Both on the stage, and in the pit, you see. j
* Alluding to the secession of the Plebeians to the Mons Sacer,
or Sacred Hill, as it was called, when they "were persecuted by the
aristocracy. This very extraordinary resignation of their faculty,
on the part of the common people, was not singular in the Roman
history. It argues a much more inconsiderable population than
the ancient writers would have us believe. EDITOR.
f The meaning is, that men in some parts of Italy never wore
a gown, the usual habit of the Romans, till they were buried j
one,
OF JUVENAL. 141
/
In his white cloak the magistrate appears ;
The country bumpkin the same livery wears.
But here attired beyond our purse we go,
For useless ornament and flaunting show ;
We take on trust, in purple robes to shine,
And poor, are yet ambitious to be fine.
This is a common vice, though all things here
Are sold, and sold unconscionably dear.
What will you give that Cossus * may but view
Your face, and in the crowd distinguish you ;
May take your incense like a gracious God,
And answer only with a civil nod?
To please our patrons, in this vicious age,
We make our entrance by the favourite page ;
Shave his first down, and when he polls his hair,
The consecrated locks to temples bear;
Pay tributary cracknels, which he sells,
And with our offerings help to raise his vails.
Who fears in country -towns a house's fall,
Or to be caught betwixt a riven wall ?
But we inhabit a weak city here,
Which buttresses and props but scarcely bear;
And 'tis the village-mason's daily calling,
To keep the world's metropolis from falling,
To cleanse the gutters, and the chinks to close,
And, for one night, secure his lord's repose.
At Cumre we can sleep quite round the year,
Nor falls, nor fires, nor nightly dangers fear ;
While rolling flames from Roman turrets fly,
And the pale citizens for buckets cry.
Thy neighbour has removed his wretched store,
Few hands will rid the lumber of the poor ;
Thy own third story smokes, while thou, supine,
Art drenched in fumes of undigested wine.
* Any wealthy man.
142 THE THIRD SATIRE
For if the lowest floors already burn,
Cock-lofts and garrets soon will take the turn,
Where thy tame pigeons next the tiles were bred,*
Which, in their nests unsafe, are timely fled.
Codrus f had but one bed, so short to boot,
That his short wife's short legs hung dangling out ;
His cupboard's head six earthen pitchers graced,
Beneath them was his trusty tankard placed ;
And, to support this noble plate, there lay
A bending Chiron cast from honest clay ;
His few Greek books a rotten chest contained,
Whose covers much of mouldiness complained ;
Where mice ajid rats devoured poetic bread,
And witlTlieroic 'verse luxuriously were fed.
Tis true, poor Codrus nothing had to boast,
And yet poor Codrus all that nothing lost;
Begged naked through the streets of wealthy Rome,
And found not one to feed, or take him home.
But, if the palace of Arturius burn,
The nobles change their clothes, the matrons mourn ;
The city-praetor will no pleadings hear; -\
The very name of fire we hate and fear,
And look aghast, as if the Gauls were here. 3
While yet it burns, the officious nation flies,
Some to condole, and some to bring supplies.
One sends him marble to rebuild, and one
White naked statues of the Parian stone,
The work of Polyclete, that seem to live ;
While others images for altars give ;
* The Romans used to breed their tame pigeons in their gar-
yets.
f Codrus, a learned man, very poor : by his books, supposed
to be a poet; for, in all probability, the heroic verses here men-
tioned, which rats and mice devoured, were Homer's works.
OF JUVENAL. 143
One books and skreens, and Pallas to the breast;
Another bags of gold, and he gives best.
Childless Arturius, vastly rich before,
Thus, by his losses, multiplies his store;
Suspected for accomplice to the fire,
That burnt his palace but to build it higher.
But, could you be content to bid adieu.
To the dear playhouse, and the players too,
Sweet country-seats are purchased every where, **
With lands and gardens, at less price than here
You hire a darksome dog-hole by the year. 3
A small convenience decently prepared,
A shallow well, that rises in your yard,
That spreads his easy crystal streams around,
And waters all the pretty spot of ground.
There, love the fork, thy garden cultivate,
And give thy frugal friends a Pythagorean treat ; *
'Tis somewhat to be lord of some small ground,
In which a lizaxdjiiay, at least, turn round.
'Tis frequent here, for want of sleep, to die, "}
Which fumes of undigested feasts deny,
And, with imperfect heat, in languid stomachs fry. J
What house secure from noise the poor can keep,
When even the rich can scarce afford to sleep?
So dear it costs to purchase rest in Rome,
And hence the sources of diseases come.
The drover, who his fellow-drover meets
In narrow passages of winding streets ;
The waggoners, that curse their standing teams,
Would wake even drowsy Drusus from his dreams.
And yet the wealthy will not brook delay,
But sweep above our heads, and make their way,
In lofty litters borne, and read and write,
Or sleep"aFease, the shutters make it night ;
Herbs, roots, fruits, and sallads.
144 THE THIRD SATIRE
Yet still he reaches first the public place.
The press before him stops the client's pace ;
The crowd that follows crush his panting sides,
And trip his heels ; he walks not, but he rides.
One elbows him, one jostles in the shole,
A rafter breaks his head, or chairman's pole;
Stocking'd with loads of fat town-dirt he goes, "}
And some rogue-soldier, with his hob-nailed shoes, >
Indents his legs behind in bloody rows. j
See, with what smoke our doles we celebrate : ^
A hundred guests, invited, walk in state ; f^
A hundred hungry slaves, with their Dutch kit- (
chens, wait. }
Huge pans the wretches on their heads must bear,
Which scarce gigantic Corbulo* could rear;
Yet they must walk upright beneath the load,
Nay run, and, running, blow the sparkling flames
abroad.
Their coats, from botching newly brought, are torn.
Unweildy timber-trees, in waggons borne,
Stretched at their length, beyond their carriage lie,
That nod, and threaten ruin from on high ;
For, should their axle break, its overthrow
Would crush, and pound to dust, the crowd below ;
Nor friends their friends, nor sires their sons could
know;
Nor limbs, nor bones, nor carcase, would remain,
But a mashed heap, a hojcjipotch of the slain ;
One vast destruction ; "not Tnesoul alone,
But bodies, like the soul, invisible are flown.
* Corbulo was a famous general, in Nero's time, who conquer-
ed Armenia, and was afterwards put to death by that tyrant, when
he was in Greece, in reward of his great services. His stature was
not only tall above the ordinary size, but he was also proportiovi-
ably strong.
OF JUVENAL. 145
Meantime, unknowing of their fellow's fate,
The servants wash the platter, scower the plate,
Then blow the fire, with puffing cheeks, and lay Y
The rubbers, and the bathing-sheets display,
And oil them first; and each is handy in his way.j
But he, for whom this busy care they take,
Poor ghost ! is wandering by the Stygian lake ;
Affrighted with the ferryman's grim face,
New to the horrors of that uncouth place,
His passage begs, with unregarded prayer,
And wants two farthings to discharge his fare.
Return we to the dangers of the night.
And, first, behold our houses' dreadful height;
From whence come broken potsherds tumbling
down,
And leaky ware from garret-windows thrown ;
Well may they break our heads, that mark the flin-
ty stone.
'Tis want of sense to sup abroad too late,
Unless thou first hast settled thy estate ;
As many fates attend thy steps to meet,
As there are waking windows in the street.
Bless the good Gods, and think thy chance is rare,
To have a pjss-pot only for thy share.
The scouringTTmnkard, if he does not fight
Before his bed-time, takes no rest that night;
Passing the tedious hours in greater pain
Than stern Achilles, when his friend was slain;
'Tis so ridiculous, but so true withal,
A bully cannot sleep without a brawl.
Yet, though his youthful blood be fired with wine,
He wants not wit the danger to decline ;
Is cautious to avoid the coach and six,
And on the lacquies will no quarrel fix.
His train of flambeaux, and embroidered coat,
May privilege my lord to walk secure on foot;
VOL. XIII. K
146 THE THIRD SATIRE
But me, who must by moon-light homeward bend,
Or lighted only with a candle's end,
Poor me he fights, if that be fighting, where
He only cudgels, and I only bear.
He stands, and bids me stand ; I must abide,
For he's the stronger, and is drunk beside.
Where did you whet your knife to-night, he cries,
And shred the leeks that in your stomach rise?
Whose windy beans have stuft your guts, and where
Have your black thumbs been dipt in vinegar?
With what companion-cobler have you fed,
On old ox-cheeks, or he-goat's tougher head ?
What, are you dumb? Quick, with your answer, quick,
Before my foot salutes you with a kick.
Say, in what nasty cellar, under ground,
Or what church- porch, your rogueship may be
found ?
Answer, or answer not, 'tis all the same,
He lays me on, and makes me bear the blame.
Before the bar for beating him you come ;
This is a poor man's liberty in Rome.
You beg his pardon ; happy to retreat
W T ith some remaining teeth, to chew your meat.
Nor is this all ; for when, retired, you think
To sleep securely, when the candles wink,
When every door with iron chains is barred,
And roaring taverns are no longer heard ;
The ruffian robbers, by no justice awed,
And unpaid cut-throat soldiers, are abroad ;
Those venal souls, who, hardened in each ill,
To save complaints and prosecution, kill.
Chased from their woods and bogs, the padders
come
To this vast city, as their native home,
To live at ease, and safely skulk in Rome.
The forge in fetters only is employed ;
Our iron mines exhausted and destroyed
i
OF JUVENAL. 147
In shackles ; for these villains scarce allow
Goads for the teams, and plough-shares for the plough.
Oh, happy ages of our ancestors,
Beneath the kings and tribunitial powers !
One jail did all their criminals restrain,
Which now the walls of Rome can scarce contain.
More I could say, more causes I could show
For my departure, but the sun is low ;
The waggoner grows weary of my stay,
And whips his horses forwards on their way.
Farewell ! and when, like me, o'erwhelmed with
care,
You to your own Aquinam * shall repair,
To take a mouthful of sweet country air,
Be mindful of your friend ; and send me word,
What joys your fountains and cool shades afford.
Then, to assist your satires, I will come,
And add new venom when you write of Rome.
The birth-place of Juvenal.
'Vhinl*! flT
THE
SIXTH SATIRE
OF
JUVENAL. o. UO Y
L \;/li Oi
?J^B oJ .noiiT
THE ARGUMENT.
This Satire, of almost double length to any of the rest, is a bitter invec-
tive against the fair sex. It is, indeed, a common-place, from whence
all the moderns have notoriously stolen their sharpest railleries. In
his other satires, the poet has only glanced on some particular women,
and generally scourged the men ; but this he reserved wholly for the
ladies. How they had offended him, I know not; but, upon the
whole matter, he is not to be excused for imputing to all, the vices of
some few amongst them. Neither was it generously done of him, to
attack the weakest, as well as the fairest, part of the creation ; nei-
ther do I know what moral he could reasonably draw from it. It
could not be to avoid the whole sex, if all had been true which he
alleges against them ; for that had been to put an end to human
kind. And to bid us beware of their artifices, is a kind of silent ac-
knowledgment, that they have more wit than men ; which turns the
satire upon us, and particularly upon the post, who thereby makes a
compliment, where he meant a libeL If he intended only to exercise
his wit, he has forfeited his judgment, by making the one half of his
readers his mortal enemies ; and amongst the men, all the happy lo-
vers, by their own experience, will disprove his accusations. The
whole world must allow this to be the wittiest of his satires ; and
truly he had need of all his parts, to maintain, with so much vio-
lence, so unjust a charge. I am satisfied he ivill bring but few over
tQ his opinion; and on that consider at ion chiefly I ventured to trans-
THE SIXTH SATIRE OF JUVENAt. 149
late him. Though there wanted not another reason, which was, that
no one else would undertake it ; at least, Sir C. S., who could have
done more rigJit to the author, after a long delay, at length absolute-
ly refused so ungrateful an employment ; and every one will grant,
that the work must have been imperfect and lame, if it had appeared
without one of the principal members belonging to it. Let the poet,
therefore, bear the blame of his own invention ; and let me satisfy
the world, that I am not of his opinion. Whatever his Roman la-
dies were, the English are free from all his imputations. They will
read with wonder and abhorrence the vices of an age, which was the
most infamous of any on record. They will bless themselves when
they behold those examples, related of Domitian's time ; they will
give back to antiquity those monsters it produced, and believe, with
reason, that the species of those women is extinguished, or, at least,
that they were never here propagated. I may safely, therefore, pro-
ceed to the argument of a satire, which is no way relating to them ;
and first observe, that my author makes their lust the most heroic of
their vices ; the rest are in a manner but digression. He skims them
over, but he dwells on this ; when he seems to have taken his last leave
of it, on the sudden he returns to it : It is one branch of it in Hip-
pia, another in Messalina, but lust is the main body of the tree. He
begins with this text in the first line, and takes it up, with intermis-
sions, to the end of the chapter. Every vice is a loader, but that is
a ten. The fillers, or intermediate parts, are their revenge ; their
contrivances of secret crimes; their arts to hide them; their wit to
excuse them ; and their impudence to own them, when they can no
longerbe kept secret. Then the persons to whom they are most ad-
dicted, and on whom they commonly bestow the last favours, as stage-
players, fiddlers, singing-boys, and fencers. Those who pass for
chaste amongst them, are not really so ; but only, for their vast
doweries, are rather suffered, than loved, by their oivn husbands.
That they are imperious, domineering, scolding wives; set up for learn-
ing, and criticism in poetry ; but are false judges : Love to speak
Greek, (which was then the fashionable tongue, as French is now
with us}. That they plead causes at the bar, and play prizes at the
bear-garden : That they are gossips and newsmongers ; wrangle with-
their neighbours abroad, and beat their servants at home : That they
lie-in for new faces once a month; are sluttish with their husbands
in private, and paint and dress in public for their lovers : That they
deal with Jews, diviners, and fortune-tellers ; leant the arts of mis-
carrying and barrenness ; buy children, and produce them for their
own ; murder their husbands sons, if they stand in their way to his
estate, and make their adulterers his heirs. From hence the poet
proceeds to sltow the occasions of all these vices, their original, and
how they were introduced in Rome by peace, wealth, and luxury. In
150 THE SIXTH SATIRE
conclusion, if we will take the word of our malicious author, bad
women are the general standing rule ; and the good, but some few
exceptions to it.
IN Saturn's reign, at Nature's early birth,
There was that thing called Chastity on earth ;
When in a narrow cave, their common shade,
The sheep, the shepherds, and their gods were laid ;
When reeds, and leaves, and hides of beasts, were~\
spread, /
By mountain-housewives, for their homely bed, J.
And mossy pillows raised, for the rude husband's t
head.
Unlike the niceness of our modern dames,
(Affected nymphs, with new-affected names,)
The Cynthias, and the Lesbias of our years,
Who for a sparrow's death dissolve in tears,
Those first unpolished matrons, big and bold,
Gave suck to infants of gigantic mould ;
Rough as their savage lords, who ranged the wood,
And, fat with acorns, belched their windy food.
For when the world was buxom, fresh, and young,
Her sons were undebauched, and therefore strong ;
And whether born in kindly beds of earth,
Or struggling from the teeming oaks to birth,
Or from what other atoms they begun,
No sires they had, or, if a sire, the sun.
Some thin remains of chastity appeared
Even under Jove, * but Jove without a beard;
Before the servile Greeks had learnt to swear
By heads of kings ; while yet the bounteous year
Her common fruits in open plains exposed ;
Ere thieves were feared, or gardens were inclosed.
* When Jove had driven his father into banishment, the Silver
Age began, according to the poets.
OF JUVENAL. 151
At length uneasy Justice upwards flew,
And both the sisters to the stars withdrew ; f
From that old era whoring did begin,
So venerably ancient is the sin.
Adulterers next invade the nuptial state,
And marriage-beds creaked with a foreign weight ;
All other ills did iron times adorn,
But whores and silver in one age were born.
Yet thou, they say, for marriage dost provide;
Is this an age to buckle with a bride ?
They say thy hair the curling art is taught,
The wedding-ring perhaps already bought ;
A sober man like thee to change his life !
What fury would possess thee with a wife?
Art thou of every other death bereft,
No knife, no ratsbane, no kind halter left?
(For every noose compared to her's is cheap.)
Is there no city-bridge from whence to leap?
Would'st thou become her drudge, who dost enjoy
A better sort of bedfellow, thy boy ?
He keeps thee not awake with nightly brawls, .
Nor, with a begged reward, thy pleasure palls ;
Nor, with insatiate heavings, calls for more,
When all thy spirits were drained out before.
But still Ursidius courts the marriage- bait,
Longs for a son to settle his estate,
And takes no gifts, though every gaping heir
Would gladly grease the rich old bachelor.
What revolution can appear so strange,
As such a lecher such a life to change?
A rank, notorious whoremaster, to choose
To thrust his neck into the marriage-noose?
t The poet makes Justice and Chastity sisters ; and says, that
they fled to heaven together, and left earth for ever.
THE SIXTH SATIRE
He who so often, in a dreadful fright,
Had, in a coffer, 'scaped the jealous cuckold's sight;
That he, to wedlock dotingly betrayed,
Should hope, in this lewd town, to find a maid !
The man's grown mad-! to ease his frantic pain,
Run for the surgeon, breathe the middle vein ;
But let a heifer, with gilt horns, be led
To Juno, regent of the marriage-bed;
And let him every deity adore,
If his new bride prove not an arrant whore,
In head, and tail, and every other pore.
On Ceres' feast, * restrained from their delight,
Few matrons there, but curse the tedious night;
Few whom their fathers dare salute, such lust
Their kisses have, and come with such a gust.
With ivy now adorn thy doors, and wed;
Such is thy bride, and such thy genial bed.
Think'st thou one man is for one woman meant ?
She sooner with one eye would be content.
And yet, 'tis noised, a maid did once appear
In some small village, though fame says not where.
'Tis possible ; but sure no man she found ;
'Twas desart all about her father's ground.
And yet some lustful God might there make bold;
Are Jove and Mars grown impotent and old ?
Many a fair nymph has in a cave been spread,
And much good love without a feather-bed.
Whither would'st thou, to chuse a wife, resort,
The park, the mall, the playhouse, or the court ?
Which way soever thy adventures fall,
Secure alike of chastity in all.
One sees a dancing-master capering high,
And raves, and pisses, with pure extacy ;
* When the Roman women were forbidden to bed with their
husbands.
OF JUVENAL. 153
Another docs with all his motions move,
And gapes, and grins, as in the feat of love ;
A third is charmed with the new opera notes,
Admires the song, but on the singer dotes.
The country lady in the box appears, "j
Softly she warbles over all she hears,
And sucks in passion both at eyes and ears. j
The rest (when now the long vacation's come,
The noisy hall and theatres gr6wn dumb)
Their memories to refresh, and cheer their hearts,
In borrowed breeches, act the players' parts.
The poor, that scarce have wherewithal to eat,
Will pinch, to make the singing-boy a treat;
The rich, to buy him, will refuse no price,
And stretch his quail-pipe, till they crack his voice.
Tragedians, acting love, for lust are sought,
Though but the parrots of a poet's thought.
The pleading lawyer, though for counsel used,
In chamber-practice often is refused.
Still thou wilt have a wife, and father heirs, '
The product of concurring theatres.
Perhaps a fencer did thy brows adorn,
And a young swordsman to thy lands is bom.
Thus Hippia loathed her old patrician lord,
And left him for a brother of the sword.
To wondering Pharos * with her love she fled,
To show one monster more than Afric bred ;
Forgetting house and husband left behind, ")
Even children too, she sails before the wind ;
False to them all, but constant to her kind. 3
But, stranger yet, and harder to conceive,
She could the playhouse and the players leave.
* She fled to Egypt, which wondered at the enormity of her
crime.
154 THE SIXTH SATIRE
Born of rich parentage, and nicely bred,
She lodged on down, and in a damask bed;
Yet daring now the dangers of the deep,
On a hard mattress is content to sleep.
Ere this, 'tis true, she did her fame expose;
But that great ladies with great ease can lose.
The tender nymph could the rude ocean bear,
So much her lust was stronger than her fear.
But had some honest cause her passage prest,
The smallest hardship had disturbed her breast.
Each inconvenience makes their virtue cold;
But womankind in ills is ever bold.
Were she to follow her own lord to sea,
What doubts and scruples would she raise to stay ?
Her stomach sick, and her head giddy grows,
The tar and pitch are nauseous to her nose ;
But in love's voyage nothing can offend,
Women are never sea-sick with a friend.
Amidst the crew she walks upon the board, "1
She eats, she drinks, she handles every cord;
And if she spews, 'tis thinking of her lord. j
Now ask, for whom her friends and fame she lost?
What youth, what beauty, could the adulterer boast?
What was the face, for which she could sustain
To be called mistress to so base a man?
The gallant of his days had known the best ;
Deep scars were seen indented on his breast,
And all his battered limbs required their needful
rest ;
A promontory wen, with grisly grace,
Stood high upon the handle of his face :
His blear-eyes ran in gutters to his chin;
His beard was stubble, and his cheeks were thin.
But 'twas his fencing did her fancy move ;
'Tis arms, and blood, and cruelty, they love.
But should he quit his trade, and sheath his sword,
Her lover would begin to be her lord.
i
OF JUVENAL. 155
This was a private crime ; but you shall hear
What fruits the sacred brows of monarchs bear : *
The good old sluggard but began to snore,
When, from his side, up rose the imperial whore;
She, who preferred the pleasures of the night
To pomps, that are but impotent delight,
Strode from the palace, with an eager pace,
To cope with a more masculine embrace.
Muffled she marched, like Juno in a cloud,
Of all her train but one poor wench allowed ;
One whom in secret-service she could trust,
The rival and companion of her lust.
To the known brothel- house she takes her way, y
And for a nasty room gives double pay ;
That room in which the rankest harlot lay.
Prepared for fight, expectingly she lies,
With heaving breasts, and with desiring eyes.
Still as one drops, another takes his place,
And, baffled, still succeeds to like disgrace.
At length, when friendly darkness is expired,
And every strumpet from her cell retired,
She lags behind, and, lingering at the gate,
With a repining sigh submits to fate ;
All filth without, and all a fire within,
Tired with the toil, unsated with the sin.
Old Caesar's bed the modest matron seeks,
The steam of lamps still hanging on her cheeks
In ropy smut ; thus foul, and thus bedight,
She brings him back the product of the night.
Now, should I sing what poisons they provide,
With all their trumpery of charms beside,
And all their arts of death, it would be known,
Lust is the smallest sin the sex can own.
* He tells the famous story of Messalina, wife to the Emperor
Claudius.
156 THE SIXTH SATIRE
Caesinia still, they say, is guiltless found }
Of every vice, by her own lord renowned ; >
And well she may, she brought ten thousand pound. )
She brought him wherewithal to be called chaste ;
His tongue is tied in golden fetters fast :
He sighs, adores, and courts her every hour;
Who would not do as much for such a dower?
She writes love-letters to the youth in grace,
Nay, tips the wink before the cuckold's face ;
And might do more, her portion makes it good ;
Wealth has the privilege of widowhood. *
These truths with his example you disprove,
Who with his wife is monstrously in love :
But know him better; for I heard him swear,
'Tis not that she's his wife, but that she's fair.
Let her but have three wrinkles in her face,
Let her eyes lessen, and her skin unbrace,
Soon you will hear the saucy steward say,
Pack up with all your trinkets, and away ;
You grow offensive both at bed and board ;
Your betters must be had to please my lord.
Meantime she's absolute upon the throne,
And, knowing time is precious, loses none.
She must have flocks of sheep, with wool more fine
Than silk, and vineyards of the noblest wine ;
Whole droves of pages for her train she craves,
And sweeps the prisons for attending slaves.
In short, whatever in her eyes can come,
Or others have abroad, she wants at home.
When winter shuts the seas, and fleecy snows
Make houses white, she to the merchant goes ;
Rich crystals of the rock she takes up there,
Huge agate vases, and old china ware ;
* His meaning is, that a wife, who brings a large dowry, may do
what she pleases, and has all the privileges of a widow.
OF JUVENAL. 157
Then Berenice's ring* her finger proves,
More precious made by her incestuous loves,
And infamously dear ; a brother's bribe,
Even God's anointed, and of Judah's tribe ;
Where barefoot they approach the sacred shrine,
And think it only sin to feed on swine.
But is none worthy to be made a wife
In all this town? Suppose her free from strife, J.
Rich, fair, and fruitful, of unblemished life; $
Chaste as the Sabines, whose prevailing charms,
Dismissed their husbands' and their brothers' arms;
Grant her, besides, of noble blood, that ran
In ancient veins, ere heraldry began;
Suppose all these, and take a poet's word,
A black swan is not half so rare a bird.
A wife, so hung with virtues, such a freight,
What mortal shoulders could support the weight !
Some country girl, scarce to a curtsey bred,
Would I much rather than Cornelia f wed ;
If supercilious, haughty, proud, and vain,
She brought her father's triumphs in her train.
Away with all your Carthaginian state ; "i
Let vanquished Hannibal without doors wait,
Too burly, and too big, to pass my narrow gate. 3
O Paean ! cries Amphion, J bend thy bow ^
Against my wife, and let my children go !
But sullen Paean shoots at sons and mothers too. 3
* A ring of great price, which Herod Agrippa gave to his sister
Berenice. He was king of the Jews, but tributary to the Romans.
f Cornelia was mother to the Gracchi, of the family of the Cor-
nelii> from whence Scipio the African was descended, who triumph-
ed over Hannibal.
J He alludes to the known fable of Niobe, in Ovid. Amphion
was her husband. Pa?an was Apollo ; who with his arrows killed
her children, because she boasted that she was more fruitful thap
Latona, Apollo's mother.
158 THE SIXTH SATIRE
His Niobe and all his boys he lost ;
Even her, who did her numerous offspring boast,
As fair and fruitful as the sow that carried
The thirty pigs, at one large litter farrowed. *
What beauty, or what chastity, can bear
So great a price, if, stately and severe,
She still insults, and you must still adore ?
Grant that the honey's much, the gall is more.
Upbraided with the virtues she displays,
Seven hours in twelve you loath the wife you praise.
Some faults, though small, intolerable grow ;
For what so nauseous and affected too,
As those that think they due perfection want,
Who have not learnt to lisp the Grecian cant? f
In Greece, their whole accomplishments they seek :
Their fashion, breeding, language, must be Greek ;
But, raw in all that does to Rome belong,
They scorn to cultivate their mother-tongue.
In Greek they flatter, all their fears they speak ;
Tell all their secrets ; nay, they scold in Greek :
Even in the feat of love, they use that tongue.
Such affectations may become the young ;
But thou, old hag, of three score years and three,
Is showing of thy parts in Greek for thee ?
Zw tat -^vxji ! All those tender words
The momentary trembling bliss affords ;
The kind soft murmurs of the private sheets
Are bawdy, while thou speak'st in public streets.
Those words have fingers; and their force is such,
They raise the dead, and mount him with a touch.
But all provocatives from tlie are vain ;
No blandishment the slackened nerve can strain.
* He alludes to the white sow in V 7 irgil, who farrowed thirty
pigs.
t Women then learned Greek, as ours speak French.
OF JUVENAL. 159
If then thy lawful spouse thou canst not love,
What reason should thy mind to marriage mpve?
Why ail the charges of the nuptial feast,
Wine and deserts, and sweet-meats to digest ?
The endowing gold that buys the dear delight.
Given for thy first and only happy night?
If thou art thus uxoriously inclined,
To bear thy bondage with a willing mind,
Prepare thy neck, and put it in the yoke ;
But for no mercy from thy woman look.
For though, perhaps, she loves with equal fires,
To absolute dominion she aspires,
Joys in the spoils, and triumphs o'er thy purse;
The better husband makes the wife the worse.
Nothing is thine to give, or sell, or buy, y
AH offices of ancient friendship die, \
Nor hast thou leave to make a legacy.* 5
By thy imperious wife thou art bereft
A privilege, to pimps and panders left ;
Thy testament's her will; where she prefers 1
Her ruffians, drudges, and adulterers,
Adopting all thy rivals for thy heirs. 3
Go drag that slave to death L Your reason? why
Should the poor innocent be doomed to die?
What proofs ? For, when man's life is in debate,
The judge can ne'er too long deliberate.
Call'st thou that slave a man r the wife replies ;
Proved, or unproved, the crime, the villain dies.
I have the sovereign power to save, or kill,
And give no other reason but my will.
Thus the she-tyrant reigns, till, pleased withchange,
Her wild affections to new empires range;
* All the Romans, even the most inferior, and most infamous
sort of them, had the power of making wills.
16*0 THE SIXTH SATIRE
i
Another subject-husband she desires ;
Divorced from him, she to the first retires,
While the last wedding-feast is scarcely o'er,
And garlands hang yet green upon the door.
So still the reckoning rises; and appears
In total sum, eight husbands in five years.
The title for a tomb -stone might be fit,
But that it would too commonly be writ.
Her mother living, hope no quiet day ; -j
She sharpens her, instructs her how to flay
Her husband bare, and then divides the prey. j
She takes love-letters, with a crafty smile,
And, in her daughter's answer, mends the style.
In vain the husband sets his watchful spies ;
She cheats their cunning, or she bribes their eyes.
The doctor's called ; the daughter, taught the trick.
Pretends to faint, and in full health is sick.
The panting stallion, at the closet-door,
Hears the consult, and wishes it were o'er.
Canst thou, in reason, hope, a bawd so known,
Should teach her other manners than her own?
Her interest is in all the advice she gives ;
'Tis on the daughter's rents the mother lives.
No cause is tried at the litigious bar,
But women plaintiffs or defendants are;
They form the process, all the briefs they write, ~}
The topics furnish, and the pleas indict,
And teach the toothless lawyer how to bite. 7
They turn viragos too ; the wrestler's toil
They try, and smear the naked limbs with oil;
Against the post their wicker shields they crush,
Flourish the sword, and at the flastron push.
Of every exercise the mannish crew
Fulfils the parts, and oft excels us too ;
Prepared not only in feigned fights to engage,
But rout the gladiators on the stage,
Of JUVEKAL,
What sense of shame in such a breast can lie,
Inured to arms, and her own sex to fly ?
Yet to be wholly man she would disclaim ; ^
To quit her tenfold pleasure at the game,
For frothy praises and an empty name. j
Oh what a decent sight 'tis to behold
All thy wife's magazine by auction sold !
The belt, the crested plume, the several suits
Of armour, and the Spanish leather boots !
Yet these are they, that cannot bear the heat
Of figured silks, and under sarcenet sweat.
Behold the strutting Amazonian whore,
She stands in guard with her right foot before ;
Her coats tucked up, and all her motions just,
She stamps, and then cries, Hah ! at every thrust;
But laugh to see her, tired with many a bout,
Call for the pot, and like a man piss out.
The ghosts of ancient Romans, should they rise,
Would grin to see their daughters play a prize.
Besides, what endless brawls by wives are bred?
The curtain-lecture makes a mournful bed.
Then, when she has thee sure within the sheets,
Her cry begins, and the whole day repeats.
Conscious of crimes herself, she teazes first ;
Thy servants are accused ; thy whore is curst ;
She acts the jealous, and at will she cries ;
For womens' tears are but the sweat of eyes.
Poor cuckold fool! thou think'st that love sincere,
And sucks between lief lips the falling tear;
But search her cabinet, and thou shalt find
Each tiller there with love-epistles lined.
Suppose her taken in a close embrace, -\
This you would think so manifest a case,
No rhetoric could defend, no impudence outface; V
And yet even then she cries, The marriage-vow
A mental reservation must allow;
VOL. XIII. L
162 THE SIXTH SATIRE
And there's a silent bargain still implied, V
The parties should be pleased on either side,
And both may for their private needs provide. \
Though men yourselves, and women us you call,
Yet ^07?20 is a common name for all.
! There's nothing bolder than a woman caught;
Guilt gives them courage to maintain their fault.
You ask, from whence proceed these monstrous
crimes?
Once poor, and therefore chaste, in former times
Our matrons were ; no luxury found room,
In low-roofed houses, and bare walls of loam ;
Their hands with labour hardened while 'twas light,
And frugal sleep supplied the quiet night ;
While pinched with want, their hunger held them
straight,
When Hannibal was hovering at the gate:
But wanton now, and lolling at our ease,
We suffer all the inveterate ills of peace,
And wasteful riot ; whose destructive charms,
Revenge the vanquished world of our victorious
arms.
No crime, no lustful postures are unknown,
Since Poverty, our guardian god, is gone ;
Pride, laziness, and all luxurious arts,
Pour, like a deluge, in from foreign parts :
Since gold obscene, and silver found the way, )
Strange fashions, with strange bullion, to convey, >
And our plain simple manners to betray. 3
i What care our drunken dames to whom they
spread ?
Wine no distinction makes of tail or head.
Who lewdly dancing at a midnight ball,
For hot eringoes and fat oysters call :
Full brimmers to their fuddled noses thrust,
Brimmers, the last provocatives of lust;
OF JUVENAL. 163
When vapours to their swimming brains advance,
And double tapers on the table dance.
Now think what bawdy dialogues they have,
What Tullia talks to her confiding slave,
At Modesty's old statue ; when by night
They make a stand, and from their litters light;
The good man early to the levee goes,
And treads the nasty paddle of his spouse.
The secrets of the goddess named the Good, *
Are even by boys and barbers understood ;
Where the rank matrons, dancing to the pipe,
Gig with their bums, and are for action ripe ;
With music raised, they spread abroad their hair,
And toss their heads like an enamoured mare ;
Laufella lays her garland by, and proves
The mimic lechery of manly loves.
Ranked with the lady the cheap sinner lies;
For here not blood, but virtue, gives the prize.
Nothing is feigned in this venereal strife ;
'Tis downright lust, and acted to the life.
So full, so fierce, so vigorous, and so strong,
That looking on would make old Nestor young.
Impatient of delay, a general sound, V
An universal groan of lust goes round ;
For then, and only then, the sex sincere is found. 3
Now is the time of action ; now begin,
They cry, and let the lusty lovers in.
The whoresons are asleep ; then bring the slaves,
And watermen, a race of strong-backed knaves.
I wish, at least, our sacred rites were free
From those pollutions of obscenity :
*The Bona Dea, or Good Goddess, at whose feasts no men wern
to be present.
164 THE SIXTH SATIRE
But 'tis well known what singer, ) how disguised,
A lewd audacious action enterprized ;
Into the fair, with women mixed, he went,
Armed with a huge two-handed instrument;
A grateful present to those holy choirs,
Where the mouse, guilty of his sex, retires,
And even male pictures modestly are veiled :
Yet no profaneness in that age prevailed ;
No scoffers at religious rites were found,
Though now at every altar they abound.
I hear your cautious counsel; you would say,
Keep close your women under lock and key :
But, who shall keep those keepers ? Women, nurst
In craft-, begin with those, and bribe them first.
The sex is turned all whore ; they love the game,
And mistresses and maids are both the same.
The poor Ogulnia, 01^ the poet's day,
Will borrow clothes and^ chair to see the play;
She, who before had mortgaged her estate,
And pawned the last remaining piece of plate.
Some are reduced their utmost shifts to try ;
But women have no shame of poverty.
They live beyond their stint, as if their store
The more exhausted, would encrease the more :
Some men, instructed by the labouring ant,
Provide against the extremities of want ;
But womankind, that never knows a mean,
Down to the dregs their sinking fortune drain :
Hourly they give, and spend, and waste, and wear,
And think no pleasure can be bought too dear.
t He alludes to the story of P. Clodius, who, disguised in the
habit of a singing woman, went into the house of Csesar, where the
feast of the Good Goddess was celebrated, to find an opportunity
with Caesar's wife, Pompeia.
OF JUVENAL. 165
There are, who in soft eunuchs place their bliss,
To shun the scrubbing of a bearded kiss,
And 'scape abortion ; but their solid joy
Is when the page, already past a boy,
Is caponed late, and to the gelder shown,
With his two-pounders to perfection grown ;
When all the navel-string could give, appears;
All but the beard, and that's the barber's loss, not
theirs.
Seen from afar, and famous for his ware,
He struts into the bath among the fair;
The admiring crew to their devotions fall,
And, kneeling, on their new Priapus call.
Kerved for his lady's use, with her he lies ;
And let him drudge for her, if thou art wise,
Rather than trust him with thy favourite boy ;
He proffers death, in proffering to enjoy.
If songs they love, the singer's voice they force
Beyond his compass, 'till his quail-pipe's hoarse.
His lute and lyre with their embrace is worn;
With knots they trim it, and with gems adorn ;
Run over all the strings, and kiss the case,
And make love to it in the master's place,
A certain lady once, of high degree,
To Janus vowed, and Vesta's deity,
That Pollio* might, in singing, win the prize ;
Pollio, the dear, the darling of her eyes:
She prayed, and bribed ; what could she more have
done
For a sick husband, or an only son ?
With her face veiled, and. heaving up her hands,
The shameless suppliant at the altar stands;
The forms of prayer she solemnly pursues,
And, pale with fear, the offered entrails views.
* A famous singing boy.
166 THE SIXTH SATIRE
Answer, ye powers ; for, if you heard her vow,
Your godships, sure, had little else to do.
This is not all ; for actors * they implore ;
An impudence unknown to heaven before.
The Aruspex, J tired with this religious rout,
Is forced to stand so long, he gets the gout.
But suffer not thy wife abroad to roam :
If she loves singing, let her sing at home ;
Not strut in streets with Amazonian pace,
For that's to cuckold thee before thy face.
Their endless itch of news comes next in play ;
They vent their own, and hear what others say;
Know what in Thrace, or what in France is done ;
The intrigues betwixt the stepdame and the son ;
Tell who loves who, what favours some partake,
And who is jilted for another's sake ;
What pregnant widow in what month was made;
How oft she did, and, doing, what she said.
She first beholds the raging comet rise,
Knows whom it threatens, and what lands destroys ;
Still for the newest news she lies in wait,
And takes reports just entering at the gate.
Wrecks, floods, and fires, whatever she can meet,
She spreads, and is the fame of every street.
This is a grievance ; but the next is worse;
A very judgment, and her neighbours' curse;
For, if their barking dog disturb her ease,
No prayer can bend her, no excuse appease.
The unmannered malefactor is arraigned ;
But first the master, who the cur maintained,
Must feel the scourge. By night she leaves her bed,
By night her bathing equipage is led,
* That such an actor, whom they love, might obtain the prize.
I He who inspects the entrails of the sacrifice, and from thence
foretels the success of the prayer. ^
OF JUVENAL. 167
That marching armies a less noise create ;
She moves in tumult, and she sweats in state.
Meanwhile, her guests their appetites must keep ;
Some gape for hunger, and some gasp for sleep.
At length she comes, all flushed ; but ere she sup, J
Swallows a swinging preparation-cup, {
And then, to clear her stomach, spews it up. j
The deluge-vomit all the floor overflows,
And the sour savour nauseates every nose.
She drinks again, again she spews a lake ;
Her wretched husband sees, and dares not speak;
But mutters many a curse against his wife,
And damns himself for choosing such a life.
But of all plagues, the greatest is untold ;
The book-learned wife, in Greek and Latin bold ;
The critic-dame, who at her table sits, }
Homer and Virgil quotes, and weighs their wits, >
And pities Dido's agonizing fits. j
She has so far the ascendant of the board,
The prating pedant puts not in one word ;
The man of law is non-pi ust in his suit,
Nay, every other female tongue is mute.
Hammers, and beating anvils, you would swear,
And Vulcan, with his whole militia, there.
Tabors and trumpets, cease ; for she alone
Is able to redeem the labouring moon. *
Even wit's a burthen, when it talks too long ;
But she, who has no continence of tongue,
Should walk in breeches, and should wear a beard,
And mix among the philosophic herd.
O what a midnight curse has he, whose side
Is pestered with a mood and figure bride !
* The ancients endeavoured to help the moon, during an eclipse,
by sounding trumpets.
168
Let mine, ye gods! (if such must be my fate,)
No logic learn, nor history translate,
But rather be a quiet, humble fool ;
I hate a wife to whom I go to school,
Who climbs the grammar tree, distinctly knows
Where noun, and verb, and participle grows ;
Corrects her country -neighbour ; and, a-bed,
For breaking Priscian's breaks her husband's head. *
The gaudy gossip, when she's set agog,
In jewels drest, and at each ear a bob,
Goes flaunting out, and, in her trim of pride,
Thinks all she says or does is justified.
When poor, she's scarce a tolerable evil ;
But rich, and fine, a wife's a very devil.
She duly, once a month, renews her face ;
Meantime, it lies in daub, and hid in grease.
Those are the husband's nights ; she craves her due,
He takes fat kisses, and is stuck in glue.
But to the loved adulterer when she steers,
Fresh from the bath, in brightness she appears :
For him the rich Arabia sweats her gum, ")
And precious oils from distant Indies come,
How haggardly soe'er she looks at home. 3
The eclipse then vanishes, and all her face
Is opened, and restored to every grace ;
The crust removed, her cheeks, as smooth as silk,
Are polished with a wash of asses milk;
And should she to the farthest north be sent,
A train of these f attend her banishment.
But hadst thou seen her plaistered up before,
: Twas so unlike a face, it seemed a sore.
* A woman-grammarian, who corrects her husband for speak-
ing false Latin, which is called breaking Priscian's head.
f- i. e. of the milk asses.
OF JUVENAL. 169
Tis worth our while, to know what all the day
They do, and how they pass their time away ;
For, if o'er-night the husband has been slack, ^
Or counterfeited sleep, and turned his back,
Next day, be sure, the servants go to wrack. 3
The chamber-maid and dresser are called whores,
The page is stript, and beaten out of doors ;
The whole house suffers for the master's crime,
And he himself is warned to wake another time.
She hires tormentors by the year ; she treats
Her visitors, and talks, but still she beats;
Beats while she paints her face, surveys her gown,
Casts up the day's account, and still beats on :
Tired out, at length, with an outrageous tone,
She bids them in the devil's name be gone.'
Compared with such a proud, insulting dame,
Sicilian tyrants* may renounce their name.
For, if she hastes abroad to take the air,
Or goes to Isis' church, (the bawdy house of prayer,)
She hurries all her handmaids to the task ;
Her head, alone, will twenty dressers ask.
Psecas, the chief, with breast and shoulders bare,
Trembling, considers every sacred hair;
If any straggler from his rank be found,
A pinch must for the mortal sin compound,
Psecas is not in fault ; but in the glass,
The dame's offended at her own ill face.
That maid is banished ; and another girl,
IVJore dexterous, manages the comb and curl.
The rest are summoned on a point so nice,
And, first, the grave old woman gives advice ;
The next is called, and so the turn goes round,
As each for age, or wisdom, is reno>vned :
t Sicilian tyrants were grown to a proverb, in Latin, for their
pruelty.
Such counsel, such deliberate care they take,
As if her life and honour lay at stake :
With curls on curls, they build her head before,
And mount it with a formidable tower.
A giantess she seems; but look behind,
And then she dwindles to the pigmy kind.
Duck-legged, short-waisted, such a dwarf she is,
That she must rise on tip-toes for a kiss.
Meanwhile, her husband's whole estate is spent !
He may go bare, while she receives his rent.
She minds him not ; she lives not as a wife,
But, like a bawling neighbour, full of strife :
Near him in this alone, that she extends
Her hate to all his servants and his friends.
Bellona's priests, * an eunuch at their head.
About the streets a mad procession lead ;
The venerable gelding, large, and high,
O'erlooks the herd of his inferior fry.
His aukward clergymen about him prance,
And beat the timbrels to their mystic dance ;
Guiltless of testicles, they tear their throats,
And squeak, in treble, their unmanly notes.
Meanwhile, his cheeks the mitred prophet swells,
And dire presages of the year foretels ;
Unless with eggs (his priestly hire) they haste
To expiate, and avert the autumnal blast ;
And add beside a murrey-coloured vest, f
Which, in their places, may receive the pest,
And, thrown into the flood, their crimes may bear,
To purge the unlucky omens of the year.
* Bellona's priests were a sort of fortune-tellers ; and their hi; 1 ."
priest an eunuch.
f A garment was given to the priest, which he threw, or was
supposed to throw, into the river ; and that, they thought, bore all
the sins of the people, which were drowned with it,
-.' OP JUVENAL. 171
The astonished matrons pay, before the rest ;
That sex is still obnoxious to the priest.
Through ye they beat, and plunge into the stream,
If so the God has warned them in a dream.
"Weak in their limbs, but in devotion strong, ^
On their bare hands and feet they crawl along (.
A whole field's length, the laughter of the throng. 5
Should lo (lo's priest, I mean) command
A pilgrimage to Meroe's burning sand,
Through deserts they would seek the secret spring,
And holy water for lustration bring.
How can they pay their priests too much respect,
Who trade with heaven, and earthly gains neglect !
With him domestic gods discourse by night;
By day, attended by his choir in white,
The bald pate tribe runs madding through the street,
And smile to see with how much ease they cheat.
The ghostly sire forgives the wife's delights,
Who sins, through frailty, on forbidden nights,
And tempts her husband in the holy time,
When carnal pleasure is a mortal crime.
The sweating image shakes his head, but he,
With mumbled prayers, atones the deity.
The pious priesthood the fat goose receive,
And, they once bribed, the godhead must forgive.
No sooner these remove, but full of fear,
A gipsey Jewess whispers in your ear,
And begs an alms ; an high-priest's daughter she,
Versed in their Talmud, and divinity,
And prophesies beneath a shady tree.
Her goods a basket, and old hay her bed,
She strolls, and, telling fortunes, gains her bread :
Farthings, and some small monies, are her fees ;
Yet she interprets all your dreams for these,
Foretels the estate, when the rich uncle dies,
And sees a sweetheart in the sacrifice.
172 THE SIXTH SATIRE
Such toys, a pigeon's entrails can disclose,
Which yet the Armenian augur far outgoes ;
In dogs, a victim more obscene, he rakes;
And murdered infants for inspection takes :
For gain his impious practice he pursues;
For gain will his accomplices accuse.
More credit yet is to Chaldeans * given ;
What they foretel, is deemed the voice of heaven.
Their answers, as from Mammon's altar, come ;
Since now the Delphian oracles are dumb,
And mankind, ignorant of future fate,
Believes what fond astrologers relate.
Of these the most in vogue is he, who, sent
Beyond seas, is returned from banishment ;
His art who to aspiring Otho f sold,
And sure succession to the crown foretold ;
For his esteem is in his exile placed;
The more believed, the more he was disgraced.
No astrologic wizard honour gains,
Who has not oft been banished, or in chains.
He gets renown, who, to the halter near,
But narrowly escapes, and buys it dear.
From him your wife enquires the planets' will,
When the black jaundice shall her mother kill;
Her sister's and her uncle's end would know,
But, first, consults his art, when you shall go ;
And, what's the greatest gift that^heavencangi ve,~
If after her the adulterer shall live.
She neither knows, nor cares to know, the rest,
If Mars and Saturn J shall the world infest;
* Chaldeans are thought to have been the first astrologers.
f Otho succeeded Galba in the empire, which was foretold him
by an astrologer.
I Mars and Saturn are the two unfortunate planets j Jupite?
and Venus the two, fortunate.
OF JUVENAL. 17$
Or Jove and Venus, with their friendly rays,
Will interpose, and bring us better days.
Beware the woman too, and shun her sight,
Who in these studies does herself delight,
By whom a greasy almanack is born,
With often handling, like chaft amber worn :
Not now consulting, but consulted, she
Of the twelve houses, and their lords, is free.
She, if the scheme a fatal journey show,
Stays safe at home, but lets her husband go.
If but a mile she travel out of town,
The planetary hour must first be known,
And lucky moment; if her eye hut aches,
Or itches, its decumbiture she takes ;
No nourishment receives in her disease,
But what the stars and Ptolemy * shall please.
The middle sort, who have not much to spare, V
To chiromancers' cheaper art repair, f
Who clap the pretty palm, to make the lines more i
fair.
But the rich matron, who has more to give,
Her answers from the Brachman f will receive ;
Skilled in the globe and sphere, he gravely stands,
And, with his compass, measures seas and lands.
The poorest of the sex have still an itch
To know their fortunes, equal to the rich.
The dairy-maid enquires, if she shall take
The trusty tailor, and the cook forsake.
Yet these, though poor, the pain of childbed bear,
And without nurses their own infants rear :
You seldom hear of the rich mantle spread
For the babe, born in the great lady's bed.
* A famous astrologer ; an Egyptian.
f The Brachmans are Indian philosophers, who remain to this
day ; and hold, after Pythagoras, the translation of souls from one
fcody to another.
174 THE SIXTH SATIRE
Such is the power of herbs, such arts they use
To make them barren, or their fruit to lose.
But thou, whatever slops she will have bought,
Be thankful, and supply the deadly draught ;
Help her to make man-slaughter ; let her bleed,
And never want for savin at her need.
For, if she holds till her nine months be run,
Thou may'st be father to an Ethiop's son ; *
A boy, who, ready gotten to thy hands,
By law is to inherit all thy lands ;
One of that hue, that, should he cross the way,
His omen would discolour all the day.f
I pass the foundling by, a race unknown,
At doors exposed, whom matrons make their own;
And into noble families advance
A nameless issue, the blind work of chance.
Indulgent fortune does her care employ,
And, smiling, broods upon the naked boy :
Her garment spreads, and laps him in the fold,
And covers with her wings from nightly cold :
Gives him her blessing, puts him in a way,
Sets up the farce, and laughs at her own play.
Him she promotes ; she favours him alone,
And makes provision for him as her own.
The craving wife the force of magic tries,
And filters for the unable husband buys ;
The potion works not on the part designed,
But turns his brains, and stupifies his mind.
The sotted moon-calf gapes, and, staring on,
Sees his own business by another done :
* Juvenal's meaning is, help her to any kind of slops which
may cause her to miscarry, for fear she may be brought to bed of
a black Moor, which thou, being her husband, art bound to fa-
ther ; and that bastard may, by law', inherit thy estate.
tThe Romans thought it ominous to see a black Moor in the
morning, if he were the first man they met.
OF JUVENAL. 175
A long oblivion, a benumbing frost,
Constrains his head, and yesterday is lost.
Some nimbler juice would make him foam and rave,
Like that Caesonia* to her Caius gave,
Who, plucking from the forehead of the foal
His mother's love,f infused it in the bowl ;
The boiling blood ran hissing in his veins,
Till the mad vapour mounted to his brains.
The Thunderer was not half so much on fire,
When Juno's girdle kindled his desire.
What woman will not use the poisoning trade,
When Caesar's wife the precedent has made?
Let Agrippina's mushroom ;{: be forgot,
Given to a slavering, old, unuseful sot ;
That only closed the driv'ling dotard's eyes,
And sent his godhead downward to the skies ;
But this fierce potion calls for fire and sword,
Nor spares the commons, when it strikes the lord.
So many mischiefs were in one combined;
So much one single poisoner cost mankind.
If step-dames seek their sons-in-law to kill,
Tis venial trespass let them have their will ;
But let the child, entrusted to the care
Of his own mother, of her bread beware ;
Beware the food she reaches with her hand,
The morsel is intended for thy land.
* Caesonia, wife to Caius Caligula, the great tyrant. It is said
she gave him a love-potion, which, flying up into his head, dis-
tracted him, and was the occasion of his committing so many acts
of cruelty.
t The hippomanes, a fleshy excrescence, which the ancients sup-
posed grew in the forehead of a foal, and which the mare bites off
when it is born. It was supposed to be a sovereign ingredient ia
philtres. EDITOR.
J Agrippina was the mother of the tyrant Nero, who poisoned
her husband Claudius, that Nero might succeed, who was her son,
and not Britannicus, who was the son of Claudius, by a former
wife.
THE SIXTH SATIRE
Thy tutor be thy taster, ere thou eat ;
There's poison in thy drink and in thy meat.
You think this feigned ; the satire, in a rage,
Struts in the buskins of the tragic stage ;
Forgets his business is to laugh and bite,
And will of deaths and dire revenges write.
Would it were all a fable that you read !
But Drymon's wife * pleads guilty to the deed.
I, she confesses, in the fact was caught,
Two sons dispatching at one deadly draught.
What, two ! two sons, thou viper, in one day !
Yes, seven, she cries, if seven were in my way.
Medea's legend is no more a lie,
Our age adds credit to antiquity.
Great .ills, we grant, in former times did reign,
And murders then were done, but not for gain.
Less admiration to great crimes is due,
Which they through wrath, or through revenge pur-
sue ;
For, weak of reason, impotent of will,
The sex is hurried headlong into ill ;
And like a cliff, from its foundations torn
By raging earthquakes, into seas is borne.
But those are fiends, who crimes from thought begin,
And, cool in mischief, meditate the sin.
They read the example of a pious wife,
Redeeming, with her own, her husband's life ;
Yet if the laws did that exchange afford,
Would save their lap-dog sooner than their lord.
Where'er you walk, the Belidesf you meet, ^
And Clytemnestras grow in every street;
* The widow of Drymon poisoned her sons, that she might suc-
ceed to their estate : This was done in the poet's time, or just be-
fore it.
I The Belides were fifty sisters, married to fifty young men,
their cousin-Germans; and killed them all on their wedding-night,
excepting liipermnestra, who saved her husband Linus.
OF JUVENAL. 177
But here's the difference, Agamemnon's wife
Was a gross butcher with a bloody knife;
But murder now is to perfection grown,
And subtle poisons are employed alone ;
Unless some antidote prevents their arts,
And lines with balsam all the nobler parts.
In such a case, reserved for such a need,
Rather than fail, the dagger does the deed.
VOL. XI II. M
THE
TENTH SATIRE
JUVENAL.
THE ARGUMENT.
The Poet's design, in this divine Satire, is, to represent the various
wishes and desires of mankind, and to set out the folly of them. Jf<f
runs tltrough all the several heads, of riches, honours, eloquence,
fame for martial achievements, long life, and heavy; and gives in-
stances in each, how frequently they have proved the ruin of those
that owned them. He concludes, therefore, that, since we generally
choose so ill for ourselves, we should do better to leave it to the gods
to make the choice for us. All we can safely ask of heaven, lies
within a very small compass it is but health of body and mind; aitd
if we have these, it is not much matter what we ivant besides; for
we have already enough to make us happy.
LOOK round the habitable world,- how few
Know their own good, or, knowing it, pursue.
How void of reason are our hopes and fears !
What in the conduct of our life appears
So well designed, so luckily begun,
But when we have our wish, we wish undone ?
Whole houses, of their whole desires possest,
Are often ruined at their own request.
THE TENTH SATIRE OF JUVENAL.
In wars and peace things hurtful we require,
When made obnoxious to our own desire.
With laurels some have fatally been crowned ; ^
Some, who the depths of eloquence have found, >
In that unnavigable stream were drowned. 3
The brawny fool, who did his vigour boast,
In that presuming confidence was lost;*
But more have been by avarice opprest,
And heaps of money crowded in the chest :
Unwieldy sums of wealth, which higher mount
Than files of marshalled figures can account ;
To which the stores of Croesus, in the scale, y
Would look like little dolphins, w r hen they sail
In the vast shadow of the British whale. 3
For this, in Nero's arbitrary time,
When virtue was a guilt, and wealth a crime,
A troop of cut-throat guards were sent to seize
The rich men's goods, and gut their palaces :
The mob, commissioned by the government,
Are seldom to an empty garret sent*
The fearful passenger, who travels late,
Charged with the carriage of a paltry plate,
Shakes at the moonshine shadow of a rush,
And sees a red-coat rise from every bush ;
The beggar sings, even when he sees the place
Beset with thieves, and never mends his pace.
Of all the vows, the first and chief request
Of each, is to be richer than the rest :
And yet no doubts the poor man's draught controul,
He dreads no poison in his homely bowl ;
Then fear the deadly drug, when gems divine ,
Enchase the cup, and sparkle in the wine.
* Milo, of Crotona ; who, for a trial of his strength, going to
rend an oak, perished in the attempt ; for his arms were caught
in the trunk of it, and he was devoured by wild beasts.
180 THE TENTH SATIRE
Will you not now the pair of sages praise,
Who the same end pursued by several ways?
One pitied, one contemned, the woeful times;
One laughed at follies, one lamented crimes.
Laughter is easy ; but the wonder lies,
What stores of brine supplied the weeper's eyes.
Democritus could feed his spleen, and shake
His sides and shoulders, till he felt them ache;
Though in his country town no lictors were,
Nor rods, nor axe, nor tribune, did appear ;
Nor all the foppish gravity of show,
Which cunning magistrates on crowds bestow.
W 7 hat had he done, had he beheld on high
Our praetor seated in mock majesty ;
His chariot rolling o'er the dusty place,
While, with dumb pride, and a set formal face.
He moves, in the dull ceremonial track,
W 7 ith Jove's embroidered coat upon his back !
A suit of hangings had not more opprest
His shoulders, than that long laborious vest;
A heavy gewgaw, called a crown, that spread
About his temples, drowned his narrow head,
And would have crushed it with the massy freight,
But that a sweating slave sustained the weight;
A slave, in the same chariot seen to ride,
To mortify the mighty madman's pride.
Add now the imperial eagle, raised on high,
'With golden beak, the mark of majesty ;
Trumpets before, and on the left and right
A cavalcade of nobles, all in white ;
In their own natures false and flattering tribes,
But made his friends by places and by bribes. t
In his own age, Democritus could find
Sufficient cause to laugh at human kind :
Learn from so great a wit ; a land of bogs,
With ditches fenced, a heaven fat with fogs,
OF JUVEXAL. 181
May form a spirit fit to sway the state,
And make the neighbouring monarchs fear their fate.
He laughs at all the vulgar cares and fears ;
At their vain triumphs, and their vainer tears :
An equal temper in his mind he found,
When fortune flattered him, and when she frowned.
Tis plain, from hence, that what our vows request
Are hurtful things, or useless at the best.
Some ask for envied power; which public hate
Pursues, and hurries headlong to their fate :
Down go the titles ; and the statue crowned,
Is by base hands in the next river drowned.
The guiltless horses, and the chariot wheel,
The same effects of vulgar fury feel :
The smith prepares his hammer for the stroke,
While the lung'd bellows hissing fire provoke.
Sejanus, almost first of Roman names, *
The great Sejanus crackles in the flames :
Formed in the forge, the pliant brass is laid J
On anvils ; and of head and limbs are made,
Pans, cans, and piss pots, a whole kitchen trade, j
Adorn your doors with laurels ; and a bull,
Milk white, and large, lead to the Capitol ;
Sejanus with a rope is dragged along,
The sport and laughter of the giddy throng !
Good Lord ! they cry, what Ethiop lips he has ;
How foul a snout, and what a hanging face !
By heaven, I never could endure his sight !
But say, how came his monstrous crimes to light?
* Sejanus was Tiberius's first favourite ; and, while he conti-
nued so, had the highest marks of honour bestowed on him. Sta-
tues and triumphal chariots were every where erected to him.
But, as soon as he fell into disgrace with the emperor, these were
all immediately dismounted ; and the senate and common people
insulted over him as meanly as they had fawned on him before.
182 THE TENTH SATIRE
What is the charge, and who the evidence,
(The saviour of the nation and the prince ?)
Nothing of this ; but our old Cassar sent
A noisy letter to his parliament.
Nay, sirs, if Csesar writ, I ask no more ;
He's guilty, and the question's out of door.
How goes the mob ? (for that's a mighty thing,)
When the king's trump, the mob are for the king :
They follow fortune, and the common cry
Is still against the rogue condemned to die.
But the same very mob, that rascal crowd,
Had cried Sejanus, with a shout as loud,
Had his designs (by fortune's favour blest)
Succeeded, and the prince's age opprest.
But long, long since, the times have changed their
face,
The people grown degenerate and base ;
Not suffered now the freedom of their choice
To make their magistrates, and sell their voice.
Our wise forefathers, great by sea and land,
Had once the power and absolute command ;
All offices of trust themselves disposed ;
Raised whom they pleased, and whom they pleased
deposed :
But we, who give our native rights away,
And our enslaved posterity betray,
Are now reduced to beg an alms, and go
On holidays to see a puppet-show.
There was a damned design, cries one, no doubt>>
For warrants are already issued out :
I met Brutidius in a mortal fright,
He's dipt for certain, and plays least in sight ;
I fear the rage of our offended prince,
Who thinks the senate slack in his defence.
Come, let us haste, our loyal zeal to show,
And spurn the wretched corpse of Cesar's foe ;
OF JUVENAI* 183
But let our slaves be present there ; lest they
Accuse their masters, and for gain betray.
Such were the whispers of those jealous times,
About Sejanus' punishment and crimes.
Now, tell me truly, wouldst thou change thy fate,
To be, like him, first minister of state?
To have thy levees crowded with resort,
Of a depending, gaping, servile court;
Dispose all honours of the sword and gown,
Grace with a nod, and ruin with a frown ;
To hold thy prince in pupillage, and sway
That monarch, whom the mastered world obey ?
While he, intent on secret lusts alone,
Lives to himself, abandoning the throne ;
Cooped in a narrow isle, * observing dreams
With flattering wizards, and erecting schemes !
I well believe thou wouldst be great as he,
For every man's a fool to that degree :
All wish the dire prerogative to kill ;
Even they would have the power, who want the will :
But wouldst thou have thy wishes understood,
To take the bad together with the good ?
Wouldst thou not rather choose a small renown,
To be the mayor of some poor paltry town ;
Bigly to look, and barbarously to speak ;
To pound false weights, and scanty measures break?
Then, grant we that Sejanus went astray
In every wish, and knew not how to pray ;
For he, who grasped the world's exhausted store,
Yet never had enough, but wished for more,
* The island of Caprea, which lies about a league out at sea
from the Campanian bhore, was the scene of Tiberius's pleasures
in the latter part of his reign. There he lived, fur some years,
with diviners, soothsayers, and worse company ; and from thence
dispatched all his orders to the senate.
1 84 . THE TENTH SATIUE
Raised a top-heavy tower, of monstrous height,
Which, mouldering, crushed him underneath the
weight.
What did the mighty Pompey's fall beget,
And ruined him, who, greater than the Great,*
The stubborn pride of Roman nobles broke,
And bent their haughty necks beneath his yoke :
What else but his immoderate lust of power,
Prayers made and granted in a luckless hour?
For few usurpers to the shades descend
By a dry death, or with a quiet end.
The boy, who scarce has paid his entrance down
To his proud pedant, or declined a noun,
(So small an elf, that, when the days are foul,
He and his satchel must be borne to school,)
Yet prays, and hopes, and aims at nothing less,
To prove a Tully, or Demosthenes :
But both those orators, so much renowned,
In their own depths of eloquence were drowned : f
The hand and head were never lost of those
Who dealt in doggrel, or who punned in prose.
" Fortune foretuned the dying notes of Rome,
" Till I, thy consul sole, consoled thy doom." J
His fate had crept below the lifted swords,
Had all his malice been to murder words.
* Julius Caesar, who got the better of Fompey, that was styled,
The Great.
f Demosthenes and Tully both died for their Oratory : De-
mosthenes gave himself poison, to avoid being carried to Antipa-
ter, one of Alexander's captains, who had then made himself mas-
ter of Athens. Tully was murdered by M. Antony's order, in
return for those invectives he made against him.
| The Latin of this couplet is a famous verse of Tully's, in
which he sets out the happiness of his own consulship, famous
for the vanity and the ill poetry of it; for Tully, as he had a good
deal of the one, so he had no great share of the other.
OF JUVENAL. 1$5
I rather would be Maevius, thrash for rhymes
Like his, the scorn and scandal of the times,
Than that Philippic*, fatally divine,
Which is inscribed the second, should be mine.
Nor he, the wonder of the Grecian throng,
Who drove them with the torrent of his tongue,
Who shook the theatres, and swayed the state
Of Athens, found a more propitious fate.
Whom, born beneath a boding horoscope,
His sire, the blear-eyed Vulcan of a shop,
From Mars his forge, sent to Minerva's schools,
To learn the unlucky art of wheedling fools.
With itch of honour, and opinion vain,
All things beyond their native worth we strain ;
The spoils of war, brought to Feretrian Jove,
An empty coat of armour hung above
The conqueror's chariot, and in triumph borne,
A streamer from a boarded galley torn,
A chap-fallen beaver loosely hanging by
The cloven helm, an arch of victory ;
On whose high convex sits a captive foe,
And, sighing, casts a mournful look below ; f
Of every nation each illustrious name,
Such toys as these have cheated into fame ;
Exchanging solid quiet, to obtain
The windy satisfaction of the brain.
So much the thirst of honour fires the blood ;
So many would be great, so few be good :
For who would Virtue for herself regard,
Or wed, without the portion of reward?.
Yet this mad chace of fame, by few pursued,
Has drawn destruction on the multitude ;
* The orations of Tully against M. Antony were styled by him
" Philippics," in imitation of Demosthenes ; who had given that
name before to those he made against Philip of Macedon.
f This is a mock account of a Roman triumph.
186 THE TENTH SATIRE
This avarice of praise in times to come,
Those long inscriptions crowded on the tomb ;
Should some wild fig-tree take her native bent,
And heave below the gaudy monument,
Would crack the marble titles, and disperse
The characters of all the lying verse.
For sepulchres themselves must crumbling fall
In time's abyss, the common grave of all.
Great Hannibal within the balance lay,
And tell how many pounds his ashes weigh ;
Whom Afric was not able to contain,
Whose length runs level with the Atlantic main,
And wearies fruitful Nilus, to convey
His sun-beat waters by so long a way ;
Which Ethiopia's double clime divides,
And elephants in other mountains hides.
Spain first he won, the Pyreneans past,
And steepy Alps, the mounds that nature cast ;
And with corroding juices, as he went,
A passage through the living rocks he rent :
Then, like a torrent rolling from on high,
He pours his headlong rage on Italy,
In three victorious battles over-run ;
Yet, still uneasy, cries, There's nothing done,
Till level with the ground their gates are laid,
And Punic flags on Roman towers displayed.
Ask what a face belonged to this high fame,
His picture scarcely would deserve a frame :
A sign-post dauber would disdain to paint
The one-eyed hero on his elephant.
Now, what's his end, O charming Glory ! say,
What rare fifth act to crown this huffing play ?
In one deciding battle overcome,
He flies, is banished from his native home ;
Begs refuge in a foreign court, and there
Attends, his mean petition to prefer ? -
OF JUVENAL. 187
Repulsed by surly grooms, who wait befor.e
The sleeping tyrant's interdicted door.
What wonderous sort of death has heaven de-Y
signed, (
Distinguished from the herd of human kind, i
For so untamed, so turbulent a mind ?
Nor swords at hand, nor hissing darts afar,
Are doomed to avenge the tedious bloody war ;
But poison, drawn through a ring's hollow plate,
Must finish him a sucking infant's fate.
Go, climb the rugged Alps, ambitious fool,
To please the boys, and be a theme at school.
One world sufficed not Alexander's mind ;
Cooped up, he seemed in earth and seas confined,
And, struggling, stretched his restless limbs about
The narrow globe, to find a passage out :
Yet entered in the brick-built town, * he tried
The tomb, and found the strait dimensions wide.
Death only this mysterious truth unfolds,
The mighty soul how small a body holds.
Old Greece a tale of Athos would make out, -f
Cut from the continent, and sailed about;
Seas hid with navies, chariots passing o'er
The channel, on a bridge from shore to shore :
* Babylon, where Alexander died.
f Xerxes is represented in history after a very romantic man-
ner : affecting fame beyond measure, and doing the most extra-
vagant 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 miles 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 Sajamis ; and returned home, leaving
most of his fleet behind him.
I
(Though Neptune took unkindly to be bound,
And Eurus never such hard usage found
188 THE TENTH SATIUE
Rivers, whose depth no sharp beholder sees,
Drunk at an 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?
In his jEolian prison under ground ;) 3
W T hat god so mean, even he who points the way,*
So merciless a tyrant to obey !
But how returned he, let us ask again ? ^
In a poor skiff he passed the bloody main,
Choked with the slaughtered bodies of his train. 3
For fame he prayed, but let the event declare
He had no mighty penn' worth of his prayer.
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,
Deformed, unfeatured, and a skin of buff;
A stitch-fallen cheek, that hangs below the jaw ;
Such wrinkles as a skilful hand would draw
For an old grandame ape, when, with a grace,
She sits at squat, and scrubs her leathern face.
* Mercury, who was a god of the lowest size, and employed al-
ways in errands between heaven and hell, and mortals used him
accordingly ; for his statues were anciently placed where roads
met, with directions on the fingers of them, pointing out the se-
veral ways to travellers.
OF JUVENAL. 189
In youth, distinctions infinite abound ;
No shape, or feature, just alike are found ;
The fair, the black, the feeble, and the strong : Y
But the same foulness does to aa^e belong, >
^j ^5 *
The self-same palsy, both in limbs and tongue; 3
The skull and forehead one bald barren plain,
And gums unarmed to mumble meat in vain ;
Besides, the eternal drivel, that supplies
The dropping beard, from nostrils, mouth, and eyes.
His wife and children lothe him-, and, what's worse,
Himself does his offensive carrion curse !
Flatterers forsake him too ; for who would kill
Himself, to be remembered 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 provoked 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 understand
The hour o'the day, or such a lord's at hand ;
The little blood that creeps within his veins,
Is but just warmed in a hot fever's pains.
In fine, he wears no limb about him sound,
With sores and sicknesses beleaguered round
Ask me their names, I sooner could relate
How many drudges on salt Hippia wait;
10,0 THE TENTH SATIRE
What crowds of patients the town doctor kills.
Or how, last fall, he raised the weekly bills ;
What provinces by Basilus were spoiled ;
What herds of heirs by guardians are beguiled ;
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 one for aiming left ;
A fifth, with trembling lips expecting stands
As in his childhood, crammed by others hands ;
One, who at sight of supper opened wide -\
His jaws before, and whetted grinders tried,
Now only yawns, and waits to be supplied ; 3
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 decayed, a worse.
His servants' names he has forgotten quite ;
Knows not his friend who supped with him last night:
Not even the children he begot and bred ;
Or his will knows them 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 battered brothel whore,
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 thronged with daily biers, >
And liveries of black for length of years. *
OF JUVENAL.
Next to the raven's age, the Pylian kirig *
Was longest lived of any two-legged thing.
Blest, to defraud the grave so long^ to mount
His numbered years, and on his right hand count !f
Three hundred seasons, guzzling must of wine !
But hold a while, and hear himself repine
At fate's unequal laws, and at the clue
Which, merciless in length, the midmost sister drew. J
When his brave son upon the funeral pyre
He saw extended, and his beard on fire,
He turned, and, weeping, asked his friends, what
crime
Had cursed his age to this unhappy time ?
Thus mourned old Peleus for Achilles slain,
And thus Ulysses' father did complain.
How fortunate an end had Priam made,
Among his ancestors a mighty shade,
While Troy yet stood ; when Hector, with the race
Of royal bastards, might his funeral grace ;
Amidst the tears of Trojan dames inurned,
And by his loyal daughters truly mourned !
Had heaven so blest him, he had died before
The fatal fleet to Sparta Paris bore :
But mark what age produced, he lived to see
His town in flames, his falling monarchy.
In fine, the feeble sire, reduced by fate,
To change his sceptre for a sword, too late,
* Nestor, king of Pylus ; who was three hundred years old, ac-
cording to Homer's account ; at least as he is understood by his
expositors.
f The ancients counted by their fingers ; their left hands ser-
ved them till they came up to an hundred ; after that they used
their right, to express all greater numbers.
f The Fates were three sisters, who had all some peculiar busi-
ness assigned them by the poets, in relation to the lives of men.
The first held the distaff, the second spun the thread, and the third
cut it.
192 THE TENTH SATIRE
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 survived,
To howl, and in a barking body lived, f
I hasten to our own ; nor will relate
Great Mithridates, J and rich Croesus' fate;
Whom Solon wisely counselled to attend
The name of happy, till he knew his end.
That Mari us was an exile, that he fled,
Was ta'enj in ruined Carthage begged 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 crowned,
When he had led the Cimbrian captives round
The Roman streets, descending from his state,
In that blest hour he should have begged his fate;
Then, then, he might have died of all admired,
And his triumphant soul with shouts expired.
* 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 sooner done, but he was met by Pyrrhus, and slain before
the altar of Jupiter, in his own palace ; as we have the story fine-
ly told in Virgil's second JEne'id.
f Hecuba, his queen, escaped the swords of the Grecians, and
outlived him. It seems, she behaved herself so fiercely and un-
easily to her husband's murderers, while she lived, that the poets
thought fit to turn her into a bitch when she died.
I Mithridates, after he had disputed the empire of the world
for forty years together, with the Romans, was at last deprived of
life and empire by Pompey the Great.
Croesus, in the midst of his prosperity, 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
what his end should be. The truth of this Croesus found, when
he was put in chains by Cyrus, and condemned to die.
OF JUVENAL.
Campania, Fortune's malice to prevent,
To Pompey an indulgent fever sent ;
But public prayers imposed on heaven to give
Their much loved leader an unkind reprieve ;
The city's fate and his conspired to save
The head reserved for an Egyptian slave. *
Cethegus, though a traitor to the state,
And tortured, 'scaped this ignominious fate ; f
And Sergius, who a bad cause bravely tried,
All of a piece, and undiminished, 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 finished pieces ; 'tis allowed
Diana's beauty made Latona proud,
And pleased to see the wondering people pray
To the new-rising sister of the day.
And yet Lucretia's fate would bar that vow j
And fair Virginia would her fate bestow
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 !
* Pompey, in the midst of his glory, fell into a dangerous fit of
sickness, at Naples. A great many cities then made public sup-
plications for him. He recovered ; was beaten at Pharsalia; fled
to Ptolemy, king of Egypt ; and, instead of receiving protection
at his court, had his head struck off by his order, to please Caesar.
f Cethegus was one that conspired with Catiline, and was put
to death by the senate.
t Sergius Catiline died fighting.
Virginia was killed by her own father, to prevent 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 re-
markable one, as it gave occasion to the putting down the power
of the Decemviri, of whom Appius was one. .
VOL. XIII, N
10,4 THE TENTH SATIRE
Form joined 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,
Infused into his soul a sober grace,
And blushed 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 ;)
Even with a parent, where persuasions fail,
Money is impudent, and will prevail.
We never read of such a tyrant king,
Who gelt a boy deformed, 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-barred ; but both his sexes well became. 3
Go, boast your Springal, by his beauty curst
To ills, nor think I have declared the worst ;
His form procures him journey-work ; a strife
Betwixt town-madams, and the merchant's wife :
Guess, when he undertakes this public war,
What furious beasts offended cuckolds are.
Adulterers 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-faced
boy,
Unrivalled, shall a beauteous dame enjoy.
OF JUVENAL. 195
tt*v<rfit^- ^tG^ft:* * )
Not so: one more salacious, rich, android,
Outbids, and buys her pleasure for hAffgold :
Now, he must moil, and drudge, for one he lothes ;
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 quean.
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 shunned the embraces of his father's wife ? *
And was not t'other stripling forced to fly, ->
Who coldly did his patron's queen deny, \
And pleaded laws of hospitality ? f j
The ladies charged them home, and turned the tale ;
With shame they reddened, and with spite grew pale.
Tis dangerous to deny the longing dame ;
She loses pity, who has lost her shame.
Now Silius wants thy counsel, give advice ;
Wed Caesar's wife, or die the choice is nice. J
Her comet- eyes she darts on every grace,
And takes a fatal liking to his face.
\j
Adorned with bridal pomp, she sits in state ;
The public notaries and Aruspex wait ;
* Hippolytus, the son of Theseus, was loved by his mother-in-
law, Phaedria ; but he not complying with her, she procured his
death.
f Bellerophon, the son of King Glaucus, residing sometime at
the court of Foetus, king of the Argives, the queen, Sthenobsea,
fell in love with him ; but he refusing her, she turned the accusa-
tion upon him, and he narrowly escaped Paetus's vengeance.
J Messalina, wife to the emperor Claudius, infamous for her"
lewd ness. 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 Caesar was sacrificing at Hostia.
Upon his return, he put both Silius and her to death.
19<5 THE TENTH SATIRE
The genial bed is in the garden dressed, y
The portion jjfajd, and every rite expressed, \
Which in a Roman marriage is professed. J
'Tis no stolen 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, 'tis 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 self-same thing ;
Inevitable death before thee lies,
But looks more kindly through a lady's eyes.
What then remains ? are we deprived of will ;
Must we not wish, for fear of wishing ill ?
Receive my counsel, 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 loved ourselves but half so well !
We, blindly by our head strong passions led,
Are hot for action, and desire to wed ;
Then wish for heirs; but to the gods alone Y
Our future offspring, and our wives, are known; >
The audacious strumpet, and ungracious son. j
Yet, not to rob the priests of pious gain,
That altars be not wholly built in vain,
Forgive the gods the rest, and stand confined
To health of body, and content of mind ;
A soul, that can securely death defy,
And count it nature's privilege to die ;
Serene and manly, hardened to sustain
The load of life, and exercised in pain ;
or JUVENAL. 197
Guiltless of hate, and proof against desire,
That all things wejghs^and nothing can admire;
That dares prefer tfre Jjfe o^f Hercules,
To dalliance, ban qi^etjfew ignoble ease.
The path to peace is virtue : what I shoM",
Thyself may freely on thyself bestow ;
Fortune was never worshipped by* the wise, ,.
But, set aloft by fools, usurps the skies. * j x
THE
OF
JUVENAL.
THE ARGUMENT.
The Poet in this satire proves, that the condition of a soldier is
much better than that of a countryman ; Jirst, because a country-
man, 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 Camillas, which obliges him not to quarrel
without the trenches, he is also assured to have a speedy hearing,
and quick dispatch ; whereas, the townsman, or peasant, is delay-
ed 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 Ju-
venal, when he was a commander in Egypt : it is certainly his,
though I think it not finished. And if it be well observed, you
willjind he intended an invective against a standing army.
W HAT vast prerogatives, my Gallus, are
Accruing to the mighty man of war !
For if into a lucky camp I light, 1
Though raw in aims, and yet afraid to fight,
Befriend me my good stars, and all goes right, j
THE SIXTEENTH SATIRE OF JUVENAL. 199
One happy hour is to a soldier better,
Than mother Juno's* recommending letter,
Or Venus, when to Mars she would prefer
My suit, and own the kindness done to her. f
See what our common privileges are;
As, first, no saucy citizen shall dare
To strike a soldier, nor, when struck, resent
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,
Shall he presume to mention his disgrace,
Or beg amends for his demolished face.
A booted judge shall sit to try his cause,
Not by the statute, but by martial laws ;
Which old Camillus ordered, to confine
The brawls of soldiers to the trench and line :
A wise provision ; and from thence 'tis clear,
That officers a soldier's cause should hear ;
And taking cognizance of wrongs received,
An honest man may hope to be relieved.
So far 'tis well ; but with a general cry,
The regiment will rise in mutiny,
The freedom of their fellow- rogue demand,
And, if refused, 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 : J
* Juno was mother to Mars, the god of war ; Venus was his
mistress.
f Camillus, (who being first banished by his ungrateful country-
men 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.
I The poet names a Modenese lawyer, whom he calls Vagel-
lius, who was so impudent, that he would plead any cause, right
or wrong, without shame or fear.
200 TH.E SIXTEENTH SATIRE
But woulcTst thou, friend, who hast two legs alone,
(Which, heavei> be praised, thou yet may'st call thy
own,)
Would'st thou to run the gauntlet these expose
To a uiiole company of hob-nailed shoes?*
Sure the good-breeding of wise citizens
Should teach them more good-nature to their shins.
Besides, whom canst thou think so much thy friend,
Who dares appear thy business to defend ?
Dry up thy tears, and pocket up the 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 mauled, 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 sxrear a lie,
Than, though his evidence be full and fait,
To vouch a truth against a man of war.
More benefits remain, and claimed 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 land-mark f from my bounds,
Those bounds, which with procession and with prayer,
And offered cakes, have been my annual care ;
* The Roman soldiers wore plates of iron under their shoes, or
stuck them with nail*, as countrymen do now.
f Land-marks were used by iLe 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 up-
on the stone, or land-mark.
2
OF JUVENAL.
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 called ; and that long-lookecl-for day
Is still encumhered with some new delay ; a
Perhaps the cloth of state is only spread, *
Some of the quorum may be sick a-bed ;
That judge is hot, and doffs his gown, while this
O'er night was bowsy, and goes out to piss :
So many rubs appear, the time is gone
For hearing, and the tedious suit goes on ;
But buff and beltmen never know these cares,
No time, nor 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, >
Their father yet alive, impowered to make a will.f )
For what their prowess gained, the law declares
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 rights, and longs in vain
To find him in the number of the slain :
* 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.
f The Roman soldiers had the privilege of making 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 SIXTEENTH SATIRE OF JUVENAL.
But still he lives, and rising by the war,
Enjoys his gains, and has enough to spare ;
For 'tis a noble general's prudent part
To cherish valour, and reward desert ;
Let him be daub'd with lace, live high, and whore ;
Sometimes be lousy, but be never poor.
TRANSLATIONS
FROM
PERSIUS,
THE
FIRST SATIRE
OF
PERSIUS.
ARGUMENT OF THE PROLOGUE
TO THE FIRST SATIRE.
The design of the author was to conceal his name and quality. He
lived in the dangerous times of the tyrant Nero, and aims par-
ticularly 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 oh cleft Parnassus dream,
Nor taste the sacred Heliconian stream ; *
Nor can remember when my brain, inspired,
Was by the Muses into madness fired.
My share in pale Pyrene | I resign,
And claim no part in all the mighty Nine.
Statues, with winding ivy crowned, J belong
To nobler poets, for a nobler song ;
Heedless of verse, and hopeless of the crown, }
Scarce half a wit, and more than half a clown, >
Before the shrine I lay my rugged numbers down. )
Who taught the parrot human notes to try,
Or with a voice endued the chattering pye?
'Twas witty Want, fierce hunger to appease ;
Want taught their masters, and their masters these.
Let gain, that gilded bait, be hung on high,
The hungry witlings have it in their eye ;
Pyes, crows, and daws, poetic presents bring ;
You say they squeak, but they will swear they sing.
* Parnassus and Helicon were hills consecrated to the Muses,
nnd the supposed place of their abode. Parnassus was forked on
the top ; and from Helicon ran a stream, the spring of which was
called the Muses' well.
f Pyrene, a fountain in Corinth, consecrated also to the Muses.
J The statues of the poets were crowned with ivy about their
brows.
Before the shrine ; that is, before the shrine of Apollo, in his
temple at Rome, called the Palatine.
THE
FIRST SATIRE.
IN DIALOGUE BETWIXT
THE POET AND HIS FRIEND, OR MONITOR.
ARGUMENT.
/ need not repeat, that the chief aim of the author is against bad
poets in this Satire. But I must add, that he includes also bad
orators, who began at that time (as Petronius in the beginning of
his book tells us) to enervate manly eloquence by tropes and figures,
ill placed, and worse applied. Amongst the poets, Persius covertly
strikes at Nero ; some of whose verses he recites with scorn and in-
dignation. He also takes notice of the noblemen, and their abomi-
nable poetry, who, in the luxuiy of their fortunes, set up for wits and
judges. The Satire is in dialogue betwixt the author, and his friend ',
or monitor ; who dissuades him from this dangerous attempt of ex-
posing great men. But Persius, who is of a free spirit, and has
not forgotten that Rome was once a commonwealth, breaks through
all those difficulties, and boldly arraigns the false judgment of the
age in which he lives. The reader may observe, that our poet was
a Stoic philosopher ; and that all his moral sentences, both here
and in all the rest of his Satires, are drawn from the dogmas of
that sect.
PERSIUS.
How anxious are our cares, and yet how vain
The bent of our desires !
FRIEND.
Thy spleen contain ;
For none will read thy satires.
208 THE FIRST SATIRE
PERSIUS.
This to me ?
FRIEND.
None, or, what's next to none, but two or three.
Tis hard, I grant.
PERSIUS.
Tis nothing ; I can bear,
That paltry scribblers have the public ear;
That this vast universal fool, the town,
Should cry up Labeo's stuff, * and cry me down.
They damn themselves ; nor will my muse descend
To clap with such, who fools and knaves commend:
Their smiles and censures are to me the same ;
I care not what they praise, or what they blame.
In full assemblies let the crowd prevail ;
I weigh no merit by the common scale.
The conscience is the test of every mind ;
" Seek not thyself, without thyself, to find."
But where'sthat Roman Somewhat I would say.
But fear let fear, for once, to truth give way.
Truth lends the Stoic courage ; when 1 look
On human acts, and read in Nature's book,
From the first pastimes of our infant age,
To elder cares, and man's severer page ;
When stern as tutors, and as uncles hard,
We lash the pupil, and defraud the ward,
Then, then I say or would say, if I durst
But, thus provoked, I must speak out, or burst.
FRIEND.
Once more forbear.
PERSIUS.
I cannot rule my spleen ;
My scorn rebels, and tickles me within.
* Note I.
OF PERSIUS. 209
First, to begin at home : Our authors write
In lonely rooms, secured from public sight ;
Whether in prose, or verse, 'tis all the same,
The prose is fustian, and the numbers lame ;
All noise, and empty pomp, a storm of words,
Labouring with sound, that little sense affords.
They comb, and then they order every hair ;
A gown, or white, or scoured to whiteness, wear,
A birth-day jewel bobbing at their ear ; *
Next, gargle well their throats ; and, thus prepared,
They mount, a God's name, to be seen and heard ;
From their high scaffold, with a trumpet cheek,
And ogling all their audience ere they speak.
The nauseous nobles, even the chief of Rome,
With gaping mouths to these rehearsals come,
And pant with pleasure, when some lusty line
The marrow pierces, and invades the chine;
At open fulsome bawdry they rejoice,
And slimy jests applaud with broken voice.
Base prostitute ! thus dost thou gain thy bread ?
Thus dost thou feed their ears, and thus art fed ?
At his own filthy stuff he grins and brays,
And gives the sign where he expects their praise.
Why have I learned, sayst thou, if thus confined,
I choke the noble vigour of my mind ?
Know, my wild fig-tree, which in rocks is bred,
Will split the quarry, and shoot out the head, j*
Fine fruits of learning ! old ambitious fool,
Barest thou apply that adage of the school,
As if 'tis nothing worth that lies concealed,
And " science is not science till revealed?"
Oh, but 'tis brave to be admired, to see
The crowd, with pointing fingers, cry, That's he;
That's he, whose wonderous poem is become
A lecture for the noble youth of Rome !
* Note II. -f Note III.
VOL. XIII. O
210 THE FIRST SATIRE
Who, by their fathers, is at feasts renowned,
And often quoted when the bowls go round.
Full gorged and flushed, they wantonly rehearse,
And add to wine the luxury of verse.
One, clad in purple, not to lose his time,
Eats and recites some lamentable rhyme;
Some senseless Phillis, in a broken note,
Snuffling at nose, and croaking in his throat.
Then graciously the mellow audience nod ;
Is not the immortal author made a god ?
Are not his manes blest, such praise to have ?
Lies not the turf more lightly on his grave ?
And roses (while his loud applause they sing)
Stand ready from his sepulchre to spring ?
All these, you cry, but light objections are,
Mere malice, and you drive the jest too far :
For does there breathe a man, who can reject
A general fame, and his own lines neglect?
In cedar tablets * worthy to appear,
That need not fish, or frankincense, to fear ?
Thou, whom I make the adverse part to bear,
Be answered thus : If I by chance succeed
In what I write, (and that's a chance indeed,)
Know, I am not so stupid, or so hard,
Not to feel praise, or fame's deserved reward ;
But this I cannot grant, that thy applause
Is my work's ultimate, or only cause.
Prudence can ne'er propose so mean a prize ;
For mark what vanity within it lies.
Like Labeo's Iliads, in whose verse is found
Nothing but trifling care, and empty sound;
Such little elegies as nobles write,
Who would be poets, in Apollo's spite.
Them and their woeful works the Muse defies ;
Products of citron beds, f and golden canopies.
* Note IV. f Note V,
OF PERSIUS. 211
To give thee all thy due, thou hast the heart }
To make a supper, with a fine desert,
And to thy thread-bare friend a cast old suit impart, j
Thus bribed, thou thus bespeak'st him Tell me,
friend,
(For I love truth, nor can plain speech offend,)
What says the world of me and of my muse?
The poor dare nothing tell but flattering news ;
But shall I speak ? Thy verse is wretched rhyme,
And all thy labours are but loss of time.
Thy strutting belly swells, thy paunch is high ;
Thou writ'st not, but thou pissest poetry.
All authors to their own defects are blind;
Hadst thou but, Janus-like, * a face behind,
To see the people, what splay-mouths they make ;
To mark their fingers, pointed at thy back ;
Their tongues lolled out, a foot beyond the pitch,
When most athirst, of an Apulian bitch :
But noble scribblers are with flattery fed,
For none dare find their faults, who eat their bread.
To pass the poets of patrician blood,
What is't the common reader takes for good ?
The verse in fashion is, when numbers flow,
Soft without sense, and without spirit slow ;
So smooth and equal, that no sight can find
The rivet, where the polished piece was joined;
So even all, with such a steady view,
As if he shut one eye to level true.
Whether the vulgar vice his satire stings,
The people's riots, or the rage of kings,
The gentle poet is alike in all ;
His reader hopes no rise, and fears no fall.
FRIEND.
Hourly we see some raw pin-feathered thing
Attempt to mount, and fights and heroes sing ;
* Note VI.
2i<2 THE FIRST SATIRE
Who for false quantities was whip! at school
But t'other day, and breaking grammar-rule ;
Whose trivial art was never tried above
The bare description of a native grove ;
Who knows not how to praise the country store,
The feasts, the baskets, nor the fatted boar,
Nor paint the flowery fields that paint themselves i
before ;
Where Romulus was bred, and Quintius born, *
Whose shining plough-share was in furrows worn,
Met by his trembling wife returning home,
And rustically joyed, as chief of Rome :
She wiped the sweat from the Dictator's brow, v
And o'er his back his robe did rudely throw ; f
The lictors bore in state their lord's triumphant t
plough.
Some love to hear the fustian poet roar,
And some 011 antiquated authors pore ;
Rummage for sense, and think those only good
Who labour most, and least are understood.
W T hen thou shalt see the blear-eyed fathers teach
Their sons this harsh and mouldy sort of speech,
Or others new affected ways to try,
Of wanton smoothness, female poetry ;
One would enquire from whence this motley style
Did first our Roman purity defile.
For our old dotards cannot keep their seat,
But leap and catch at all that's obsolete.
Others, by foolish ostentation led,
When called before the bar, to save their head,
Bring trifling tropes, instead of solid sense,
And mind their figures more than their defence ;
Are pleased to hear their thick-skulled judges cry,
Well moved, oh finely said, and decently !
Theft (says the accuser) to thy charge I lay,
O Pedius : what does gentle Pedius say?
* Note VII.
OF PERSIUS. 213
Studious to please the genius of the times,
With periods, points, and tropes, * he slurs his crimes :
" He robbed not, but he borrowed from the poor,
" And took but with intention to restore."
He lards with flourishes his long harangue ;
'Tis fine, say'st thou ; what, to be praised, and hang ?
Effeminate Roman, shall such stuff prevail
To tickle thee, and make thee wag thy-tail?
Say, should a shipwrecked sailor sing his woe,
Wouldst thou be moved to pity, or bestow
An alms ? What's more preposterous than to see
A merry beggar? Mirth in misery?
PERSIUS.
He seems a trap for charity to lay,
And cons, by night, his lesson for the day.
FRIEND.
But to raw numbers, and unfinished verse,
Sweet sound is added now, to make it terse :
" 'Tis tagged with rhyme, like Berecynthian Atys,
" The mid-part chimes with art, which never flat is. f
" The dolphin brave, that cuts the liquid wave,
" Or he who in his line can chine the long-ribbed
Appennine."
PERSIUS.
All this is doggrel stuff.
FRIEND.
What if I bring
A nobler verse? "Arms and the man I sing."
PERSIUS.
Why name you Virgil with such fops as these ?
He's truly great, and must for ever please :
* Note VIII. t Note IX.
214 THE FIRST SATIRE
Not fierce, but aweful, is his manly page ;
Bold is his strength, but sober is his rage.
FRIEND.
What poems think you soft, and to be reacf
With languishing regards, and bending head ?
PERSIUS.
" Their crooked horns the Mimallonian crew
" With blasts inspired ; * and Bassaris, who slew
" The scornful calf, with sword advanced on high,
" Made from his neck his haughty head to fly :
" And Ma3nas, when with ivy bridles bound, -\
" She led the spotted lynx, then Evion rung around ; f
" Evion from woods and floods repairing echo's t
sound." J
Could such rude lines a Roman mouth become,
W^ere any manly greatness left in Rome ?
Msenas and Atysf in the mouth were bred,
And never hatched within the labouring head ;
No blood from bitten nails those poems drew,
But churned, like spittle, from the lips they flew.
FRIEND.
'Tis fustian all ; 'tis execrably bad ;
But if they will be fools, must you be mad ?
Your satires, let me tell you, are too fierce ;
The great will never bear so blunt a verse.
Their doors are barred against a bitter flout ;
Snarl, if you please, but you shall snarl without.
Expect such pay as railing rhymes deserve ;
You're in a very hopeful way to starve.
PERSIUS.
Rather than so, uncensured let them be :
All, all is admirably well, for me.
* Note X. f Note XI.
OF PfcRSIUS. 215
My harmless rhyme shall 'scape the dire disgrace
Of common-shears, and every pissing-place.
Two painted serpents * shall on high appear ;
Tis holy ground; you must not urine here.
This shall be writ, to fright the fry away,
Who draw their little baubles when they play.
Yet old Lucilius f never feared the times,
But lashed the city, and dissected crimes.
Mutius and Lupus both by name he brought;
He mouthed them, and betwixt his grinders caught.
Unlike in method, with concealed design,
Did crafty Horace his low numbers join ;
And, with a sly insinuating grace,
Laughed at his friend, and looked him in the face ;
Would raise a blush where secret vice he found,
And tickle while he gently probed the wound ;
With seeming innocence the crowd beguiled,
But made the desperate passes when he smiled.
Could he do this, and is my muse controuled
By servile awe ? Born free, and not be bold ?
At least, I'll dig a hole within the ground,
And to the trusty earth commit the sound ;
The reeds shall tell you what the poet fears,
" King Midas has a snout, and asses ears." j
This mean conceit, this darling mystery,
Which thou think'st nothing, friend, thou shalt not
buy;
Nor will I change for all the flashy wit,
That flattering Labeo in his Iliads writ.
Thou, if there be a thou in this base town,
Who dares, with angry Eupolis, to frown ;
He who, with bold Cratinus, is inspired
With zeal, and equal indignation fired ;
Who at enormous villainy turns pale,
And steers against it with a full-blown sail,
* Note XII. + Note XIII.
t Note XIV. Note XV.
THE FIRST SATIRE OF PERSIUS.
Like Aristophanes, let him but smile
On this my honest work, though writ in homely style ;
And if two lines or three in all the vein
Appear less drossy, read those lines again.
May they perform their author's just intent,
Glow in thy ears, and in thy breast ferment !
But from the reading of my book and me,
Be far, ye foes of virtuous poverty ;
Who fortune's fault upon the poor can throw, f
Point at the tattered coat, and ragged shoe ;
Lay nature's failings to their charge, and jeer
The dim weak eye-sight when the mind is clear ;
When thou thyself, thus insolent in state,
Art but, perhaps, some country magistrate,
Whose power extends no farther than to speak
Big on the bench, and scanty weights to break.
Him also for my censor I disdain,
Who thinks all science, as all virtue, vain ;
Who counts geometry, and numbers toys,
And with his foot the sacred dust destroys ;
Whose pleasure is to see a strumpet tear
A cynick's beard, and lug him by the hair.
Such all the morning to the pleadings run ;
But when the business of the day is done,
On dice, and drink, and drabs, they spend their i
afternoon.
t Note XVI. J Note XVII.
NOTES
ON
TRANSLATIONS FROM PERSIUS,
SATIRE I.
Note I.
Should cry up Labeo's stuff", and cry vie down. P. 208.
Nothing is remaining of Atticus Labeo (so he is called by the
learned Casaubon) ; nor is he mentioned by any other poet, be-
sides Persius. Casaubon, from an old commentator on Persius,
says, that he made a very foolish translation of Homer's Iliads.
Note II.
They comb, and then they order every hair ;
A gown, or white, or scoured to whiteness, wear;
A birth-day jewel bobbing at their ear. P. 209-
He describes a poet, preparing himself to rehearse his works in
public, which was commonly performed in August. A room was
hired, or lent, by some friend ; a scaffold was raised, and a pulpit
placed for him who was to hold forth ; who borrowed a new gown,
or scoured his old one, and adorned his ears with jewels, &c.
J18 NOTES ON THE FIRST SATIRE OF ?ERSIUS.
Note III.
Know, my wild Jig-tree, -which in rocks is bred,
Will split the quarry, and shoot out the head. P. 209-
Trees of that kind grow wild in man parts of Italy, and make
their way through rocks, sometimes splitting the tomb-stones.
Note IV.
In cedar tablets worthy to appear. ---P. 210.
The Romans wrote on cedar and cypress tables, in regard of
the duration of the wood. Ill verses might justly be afraid of
frankincense ; for the papers in which they were Written, were fit
for nothing but to wrap it up.
Note V.
Products of citron beds. P. 210.
Writings of noblemen, whose bedsteads were of the wood of
citron.
Note VI.
Hadst thou but, Janus-like, a face behind. P. 211.
Janus was the first king of Italy, who refuged Saturn^ when he
was expelled, by his son Jupiter, from Crete (or, as we now call it,
Candia). From his name the first month of the year is called Ja-
nuary. He was pictured with two faces, one before and one be-
hind ; as regarding the past time and the future. Some of the
mythologists think he was Noah, for the reason given above.
Note VII.
Where Romulus teas bred, and Quintius born. P. 212.
He speaks of the country in the foregoing verses ; the praises
of which are the most easy theme for poets, but which a bad poet
cannot naturally describe : then he makes a digression to Romu-
lus, the first king of Rome, who had a rustical education ; and
enlarges upon Quintius Cincinnatus, a Roman senator, who was
called from the plough to be dictator of Rome.
NOTES ON THE FIRST SATIRE OF PERSIUS. 219
Note VIII.
With periods, points, and tropes, he slurs his crimes.
P. 213.
Persius here names antitheses, or seeming contradictions ;
which, in this place, are meant for rhetorical flourishes, as I think,
with Casaubon.
Note IX.
'Tis tagged with rhyme, like Eerecynthian Atys,
The mid-part chimes with art, which never flat is.
P. 213.
Foolish verses of Nero, which the poet repeats ; and which can-
not be translated, properly, into English.
Note X.
Their crooked horns the Mimallonian crew
With blasts inspired.- P. 214.
Other verses of Nero, that were mere bombast. I only note,
that the repetition of these and the former verses of Nero, might
justly give the poet a caution to conceal his name.
Note XL
Manas and Atys. P. 214.
Poems on the Maenades, who were priestesses of Bacchus ; and
of Atys, who made himself an eunuch to attend on the sacrifices
of Cybele, called Berecynthia by the poets. She was mother of
the gods.
Note XII.
Two painted serpents shall on high appear. P. 215.
Two snakes, twined with each other, were painted on the walls,
by the ancients, to show the place was holy.
Note XIII.
Old Ludlius.P. 215.
Lucilius wrote long before Horace, who imitates his manner of
satire, but far excels him in the design.
220 NOTES ON THE FIRST SATIRE OF PERSIUS.
Note XIV.
King Midas has a snout, and asses ears. P. 215.
The story is vulgar, that Midas, king of Phrygia, was made
judge betwixt Apollo and Pan, who was the best musician : he
gave the prize to Pan ; and Apollo, in revenge, gave him asses
ears. He wore his hair long to hide them ; but his barber disco-
vering them, and not daring to divulge the secret, dug a hole in
the ground, and whispered into it : the place was marshy ; and,
when the reeds grew up, they repeated the words which were spo-
ken by the barber. By Midas, the poet meant Nero.
Note XV.
Who flares^ with angry Eupolis, to frown ;
He who, with bold Cratinus, is inspired
With zeal. P. 215.
Eupolis and Cratinus, as also Aristophanes, mentioned after-
wards, were all Athenian poets ; who wrote that sort of comedy
which was called the Old Comedy, where the people were named
who were satirized by those authors.
Note XVI.
Who fortune's fault upon the poor can throw. P. 216.
The people of Rome, in the time of Persius, were apt to scorn
the Grecian philosophers, particularly the Cynics and Stoics, wha
were the poorest of them.
Note XVII.
Who counts geometry, and numbers toys,
And with his foot the sacred dust destroys. P. 2l6.
Arithmetic and geometry were taught on floors, which were
strewed with dust, or sand" ; in which the numbers and diagrams
were made and drawn, which they might strike out at pleasure.
SECOND SATIRE
OF
PERSIUS.
ON HIS BIRTH-DAY.
THE ARGUMENT.
This Satire contains a most grave and philosophical argument, con-
cerning prayers and wishes. Undoubtedly it gave occasion to Ju-
venal's tenth satire ; and both of them had their original from one
of Plato's dialogues, called the " Second Alcibiades." Our author
has induced it with great mystery of an, by taking his rise from the
birth-day of his friend ; on which occasions, prayers were made, and
sacrifices offered by t/ie native. Persius, commending, first, the purity
of his friend's vows, descends to the impious and immoral requests of
others. The satire is divided into three parts. The first is the exor-
dium to Macrinus, which the poet confines within the compass of
four verses : the second relates to the matter of the prayers and
vows, and an enumeration of those things, wherein men commonly
sinned against right reason, and offended in their requests: thf
222 THE SECOND SATIRE
third part consists in showing the repugnances of those prayers and
wishes, to those of other men, and inconsistencies with themselves.
He shows the original of these vows, and sharply inveighs agaimt
them ; and, lastly, not only corrects the false opinion of mankind
concerning them, but gives the tj-ue doctrine of all addresses made to
heaven, and how they may be made acceptable to the powers above,
in excellent precepts, and more worthy of a Christian than a Hea-
then.
JUET this auspicious morning be exprest
With a white stone, * distinguished from the rest,
White as thy fame, and as thy honour clear,
And let new joys attend on thy new added year.
Indulge thy genius, and o'erflow thy soul,
Till thy wit sparkle, like the cheerful bowl.
Pray ; for thy prayers the test of heaven will bear,
Nor need'st thou take the gods aside to hear ;
While others, even the mighty men of Rome,
Big swelled with mischief, to the temples come,
And in low murmurs, and with costly smoke,
Heaven's help to prosper their black vows, invoke :
So boldly to the gods mankind reveal
What from each other they, for shame, conceal.
Give me good fame, ye powers, and make me just;
Thus much the rogue to public ears will trust :
In private then, - When wilt thou, mighty Jove,
My wealthy uncle from this world remove?"
Or, O thou Thunderer's son, great Hercules,
That once thy bounteous deity would please
To guide my rake upon the chinking sound
Of some vast treasure, hidden under ground !f
O were my pupil fairly knocked o' the head,
I should possess the estate if he were dead !
He's so far gone with rickets, and with the evil,
That one small dose would send him to the devil.
* Note I. f Note II.
OF PERsrus. 223
t v
This is my neighbour Nerius his third spouse,
Of whom in happy time he rids his house ;
But my eternal wife ! Grant, heaven, I may
Survive to see the fellow of this day !
Thus, that thou may'st the better bring about
Thy wishes, thou art wickedly devout;
In Tyber ducking thrice, by break of day,
To wash the obscenities of night away. *
But, pr'ythee, tell me, ('tis a small request,)
With what ill thoughts of Jove art thou possest ?
Wouldst thou prefer him to some man ? Suppose
I dipped among the worst, and Staius chose?
Which of the two would thy wise head declare
The trustier tutor to an orphan heir?
Or, put it thus : Unfold to Staius, straight,
What to Jove's ear thou didst impart of late :
He'll stare, and O, good Jupiter ! will cry,
Canst thou indulge him in this villainy?
And think'st thou Jove himself with patience then
Can hear a prayer condemned by wicked men?
That, void of care, he lolls supine in state,
And leaves his business to be done by fate,
Because his thunder splits some burly tree,
And is not darted at thy house and thee ;
Or that his vengeance falls not at the time,
Just at the perpetration of thy crime,
And makes thee a sad object of our eyes,
Fit for Ergenna's prayer and sacrifice ? t
What well-fed offering to appease the God,
What powerful present to procure a nodj
Hast thou in store? What bribe hast thou prepared,
To pull him, thus unpunished, by the beard?
Our superstitions with our life begin ;
The obscene old grandam, or the next of kin,
t Note IV. J Note V.
224 THE SECOND SATIRE
Tfte new-born infant from the cradle takes,
And, first, of spittle a lustration makes ;
Then in the spawl her middle-finger dips,
Anoints the temples, forehead, and the lips,
Pretending force of magic to prevent,
By virtue of her nasty excrement;
Then dandles him with many a muttered prayer,
That heaven would make him some rich miser's heir,
Lucky to ladies, and in time a king ;
Which to ensure, she adds a length of navel-string.
But no fond nurse is fit to make a prayer,
And Jove, if Jove be wise, will never hear ;
Not though she prays in white, with lifted hands.
A body made of brass the crone demands
For her loved nursling, strung with nerves of wire.
Tough to the last, and with no toil to tire ;
Unconscionable vows, which, when we use,
We teach the gods, in reason, to refuse.
Suppose they were indulgent to thy wish,
Yet the fat entrails in the spacious dish
Would stop the grant ; the very over-care
And nauseous pomp, would hinder half the prayer.
Thou hop'st with sacrifice of oxen slain
To compass wealth, and bribe the god of gain
To give thee flocks and herds, with large increase ;
Fool ! to expect them from a bullock's grease !
And think'st that when the fattened flames aspire,
Thou see'st the accomplishment of thy desire !
Now, now, my bearded harvest gilds the plain, ^
The scanty folds can scarce my sheep contain,
And showers of gold come pouring in amain ! j
Thus dreams the wretch, and vainly thus dreams on,
Till his lank purse declares his money gone.
Should I present them with rare figured plate,
Or gold as rich in workmanship as weight;
() how thy rising heart would throb and beat,
And thy left side, with trembling pleasure, sweat !
OF PERSIUS. 225
Thou measur'st by thyself the powers divine ;
Thy gods are burnished gold, and silver is their
shrine.
The puny godlings of inferior race,
Whose humble statues are content with brass,
Should some of these, in visions purged from
phlegm,
Foretel events, or in a morning dream ; *
Even those thou would'st in veneration hold,
And, if not faces, give them beards of gold.
The priests in temples now no longer care
For Saturn's brass, f or Numa's earthen ware ;
Or vestal urns, in each religious rite;
This wicked gold has put them all to flight.
O souls, in whom no heavenly fire is found,
Fat minds, and ever grovelling on the ground !
We bring our manners to the blest abodes,
And think what pleases us must please the gods.
Of oil and cassia one the ingredients takes,
And, of the mixture, a rich ointment makes;
Another finds the way to dye in grain,
And makes Calabrian wool|| receive the Tyrian stain ;
Or from the shells their orient treasure takes,
Or for their golden ore in rivers rakes,
Then melts the mass. All these are vanities,
Yet still some profit from their pains may rise :
But tell me, priest, if I may be so bold,
What are the gods the better for this gold ?
The wretch, that offers from his wealthy store
These presents, bribes the powers to give him more ;
As maids to Venus offer baby-toys,
To bless the marriage-bed with girls and boys.
But let us for the gods a gift prepare,
* Note VI. t Note VII. J Note VIIJ.
II Note IX. Note X.
VOL. XIII. P
226* THE SECOND SATIRE OP PERSIUS.
Which the great man's great chargers cannot bear ;
A soul, where laws, both human and divine,
In practice more than speculation shine;
A genuine virtue, of a vigorous kind,
Pure in the last recesses of the mind :
When with such offerings to the gods I come,
A cake, thus given, is worth a hecatomb. *
* Note XI.
NOTES
ON
TRANSLATIONS FROM PERSIUS.
SATIRE II.
Note I.
Let this auspicious morning be exprest
With a white stone. P. 222.
The Romans were used to mark their fortunate days, or any
thing that luckily befel them, with a white stone, which they had
from the island Greta, and their unfortunate with a coal.
Note II.
Great Hercules,
That once thy bounteous deity would please
To guide my rake upon the chinking sound
Of some vast treasure, hidden under ground. P. 222.
Hercules was thought to have the key and power of bestowing
all hidden treasure.
Note III.
In Tyber ducking thrice, by break of day,
To wash the obscenities of night away. P. 223.
The ancients thought themselves tainted and polluted by night
itself, as well as bad dreams in the night ; and therefore purified
228 NOTES ON THE SECOND SATIRE OF PERSIUS.
themselves by washing their heads and hands every morning,
which custom the Turks observe to this day.
Note IV.
Fit for Ergenna's prayer and sacrifice.}?, 223.
When any one was thunderstruck, the soothsayer (who is here
called Erijenna) immediately repaired to the place, to expiate the
displeasure of the gods, by sacrificing two sheep.
Note V.
Our superstitions with our life begin. -P. 223.
The poet laughs at the superstitious ceremonies which the old
women made us>e of in their lustration, or purification days, when
they named their children, which was done on the eighth day to
females, and on the ninth to males.
Note VI.
Should some of these, in visions purged from phlegm,
Foretel events, or in a morning dream.---V. 225.
It was the opinion both of Grecians and Romans, that the gods,
in visions and dreams, often revealed to their favourites a cure for
their diseases, and sometimes those of others. Thus Alexander
dreamed of an herb which cured Ptolemy. These gods were
principally Apollo and Esculapius ; but, in aftertimcs, the same
virtue and good- will was attributed to Isis and Osiris. Which
brings to my remembrance an odd passage in Sir Thomas Brown's
Re/igio Medici, or in his Vulgar Errors ; the sense whereof is,
that we are beholden, for many of our discoveries in physic, to
the courteous revelation of spirits. By the expression, of " visions
purged from phlegm," our author means such dreams or visions as
proceed not from natural causes, or humours of the body, but
such as are sent from heaven ; and are, therefore, certain reme-
dies.
Note VII.
The priests in temples, now no longer care
For Saf urn's brans.- P. 225.
Brazen vessels, in which the public treasures of the Romans
were kept : it may be the poet means only old vessels, which were
called Ko, from the Greek name of Saturn. Note also, that
the Roman treasury was in the temple of Saturn.
NOTES ON THE SECOND SATIRE OF PERSIUS.
Note VIII.
Or Numa's earthen ware. P. 225.
Under Numa, the second king of Rome, and for a long time af-
ter him, the holy vessels for sacrifice were of earthen-ware ; ac-
cording to the superstitious rites which were introduced by the
same Numa : though afterwards, when Memmius had taken Co-
rinth, and Paulus Emilius had conquered Macedonia, luxury be-
gan amongst the Romans, and then their utensils of devotion were
of gold and silver, &c.
Note IX.
And makes Calabrian wool, fyc. - P. 225.
The wool of Calabria was of the finest sort in Italy, as Juvenal
also tells us. The Tyrian stain is the purple colour dyed at Ty-
rus ; and I suppose, but dare not positively affirm, that the rich-
est of that dye was nearest our crimson, and not scarlet, or that
other colour more approaching to the blue. I have not room to
justify my conjecture.
Note X.
As maids to Venus offer baby-toys.^?. 225.
Those baby- toy s were little babies, or poppets, as we call them;
in Latin, pupce ; which the girls, when they came to the age of
puberty, or child-bearing, offered to Venus ; as the boys, at four-
teen or fifteen, offered their bullce, or bosses.
Note XI.
A cake, thus given, is worth a hecatomb. P. 225.
A cake of barley, or coarse wheat-meal, with the bran in it :
The meaning is, that God is pleased with the pure and spotless
heart of the offerer, and not with the riches of the offering. Labe-
rius, in the fragments of his " Mimes," has a verse like this Puras f
Deus, non plenas aspicit manus. What I had forgotten before, in
its due place, I must here tell the reader, that the first half of this
satire was translated by one of my sons, now in Italy ; but I
thought so well of it, that I let it pass without any alteration.
THIRD SATIRE
THE ARGUMENT.
Our author has made two Satires concerning study, the first and the
third: the first related to men; this to young students, whom he rfe-
sired to be educated in the Stoic philosophy. He himself sustains the'
. person of the master, or preceptor, in this admirable Satire, where
he upbraids the youth of sloth, and negligence in learning. Yet he be-
gins with one scholar reproaching his fellow-students with late rising to
their books. After which, he takes upon him the other part of the teach-
er ; and, addressing himself particularly to young noblemen, tells them,
that, by reason of their high birth, and the great possessions of their
fathers, they are careless of adorning their minds ivith precepts of
moral philosophy : and, withal, inculcates to them the miseries
which will attend them in the whole course of their life, if they do
not apply themselves betimes to the knowledge of virtue, and the end
of their creation, which he pathetically insinuates to them. The title
of this satire, in some ancient manuscripts, was, " the Reproach of Idle-
ness ;" though in others of the scholiasts it is inscribed, " Against
the Luxury and Vices of the Rich."j In both ofivhich, the intention
of the poet is pursued, but principally in the former.
[I remember I translated this' satire when I was a king's scholar at
Westminster school, for a Thurday-night's exercise; and believe, that
it, and many other of my exercises of this nature in English verse, are
still in the hands of my learned master, the Rev. Dr Busby.]
Is this thy daily course ? The glaring sun -)
Breaks in at every chink ; the cattle run
To shades, and noon-tide rays of summer shun ; )
THE THIRD SATIRE OF PERSIUS. 231
Yet plunged in sloth we lie, and snore supine,
As filled with fumes of undigested wine.
This grave advice some sober student bears,
And loudly rings it in his fellow's ears.
The yawning youth, scarce half awake, essays
His lazy limbs and dozy head to raise ;
Then rubs his gummy eyes, and scrubs his pate,
And cries, I thought it had not been so late!
My clothes/ make haste ! why then, if none be near,
He mutters, first, and then begins to swear;
And brays aloud, with a more clamorous note,
Than an Arcadian ass can stretch his throat.
With much ado, his book before him laid,
And parchment with the smoother side displayed, *
He takes the papers ; lays them down again,
And with unwilling fingers tries the pen.
Some peevish quarrel straight he strives to pick,
His quill writes double, or his ink's too thick ;
Infuse more water, now 'tis grown so thin,
It sinks, nor can the characters be seen.
O wretch, and still more wretched every day!
Are mortals bom to sleep their lives away?
Go back to what thy infancy began,
Thou, who wert never meant to be a man ;
Eat pap and spoon-meat, for thy gewgaws cry ;
Be sullen, and refuse the lullaby.
No more accuse thy pen ; but charge the crime
On native sloth, and negligence of time.
Think'st thou thy master, or thy friends, to cheat ?
Fool, 'tis thyself, and that's a worse deceit.
Beware the public laughter of the town ;
Thou spring'st a leak already in thy crown ;
A flaw is in thy ill-baked vessel found;
'Tis hollow, and returns a jarring sound.
* Note I.
232 THE THIRD SATIRE
Yet thy moist clay is pliant to command,
Unwrought, and easy to the potter's hand :
Now take the mould ; now bend thy mind to feel
The first sharp motions of the forming wheel.
But thou hast land ; a country seat, secure
By a just title ; costly furniture ;
A fuming pan thy Lares to appease : *
What need of learning when a man's at ease ?
If this be not enough to swell thy soul,
Then please thy pride, and search the herald's roll,
Where thou shalt find thy famous pedigree }
Drawn from the root of some old Tuscan tree, f /
And thou, a thousand off, a fool of long degree ; *,
W T ho, clad in purple, can'st thy censor greet,
And loudly call him cousin in the street.
Such pageantry be to the people shown :
There boast thy horse's trappings, and thy own.
I know thee to thy bottom, from within
Thy shallow centre, to the utmost skin:
Dost thou not blush to live so like a beast,
So trim, so dissolute, so loosely drest?
But 'tis in vain ; the wretch is drenched too deep,
His soul is stupid, and his heart asleep ;
Fattened in vice, so callous, and so gross,
He sins, and sees not, senseless of his loss.
Down goes the wretch at once, unskilled to swim,
Hopeless to bubble up, and peach the water's brim.
Great father of the gods, when for our crimes
Thou send'st some heavy judgment on the times ;
Some tyrant-king, the terror of his age,
The type, and true vicegerent of thy rage ;
Thus punish him : set virtue in his sight,
With all her charms/ adorned, with all her graces
bright ;
* Note II. f Note III. J Note IV.
OF PERSIUS. 233
But set her distant, make him pale to see
His gains outweighed by lost felicity !
Sicilian tortures, and the brazen bull, *
Are emblems, rather than express the full
Of what he feels ; yet what he fears is more :
The wretch, who, sitting at his plenteous board,
Looked up, and viewed on high the pointed sword
Hang o'er his head, and hanging by a twine,
Did with less dread, and more securely dine, f
Even in his sleep he starts, and fears the knife,
And, trembling, in his arms takes his accomplice
wife;
Down, down he goes ; and from his darling friend
Conceals the woes his guilty dreams portend.
When I was young, I, like a lazy fool,
Would blear my eyes with oil, to stay from school :
Averse from pains, and loth to learn the part
Of Cato, dying with a dauntless heart ;
Though much my master that stern virtue praised,
Which o'er the vanquisher the vanquished raised ;
And my pleased father came with pride to see
His boy defend the Roman liberty.
But then my study was to cog the dice,
And dexterously to throw the lucky sice ;
To shun ames-ace, that swept my stakes away, *\
And watch the box, for fear they should convey ]
False bones, and put upon me in the play ; 3
Careful, besides, the whirling top to whip,
And drive her giddy, till she fell asleep.
Thy years are ripe, nor art thou yet to learn
What's good or ill, and both their ends discern:
Thou in the Stoic-porch, J severely bred,
Hast heard the dogmas of great Zeno read ;
Where on the walls, by Polygnotus' hand,
The conquered Medians in trunk-breeches stand ;
* Note V. f Note VI. J Note VII. Note VIII.
34 THE THIRD SATIRE
Where the shorn youth to midnight lectures rise,
Roused from their slumbers to be early wise ;
Where the coarse cake, and homely husks of beans,
From pampering riot the young stomach weans ;
And where the Samian Y directs thy steps to run
To Virtue's narrow steep, and broad-way Vice to
shun. *
And yet thou snor'st, thou draw'st thy drunken
breath,
Sour with debauch, and sleep'st the sleep of death :
Thy chaps are fallen, and thy frame disjoined;
Thy body is dissolved as is thy mind.
Hast thou not yet proposed some certain end,
To which thy life, thy every act, may tend ?
Hast thou no mark, at which to bend thy bow ?
Or, like a boy, pursuest the carrion crow
With pellets, and with stones, from tree to tree,
A fruitless toil, and livest extempore ?
Watch the disease in time ; for when within
The dropsy rages, and extends the skin,
In vain for hellebore the patient cries,
And fees the doctor, but too late is wise ;
Too late, for cure he proffers half his wealth ;
Conquest and Guibbonsf cannot give him health.
Learn, wretches, learn the motions of the mind,
Why you were made, for what you were designed
And the great moral end of human kind.
Study thyself, what rank, or what degree,
The wise Creator has ordained for thee ;
And all the offices of that estate
Perform, and with thy prudence guide thy fate.
Pray justly to be heard, nor more desire
Than what the decencies of life require.
Learn what thou owest thy country, and thy friend;
What's requisite to spare, and what to spend :
* Note IX.
f Two learned physicians of the period, Dryden mentions
Guibbons more than once, as a friend.
11.
}
OF PERSIUS.
Learn this ; and after, envy not the store
Of the greased advocate, that grinds the poor ;
Fat fees * from the defended Umbrian draws,
And only gains the wealthy client's cause ;
To whom the Marsians more provision send,
Than he and all his family can spend.
Gammons, that give a relish to the taste,
And potted fowl, and fish come in so fast,
That ere the first is out, the second stinks,
And mouldy mother gathers on the brinks.
But here some captain of the land, or fleet.
Stout of his hands, but of a soldier's wit,
Cries, I have sense to serve my turn in store,
And he's a rascal who pretends to more.
Damn me, whate'er those book-learned blockheads
say,
Solon's the veriest fool in all the play.
Top-heavy drones, and always looking down,
(As over ballasted within the crown,)
Muttering betwixt their lips some mystic thing,
Which, well examined, is flat conjuring;
Mere madmen's dreams ; for what the schools-
have taught,
Is only this, that nothing can be brought
From, nothing, and what is can ne'er be turned 1
to nought.
Is it for this they study? to grow pale,
And miss the pleasures of a glorious meal ?
For this, in rags accoutered, are they seen,
And made the may-game of the public spleen?
Proceed, my friend, and rail ; but hear me tell
A story, which is just thy parallel :
A spark, like thee, of the man-killing trade,
Fell sick, and thus to his physician said,
Methinks I am not right in every part ;
I feel a kind of trembling at my heart,
* Note X.
236 THE THIRD SATIRE
My pulse unequal, and my breath is strong,
Besides a filthy fur upon my tongue.
The doctor heard him, exercised his skill,
"And after bade him for four days be still.
Three days he took good counsel, and began
To mend, and Ipok like a recovering man ;
The fourth he could not hold from drink, but sends~
His boy tp one of his old trusty friends,
Adjuring him, by all the powers divine, y
To pity his distress, who could not dine
Without a flaggon of his healing wine. 3
He drinks a swilling draught ; and, lined within,
Will supple in the bath his outward skin :
Whom should he fjnd but his physician there,
Who wisely bade him once again beware/":
Sir, you look wan, you hardly draw your breath ;
Drinking is dangerous, and the bath is death.
'Tis nothing, says tfre fool ; but, sa^s the friend,
This nothing, sir, will bring you to your end.
Do I not see your dropsy belly swell ?
Your yellow skin? -No more of that ; I'm well.
I have already buried two or three y
That stood betwixt a fair estate and me,
And, doctor, I may live to bury thee. 3
Thou tell'st me, I look ill ; and thou look'st worse.'
I've done, says the physician ; take your course.
The laughing sot, like all unthinking men,
Bathes, and gets drunk ; then bathes, and drinks
again :
His throat half throttled with corrupted phlegm,
And breathing through his jaws a belching steam,
Amidst his cups with fainting shivering seized,
His limbs disjointed, and all o'er diseased,
His hand refuses to sustain the bowl, y
And his teeth chatter, and his eye-balls roll,
Till with his meat he vomits out his soul ; 3
OF PERSIUS. 237
Then trumpets, torches, and a tedious crew
Of hireling mourners, for his funeral due.
Our dear departed brother lies in state,
His heels stretched out, and pointing to the gate ;*l
And slaves, now manumized, on their dead master
wait.
They hoist him on the bier, and deal the dole,
And there's an end of a luxurious fool.
But what's thy fulsome parable to me?
My body is from all diseases free ;
My temperate pulse does regularly beat ; ^
Feel, and be satisfied, my hands and feet:
These are not coll, nor those opprest with heat. 3
Or lay thy hand upon my naked heart,
And thou shalt find me hale in every part.
I grant this true; but still the deadly wound
Is in thy soul, 'tis there thou art not sound.
Say, when thou see'st a heap of tempting gold,
Or a more tempting harlot dost behold ;
Then, when she casts on thee a side-long glance,
Then try thy heart, and tell me if it dance.
Some coarse cold sallad is before thee set; ^
Bread with the bran, perhaps, and broken meat ; >
Fall on, and try thy appetite to eat. 3
These are not dishes for thy dainty tooth :
What, hast thou got an ulcer in thy mouth ?
Why stand'st thou picking? Is thy palate sore,
That bete and radishes will make thee roar ?
Such is the unequal temper of thy mind,
Thy passions in extremes, and unconfmed ;
Thy hair so bristles with unmanly fears,
As fields of corn, that rise in bearded ears ;
And when thy cheeks with flushing fury glow, -^
The rage of boiling cauldrons is more slow,
When fed with fuel and with flames below. 3
Note XI.
238 . THE THIRD SATIRE OF PERSIUS.
With foam upon thy lips and sparkling eyes,
Thou say's t, and dost, in such outrageous wise,
That mad Orestes, * if he saw the show,
Would swear thou wert the madder of the two.
* Note XII.
NOTES
ON
TRANSLATIONS FROM PERSIUS.
SATIRE III.
Note I.
And parchment with the smoother side displayed. P. 231.
The students used to write their notes on parchments ; the ill-
side, on which they wrote, was white ; the other side was hairy,
and commonly yellow. Quintilian reproves this custom, and ad-
vises rather table-books, lined with wax, and a stile, like that we<
use in our vellum table-books, as more easy.
Note II.
Afuming-pan thy Lares to appease. P. 232.
Before eating, it was customary to cut off some part of the
meat, which was first put into a pan, or little dish, then into the
fire, as an offering to the household gods : this they called a Li-
bation.
Note III.
Drawn from the root of some old Tuscan tree. P. 232.
The Tuscans were accounted of most ancient nobility. Ho-
race observes this in most of his compliments to Maecenas, who was
derived from the old kings of Tuscany ; now the dominion of the
Great Duke.
240 NOTES ON THE THIRD SATIRE OF PERSIUS.
Note IV.
Who, dad in purple, canst thy censor greet. P. 232.
The Roman knights, attired in the robe called trabea, were
summoned by the censor to appear before him, and to salute him
in passing by, as their names were called over. They led their
horses in their hand. See more of this in Pompey's Life, written
by Plutarch.
Note V.
Sicilian tortures, and the brazen bull. P. 233.
Some of the Sicilian kings were so great tyrants, that the name
is become proverbial. The brazen bull is a known story of Pha-
laris, one of those tyrants, who, when Perillus, a famous artist,
had presented him with a bull of that metal hollowed within,
which, when the condemned person was inclosed in it, would ren-
der the sound of a bull's roaring, caused the workman to make
the first experiment, docuitque suum mvgirejuvencum.
Note VI.
The wretch, who, sitting at his plenteous board,
Looked up, and viewed on high the pointed sword. P. 233.
He alludes to the story of Damocles, a flatterer of one of those
Sicilian tyrants, namely Dionysius. Damocles had infinitely ex-
tolled the happiness of kings : Dionysius, to convince him of the
contrary, invited him to a feast, and clothed him in purple ; but
caused a sword, with the point downward, to be hung over his
head by a silken twine ; which, when he perceived, he could eat
nothing of the delicates that were set before him.
Note VII.
Thou in the Stoic-porch, severely bred. P. 233.
The Stoics taught their philosophy under a porticus, to secure
their scholars from the weather. Zeno was the chief of that sect.
Note VIII.
Where on the walls, by Polygnotus' handy
The conquered Medians in trunk-breeches stand. P. 233.
Polygnotus, a famous painter, who drew the pictures of the
Medes and Persians, conquered by Miltiades, Themistocles, and
other Athenian captains, on the walls of the portico, in their na-
tural habits.
2
NOTES ON THE THIRD SATIRE OP PERSIUS. 241
Note IX.
And where the Samian Y directs thy steps to run
To Virtue's narrow steep, and broad-way Vice to shun.
P. 234.
Pythagoras, of Samos, made the allusion of the Y, or Greek
vpsilun, to Vice and Virtue. One side of the letter being broad,
characters Vice, to which the ascent is wide and easy ; the other
side represents Virtue, to which the passage is strait and difficult;
and perhaps our Saviour might also allude to this, in those noted
words of the evangelist, " The way to heaven," &c.
NoteX.
Fat fees from the defended Umbrian draws. P. 2.35;
Casaubon here notes, that, among all the Romans, who were
brought up to learning, few, besides the orators or lawyers, grew
rich.
Note XI.
His heels stretched out, and pointing to the gate.
P. 237.
The Romans were buried witheut the city ; for which reason,
the poet says, that the dead man's heels were stretched out to-
wards the gate.
Note XII.
Mad Orestes.--?. 238.
Orestes was son to Agamemnon and Clytemnestra. Agamem-
non, at his return from the Trojan wars, was slain by .^Lgysthus,
the adulterer of Clytemnestra. Orestes, to revenge his father's
death, slew both ./Egysthus and his mother ; for which he was
punished with madness by the Eumenides, or Furies, who conti-
nually haunted him.
VOL. XIII.
THE
FOURTH SATIRE
OF
PERSIUS.
THE ARGUMENT.
Our author, living in the time of Nero, was contemporary and friend
to the noble poet Lucan. Both of them were sufficiently sensible,
with all good men, how unskilfully he managed the commonwealth ;
and perhaps might guess at his future tyranny, by some passages, du-
ring the latter part of his first Jive years ; though he Irroke not out
into his great excesses, while he was restrained by the counsels and au-
thority of Seneca. Lucan has not spared him in the poem of his
Pharsalia ; for his very compliment looked asquint, as well as
Nero. * Persitis has been bolder, but with caution likeivise. For
here, in the person of young Alcibiades, he arraigns his ambition of
meddling with state-affairs without judgment, or experience. It is
probable, that he makes Seneca, in this satire, sustain the part of
Socrates, under a borrowed name ; and, withal, discovers some se-
cret vices of Nero, concerning his lust, his drunkenness, and his effe-
minacy, which had not yet arrived to public notice. He also re-
prehends thejlattery of his courtiers, who endeavoured to make all
his vices pass for virtues. Covetousness was undoubtedly none of
his faults ; but it is here described as a veil cast over the true mean-
ing of the poet, which was to satirize his prodigality and volup-
* The compliment, at the opening of the Pharsalia, has been thought sar-
castic. It certainly sounds so in modern ears : if Nero could only attain em-
pire by civil war, as the gods by that of the giants, then says the poet,
Scelera ipsa nefasque
Hac mercede f lucent. '
THE FOURTH SATIRE OF PERSIUS. 243
tuousness ; to which he makes a transition. I find no instance in
history of that emperors being a Pat hie, though Persitts seems to
brand him with it. From the two dialogues of Plato, both called
" Alcibiades," the poet took the arguments of the second and third s-
tires ; but he inverted the order of them, for tlie third satire is taken
from the first of those dialogues.
The commentators before Casaubon were ignorant of our author's se-
cret meaning ; and thought he had only written against young no-
blemen in general, who were too forward in aspiring to public ma-
gistracy : but this excellent scholiast has unravelled the whole mys-
tery, and made it apparent, that the sting of the satire was parti-
cularly aimed at Nero.
WHOE'ER thou art, whose forward years are bent
On state affairs, to guide the government ;
Hear first what Socrates * of old has said
To the loved youth, whom he at Athens bred.
Tell me, thou pupil to great Pericles,
Our second hope, my Alcibiades, "f
What are the grounds from whence thou dost pre-
pare
To undertake, so young, so vast a care r
Perhaps thy wit; (a chance not often heard,
That parts and prudence should prevent the beard ;)
'Tis seldom seen, that senators so young
Know when to speak, and when to hold their
tongue.
Sure thou art born to some peculiar fate,
When the mad people rise against the state,
To look them into duty, and command
An awful silence with thy lifted hand ;
Then to bespeak them thus : Athenians, kno\y
Against right reason all your counsels go ;
This is not fair, nor profitable that,
Nor t'other question proper for debate.
* Note I. t Note II.
244 THE FOURTH SATIRE
But thou, no doubt, can'st set the business right,
And give each argument its proper weight ;
Know'st, with an equal hand, to hold the scale ; -v
Seest where the reasons pinch, and where they fail, /
And where exceptions o'er the general rule pre-
vail ; 3
And, taught by inspiration, in a trice,
Can'st punish crimes, * and brand offending vice.
Leave, leave to fathom such high points as these,
Nor be ambitious, e'er thy time, to please,
Unseasonably wise ; till age and cares
Have formed thy soul to manage great affairs.
Thy face, thy shape, thy outside, are but vain ;
Thou hast not strength such labours to sustain ;
Drink hellebore, f my boy; drink deep, and purge |
thy brain.
What aim'st thou at, and whither tends thy care, ^
In what thy utmost good? Delicious fare; >
And then, to sun thyself in open air. )
Hold, hold; are all thy empty wishes such?
A good old woman would have said as much.
But thou art nobly born : 'tis true ; go boast
Thy pedigree, the thing thou valuest most:
Besides, thou art a beau; what's that, my child?
A fop, well drest, extravagant, and wild :
She that cries herbs, has less impertinence,
And in her calling more of common sense.
None, none descends into himself, to find
The secret imperfections of his mind;
But every one is eagle-eyed, to see
Another's faults, and his deformity.
Say, dost thou knowVectidiusrJ Who? the wretch
Whose lands beyond the Sabines largely stretch ;
* Note III. t Note IV. J Note V.
OF PERSIUS. 245
Cover the country, that a sailing kite
Can scarce o'er fly them in a day and night ;
Plim dost thou mean, who, spite of all his store,
Is ever craving, and will still be poor ?
Who cheats for half-pence, and who doffs his coat,
To save a farthing in a ferry-boat?
Ever a glutton at another's cost,
But in whose kitchen dwells perpetual frost?
Who eats and drinks with his domestic slaves,
A verier hind than any of his knaves *
Born with the curse and anger of the gods,
And that indulgent genius he defrauds ?
At harvest-home, and on the shearing-day,
When he should thanks to Pan and Pales pay,
And better Ceres, f trembling to approach
The little barrel, which he feais to broach ;
He 'says the wimble, often draws it back,
And deals to thirsty servants but a smack.
To a short meal he makes a tedious grace,
Before the barley -pudding comes in place :
Then bids fall on ; himself, for saving charges,
A peeled sliced onion eats, and tipples verjuice.
Thus fares the drudge : but thou, whose life's a
dream
Of lazy pleasures, takest a worse extreme.
'Tis all thy business, business how to shun ;
To bask thy naked body in the sun ;
Suppling thy stiffened joints with fragrant oil :
Then, in thy spacious garden walk a while,
To suck the moisture up, and soak it in ;
And this, thou think'st, but vainly think'st, unseen.
But know, thou art observed ; and there are those,
Who, if they durst, would all thy secret sins expose;
The depilation of thy modest part ; }
Thy catamite, the darling of thy heart, r
His engine-hand, and every lewder art,
t Note VI.
246 THE FOURTH SATIRE
When, prone to bear, and patient to receive,
Thou tak'st the pleasure which thou canst not give.
With odorous oil thy head and hair are sleek,
And then thou kemb'st the tuzzes on thy cheek;
Of these thy barbers take a costly care,
While thy salt tail is overgrown with hair.
Not all thy pincers, nor unmanly arts,
Can smooth the roughness of thy shameful parts.
Not five, the strongest that the Circus breeds, f
From the rank soil can root those wicked weeds,
Though suppled first with soap, to ease thy pain ;
The stubborn fern springs up, and sprouts again.
1 bus others we with defamations wound,
W 7 hile they stab us, and so the jest goes round.
Vain aie thy hopes, to 'scape censorious eyes;
Truth will appear through all the thin disguise :
Thou hast an ulcer which no leach can heal,
Though thy broad shoulder-belt the wound conceal.
Say thou art sound and hale in every part,
\V e know, we know thee rotten at thy heart.
W e know thee sullen, impotent, and proud :
Nor canst thou cheat thy nerve, who cheat'st the
crowd.
But when they praise me in the neighbourhood,
When the pleased people take me for a god,
Shall I refuse their incense ? Not receive
The loud applauses which the vulgar give ?
If thou dost wealth with longing eyes behold,
And greedily art gaping after gold ;
If some alluring girl, in gliding by, *\
Shall tip the wink, with a lascivious eye,
And thou, with a consenting glance, reply j 3
If thou thy own solicitor become,
And bidst arise the lumpish pendulum ;
t Note VII.
OF PEUSIUS. 247
If thy lewd lust provokes an empty storm,
And prompts to more than nature can perform ;
If, with thy guards, thou scourst the streets by
night,
And dost in murders, rapes, and spoils delight ; f
Please not thyself, the flattering crowd to hear,
Tis fulsome stuff to feed thy itching ear.
Reject the nauseous praises of the times ;
Give thy base poets back their cobled rhimes :
Survey thy soul, not what thou dost appear,
But what thou art, and find the beggar there. J
i Note VIII. J Note IX.
NOTES ]
OK
TRANSLATIONS FROM PERSIUS.
SATIRE IV.
Note I.
Socrates. P. 243.
Socrates, whom the oracle of Delphos praised as the wisest
man of his age, lived in the time of the Peloponnesian war. He,
finding the uncertainty of natural philosophy, applied himself
wholly to the moral. He was master to Xenophon and Plato,
and to many of the Athenian young noblemen; amongst the rest
to Alcibiades, the most lovely youth then living ; afterwards a fa-
mous captain, whose life is written by Plutarch,
Note II.
Tell me, thou pupil to great Pericles,
Our second hope, my Alcibiades. P. 243.
Pericles was tutor, or rather overseer, of the will of Clinias, fa-
ther to Alcibiades. ^yhile Pericles lived, who was a wise man,
and an excellent orator, as well as a great general, the Athenians
bad the better of the war.
Note III.
Can'st punish crimes. P. 244.
That is, by death. When the judges would condemn a male-
factor, they cast their votes into an urn ; as, according to the mo-
NOTES ON THE FOURTH SATIRE OF PERSIUS. 249
dern custom, a balloting-box. If the suffrages were marked with
0, they signified the sentence of death to the offender; as being the
first letter of 0aTo?, which, in English, is death.
Note IV.
Drink hellebore. P. 244.
The poet would say, that such an ignorant young man, as he
here describes, is fitter to be governed himselt than to govern
others. He therefore advises him to drink hellebore, which pur-
ges the brain.
Note V.
Say, dost thoit know Vectidius ? P. 245.
The name of Vectidius is here used appellatively, to signify any
rich covetous man, though perhaps there mi^ht be a man or that
name then living. I have translated this passage paraphrastically,
and loosely ; and leave it for those to look on, who are not unlike
the picture.
Note VI.
When he should thanks to Pan and Pales pay,
And better Ceres. P. 345.
Pan, the god of shepherds, and Pales, the goddess presiding over
rural affairs ; whom Virgil invocates in the beginning of his se-
cond Georgic. I give the epithet of better to Ceres, because
she first taught the use of corn for bread, as the poets tell us ;
men, in the first rude ages, feeding only on acorns, or mast, in-
stead of bread.
Note VII.
Not Jive, the strongest that the Circus breeds. P. 245.
The learned Holyday (who has made us amends for his bad poe-
try in this and the rest of these satires, with his excellent illustra-
tions), here tells us, from good authority, that the number five
does not allude to the five fingers of one man, but to five strong
men, such as were skilful in the five robust exercises then in prac-
tice at Rome, and were performed in the circus, or public place
ordained for them. These five he reckons up in this manner :
1. The Czestus, or Whirlbatts, described by Virgil in his fifth
^Eneid ; and this was the most dangerous of all the rest. The 2d
was the foot-race. The 3d, the discus ; like the throwing a weighty
50 NOTES ON THE FOURTH SATIRE OF PERSIUS.
ball ; a sport now used in Cornwall, and other parts of Eng-
land ; we may see it daily practised in Red-Lyon Fields. The
4th, was the Saltus, or Leaping; and the 5th, wrestling naked,
and besmeared with oil. They who practised in these five manly
exercises were called
Note VIII.
If, "with thy guards, thou scour'st the streets by night,
And dost in murders, rapes, and spoils, delight.}?. 24-7.
Persius durst not have been so bold with Nero as I dare, now;
and therefore there is only an intimation of that in him which
I publicly speak : I mean, of Nero's walking the streets by night
in disguise, and committing all sorts of outrages, for which he
was sometimes well beaten.
Note IX.
* - Not what thou dost appear,
But what thou art, andjind the beggar there. P. 247-
Look into thyself, and examine thy own conscience ; there thou
shalt find, that, how wealthy soever thou appearest to the world,
yet thou art but a beggar ; because thou art destitute of all vir-
tues, which are the riches of the soul. This also was a paradox
of the Stoic school.
THE
FIFTH SATIRE
OF
PERSIUS.
INSCRIBED TO
THE REV. DR BUSBY.
THE SPEAKERS
PERSIUS AND CORNUTUS.
THE ARGUMENT.
The judicious Casaubon, in his proem to this Satire, tells us,' that
Aristophanes, the grammarian, being asked, what poem of Ar-
chilochus' Iambics he preferred before the rest; ansvered, the
longest. His answer may justly be applied to this Fifth Satire ;
which, being of a greater length than any of the rest, is also by-
far the most instructive. For this reason I have selected it from
all the others, and inscribed it to my learned master, Dr Busby ;
to whom I am not only obliged my self for the best part of my own
education, and that of my two sons ; but have also received from
him the Jirst and truest taste of Persius. May he be pleased to
Jind, in this translation, the gratitude, or at least some small ac-
knowledgment, of his unworthy scholar, at the distance of forty-
two years from the time when I departed from under his tui-
tion.
252 THE FIFTH SATIRE
Tkis Satire consists of two distinct parts : The Jirst contains the
praises of the stoic philosopher, Cornutus, master and tutor to
our Pcrsius ; it also declares the love and piety of Persists to
kis -well-deserving master ; and the mutual friendship which con-
tinued betwixt them, after Persius was now grown a man ; as
also his exhortation to young noblemen, that they -would enter
themselves into his institution. From hence he makes an artful
transition into the second part of his subject ; wherein he Jirst
complains of the sloth of scholars, and afterwards persuades
them to the pursuit of their true liberty. Here our author excel'
tently treats that paradox of the Stoics, which affirms, that the
tcise or virtuous man is only free, and that all vicious men are
naturally slaves ; and, in the illustration of this dogma, he
takes up the remaining part of this inimitable Satire.
PERSIUS.
OF ancient use to poets it belongs,
To wish themselves an hundred mouths and tongues :
Whether to the well-lunged tragedian's rage
They recommend their labours of the stage,
Or sing the Parthian, when transfixed he lies,
Wrenching the Roman javelin from his thighs.
CORNUTUS.
And why would'st thou these mighty morsels chuse,
Of words unchewed, and fit to choke the muse?
Let fustian poets with their stuff begone,
And suck the mists that hang o'er Helicon ;
W^hen Progne, * or Thyestes' f feast they write ;
And, for the mouthing actor, verse indite.
Thou neither like a bellows swell'st thy face,
As if thou wert to blow the burning mass
Of melting ore; nor canst thou strain thy throat,
Or murmur in an undistinguished note,
Like rolling thunder, till it breaks the cloud,
And rattling nonsense is discharged aloud.
Note I. f Note II.
OF PERSIUS. 253
Soft elocution does thy style renown,
And the sweet accents of the peaceful gown :
Gentle or sharp, according to thy choice,
To laugh at follies, or to lash at vice.
Hence draw thy theme, and to the stage permit
Raw-head and bloody-bones, and hands and feet,
Ragouts for Tereus or Thyestes drest ;
'Tis task enough for thee t' expose a Roman feast.
PERSIUS*
Tis not, indeed, my talent to engage
In lofty trifles, or to swell my page
With wind and noise; but freely to impart,
As to a friend, the secrets of my heart.
And, in familiar speech, to let thee know
How much I love thee, and how much [ owe.
Knock on my heart ; for thou hast skill to find
If it sound solid, or be filled with wind;
And, through the veil of words, thou view'st the*
naked mind.
For this a hundred voices I desire,
To tell thee what an hundred tongues would tire,
Yet never could be worthily exprest,
How deeply thou art seated in my breast.
When first my childish robe * resigned the charge,
And left me, unconfined, to live at large ;
\Vhen now my golden bulla (hung on high ^
To household gods) declared me past a boy, >
And my white shield proclaimed my liberty ; f j
When, with my wild companions, I could roll
From street to street, and sin without controul;
Just at that age, when manhood set me free,
I then deposed myself, and left the reins to thee ;
On thy wise bosom I reposed my head,
And by my better Socrates was bred. J
* Note III. t Note IV. J Note V.
254 THE FIFTH SATIRE
Then thy straight rule set virtue in my sight,
The crooked line reforming by the right.
My reason took the bent of thy command,
Was formed and polished by thy skilful hand;
Long summer-days thy precepts I rehearse,
And winter-nights were short in our converse ;
One was our labour, one was our repose,
One frugal supper did our studies close.
Sure on our birth some friendly planet shone ;
And, as our souls, our horoscope * was one :
Whether the mounting Twins f did heaven adorn,
Or with the rising Balance J we were born;
Both have the same impressions from above.
And both have Saturn's rage, repelled by Jove.
What star I know not, but some star, I find,
Has given thee an ascendant o'er my mind.
COUNUTUS.
Nature is ever various in her frame ;
Each has a different will, and few the same.
The greedy merchants, led by lucre, run
To the parched Indies, and the rising sun ;
From thence hot pepper and rich drugs they bear,
Bartering for spices their Italian ware;
The lazy glutton, safe at home, will keep,
Indulge his sloth, and batten with his sleep :
One bribes for high preferments in the state ;
A second shakes the box, and sits up late ;
Another shakes the bed, dissolving there,
Till knots upon his gouty joints appear,
And chalk is in his crippled fingers found ;
Hots, like a doddered oak, and piecemeal falls to
ground ;
Then his lewd follies he would late repent,
And his past years, that in a mist were spent.
* Note VI. f Gemini. J Libra. Note VII.
OF PERSIUS. 255
PERSIUS.
But thou art pale in nightly studies grown,
To make the Stoic institutes thy own : *
Thou long, with studious care, hast tilled our youth,
And sown our well-purged ears with wholesome
truth.
From thee both old and young with profit learn
The bounds of good and evil to discern.
CORNUTUS;
Unhappy he who does this work adjourn,
And to to-morrow would the search delay ;
His lazy morrow will be like to-day.
PERSIUS.
But is one day of ease too much to borrow ?
CORNUTUS.
Yes, sure ; for yesterday was once to-morrow.
That yesterday is gone, and nothing gained,
And all thy fruitless days will thus be drained ;
For thou hast more to-morrows yet to ask,
And wilt be ever to begin thy task ;
Who, like the hindmost chariot-wheels, art curst,
Still to be near, but ne'er to reach the first.
O freedom, first delight of human kind !
Not that which bondmen from their masters find.
The privilege of doles ; f nor yet to inscribe
Their names in this or t'other Roman tribe ;
That false enfranchisement with ease is found,
Slaves are made citizens by turning round.
How, replies one, can any be more free?
Here's Dama, once a groom of low degree,
Not worth a farthing, and a sot beside,
So true a rogue, for lying's sake he lied ;
* Note VIII. f Note IX. Note X.
Note XI.
256 THE FIFTH SATIRE
But, with a turn, a freeman he became,
Now Marcus Dama is his worship's name. *
Good gods ! who would refuse to lend a sum,
If wealthy Marcus surety will become !
Marcus is made a judge, and for a proof
Of certain truth, "He said it," is enough.
A will is to be proved ; put in your claim ;
Tis clear, if Marcus has subscribed his name, f
This is true liberty, as I believe ; ^
What farther can we from our caps receive,
Than as we please without controul to live ? j
Not more to noble Brutus could belong.
Hold, says the Stoic, your assumption's wrong:
I grant true freedom you have well defined : -\
But, living as you list, and to your mind,
Are loosely tacked, and must be left behind. i
What ! since the prsetor did my fetters loose,
And left me freely at my own dispose,
May I not live without controul or awe,
Excepting still the letter of the law ? 5T
Hear me with patience, while thy mind I free
From those fond notions of false liberty:
'Tis not the praetor's province to bestow ^
True freedom ; nor to teach mankind to know
What to ourselves, or to our friends, we owe. j
He could not set thee free from cares and strife,
Nor give the reins to a lewd vicious life :
As well he for an ass a harp might string,
Which is against the reason of the thing ;
For reason still is whispering in your ear,
Where you are sure to fail, the attempt forbear.
No need of public sanctions this to bind,
Which nature has implanted in the mind,
Not to pursue the work, to which we're not de-|
signed.
* Note XII. f Note XIII.*- 1 J Note XIV.
Note XV. 1T Note XVI.
OP PERSIUS. 557
Unskilled in hellebore, if thou should'st try V
To mix it, and mistake the quantity, /
The rules of physic would against thee cry.
The high-shoe'd ploughman, should he quit the~
land,
To take the pilot's rudder in his hand,
Artless of stars, and of the moving sand,
The gods would leave him to the waves and wind,
And think all shame was lost in human kind.
Tell me, my friend, from whence had'st thou the
skill,
So nicely to distinguish good from ill ?
Or by the sound to judge of gold and brass,
What piece is tinkers' metal, what will pass ?
And what thou art to follow, what to fly,
This to condemn, and that to ratify ?
When to be bountiful, and when to spare,
But never craving, or oppressed with care?
The baits of gifts, and money to despise,
And look on wealth with undesiring eyes ?
When thou canst truly call these virtues thine,
Be wise and free, by heaven's consent and mine.
But thou, who lately of the common strain
Wert one of us, if still thou dost retain
The same ill habits, the same follies too,
Glossed over only with a saint-like show,
Then I resume the freedom which I gave ;
Still thou art bound to vice, and still a slave.
Thou canst not wag thy finger, or begin
" The least light motion, but it tends to sin."
How's this ? Not wag my finger, he replies ? y
No, friend ; nor fuming gums, nor sacrifice,
Can ever make a madman free, or wise. 3
\" Virtue and vice are never in one soul ;
A man is wholly wise, or wholly is a fool." *
\ .
VOL. XIII,
258 THE FIFTH SATIRE
A heavy bumpkin, taught with daily care,
Can never dance three steps with a becoming air.
PERSIUS.
In spite of this, my freedom still remains.
CORNUTUS.
Free ! what, and fettered with so many chains ?
Canst thou no other master understand
Than him that freed thee by the praetor's wand ? *
Should he, who was thy lord, command thee now,
With a harsh voice, and supercilious brow,
To servile duties, thou would'st fear no more ;
The gallows and the whip are out of door.
But if thy passions lord it in thy breast,
Art thou not still a slave, and still opprest?
Whether alone, or in thy harlot's lap,
When thou would'st take a lazy morning's nap,
Up, up, says Avarice; thou snor'st again,
Stretchest thy limbs, and yawn'st, but all in vain ;
The tyrant Lucre no denial takes ;
At his command the unwilling sluggard wakes.
What must I do? he cries: What? says his lord;
Why rise, make ready, and go straight aboard ;
With fish, from Euxine seas, thy vessel freight;
Flax, castor, Coan wines, the precious weight
Of pepper, and Sabaean incense, take, "^
With thy own hands, from the tired camel's back, >
And with post haste thy running markets make, j
Be sure to turn the penny ; lie and swear,
Tis wholesome sin : but Jove, thou say'st, will
i
near:
Swear, fool, or starve ; for the dilemma's even :
( A tradesman thou, and hope to go to heaven !
Resolved for sea, the slaves thy baggage pack,
Each saddled with his burden on his back ;
* Note XVIII.
OF PERSIUS. 259
Nothing retards thy voyage now, unless
Thy other lord forbids, Voluptuousness :
And he may ask this civil question, Friend,
What dost thou make a shipboard? to what end?
Art thou of Bethlem's noble college free,
Stark, staring mad, that thou would'st tempt the sea ?
Cubbed in a cabin, on a mattress laid,
On a brown george, with lousy s wobbers fed,
Dead wine, that stinks of the borrachio, sup
From a foul jack, * or greasy maple-cup?
Say, would'st thou bear all this, to raise thy store
From six i'the hundred, to six hundred more ?
Indulge, and to thy genius freely give ;
For, not to live at ease, is not to live ;
Death stalks behind thee, and each flying hour
Does some loose remnant of thy life devour.
Live while thou liv'st; for death will make us all
A name, a nothing but an old wife's tale.
Speak ; wilt thou Avarice, or Pleasure, chuse
To be thy lord ? Take one, and one refuse.
But both by turns the rule of thee will have,
And thou betwixt them both wilt be a slave.
Nor think when once thou hast resisted one,
That all thy marks of servitude are gone :
The struggling grey-hound gnaws his leash in vain;
If, when 'tis broken, still he drags the chain.
Says Phasdria to his man, f Believe me, friend,
To this uneasy love I'll put an end :
Shall I run out of all ? My friends^disgrace,
And be the first lewd unthrift of my race ?
Shall I the neighbours 'nightly rest invade
At her deaf doors, with some vile serenade?
WelLJiast thou freed thyself, his man replies,
Go, thank the gods, and offer sacrifice.
* A leathern pitcher, called a black jack, used by our homely
ancestors for quaffing their ale. E.
t Note XIX.
260 THE FIFTH SATIRE
Ah, says the youth, if we unkindly part,
Will not the poor fond creature break her heart?
Weak soul ! and blindly to destruction led !
She break her heart ! she'll sooner break your head.
She knows her man, and when you rant and swear,
Can draw you to her with a single hair.
But shall I not return? Now, when she sues !
Shall I my own and her desires refuse ?
Sir, take your course ; but my advice is plain :
Once freed, 'tis madness to resume your chain.
Ay ; there's the man, who, loosed from lust and
pelf,
Less to the praetor owes than to himself.
But write him down a slave, who, humbly proud,
With presents begs preferments from the crowd ; *
That early suppliant, who salutes the tribes,
And sets the mob to scramble for his bribes,
That some old dotard, sitting in the sun,
On holidays may tell, that such a feat was done :
In future times this will be counted rare.
Thy superstition too may claim a share :
When flowers are strewed, and lamps in order
placed,
And windows with illuminations graced,
On Herod's day ;*f~ when sparkling bowls go round,
And tunny's tails in savoury sauce are drowned,
Thou mutter'st prayers obscene ; nor dost refuse
The fasts and sabbaths of the curtailed Jews.
Then a cracked egg-shell thy sick fancy frights, J
Besides the childish fear of walking sprites.
Of o'ergrown gelding priests thou art afraid ;
The timbrel, and the squintifego maid
Of Isis, awe thee ; lest the gods for sin,
Should with a swelling dropsy stuff thy skin:
* Note XX. t Note XXI. J Note XXII.
OF PERSIUS.
Unless three garlic heads the curse avert,
Eaten each morn devoutly next thy heart.
Preach this among the brawny guards, say'st thou,
And see if they thy doctrine will allow :
The dull, fat captain, with a hound's deep throat,
Would bellow out a laugh in a bass note,
And prize a hundred Zeno's just as much
As a clipt sixpence, or a schilling Dutch.
NOTES
ON
TRANSLATIONS FROM PERSIUS.
SATIRE V.
Note I.
Progne. P. 252.
Progne was wife to Tereus, king of Thracia. Tereus fell in
love with Philomela, sister to Progne, ravished her, and cut out
her tongue; in revenge of which, Progne killed Itys, her own son
by Tereus, and served him up at a feast, to be eaten by his fa-
ther.
Note II.
Thyestes.P. 252.
Thyestes and Atreus were brothers, both kings. Atreus, to
revenge himself of his unnatural brother, killed the sons of Thyes-
tes, and invited him to eat them.
Note III.
Whenjtrst my childish robe resigned the cJtarge. P. 253.
By the childish robe, is meant the Proetexta, or first gowns
which the Roman children of quality wore. These were welted
NOTES ON THE FIFTH SATIRE OF PERSItJS. 263
with purple ; and on those welts were fastened the bullae, or little
bells ; which, when they came to the age of puberty, were hung
up, and consecrated to the Lares, or Household Gods.
Note IV.
And my white shield proclaimed my liberty. P. 253.
The first shields which the Roman youths wore were white,
and without any impress or device on them, to shew they had yet
atchieved nothing in the wars.
Note V.
And by my better Socrates was bred." P. 253.
Socrates, by the oracle, was declared to be the wisest of man-
kind : he instructed many of the Athenian young noblemen in mo-
rality, and amongst the rest Alcibiades.
Note VI.
Sure on our birth some friendly planet shone /
And, as our souls, our horoscope was one. P. 254.
Astrologers divide the heaven into twelve parts, according to
the number of the twelve signs of the 2odiac. The sign, or con-
stellation, which rises in the east at the birth of any man, is called
the Ascendant : Persius therefore judges, that Cumulus and he
had the same, or a like nativity.
Note VII.
And both have Saturn's rage, repelled by Jote. P. 254.
Astrologers have an axiom, that whatsoever Saturn ties is loos-
ed by Jupiter. They account Saturn to be a planet of a male-
volent nature, and Jupiter of a propitious influence.
Note VIII.
The Stoic institutes. P. 255.
Zeno was the great nfaster of the Stoic philosophy ; and Clean-
thes was second to him in reputation. Cornutus, who was master
or tutor to Persius, was of the same school.
264 NOTES ON THE FIFTH SATIRE~OF PERSIUS.
Note IX.
Not that which bondmen from their masters find.
The privilege of doles. P 255.
When a slave was made free, he had the privilege of a Roman
born ; which was to have a share in the donatives, or doles of
bread, &c. which were distributed by the magistrates among the
people.
Note X.
Nor yet to inscribe
Their names in this or t'other Roman tribe. P. 255.
The Roman people was distributed into several tribes. He who
was made free was enrolled into some one of them ; and there-
upon enjoyed the common privileges of a Roman citizen.
Note XI.
Slaves are made citizens by turning round. P. 255.
The master, who intended to enfranchize a slave, carried him
before the city praetor, and turned him round, using these words,
" I will that this man be free."
Note XII.
Now Marcus Dama is his worship's name. P. 256.
Slaves had only one name before their freedom ; after it they
were admitted to a prsenomen, like our christened names : so
Dama is now called Marcus Dama.
Note XIII.
A will is to be proved; put in your claim ;
'Tis clear, if Marcus has subscribed his name.-P. 256.
At the proof of a testament, the magistrates were to subscribe
their names, as allowing the legality of the will.
Note XIV.
What farther can we from our caps receive,
Than as we please without controul to live.---!*. 256.
Slaves, when they were set free, had a cap given them, in sign
of their liberty.
4
NOTES ON THE FIFTH SATIRE OF 2ERSIUS. 265
Note XV.
Noble Brutus. P. 256.
Brutus freed the Roman people from the tyranny of the Tar-
quins, and changed the form of the government into a glorious
commonwealth.
Note XVI.
Excepting still the letter of the law. P. 256.
The text of the Roman laws was written in red letters, whick
was called the Rubric ; translated here, in more general words,
" The letter of the law."
Note XVII.
Virtue and vice are never in one soul ;
A man is wholly uise, or wholly is afooL P. 257-
The Stoics held this paradox, that any one vice, or notorious
folly, which they called madness, hindered a man from being vir-
tuous; that a man was of a piece, without a mixture, either
wholly vicious, or good ; one virtue or vice, according to them,
including all the rest.
Note XVIII.
.Him that freed thee by the praetor's wand. P. 258.
The praetor held a wand in his hand, with which he softly
struck the slave on the head, when he declared him free.
Note XIX.
Says Phcedria to his man. P. 259-
This alludes to the play of Terence, called " The Eunuch ;"
which was excellently imitated of late in English by Sir Charles
Sedley. * In the first scene of that comedy, Phtedria was intro-
duced with his man, Pamphilus, discoursing, whether he should
leave his mistress Thais, or return to her, now that she had invited
him.
In the play called " Eellamira, or the Mistress."
NOTES OX THE FIFTH SATIRE OF PERSIUS,
Note XX.
But write him down a slave, who, humbly proud.
With presents begs preferments from the crowd. P. 260.
He who sued for any office amongst the Romans, was called a
candidate, because he wore a white gown ; and sometimes chalk-
ed it, to make it appear whiter. He rose early, and went to the
levees of those who headed the people ; saluted also the tribes se-
verally, when they were gathered together to chuse their magis-
trates ; and distributed a largess amongst them, to engage them
for their voices ; much resembling our elections of Parliament-
men.
Note XXI.
On Herod's day. P. 260.
The commentators are divided what Herod this was, whom our
author mentions ; whether Herod the Great, whose birth-day
might possibly be celebrated, after his death, by the Herodian, a
sect amongst the Jews, who thought him their Messiah ; or Herod
Agrippa, living in the author's time, and after it. The latter
seems the more probable opinion.
Note XXII.
Then a cracked egg-shell thy sick fancy frights. P. 260.
The ancients had a superstition, contrary to ours, concerning
egg-shells : they thought, that if an egg-shell were cracked, or a
hole bored in the bottom of it, they were subject to the power of
sorcery. We as vainly break the bottom of an egg-shell, and cross
it when we have eaten the egg, lest some hag should make use
of it in bewitching us, or sailing over the sea in it, if it were
whole. The rest of the priests of Isis, and her one-eyed or squint-
ing priestess, is more largely treated in the sixth satire of Juvenal,
where the superstitions of women are related.
THE
SIXTH SATIRE
OF
PERSIUS.
TO
C/ESIUS BASSUS,
A LYRIC POET.
THE ARGUMENT.
This Sixth Satire treats an admirable common-place of moral phi-
losophy, of the true use of riches. They are certainly intended
by the Power who bestows them, as instruments and helps of living
commodiously ourselves ; and of administering to the wants of
others, who are oppressed by fortune. There are two extremes in
the opinions of men concerning them. One error, though on the
right hand, yet a great one, is, that they arena helps to a virtu
ous life ; the other places all our happiness in the acquisition and
possession of them ; and this is undoubtedly the worse extreme.
The mean betwixt these, is the opinion of the Stoics, which is, that
riches may be useful to the leading a virtuous life ; in case we
rightly understand how to give according to right reason, and
how to receive what is given us by others. The virtue of giving
5
268 THE SIXTH SATIRE
well, is called liberality ; and it is of this virtue that Persius
writes in this satire, wherein he not only shows the lawful use of
riches, but also sharply inveighs against the vices which are op-
posed to it ; and especially of those, which consist in the defects
of giving, or spending, or in the abuse of riches. He writes to
Ccesius Bassus, his friend, and a poet also. Enquires first of his
health and studies ; and afterwards informs him of his own, and
where he is now resident. He gives an account of himself, that
lie is endeavouring, by little and little, to wear off" his vices ; and,
particularly, that he is combating ambition, and the desire of
wealth. He dwells upon the latter vice ; and being sensible, that
few men zither desire, or use, riches as they ought, he endeavours
to convince them of their folly, which is the main design of the
whole satire.
HAS winter caused thee, friend, to change thy seat,*
And seek in Sabine air a warm retreat?
Say, dost thou yet the Roman harp command ?
Do the strings answer to thy noble hand ?
Great master of the muse, inspired to sing
The beauties of the first created spring;
The. pedigree of nature to rehearse,
And sound the Maker's work, in equal verse ;
Now sporting on thy lyre the loves of youth, f
Now virtuous age, and venerable truth ;
Expressing justly Sappho's wanton art
Of odes, and Pindar's more majestic part.
For me, my warmer constitution wants
More cold, than our Ligurian winter grants;
And therefore to my native shores retired,
I view the coast old Ennius once admired;
Where clifts on either side their points display, ")
And, after opening in an ampler way,
Afford the pleasing prospect of the bay. j
'Tis worth your while, O Romans, to regard
The port of Luna, says our learned bard ;
* Note I. t Note IF.
OF PERSIUS. 269
Who in a drunken dream beheld his soul
The fifth within the transmigrating roll ;*
Which first a peacock, then Euphorbus was, y
Then Homer next, and next Pythagoras ; f.
And, last of all the line, did into Ennius pass. 3
Secure and free from business of the state,
And more secure of what the vulgar prate,
Here I enjoy my private thoughts, nor care
What rots for sheep the southern winds prepare ;
Survey the neighbouring fields, and not repine,
When I behold a larger crop than mine :
To see a beggar's brat in riches flow, v
Adds not a wrinkle to my even brow ;
Nor, envious at the sight, will I forbear
My plenteous bowl, nor bate my bounteous cheer;
Nor yet unseal the dregs of wine that stink
Of cask, nor in a nasty flaggon drink;
Let others stuff their guts with homely fare, }
For men of different inclinations are,
Though born perhaps beneath one conimon star, j
In minds and manners twins opposed we see
In the same sign, almost the same degree :
One, frugal, on his birth-day fears to dine, y
Does at a penny's cost in herbs repine,
And hardly dares to dip his fingers in the brine; i
Prepared as priest of his own rites to stand,
He sprinkles pepper with a sparing haad.
His jolly brother, opposite in sense, y
Laughs at his thrift ; and, lavish of expence, J
Quaffs, crams, and guttles, in his own defence. 5
For me, I'll use my own, and take my share,
Yet will not turbots for my slaves prepare ;
Nor be so nice in taste myself to know
If what I swallow be a thrush, or no.
270 THE SIXTH SATIRE
Live on thy annual income, spend thy store,
And freely grind from thy full threshing floe
Next harvest promises as much, or more.
Thus I would live ; but friendship's holy b
And offices of kindness, hold my hand :
My friend is shipwrecked on the Brutian strand,*
Next harvest promises as much, or more. j
Thus I would live ; but friendship's holy band, ^
And offices of kindness, hold my hand :
an strand,**
His riches in the Ionian main are lost,
And he himself stands shivering on the coast;
"Where, destitute of help, forlorn and bare,
He wearies the deaf gods with fruitless prayer.
Their images, the relics of the wreck,
Torn from the naked poop, are tided back .
By the wild waves, and, rudely thrown ashore,
Lie impotent, nor can themselves restore ;
The vessel sticks, and shews her opened side,
And on her shattered mast the mews in triumph ride.
From thy new hope, and from thy growing store,
Now lend assistance, and relieve the poor;f
Come, do a noble act of charity,
A pittance of thy land will set him free.
Let him not bear the badges of a wreck,
Nor beg with a blue table on his back ;
Nor tell me, that thy frowning heir will say,
Tis mine that wealth thou squander'st thus away :
What is't to thee, if he neglect thy urn?
Or without spices lets thy body burn ?
If odours to thy ashes he refuse,
Or buys corrupted cassia from the Jews?
All these, the wiser Bestius will reply,
Are empty pomp, and dead-men's luxury :
We never knew tins vain expence before
The effeminated Grecians brought it o'er:
Now toys and trifles from their Athens come,
And dates and pepper have unsinewed Rome.
* Note IV. f Note V, J Note VI.
Note VII,
OF PERSIUS. 271
Our sweating hinds their sallads now defile,
Infecting homely herbs with fragrant oil.
But to thy fortune be not thou a slave ;
For what hast thou to fear beyond the grave?
And thou, who gap'st for my estate, draw near ;
For I would whisper somewhat in thy ear.
Hear'st thou the news, my friend ? the express is
come,
With laurelled letters, from the camp to Rome :
Csesar salutes the queen and senate thus :
My arms are on the Rhine victorious *
From mourning altars sweep the dust away,
Cease fasting, and proclaim a fat thanksgiving-day.
The goodly empress, f jollify inclined,
Is to the welcome bearer wonderous kind ;
And, setting her good housewifery aside,
Prepares for all the pageantry of pride.
The captive Germans, of gigantic size,
Are ranked in order, and are clad in frize :
The spoils of kings, and conquered camps we boast,
Their arms in trophies hang on the triumphal post.
Now for so many glorious actions done
In foreign parts, and mighty battles won ;
For peace at home, and for the public wealth,
I mean to crown a bowl to Caesar's health.
Besides, in gratitude for such high matters,
Know I have vowed two hundred gladiators.
Say, would'st thou hinder me from this ex pence ?
1 disinherit thee, if thou dar'st take offence.
Yet more, a public largess 1 design
Of oil and pies, to make the people dine ;
Controul me not, for fear I change my will.
And yet methinks I hear thee grumbling still,
You give as if you were the Persian king ;
Your land does not so large revenues bring.
* Note VIII. f Note IX. J Note X.
Note XI.
272 THE SIXTH SATIRE
Well, on my terms thou wilt not be my heir?
If thou car st little, less shall be my care.
Were none of all my father's sisters left ;
Nay, were I of my mother's kin bereft ;
None by an uncle's or a grandame's side,
Yet I could some adopted heir provide.
I need but take my journey half a day Y
From haughty Rome, and at Aricia stay,
Where fortune throws poor Manius in my way. 3
Him will I choose: What him, of humble birth.
Obscure, a foundling, and a son of earth :
Obscure ! Why, pr'ythee, what am I ? I know
My father, grandsire, and great-grandsire too :
If farther I derive my pedigree,
I can but guess beyond the fourth degree.
The rest of my forgotten ancestors
Were sons of earth, like him, or sons of whores.
Yet why should'st thou, old covetous wretch,
aspire
To be my heir, who might'st have been my sire?
In nature's race, should'st thou demand of me
My torch, when I in course run after thee ? *
Think I approach thee, like the god of gain,
With wings on head and heels, as poets feign :
Thy moderate fortune from my gift receive;
Now fairly take it, or as fairly leave.
But take it as it is, and ask no more.
What, when thou hast embezzled all thy store?
Where's all thy father left? Tis true, I grant,
Some I have mortgaged to supply my want :
The legacies of Tadius too are flown,
All spent, and on the self-same errand gone.
How little then to my poor share will fall !
Little indeed; but yet that little's all,
* Note XII.
OF PERSIUS.
Nor tell me, in a dying father's tone,
Be careful still of the main chance, my son ;
Put out thy principal in trusty hands,
Live on the use, and never dip thy lands :
But yet what's left for me ? What's left, my friend !
Ask that again, and all the rest I spend.
Is not my fortune at my own command?
Pour oil, and pour it with a plenteous hand
Upon my sallads, boy : shall I be fed
With sodden nettles, and a singed sow's head ?
'Tis holiday, provide me better cheer ;
'Tis holiday, and shall be round the year.
Shall I my household gods and genius cheat,
To make him rich, who grudges me my meat,
That he may loll at ease, and, pampered high,
When I am laid, may feed on giblet-pie,
And, when his throbbing lust extends the vein,
Have wherewithal his whores to entertain ?
Shall I in homespun cloth be clad, thak he
His paunch in triumph may before him see?
Go, miser, go ; for lucre sell thy soul ;
Truck wares for wares, and trudge from pole to pole,
That men may say, when thou art dead and gone,
See what a vast estate he left his son !
How large a family of brawny knaves,
Well fed, and fat as Cappadocian slaves ! f
Increase thy wealth, and double all thy store ; ^
'Tis done ; now double that, and swell the score ; >
To every thousand add ten thousand more.
Then say, Chrysippus,J thou who would'st confine
Thy heap, where I shall put an end to mine.
t Note XIII. J Note XIV.
VOL. xnr.
NOTES
ON
".IT
TRANSLATIONS FROM PERSIUS.
SATIRE VI.
Note I.
Has tainter caused thee, friend, to change thy seat,
And seek in Sabine air a warm retreat. P. 268.
All the studious, and particularly the poets, about the end of
August, began to set themselves on work, refraining from writing
during the heats of the summer. They wrote by night, and sat
up the greatest part of it ; for which reason the product of their
studies was called their elucubrations, or nightly labours. They
who had country-seats retired to them while they studied, as Per-
sius did to his, which was near the port of the Moon in Etruria;
and Bassus to his, which was in the country of the Sabines, near-
er Rome.
Note II.
Now sporting on thy lyre the loves of youth. P. 268.
This proves Caesius Bassus to have been a lyric poet. It is said
of him, that by an eruption of the flaming mountain Vesuvius,
near which the greatest part of his fortune lay, he was burnt him-
self, together with all his writings.
Kote III.
Who in a drunken dream beheld his soul
Thejifth within the transmigrating roll. P. 269.
I call it a drunken dream of Ennius ; not that my author, in this
place, gives me any encouragement for the epithet, but because Ho-
race, and all who mention Ennius, 8ay he was an excessive drinker of
wine. In a dream, or vision, call you it which you please, he thought
it was revealed to him, that the soul of Pythagoras was transmigra-
ted into him ; as Pythagoras before him believed, that himself had
been Euphorbus in the wars of Troy. Commentators differ in
placing the order of this soul, and who had it first. I have here
given it to the peacock ; because it looks more according to the
order of nature, that it should lodge in a creature of an inferior
species, and so by gradation rise to the informing of a man. And
Persius favours me, by saying, that Ennius was the fifth from the
Pythagorean peacock.
Note IV.
My friend is shipwrecked on the Brutian strand. P. 270.
Perhaps this is only a fine transition of the poet, to introduce
the business of the satire; and not that any such accident had
happened to one of the friends of Persius. But, however, this is
the most poetical description of any in our author; and since he
and Lucan were so great friends, I know not but Lucan might
help him in two or three of these verses, which seem to be written
in his style ; certain it is, that besides this description of a ship-
wreck, and two lines more, which are at the end of the second sa-
tire, our poet has written nothing elegantly. I will, therefore,
transcribe both the passages, to justify my opinion. The following
are the last verses, saving one, of the second satire :
Compositum jut, fasque animi ; sanctosque rtcessus
Mentis, tt incoctum generuso pectus honest o.
The others are those in this present satire, which are subjoined ;
-trabe rupta, Bruttia Saxa
Prendit amicus inops . remque omnem, surdaque vota
Condidit lonio : jacet ipse in littore ; et una
Ingentet de puppe Dei : j&mque obvia mergis
Costa rath Zacerve.
276 NOTES ON THE SIXTH SATIRE OF PERSIUS.
Note V.
From thy new hope, and from thy growing store,
Now lend assistance, and relieve the poor. P. 270.
The Latin is, Nunc et de cespite vivo, f range aliquid. Casau-
bon only opposes the cespes vivus, which, word for word, is the
living turf, to the harvest, or annual income; I suppose the poet
rather means, sell a piece of land already sown, and give the mo-
ney of it to my friend, who has lost all by shipwreck ; that is, do
not stay till thou hast reaped, but help him immediately, as his
wants require.
Note VI.
Nor beg with a blue table on his back. P. 270.
Holyday translates it a green table : the sense is the same ; for
the table was painted of the sea-colour, which the shipwrecked
person carried on his back, expressing his losses, thereby to excite
the charity of the spectators.
Note VII.
Or without spices lets thy body burn. P. 270.
The bodies of the rich, before they were burnt, were embalmed
with spices ; or rather spices were put into the urn with the re-
lics of the ashes. Our author here names cinnamum and cassia,
which cassia was sophisticated with cherry-gum, and probably
enough by the Jews, who adulterate all things which they sell.
But whether the ancients were acquainted with the spices of the
Molucca Islands, Ceylon, and other parts of the Indies, or whe-
ther their pepper and cinnamon, &c. were the same with ours, is
another question. As for nutmegs and mace, it is plain that the
Latin names for them are modern. .
Note VIII.
Cccsar salutes the queen and senate thus :
My arms are on the Rhine victorious.- -P. 271.
The Caesar, here mentioned, is Caius Caligula, who affected to
triumph over the Germans, whom he never conquered, as he did
over the Britons ; and accordingly sent letters, wrapt about with
laurels, to the senate and the Empress Cassonia, whom I here call
queen ; though I know that name was not used amongst the Ho*
NOTES ON THE SIXTH SATIRE OF PERSIUS. 2/7
mans ; but the word empress would not stand in that verse, for
which reason I adjourned it to another. The dust, which was to
to be swept away from the altars, was either the ashes which were
left there after the last sacrifice for victory, or might perhaps
mean the dust or ashes which were left on the altars since some
former defeat of the Romans by the Germans ; after which over-
throw, the altars had been neglected.
Note IX.
The goodly empress. P. 271.
Caesonla, wife to Caius Caligula, who afterwards, in the reign of
Claudius, was proposed, but ineffectually, to be married to him,
after he had executed Messalina for adultery.
Note X.
The captive Germans, of gigantic size,
Are ranked in order, and are clad infrize. P. 271.
He means only such as were to pass for Germans in the tri-
umph, large-bodied men, as they are still, whom the empress clo-
thed new with coarse garments, for the greater ostentation of the
victory.
Note XI.
Know, I have vowed two hundred gladiators. -P. 271.
A hundred pair of gladiators were beyond the purse of a pri-
vate man to give; therefore this is only a threatening to his heir,
that he could do what he pleased with his estate.
Note XII.
Shouldst thou demand of me
My torch, when I in course run after thee.P. 272.
Why shouldst thou, who art an old fellow, hope to outlive me,
and be my heir, who am much younger ? He who was first in the
course or race, delivered the torch, which he carried, to him who
was second.
278 NOTES ON THE SIXTH SATIRE OF PEE8IUS.
Note XIII.
Well fed, and fat as Cappadocian slaves. P. 273.
Who were famous for their lustiness, and being, as we call it, in
good liking. They were set on a stall when they were exposed to
sale, to show the good habit of their body; and made to play
tricks before the buyers, to show their activity and strength.
Note XIV.
Then say, Chrysippus. P. 273.
Chrysippus, the Stoic, invented a kind of argument, consisting
of more than three propositions, which is called sorites, or a heap.
But as Chi) Mppus could nwer bring his propositions to a certain
stint, so neither can a covetous man bring his craving desires to
any certain measure of riches, beyond which he could not wish for
any more.
TRANSLATED
INTO ENGLISH VERSE.
WORKS OF VIRGIL.
THIS great work was undertaken byDryden, in 1(>94, and pub-
lished, by subscription, in l6p7- One hundred and one subscri-
bers gave five guineas each to furnish the engravings for the work ;
if indeed this was any thing more than a genteel pretext for in-
creasing the profit of the author ; for Spence has informed us,
that the old plates used for Ogleby's " Virgil," were retouched
for that of his great successor. Another class of subscribers, two
hundred and fifty-two in number, contributed two guineas each.
As the names of those who encouraged this great national labour
have some claim to distinction, the reader will find, prefixed to
this edition, an accurate copy of both lists, as they stand in the
first folio edition. On 28th June, 1697, the following advertise-
ment appeared in the London Gazette :
'* The Works of Virgil ; containing his Pastorals, Georgics, and
Eneis, translated into English verse, by Mr Dryden, and adorned
with one hundred cuts, will be finished this week, and be ready
next week to be delivered, as subscribed for, in quires, upon
bringing the receipt for the first payment, and paying the second.
Printed for Jacob Tonson, &c."
In 1709, Tonson published a second edition of Dryden's " Vir-
gil," with the plates reduced, in three volumes, Svo ; and various
others have since appeared. In 1 803, a new edition was given to
the public, revised and corrected by Henry Carey, LL.D. This
is so correct, that, although it has been uniformly compared with
the original edition of Tonson, I have thought it advisable to
follow the modern editor in some corrections of the punctua-
tion and reading. In other cases, where I have adhered to the
folio, I have placed Dr Carey's alteration at the bottom of the
page. It is hardly worth while to notice, that there is a slight al-
teration of the arrangement of Dryden's prolegomena j the Dedi-
282 WORKS OF VIRGIL.
cation to the " Pastorals" being placed immediately before that
class of poems, instead of preceding the Lite, as in the original
folio. Dryden's Notes and Observations, which, in the origi-
nal, are printed together at the end of the work, are, in this edi-
tion, dispersed and subjoined to the different Books containing the
passages to which they refer.
10 I ft-.
THE
NAMES OF THE SUBSCRIBERS
TO
THE CUTS OF VIRGIL,
IN THE FOLIO EDITION, 1697.
EACH SUBSCRIPTION BEING FIVE GUINEAS,
PASTORALS.
1. Lord Chancellor
2. Lord Privy Seal
3. Earl of Dorset
4. Lord Buckhurst
5. Earl o f ' Abingdon
6. Lord Viscount Cholmondely
7. Lord Herbert of Cherbury.
8. Lord Clifford
9. Marq. of Hartington
10. The Hon. Mr Ch. Mountague
GEORpIC I.
11. Sir Tho. Trevor
12. Sir John Hawles
13. Joseph Jeakyl, Esq.
14. Tho. Vernon, Esq.
15. Will. Dobyus, Esq.
18. Geo. London, Esq.
19. John Loving, Esq.
20. Will. Walsh, Esq.
GEORGIC III.
21. Duke of Richmond
22. Sir J. Isha.n, Bart.
23. Sir Tho. Mompesson
24. John Dormer, Esq.
25. Frederick Tylney, Esq.
GEORGIC IV.
26. Richard Norton, Esq.
27. Sir Will. Trumbull
28. Sir Barth. Shower
29. Symon Harcourt, Esq.
30. John Granvill, Esq.
GEORGIC ir.
16. Sir Will. Bower
17. Gilbert Dolbin, Esq.
2ENEID I.
31. Prince George of Denmark
284
WORKS OF VIRGIL.
32. Princess Ann of Denmark
S3. Duchess of Ormond
34. Countess of Exeter
35. Countess-Dowager of Win-
chelsea
36. Marchioness of Normanby
JENEID II.
JEIfEID VI.
62. Earl of Denbigh
63. SirTho. Dyke, Bart.
64. Mrs Ann Bayner
65. John Lewknor, Esq. ,
66. Sir Fltetwood Shepherd
67. John Poultney, Esq.
68. John Knight, Esq.
69. Robert Harley, Esq.
57. Duke of Somerset
38. Earl of Salisbury
: K SJ
41. Lord Viscount, Dnnbar
42. Countess-Dowager of North-
ampton
XNEID vir.
JENEID III.
43. Earl of Darby
44. Bishop of Durham
45. Bishop of Ossery
46. Dr John Mountague
47. Dr Brown
48. Dr Guibbons
70. Earl of Rumney
71. Anthony Henley, Esq.
72. George Stepney, Esq.
73. Coll. 1 ho. Farringdon
74. Lady Mary Sackvill
75. Charles Fox, Esq.
JENEID VIII.
76. Earl of Ailesbury
77. The Hon. Mr Robert Bruce
78. Christopher Rich, Esq.
79. Sir Godfrey Kneller
.ENEID IV.
49. Earl of Exeter
50. LadyGiffard .
51. Lord Clifford
52. John Walkaden, Esq.
53. Henry Tasburgh, Esq.
54. Mrs Ann Brownlow
.SNEID IX.
80. Earl of Sunderland
81. Thomas Foley, Esq. -
82. Col. Geo. Cholmondly
83. Sir John Percival, Bart.
84. Col. Christopher Codnngton
85. Mr John Closterman.
/ENEID v.
55. DukeofStAlbans
56. Earl of Torrington
57. Anth. Hamond, Esq.
58. Henry St Johns, Esq.
59. Steph. Waller, LL.D.
60. Duke of Glocester
61. Edmond Waller, Esq.
86. Lord Vise. Fitzharding
87. Sir Robert Howard
88. Sir John Leuson Gore, Barf.
89. Sir Charles Orby
90. Tho. Hopkins, Esq.
':<- .
WORKS OF VIRGIL.
85
'V ' JENEID XI.
91. Duke of Shrewsbury
92. Sir W. Kirkhaia Blount, Bart.
93. John Noell, Esq.
94. Marquis of Normauby
95. Lord Berkley
96. Arthur Manwareing, Esq.
JENEID XII.
97. Earl of Chesterfield
98. Brigadier Fitzpatrick
99. DrTho.Hobbs
100. Lord Guilford
101. Duke of Ormond
.< ,-*!'> .ik
THE
rfl
NAMES OF THE SECOND SUBSCRIBERS.
Lord Ashley
Sir James Ash, Bart.
Sir James Ash, Bart.
Sir Francis Andrew, Bart.
Charles Adderley, Esq.
Mrs Ann Ash
Edw. Ash, Esq.
Mr Francis Atterbury
Sam. Atkins, Esq.
Tho. Austen, Esq.
Ro. Austen, Esq.
B.
Earl of Bullingbrook
Sir Ed. Bettenson, Bart.
Sir Tho. Pope Blount, Bart.
Sir John Bolles
Sir Will. Bowes
Will. Blathwayt, Esq.
Secretary of War
Will. Barlow, Esq.
Peregrine Bertye, Esq.
Will. Bridgman, Esq.
Orlando Bridgman, Esq.
Will. Bridges, Esq.
Char. Blood worth, Esq.
The Hon. Henry Boyl, Esq.
Rich. Boyl, Esq.
Chidley Brook, Esq.
Will. Bromley, Esq. of Warwick-
shire
Mich. Bruneau, Esq.
Tho. Bulkley, Esq.
Theoph. Butler, Esq.
Capt. John Berkeley
Mr Jo. Bowes, Prebend, of Dur-
ham
Mr Jeremiah Ball
Mr John Ball
Mr Richard Banks
Mrs Elizabeth Barry
Mr Beckford
Mr Tho. Betterton
Mrs Catharine Blount
Mr Bond
Mr Bond
Mrs Ann Bracegirdle
Mr Samuel Brockenborough
Mrs Elizabeth Browa
Mr Moses Bruche
Mr Lancelot Burton
C.
Earl of Clarendon
286
WORKS OF VIRGIL.
Lord Henry Cavendish
Lord Clifford
Lord Coningsby
Lord Cults
Lady Chudleigh, of the West
The Hon. Char. Cornwallis, son
to the Lord Corn vvallis
Sir Walt. Clarges, Bart.
Sir Ro. Cotton
Sir Will. Cooper
The Hon. Will. Cheyney
James Calthorp, Esq.
Charles Chamberlayn, Esq.
Edmond Clifford, Esq.
Charles Cocks, Esq.
Tho. Coel, Esq.
Tho. Coke, Esq.
Hugh Colville, Esq.
Jo. Crawley, Esq.
Courtney Crocker, Esq.
Henry Curwyn, Esq.
Capt. James Conovvay
Mr Will. Claret
Mr John Clancy
Mr Will. Congreve
Mr Henry Cook
Mr Will. Cooper
Mrs Elizabeth Creede
D.
Duchess of Devonshire
Paul Docmenique, Esq.
Mountague Drake, Esq.
Will. Draper, Esq.
Mr Mich. Dahl
Mr Davenport
MrWill.Delawn
Mrs Dorothy Draycot
Mr Edward Drydea
E.
Earl of Essex
Sir Edw. Ernie
Will. Elson, Esq.
Tho. Elyot, Esq.
Thomas Earl, Major-General
F.
Sir Edm. Fettiplace, Bart
Sir VV ill. Forester
Sir James Forbys
Lady MaryFenwick
The Hon. Col. Finch
The Hon. Doctour Finch
The Hon. Will. Fielding
Rich. Franklin, Postmaster. Esq.
Charles Fergesen, Esq. Com. of
the Navy
Doctor Fuller, D. of Lincoln
Henry Farmer, Esq.
Tho. Finch, Esq.
Tho. Frewin, Esq.
Mr George Finch
O.
Sir Bevill Granvill, Barf.
Oliver St George, Esq.
Tho. Gifford, Esq.
Rich. Goulston, Esq.
Richard Graham, Esq.
Fergus Grahme, Esq.
Will. Grove, Esq.
Dr Gath, M.D.
Mr George Goufding
Mr Grinlin Guibbons
H.
Lord Archibald Hamilton
Lord Hide
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Sir Tho. Hussey
Rob. Harley, Esq.
Rob. Henley, Esq. M.P.
"Will. Hewer, Esq.
Rodger Hewet, Esq.
He. Heveningham, Esq.
John Holdworthy, Esq.
Matt. Holdworthy, Esq.
Nath. Hornby, Esq.
The Hon. Bern Howard
Craven Howard, Esq.
Mansel Howe, Esq.
WORKS OF VIRGIL.
287
Sam. Hunter, Esq.
Mr Edward Hastwell
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Mr Whitfeild Hayter
Mr Peter Henriques
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N.
Lord Norris
Henry Neville, Esq.
Will. Norris, Esq.
MrWilLNicoll
J.
John James, Esq.
William Jenkins, Esq.
Sam. Jones, Esq.
Mr Edw. Jefleryes
K.
Jos. Keally, Esq.
Coll. James Kendall
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Lady Jane Leveson Gower
Tho. Langley, Esq.
Patrick Lamb, Esq.
Will. Latton, Esq.
James Lonsr, of Draycot, Esq.
Will. Lownds, Esq.
Dennis Lydal, Esq.
Mr Char. Longueville.
M.
Charles Mannours, Esq.
Tho. Mansel, Esq.
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Henry Maxwell, Esq.
Charles Mein, Esq.
Rich. Minshnl, Esq.
Ro. Molesworth, Esq.
The Hon. Henry Mordaunt
George Moult, Esq.
Christoph. Mountague, Esq.
Walter Moyl, Esq.
Mr Charles Marbury
MrChistoph. Metcalf
Mrs Monneux
O.
Ro. Orme, Esq.
Dr Oliver, M.D.
Mr Mich. Owen
P.
The Right Hon. Charles Earl of
Peterborough
Sir Henry Pechy, Bart.
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Ro. Palmer, Esq.
Guy Palmes, Esq.
Ben. Parry, Esq.
Sam. Pepys, Esq.
James Petre, Esq.
Will. Pezeley, Esq.
Craven Peyton, Esq.
John Pitts, Esq.
Will. Plowden of Plowden, Esq.
Mr Theoph. Pykering, Prebend
of Durham
Coll. Will. Parsons
Capt. Phillips
Capt. Pitts
Mr Daniel Peck
R.
Duchess of Richmond
Earl of Radnor
Lord Ranelagh
Tho. Raw lings, Esq.
Will. Rider, Esq.
Francis Roberts, Esq.
Mr Rose
S.
288
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Sir Tho. Skipwith, Bart.
Sir John Seymour
Sir Charles Skrimpshire
J. Scroop of Dauby, Esq.
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Esq.
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James Sothern, Esq.
The Hon. James Stanley, Esq.
Ro. Stopford, Esq.
The Hon. Major-Gen. Edward
Sackville
Col. J. Stanhope
Col. Strangways
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Mr Laurence Smith
Mr Tho. Southern
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Mr Lancelot Stepney
T.
Sir John Trevillion, Bart.
Sir Edm. Turner
Henry Temple, Esq.
Ashburnam Toll, Esq.
Sam. Travers, Esq.
John Tucker, Esq.
Major-Gen. Charles Trelawney
Major-Gen. Trelawney
Col. John Tidcomb
Col. Trelawney
Mr George Townsend
Mr Tho. Tyldesley
Mr Tyndall
V.
John Verney, Esq.
Henry Vernon, Esq.
James Vernon, Esq.
W.
Lord Marquis of Winchester
Earl of Wey mouth
Lady Wii<dham
Sir John Walter, Bart.
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James Ward, Esq.
Will. Wardour, jun. Esq.
Will. Welby, Esq.
Will. Weld, Esq.
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Salw. Wilmington, Esq.
Col. Cornelius Wood
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Mr Leonard Wessel
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TRANSLATION OF VIRGIL
WHENE'ER great Virgil's lofty verse I see,
The pompous scene charms my admiring eye;
There different beauties in perfection meet ;
The thoughts as proper, as the numbers sweet;
And, when wild Fancy mounts a daring height,
Judgment steps in, and moderates her flight.
Wisely he manages his wealthy store,
Still says enough, and yet implies still more :
For, though the weighty sense be closely wrought,
The reader's left to improve the pleasing thought.
Hence we despaired to see an English dress
Should e'er his nervous energy express ;
For who could that in fettered rhyme inclose,
Which, without loss, can scarce be told in prose ?
But you, great Sir, his manly genius raise,
And make your copy share an equal praise.
Oh ! how I see thee, in soft scenes of love,
Renew those passions he alone could move J
Here Cupid's charms are with new art exprest,
And pale Eliza leaves her peaceful rest
Leaves her Elysium, as if glad to live, ~\
To love, and wish, to sigh, despair, and grieve,
And die again for him that would again deceive, j
VOL, XIII, T
290 WORKS OF VIRGIL.
Nor docs the mighty Trojan less appear
Than Mars himself, amidst the storms of war.
Now his fierce eyes with double fury glow,
And a new dread attends the impending blow :
The Daunian chiefs their eager rage abate,
And, though unwounded, seem to feel their fate.
Long the rude fury of an ignorant age,
With barbarous spite, profaned his sacred page.
The heavy Dutchmen, with laborious toil,
Wrested his sense, and cramped his vigorous style.
No time, no pains, the drudging pedants spare,
But still his shoulders must the burden bear ;
While, through the ma?es of their comments led,
We learn, not what he writes, but what they read.
Yet, through these shades of undistinguished night,
Appeared some glimmering intervals of light ;
Till mangled by a vile translating sect,
Like babes by witches in effigie rackt :
Till Ogleby, mature in dulness, rose,
And Holbourn doggrel, and low chiming prose,
His strength and beauty did at once depose.
But now the magic spell is at an end,
Since even the dead, in you, have found a friend.
You free the bard from rude oppressors' power,
And grace his verse with charms unknown before.
He, doubly thus obliged, must doubting stand,
Which chiefly should his gratitude command
Whether should claim the tribute of his heart,
The patron's bounty, or the poet's art.
Alike with wonder and delight we viewed
The Roman genius in thy verse renewed :
We saw thee raise soft Ovid's amorous fire,
And fit the tuneful Horace to thy lyre :
We saw new gall embitter Juvenal's pen,
And crabbed Persius made politely plain.
Virgil alone was thought too great a task
What you could scarce perform, or we durst ask ;
A task, which Waller's Muse could ne'er engage ;
A task, too hard for Denham's stronger rage.
Sure of success, they some slight sallies tried ;
But the fenced coast their bold attempts defied :
With fear, their o'ermatched forces back they drew,
Quitting the province Fate reserved for you.
In vain thus Philip did the Persians storm ;
A work his son was destined to perform.
O ! had Roscommon * lived to hail the day,
And sing loud Paeans through the crowded way,
* Essay of Tranalated Verse, p. 26.
7
WORKS OF VIRGIL. 291
Wheo you in Roman majesty appear,
Which none know better, and none come so near ;
The happy author would with wonder see,
His rules were only prophecies of thee :
And, were he now to give translators light,
He'd bid them only read thy work, and write.
For this great task, our loud applause is due ;
We own old favours, but must press for new :
TV expecting world demands one labour more ;
And thy loved Homer does thy aid implore,
To right his injured works, and set them free
From the lewd rhymes of grovelling Ogleby.
Then shall his verse in graceful pomp appear,
Nor will his birth renew the ancient jar:
On those Greek cities we shall look with scorn.
And in our Britain think the poet bora.
TO
MR DRYDEN,
ON HIS
TRANSLATION OF VIRGIL.
I.
WE read, how dreams and visions heretofore
The prophet and the poet could inspire,
And make them in unusual rapture soar,
With rage divine, and with poetic lire.
II.
O could I find it now ! Would Virgil's shade
But for a while vouchsafe to bear the light,
To grace my numbers, and that Muse to aid,
Who sings the poet that has done him right
in.
It long has been this sacred author's fate,
To Tie at every dull translator's will :
Long, long his Muse has groaned beneath the weight
Of mangling Ogleby's presumptuous quill.
WORKS OF VIRGIL.
IV.
Dryden, at last, in his defence arose :
The father now is righted by the son ;
And, while his Muse endeavours to disclose
That poet's beauties, she declares her own.
V.
In your smooth pompous numbers drest, each line.
Each thought, betrays such a majestic touch,
He could not, had he finished his design,
Have wished it better, or have done so much.
VI.
You, like his hero, though yourself were free,
And disentangled from the war of wit
You, who secure might others' danger see,
And safe from all malicious censure sit
VII.
Yet, because sacred Virgil's noble Muse,
O'erlaid by fools, was ready to expire,
To risk your fame again, you boldly chuse,
Or to redeem, or perish with your sire.
VIII.
Even first and last, we owe him half to you :
For, that his TEneids missed their threatened fate,
Was that his friends by some prediction knew,
Hereafter, who, correcting, should translate.
IX.
But hold, my Muse ! thy needless flight restrain,
Unless, like him, thou could'st a verse indite :
To think his fancy to describe, is vain,
Since nothing can discover light, but light.
X.
Tis wsmt of genius that does more deny ;
Tis fear my praise should make your glory less j
And, therefore, like the modest painter, I
Must draw die veil, where I cannot express.
HENRY GBAHME.
293'
TO
MR DRYDEN.
No undisputed monarch governed yet,
With universal sway, the realms of wit:
Nature could never such expence afford ;
Each several province owned a several lord.
A poet then had his poetic wife,
One Muse embraced, and married for his life.
By the stale thing his appetite was cloyed,
His fancy lessened, and his fire destroyed.
But Nature, grown extravagantly kind,
With all her treasures did adorn your mind ;
The different powers were then united found,
And you wit's universal monarch crowned.
Your mighty sway your great desert secures ;
And every Muse and every Grace is yours.
To none confined, by turns you all enjoy :
Sated with this, you to another fly,
So, sultan-like, in your seraglio stand,
While wishing Muses wait for your command;
Thus no decay, no want of vigour, find :
Sublime your fancy, boundless is your mind.
Not all the blasts of Time can do you wrong
Young, spite of age in spite of weakness, strong.
Time, like Alcides, strikes you to the ground ;
You, like A titans, from each fall rebound.
H. ST JOHN.
294
TO
MR DRYDEN,
HIS VIRGIL.
Tis said, that Phidias gave such living grace
To the carved image of a beauteous face,
That the cold marble might even seem to be
The life and the true life, the imagery.
You pass that artist, Sir, and all his powers,
Making the best of Roman poets ours,
With such effect, we know not which to call
The imitation, which the original.
What Virgil lent, you pay in equal weight ;
The charming beauty of the coin no less ;
And such the majesty of your impress,
You seem the very author you translate.
Tis certain, were he now alive with us,
And did revolving destiny constrain
To dress his thoughts in English o'er again,
Himself could write no otherwise than thus.
His old encomium never did appear
So true as now : " Romans and Greeks, submit !
Something of late is in our language writ,
More nobly great than the famed Iliads were."
JA. WEIGHT.
TO
MR DRYDEN,
ON
HIS TRANSLATIONS.
As flowers, transplanted from a southern sky,
But hardly bear, or in the raising die,
Missing their native sun, at best retain
But a faint odour, and but live with pain ;
So Roman poetry, by moderns taught,
Wanting the warmth with which its author wrote,
Is a dead image, and a worthless draught.
While we transfuse, the nimble spirit flies,
Escapes unseen, evaporates, and dies.
Who then attempts to shew the ancients' wit,
Must copy with the genius that they writ :
Whence we conclude from thy translated song,
So just, so warm, so smooth, and yet so strong,
Thou heavenly charmer ! soul of harmony !
That all their geniuses revived in thee.
Thy trumpet sounds : the dead are raised to light
New-born they rise, and take to heaven their flight ;
Deck'd in thy verse, as clad with rays, they shine,
All glorified, immortal, and divine.
As Britain, in rich soil abounding wide,
Furnished for use, for luxury, and pride,
Yet spreads her wanton sails on every shore,
For foreign wealth, insatiate still of more ;
To her own wool, the silks of Asia joins,
And to her plenteous harvests, Indian mines;
So Dryden, not contented with the fame
Of his own works, though an immortal name
WORKS OF VIRGIL.
To lands remote he sends his learned Muse,
The noblest seeds of foreign wit to chuse.
Feasting our sense so many various ways,
Say, is't thy bounty, or thy thirst of praise,
That, by comparing others, all might see,
Who most excelled, are yet excelled by thee ?
GEORGE GBANVILIE,
THE.
LIFE
OF
PUBLIUS VIRGILIUS MARO,
BY KNIGHTLY CHETWOOD, D.IXt
VIRGIL was born at Mantua, which city was built
no less than three hundred years before Rome, and
was the capital of the New Hetruria, as himself,
f Knightly Chctwood, whom Dryden elsewhere terms ** learn-
ed and every way excellent," (Vol. XIV. p. 49.) contributed to
the Second Book of the Georgics those lines which contain the
praises of Italy. Knightly Chetwood was born in l652. He was
a particular friend of Roscommon, and, being of Tory principles,
ke obtained high preferment in the church, and was nominated to
the see of Bristol ; but the Revolution prevented his instalment.
In April 1707 he was made Dean . of Gloucester, and died llth
April, 1720.
The Life of Virgil has usually been ascribed to William Walsh,
whose merits as a minor poet are now forgotten, but who still
lives in the grateful strains of Pope, whose juvenile essays he en-
couraged, as well as in the encomium of Dryden, whom he pa-
tronised in age and adversity. I have left his name in possession
of the Essay on the Pastorals, although it also was probably writ-
ten by Dr Chetwood. See M ALONE, Vol. III. p. 549.
VOL. XIJI.
THE LIFE OF VIRGIL.
no less antiquary than poet, assures us. His birth
is said to have happened in the first consulship of
Pompey the Great, and Licinius Crassus: but, since
the relater of this presently after contradicts him-
self, and Virgil's manner of addressing to Octavius
implies a greater difference of age than that of se-
ven years, as appears by his First Pastoral, and
other places, it is reasonable to set the date of it
something backward ; and the writer of his Life ha-
ving no certain memorials to work upon, seems to
have pitched upon the two most illustrious consuls
he could rind about that lime, to signalize the birth
of so eminent a man. But it is beyond all question,
that he was born on or near the 15th of October,
which day was kept festival in honour of his me-
mory by the Latin, as the birth-day of Homer was
by the Greek poets. And so near a resemblance
there is betwixt the lives of these two famous epic
writers, that Virgil seems to have followed the for-
tune of the other, as well as the subject and man-
ner of his writing. For Homer is said to have been
of very mean parents, such as got their bread by
day-labour; so is Virgil. Homer is said to be base-
born ; so is Virgil. The former to have been born
in the open air, in a ditch, or by the bank of a ri-
ver; so is the latter. There was a poplar planted
near the place of Virgil's birth, which suddenly
grew up to an unusual height and bulk, and to
which the superstitious neighbourhood attributed
marvellous virtue : Homer had his poplar too, as
Herodotus relates, which was visited with great ve-
neration. Homer is described by one of the an-
cients to have been of a slovenly and neglected
mien and habit ; so was Virgil. Both were of a
very delicate and sickly constitution ; both addict-
ed to travel, and the study of astrology ; both had
their compositions usurped by others; both. envied
THE LIFE OF VIRGIL. 299
and traduced during their lives. We know not so
much as the true names of either of them with any
exactness ; for the critics are not yet agreed how
the word Virgil should be written, and of Homer's
name there is no certainty at all. Whosoever shall
consider this parallel in so many particulars, (and
more might be added,) would be inclined to think,
that either the same stars ruled strongly at the na-
tivities of them both ; or, what is a great deal more
probable, that the Latin grammarians, wanting ma-
terials for the former part of Virgil's life, after the
legendary fashion, supplied it out of Herodotus ;
and, like ill face-painters, not being able to hit the
true features, endeavoured to make amends by a
great deal of impertinent landscape and drapery.
Without troubling the reader with needless quo-
tations now, or afterwards, the most probable opi-
nion is, that Virgil was the son of a servant, or as-
sistant, to a, wandering astrologer, who practised
physic : for medicus, magus, as Juvenal observes,
usually went together ; and this course of life was
followed by a great many Greeks and Syrians, of
one of which nations it seems not improbable that
Virgil's father was. Nor could a man of that pro-
fession have chosen a fitter place to settle in, than
that most superstitious tract of Italy, which, by her
ridiculous rites and ceremonies, as much enslaved
the Romans, as the Romans did the Hetrurians by
their arms. This man, therefore, having got toge-
ther some money, which stock he improved by his
skill in planting and husbandry, had the good for-
tune, at last, to marry his master's daughter, by
whom he had Virgil : and this woman seems, by
her mother's side, to have been of good extraction ;
for she was nearly related to Quintilius Yarns,
whom Paterculus assures us to have been of an il-
lustrious, though not patrician, family ; and there
300 THfe LIFE OF VIRGIL.
is honourable mention made of it in the history of
the second Carthaginian war. It is certain, that
they gave him very good education ; to which they
were inclined, not so much by the dreams of his
mother, and those presages which Donatus relates,
as by the early indications which he gave of a sweet
disposition and excellent wit. He passed the first
seven years of his life at Mantua, not seventeen, as
Scaliger miscorrects his author ; for the initia &tatis
can hardly be supposed to extend so far. From
thence he removed to Cremona, a noble Roman co-
lony, and afterwards to Milan ; in all which places,
he prosecuted his studies with great application.
He read over all the best Latin and Greek authors;
for which he had convenience by the no remote
distance of Marseilles, that famous Greek colony,
which maintained its politeness and purity of lan-
guage in the midst of all those barbarous nations
amongst which it was seated ; and some tincture
of the latter seems to have descended from them
down to the modern French. He frequented the
most eminent professors of the Epicurean philoso-
phy, which was then much in vogue, and will be
always, in declining and sickly states. * But, find-
ing no satisfactory account from his master Syron,
he passed over to the Academic school ; to which
he adhered the rest of his life, and deserved, from
a great emperor, the title of The Plato of Poets.
He composed at leisure hours a great number of
verses on various subjects ; and, desirous rather of
a great than early fame, he permitted his kinsman
* There is great justice in this observation. The prevalence of
a system, founded in egotism and self-indulgence, which teaches,
that pleasure was the greatest good, and pain the most intolerable
evil, as surely indicates the downfal of the state, 'as the decay of
morality.
THE LIFE OF VIRGIL. 301
and fellow-student, Varus, to derive the honour of
one of his tragedies to himself. Glory, neglectec}
in proper time and place, returns often with large
increase : and so he found it ; for Varus afterwards
proved a great instrument of his rise. In short, it
was here that he formed the plan, and collected the
materials, of all those excellent pieces which he af-
terwards finished, or was forced to leave less peiv
feet by his death. But, whether it were the un-
wholesomeness of his native air, of which he some-
where complains ; or his too great abstinence, and
night-watchings at his study, to which he was al-
ways addicted, as Augustus observes ; or possibly
the hopes of improving himself by travel he resol-
ved to remove to the more southern tract of Italy ;
and it was hardly possible for him not to take Rome
in his way, as is evident to any one who shall cast
an eye on the map of Italy. And therefore the late
French editor of his works is mistaken, when he
asserts, that he never saw Rome till he came to pe-
tition for his estate. He, gained the acquaintance
of the master of the horse to Octavius, and cured a
great many diseases of horses, by methods they had
never heard of. It fell out, at the same time, that
a very fine colt, which promised great strength and
speed, was presented to Octavius; Virgil assured
them, that he came of a faulty mave, and would
prove a jade : Upon trial, it was found as he had
said. His judgment proved right in several other
instances ; which was the more surprising, because
the Romans knew least of natural causes of any ci-
vilized nation in the world : and those meteors and
prodigies, which cost them incredible sums to ex-
piate, might easily have been accounted for by no
very profound naturalist. It is no wonder, there-
fore, that Virgil was in so great reputation, as to
302 THE LIFE OF VIRGIL.
be at last introduced to Octavius himself. That
prince was then at variance with Marc Antony,
who vexed him with a great many libelling letters,
in which he reproaches him with the baseness of
his parentage, that he came of a scrivener, a rope-
maker, and a baker, as Suetonius tells us. Octavius
finding that Virgil had passed so exact a judgment
upon the breed of dogs and horses, thought that he
possibly might be able to give him some light con-
cerning his own. He took him into his closet,
where they continued in private a considerable time.
Virgil was a great mathematician ; which, in the
sense of those times, took in astrology ; a.nd, if
there be any thing in that art, (which 1 can hardly
believe,) if that be true which the ingenious De la
Chambre asserts confidently, that, from the marks
on the body, the configuration of the planets at a
nativity may be gathered, and the marks might be
told by knowing the nativity, never had one of
those artists a fairer opportunity to show his skill
than Virgil now had; for Octavius had moles upon
his body, exactly resembling the constellation call-
ed Ursa Major. But Virgil had other helps ; the
predictions of Cicero and Catulus, * and that vote
of the senate had gone abroad, that no child, born
at Rome in the year of his nativity, should be bred
up, because the seers assured them that an emperor
was born that year. Besides this, Virgil had heard
of the Assyrian and Egyptian prophecies, (which,
in truth, were no other but the Jewish,) that about
that time a great king was to come into the world.
Himself takes notice of them, (JEn. VI.) where he
uses a very significant word, now in all liturgies,
* See Suetonius, Life of Octavius, chap. 04-.
THE LIFE OF VIllGIL. 303
hujus in adventu ; so in another place, adventu pro*
piore JDei.
At his foreseen approach already quake
Assyrian kingdoms, and Maeotis' lake ;
Nile hears him knocking at his seven-fold gate.
Every one knows whence this was taken. It was
rather a mistake than impiety in Virgil, to apply
these prophecies, which belonged to the Saviour of
the world, to the person of Octavius ; it being
a usual piece of flattery, for near a hundred years
together, to attribute them to their emperors and
other great men. Upon the whole matter, it is
very probable, that Virgil predicted to him the em-
pire at this time. And it will appear yet the more,
if we consider, that he assures him of his being re-
ceived into the number of the gods, in his First
Pastoral, long before the thing came to pass ;
which prediction seems grounded upon his former
mistake. This was a secret not to be divulged
at that time ; and therefore it is no wonder that
the slight story in Donatus was given abroad to
palliate the matter. But certain it is, that Octa-
vius dismissed him with great marks of esteem, and
earnestly recommended the protection of Virgil's
affairs to Pollio, then lieutenant of the Cisalpine
Gaul, where Virgil's patrimony lay. This Pollio,
from a medn original, became one of the most
considerable persons of his time ; a good general,
orator, statesman, historian, poet, and favourer of
learned men ; above all, he was a man of honour
in those critical times. He had joined with Octa-
vius and Antony in revenging the barbarous assassi-
nation of Julius Caesar; when they two were at
variance, he would neither follow Antony, whose
courses he detested, nor join with Octavius against
him, out of a grateful sense of some former obliga-
304 THE LIFE OF VIRGIL.
tions. Augustus, who thought it his interest to
oblige men of principles, notwithstanding this, re-
ceived him afterwards into favour, and promoted
him to the highest honours. And thus much I
thought fit to say of Pollio, because he was one of
Virgil's greatest friends. Being therefore eased of
(domestic cares, he pursues his journey to Naples.
The charming situation of that place, and view of
the beautiful villas of the Roman nobility, equal-
ing the magnificence of the greatest kings; the
neighbourhood of Baias, whither the sick resorted
for recovery, and the statesman when he was po-
liticly sick ; whither the wanton went for pleasure,
and witty men for good company ; the wholesome-
ness of the air, and improving conversation,' the
best air of all, contributed not only to the re-esta-
blishing his health, but to the forming of his style,
and rendering him master of that happy turn of
verse, in which he much surpasses all the Latins,
and, in a less advantageous language, equals even
Homer himself. He proposed to use his talent in
poetry, only for scaffolding to build a convenient
fortune, that he might prosecute, with less interrup-
tion, those nobler studies to which his elevated ge-
nius led him, and which he describes in these ad-
mirable lines :
file vero primum dulces ante omnia Musty,
Quorum sacra fero ingcnti pcrcussus amorc,
Accipiant ; ccelique vias, ct sidera, monstrcnt,
Defectus Solis varios, Lunacque labores ;
Unde tremor terris, &c.
But the current of that martial age, by some
strange antiperistasis, drove so violently towards
poetry, that he was at last carried down with the
stream ; for not only the young nobility, but Octa-
vius, and Poliio, Cicero in his old age, Julius
THE LIFE OF VIRGIL. 305
Csesar, and the stoical Brutus, a little before, would
needs be tampering with the Muses. The two lat-
ter had taken great care to have their poems curi-
ously bound, and lodged in the most famous libra-
ries ; but neither the sacredness of those places, nor
the greatness of their names, could preserve ill poe-
try. Quitting therefore the study of the law, after
having pleaded but one cause with indifferent suc-
cess, he resolved to push his fortune this way, which
he seems to have discontinued for some time ; and
that may be the reason why the Cule.v, his first pas-
toral now extant, has little besides the novelty of
the subject, and the moral of the fable, which con-
tains an exhortation to gratitude, to recommend it.
Had it been as correct as his other pieces, nothing
more proper and pertinent could have at that time
been addressed to the young Octavius ; for, the
year in which lie presented it, probably at Baia?,
seems to be the very same in which that prince con-
sented (trough with seeming reluctance) to the
death of Cicero, under whose consulship he was
born, the preserver of his life, and chief instrument
of his advancement. There is no reason to question
its being genuine, as the late French editor does ;
its meanness, in comparison of Virgil's other works,
(which is that writer's only objection,) confutes him-
self ; for Martial, who certainly saw the true copy,
speaks of it with contempt ; and yet that pastoral
equals, at least, the address to the Dauphin, which
is prefixed to the late edition. Octavius, to unbend
his mind from application to public business, took
frequent turns to Baice, and Sicily, where he com-
posed his poem called Sicdides, which Virgil seems
to allude to in the pastoral beginning Sicdides Muste.
This gave him opportunity of refreshing that prince's
memory of him ; and about that time he wrote his
JEtna. Soon after he seems to have made a voyasre
*/ -
VOL. XIII. U
306 THE LIFE OF VIRGIL.
to Athens, and at his return presented his Ceiris, a
more elaborate piece, to the noble and eloquent
Messala. The forementioned author groundlessly
taxes this as supposititious ; for, besides other criti-
cal marks, there are no less than fifty or sixty verses,
altered, indeed, and polished, which he inserted in
the Pastorals, according to his fashion; and from
thence they were called Eclogues, or Select Bucolics :
we thought fit to use a title more intelligible, the
reason of the other being ceased ; and we are sup-
ported by Virgil's own authority, who expressly
calls them carmina pastorum. The French editor
is again mistaken, in asserting, that the Ceiris is bor-
rowed from the ninth of Ovid's Metamorphoses: he
might have more reasonably conjectured it to be
taken from Parthenius, the Greek poet, from whom
Ovid borrowed a great part of his work. But it is
indeed taken from neither, but from that learned,
unfortunate poet, Apollonius Rhodius, to whom
Virgil is more indebted than to any other Greek
writer, excepting Homer. The reader will be satis-
fied of this, if he consults that author in his own
language ; for the translation is a grea't deal more
obscure than the original.
Whilst Virgil thus enjoyed the sweets of a learned
privacy, the troubles of Italy cut off his little sub-
sistence ; but, by a strange turn of human affairs,
which ought to keep good men from ever despair-
ing, the loss of his estate proved the effectual way
of making his fortune. The occasion of it was
this : Octavius, as himself relates, when he was but
nineteen years of age, by a masterly stroke of po-
licy, had gained the veteran legions into his service,
and, by that step, outwitted all the republican se-
nate. They grew now very clamorous for their pay ;
the treasury being exhausted, he was forced to
make assignments upon land ; and none but in Italy
THE LIFE OF VIRGIL. 307
itself would content them. He pitched upon Cre-
mona, as the most distant from Rome ; but that not
sufficing, he afterwards threw in part of the state of
Mantua. Cremona was a rich and noble colony,
settled a little before the invasion of Hannibal.
During that tedious and bloody war, they had done
several important services to the commonwealth ;
and, when eighteen other colonies, pleading pover-
ty and depopulation, refused to contribute money,
or to raise recruits, they of Cremona voluntarily
paid a double quota of both. But past services are
a fruitless plea ; civil wars are one continued act of
ingratitude. In vain did the miserable mothers,
with their famishing infants in their arms, fill the
streets with their numbers, and the air with lamen-
tations; the craving legions were to be satisfied at
any rate. Virgil, involved in the common calamity,
had recourse to his old patron, Pollio ; but he was,
at this time, under a cloud ; however, compassion-
ating so worthy a man, not of a make to struggle
through the world, he did what he could, and re-
commended him to Maecenas, with whom he still
kept a private correspondence. The name of this
great man being much better known than one part
of his character, the reader, I presume, will not be
displeased if I supply it in this place.
Though he was of as deep reach, and easy dis-
patch of business, as any in his time, yet he de-
signedly lived beneath his true character. Men
had oftentimes meddled in public affairs, that they
might have more ability to furnish for their plea-
sures : Maecenas, by the honestest hypocrisy that
ever was, pretended to a life of pleasure, that he
might render more effectual service to his master.
He seemed wholly to amuse himself with the diver-
sions of the town, but, under that mask, was the
greatest minister of his age. He would be carried
4
308 THE LIFE OF VIRGIL.
in a careless, effeminate posture through the streets
in his chair, even to the degree of a proverb ; and
yet there was not a cabal of ill-disposed persons
which he had not early notice of, and that too in a
city as large as London and Paris, and perhaps two
or three more of the most populous, put together.
No man better understood that art so necessary to
the great the art of declining envy. Being but
of a gentleman's family, not patrician, he would
not provoke the nobility by accepting invidious ho-
nours, but wisely satisfied himself, that he had the
ear of Augustus, and the secret of the empire. He
seems to have committed but one great fault, which
was, the trusting a secret of high consequence to his
wife ; but his master, enough uxorious himself,
made his own frailty more excusable, by generously
forgiving that of his favourite : he kept, in all his
greatness, exact measures with his friends ; and,
chusing them wisely, found, by experience, that
good sense and gratitude are almost inseparable.
This appears in Virgil and Horace. The former,
besides the honour he did him to all posterity, re-
toured his liberalities at his death ; the other, whom
Maecenas recommended with his last breath, was
too generous to stay behind, and enjoy the favour
of Augustus ; he only desired a place in his tomb,
and to mingle his ashes with those of his deceased
benefactor. But this was seventeen hundred years
ago. * Virgil, thus powerfully supported, thought it
* Walsh might have found an hundred poets of his own time,
who would have expressed themselves as warmly as Horace on a
similar occasion. Our Dryden, for example :
Tell good Barzillai, thou canst sing no more ;
And tell thy soul, she should have fled before.
But neither Horace nor Dryden expected to die a day the
sooner for these ardent expressions ; and, in extolling the grati-
THE LIFE OF VIRGIL. 309
mean to petition for himself alone, but resolutely
solicits the cause of his whole country, and seems,
at first, to have met with some encouragement;
but, the matter cooling, he was forced to sit down
contented with the grant of his own estate. He
goes therefore to Mantua, produces his warrant to
9. captain of foot, whom he found in his house.
Arius, who had eleven points of the law, and
fierce * of the services he had rendered to Octavius,
was so far from yielding possession, that, words
growing betwixt them, he wounded him danger-
ously, forced him to fly, and at last to swim the
river Mincius to save his life. Virgil, who used to
say, that no virtue was so necessary as patience,
was forced to drag a sick body half the length of
Italy, back again to Rome, and by the way, proba-
bly, composed his Ninth Pastoral, which may seem
to have been made up in haste, out of the fragments
of some other pieces ; and naturally enough repre-
sents the disorder of the poet's mind, by its disjoint-
ed fashion, though there be another reason to be
given elsewhere of its want of connection. He
handsomely states his case in that poem, and, with
the pardonable resentments of injured innocence,
not only claims Octavius's promise, but hints to
him the uncertainty of human greatness and glory.
All was taken in good part by that wise prince ; at
last effectual orders were given. About this time,
he composed that admirable poem, which is set first,
out of respect to Cassar ; for he does not seem either
to have had leisure, or to have been in the humour
tude of the ancients at the expence of the moderns, Walsh only
gives another instance of the cant which distinguishes his compo-
sitions.
* An affected Gallicism, for proud of the services.
310 THE LIFE OF VIRGIL.
of making so solemn an acknowledgment, till he
was possessed of the benefit. And now he was in
so great reputation and interest, that he resolved to
give up his land to his parents, and himself to the
court. His Pastorals were in such esteem, that
Pollio, now again in high favour with Caesar, de-
sired him to reduce them into a volume. Some
modern writer, that has a constant flux of verse,
would stand amazed, how Virgil could employ three
whole years in revising five or six hundred verses,
most of which, probably, were made some time be-
fore ; but there is more reason to wonder, how he
could do it so soon in such perfection. A coarse
stone is presently fashioned ; but a diamond, of not
many carats, is many weeks in sawing, and, in po-
lishing, many more. He who put Virgil upon this,
had a politic good end in it.
The continued civil wars had laid Italy almost
waste ; the ground was uncultivated and unstocked;
upon which ensued such a famine and insurrection,
that Caesar hardly escaped being stoned at Rome ;
his ambition being looked upon by all parties as
the principal occasion of it. He set himself there-
fore with great industry to promote country im-
provements ; and Virgil was serviceable to his de-
sign, as the good Keeper of the Bees, Georg. iv.
Tinnitusque cie, et Matris quote cymbalo circum,
Ipsce consident.
That emperor afterwards thought it matter wor-
thy a public inscription
REDIIT CULTUS AGRIS-
which seems to be the motive that induced Masce-
nas to put him upon writing his Georgics, or books
of husbandry : a design as new in Latin verse, as
THE LIFE OF VIRGIL. 3U
pastorals, before Virgil, were in Italy : which work
took up seven of the most vigorous years of his
life ; for he was now, at least, thirty-four years of
age; and here Virgil shines in his meridian. A
great part of this work seems to have been rough-
drawn before he left Mantua ; for an ancient wri-
ter has observed, that the rules of husbandry, laid
down in it, are better calculated for the soil of
Mantua, than for the more sunny climate of Naples ;
near which place, and in Sicily, he finished it. But,
lest his genius should be depressed by apprehen-
sions of want, he had a good estate settled upon
him, and a house in the pleasantest part of Rome ;
the principal furniture of which was a well-chosen
library, which stood open to all comers of learning
and merit : and what recommended the situation of
it most, was the neighbourhood of his Maecenas ;
and thus he could either visit Rome, or return to
his privacy at Naples, through a pleasant road,
adorned on each side with pieces of antiquity, of
which he was so great a lover, and, in the intervals
of them, seemed almost one continued street of
three days' journey.
Ceesar, having now vanquished Sextus Pompeius,
(a spring- tide of prosperities breaking in upon him,
before he was ready to receive them as he ought,)
fell sick of the imperial evil, the desire of being
thought something more than man. Ambition is
an infinite folly ; when it has attained to the utmost
pitch of human greatness, it soon falls to making
pretensions upon heaven. The crafty Livia would
needs be drawn in the habit of a priestess by the
shrine of the new god ; and this became a fashion
not to be dispensed with amongst the ladies. The
devotion was wonderous great amongst the Romans;
for it was their interest, and, which sometimes avails
more, it was the mode. Virgil, though he despised
312 THE LIFE OF VIRGIL.
the heathen superstitions, and is so bold as to call
Saturn and Janus by no better a name than that of
old men, and might deserve the title of subverter of
superstitions, as well as Varro, thought fit to follow
the maxim of Plato his master, that every one
should serve the gods after the usage of his own
country ; and therefore was not the last to present
his incense, which was of too rich a composition
for such an altar ; and, by his address to Caesar on
this occasion, made an unhappy precedent to Lu-
can and other poets which came after him. Georg. i.
and iii. And this poem being now in great for-
wardness, Caesar, who, in imitation of his prede-
cessor Julius, never intermitted his studies in the
camp, and much less in -other places, refreshing
himself by a short stay in a pleasant village of Cam-
pania, would needs be entertained with the rehear-
sal of some part of it. Virgil recited with a mar-
vellous grace, and sweet accent of voice ; but his
lungs failing him, Maecenas himself supplied his
place for what remained. Such a piece of condes-
cension would now be very surprising ; but it was
no more than customary' amongst friends, when
learning passed for quality. * Laelius, the second
man of Koine in his time, had done as much for
that poet, out of whose dross Virgil would some-
times pick gold, as himself said, when one found
him reading Ennius ; (the like he did by some ver-
ses of Varro, and Pacuvius, Lucretius, and Cicero,
which he inserted into his works.) But learned
* Certainly there Mas no age in Britain, where, if a prince
chose to hear an author read his works, and his lungs happened
to fail him, the favourite, if present, and capable, would not have
been happy to have continued the recitation. This is one of those
hackneyed compliments to the manners of antiquity, which are
often paid without the least foundation.
THE LIFE OF VIRGIL. 313
men then lived easy and familiarly with the great :
Augustus himself would sometimes sit down be-
twixt Virgil and Horace, and say jestingly, that he
sat betwixt sighing and tears, alluding to the asthma
of one, and rheumatic eyes of the other. He would
frequently correspond with them, and never leave a
letter of theirs unanswered ; nor were they under
the constraint of formal superscriptions in the be-
ginning, nor of violent superlatives at the close, of
their letter : the invention of these is a modern re-
finement ; in which this may be remarked, in pas-
sing, that " humble servant" is respect, but "friend"
an affront ; which notwithstanding implies the for-
mer, and a great deal more. Nor does true great-
ness lose by such familiarity ; and those who have
it not, as Maecenas and Pollio had, are not to be
accounted proud, but rather very discreet, in their
reserves. Some playhouse beauties do wisely to be
seen at a distance, and to have the lamps twinkle
betwixt them and the spectators.
But now Cresar, who, though he were none of
the greatest soldiers, was certainly the greatest tra-
veller, of a prince, that had ever been, (for which
Virgil so dexterously compliments him, TEneid, vi.)
takes a voyage to Egypt, and, having happily finish-
ed the war, reduces that mighty kingdom into the
form of a province, over which he appointed Gal-
lus his lieutenant. This is the same person to whom
Virgil addresses his Tenth Pastoral ; changing, in
compliance to his request, his purpose of limiting
them to the number of the Muses. The praises of
this Gallus took up a considerable part of the Fourth
Book of the Georgics, according to the general con-
sent of antiquity : but Caesar would have it put out;
and yet the seam in the poem is still to be discern-
ed ; and the matter of Arista3us's recovering his bees
might have been dispatched in less compass, with-
314 THE LIFE OF VIRGIL.
out fetching the causes so far, or interesting so
many gods and goddesses in that affair Perhaps
some readers may be inclined to think this, though
very much laboured, not the most entertaining part
of that work ; so hard it is for the greatest masters
to paint against their inclination. But Caesar was
contented, that he should be mentioned in the last
Pastoral, because it might be taken for a satirical
sort of commendation ; and the character he there
stands under, might help to excuse his cruelty, in
putting an old servant .to death for no very great
crime.
And now having ended, as he begins his Georgics,
with solemn mention of Caesar, (an argument of his
devotion to him,) he begins his JEne'is, according
to the common account, being now turned of forty.
But that work had been, in truth, the subject of
much earlier meditation. Whilst he was working
upon the first book of it, this passage, so very re-
markable in history, fell out, in which Virgil had a
great share.
Caesar, about this time, either cloyed with glory,
or terrified by the example of his predecessor, or
to gain the credit of moderation with the people, or
possibly to feel the pulse of his friends, deliberated
whether he should retain the sovereign power, or
restore the commonwealth. Agrippa, who was a
very honest man, but whose view was of no great
extent, advised him to the latter ; but Maecenas,
who had thoroughly studied his master's temper, in
an eloquent oration gave contrary advice. That
emperor was too politic to commit the oversight of
Cromwell, in a deliberation something resembling
this. Cromwell had never been more desirous of
the power, than he was afterwards of the title, of
king ; and there was nothing in which the heads of
the parties, who were all his creatures, would not
THE LIFE OF VIRGIL. 315
comply with him ; but, by too vehement allegation
of arguments against it, he, who had outwitted
every body besides, at last outwitted himself by
too deep dissimulation ; for his council, thinking to
make their court by assenting to his judgment,
voted unanimously for him against his inclination ;
which surprised and troubled him to such a degree,
that, as soon as he had got into his coach, he fell
into a swoon. * But Csesar knew his people better ;
and, his council being thus divided, he asked Vir-
gil's advice. Thus a poet had the honour of de-
termining the greatest point that ever was in debate,
betwixt the son-in-law and favourite of Caesar.
Virgil delivered his opinion in words to this effect :
" The change of a popular into an absolute govern-
ment has generally been of very ill consequence ;
for, betwixt the hatred of the people and injustice
of the prince, it, of necessity, comes to pass, that
they live in distrust, and mutual apprehensions.
But, if the commons knew a just person, whom,
they entirely confided in, it would be for the ad-
vantage of all parties, that such a one should be
their sovereign ; wherefore, if you shall continue to
administer justice impartially, as hitherto you have
done, your power will prove safe to yourself, and
beneficial to mankind." This excellent sentence,
which seems taken out of Plato, (with whose writ-
ings the grammarians were not much acquaint-
ed, and therefore cannot reasonably be suspected
of forgery in this matter,) contains the true state of
affairs at that time : for the commonwealth maxims
were now no longer practicable ; the Romans had
* Walsh seems to have been but a slender historian. Oliver's
council well knew his private wishes, but were determined to
counteract them.
THE LIFE OF VIRGIL.
only the haughtiness of the old commonwealth left,
without one of its virtues. And this sentence we
find, almost in the same words, in the First Book
of the " jEneis," which at this time he was writing ;
and one might wonder that none of his commenta-
tors have taken notice of it. He compares a tem-
pest to a popular insurrection, as Cicero had com-
pared a sedition to a storm, a little before :
Ac veluti, magno in populo, cum scepe coorta est
Seditio, sccvitque animis ignobile vulgus,
Jamque faces, et saxa volant ; furor arma ministrat :
Turn pietate gravem ac mentis si forte virum quern
Conspexere, silent, arrectisque auribus adstant :
Ille regit dictis animos, et pectora mulcet.
Piety and merit were the two great virtues which
Virgil every where attributes to Augustus, and in
which that prince, at least politicly, if not so truly,
fixed his character, as appears by the Marmor An-
cyr. and several of his medals. Franshemius, the
learned supplementor of Livy, has inserted this re-
lation into his history ; nor is there any good rea-
son, why Ruasus should account it fabulous. The
title of a poet in those days did not abate, but
heighten, the character of the gravest senator.
Virgil was one of the best and wisest men of his
time, and in so popular esteem, that one hundred
thousand Romans rose when he came into the
theatre, and paid him the same respect they used
to Cfesar himself, as Tacitus assures us. And, if
Augustus invited Horace to assist him in writing
his letters, (and every body knows that the " Re-
scripta Imperatorum' were the laws of the empire,)
Virgil might well deserve a place in the cabinet-
council.
And now he prosecutes his " JEneis," which had
anciently the title of the " Imperial Poem," or " Ha-
inan History," and deservedly : for, though he 'were-
THE LIFE OF VIRGIL. 317
too artful a writer to set down events in exact his-
torical order, for which Lucan is justly blamed;
yet are all the most considerable affairs and persons
of Rome comprised in this poem. He deduces the
history of Italy from before Saturn to the reign of
King Latinus; and reckons up the successors of
./Eneas, who reigned at Alba, for the space of three
hundred years, down to the birth of Romulus ; de-
scribes the persons and principal exploits of all the
kings, to their expulsion, and the settling of the
commonwealth. After this, he touches promis-
cuously the most remarkable occurrences at home
and abroad, but insists more particularly upon the
exploits of Augustus ; insomuch that, though this
assertion may appear at first a little surprising, he
has in his works deduced the history of a consi-
derable part of the world from its original, through
the fabulous and Jieroic ages, through the monar-
chy and commonwealth of Rome, for the space of
four thousand years, down to within less than forty
of our Saviour's time, of whom he has preserved a
most illustrious prophecy. Besides this, he points
at many remarkable passages of history under
feigned names : the destruction of Alba and Veil,
under that of Troy ; the star Venus, which, Varro
says, guided ^Eneas in his voyage to Italy, in that
verse,
Mat re ded monstrante mam.
Romulus's lance taking root, and budding, is descri-
bed in that passage concerning Polydorus, JEneid,
iii.
-Confixum ferrea texit
Telorum seges, et jaculis increi'it acutis
The stratagem of the Trojans boring holes in their
ships, and sinking them, lest the Latins should
318 THE LIFE OF VIRGIL.
burn them, under that fable of their being trans-
formed into sea-nymphs; and therefore the an-
cients had no such reason to condemn that fable as
groundless and absurd. Codes swimming the ri-
ver Tyber, after the bridge was broken down be-
hind him, is exactly painted in the four last verses
of the ninth book, under the character of Turnus :
Marius hiding himself in the morass of Minturnse,
under the person of Sinon :
Limosoque lacu per noctem obscurus in ulvd
Dditui.*
Those verses in the second book concerning Priam,
-jacet ingens littorc truncus, tyc.
seem originally made upon Pompey the Great.
He seems to touch the imperious and intriguing
humour of the Empress Livia, under the character
of Juno. The irresolute and weak Lepidus is well
represented under the person of King Latinus ;
Augustus with the character of Pont. Max. under
that of jEnea8 ; and the rash courage (always un-
fortunate in Virgil) of Marc Antony, in Turnus ;
the railing eloquence of Cicero in his " Philippics"
is well imitated in the oration of Drances; the
dull faithful Agrippa, under the person of Achates;
accordingly this character is flat : Achates kills but
one man, and himself receives one slight wound,
but neither says nor does any thing very consider-
able in the whole poem. Curio, who sold his
' Many of these resemblances, and particularly the last, seem
extremely fanciful. The same may be said of most of those which
follow; but this comes of seeing too far into a mill-stone.
THE LIFE OF VIRGIL. 319
country for about two hundred tiiousand pounds,
is stigmatized in that verse,
Vendidit hie auro patriam, dominumquc potentem
Imposuit.
Livy relates, that, presently after the death of the
two Scipios in Spain, when Martius took upon him
the command, a blazing meteor shone around his
head, to the astonishment of his soldiers. Virgil
transfers this to ./Eneas :
Lcetasque vomunt duo temporaflammas.
It is strange, that the commentators have not taken
notice of this. Thus the ill omen which happened
a little before the battle of Thrasymen, when some
of the centurions' lances took fire miraculously, is
hinted in the like accident which befel Acestes,
before the burning of the Trojan fleet in Sicily.
The reader will easily find many more such in-
stances. In other writers, there is often well-co-
vered ignorance ; in Virgil, concealed learning.
His silence of some illustrious persons is no less
worth observation. He says nothing of Scasvola,
because he attempted to assassinate a king, though
a declared enemy ; nor of the younger Brutus ; for
he effected what the other endeavoured ; nor of the
younger Cato, because he was an implacable ene-
my of Julius Csesar; nor could the mention of him
be pleasing to Augustus ; and that passage,
His dantemjura Catonem
may relate to his office, as he was a very severe
censor. Nor would he name Cicero, when the oc-
casion of mentioning him came full in his way,
when he speaks of Catiline ; because he afterwards
approved the murder of Caesar, though the plotters
were too wary to trust the orator with their design.
THE LIFE OF VIRGIL.
Some other poets knew the art of speaking well;
but Virgil, beyond this, knew the admirable secret,
of being eloquently silent. Whatsoever was most
curious in Fabius Pictor, Cato the elder, Varro, in .
the Egyptian antiquities, in the form of sacrifice, in
the solemnities of making peace and war, is pre-
served in this poem. Rome is still above ground,
and flourishing in Virgil. And all this he performs
with admirable brevity. The " Jinei's" was once near
twenty times bigger than he left it ; so that he spent
as much time in blotting out, as some modems
have done in writing whole volumes. But not one
book has his finishing strokes. The sixth seems
one of the most perfect, the which, after long en-
treaty, and sometimes threats, of Augustus, he was
at last prevailed upon to recite. This fell out about
four years before his own death: that of Marcellus,
whom Caesar designed for his successor, happened
a little before this recital: Virgil therefore, with
his usual dexterity, inserted his funeral panegyric
in those admirable lines, beginning,
nate, ingentem luctum ne quaere tuorum, fyc.
His mother, the excellent Octavia, the best wife of
the worst husband that ever was, to divert her
grief, would be of the auditory. The poet artifi-
cially deferred the naming Marcellus, till their
passions were raised to the highest ; but the men-
tion of it put both her and Augustus into such a
passion of weeping, that they commanded him to
proceed no further. Virgil answered, that he had
already ended that passage. Some relate, that Oc-
tavia fainted away ; but afterwards she presented
the poet with two thousand one hundred pounds,
odd money : a round sum for twenty-seven verses ;
but they were Virgil's. Another writer says, that,
THE LIFE OF VIRGIL. 321
with a royal magnificence, she ordered him massy
plate, unweighed, to a great value.
And now he took up a resolution of travelling
into Greece, there to set the last hand to this work ;
proposing to devote the rest of his life to philoso-
phy, which had been always his principal passion.
He justly thought it a foolish figure for a grave man
to be overtaken by death, whilst he was weighing
the cadence of words, and measuring verses, un-
less necessity should constrain it, from which he
was well secured by the liberality of that learned
age. But he was not aware, that, whilst he allotted
three years for the revising of his poem, he drew
bills upon a failing bank: for, unhappily meeting
Augustus at Athens, he thought himself obliged to
wait upon him into Italy ; but, being desirous to
see all he could of the Greek antiquities, he fell
into a languishing distemper at Megara. This,
neglected at first, proved mortal. The agitation of
the vessel (for it was now autumn, near the time
of his birth,) brought him so low, that he could
hardly reach Brindisi. In his sickness, he fre-
quently, and with great importunity, called for his
scrutoir, that he might burn his " ./Eneis :" but,
Augustus interposing by his royal authority, he
made his last will, (of which something shall be
said afterwards ;) and, considering probably how
much Homer had been disfigured by the arbitrary
compilers of his works, obliged Tucca and Varius
to add nothing, nor so much as fill up the breaks
he left in his poem. He ordered that his bones
should be carried to Naples, in which place he had
passed the most agreeable part of his life. Augus-
tus, not only as executor and friend, but accord-
ing to the duty of the Pontifex Maximus, when a
funeral happened in his family, took care himself to
see the will punctually executed. He went out of
VOL. XIIJ.
322 THE LIFE OF VIRGIL.
the world with all that calmness of mind with
which the ancient writer of his life says he came
into it; making the inscription of his monument
himself; for he hegan and ended his poetical com-
positions with an epitaph. And this he made, ex-
actly according to the law of his master Plato on
such occasions, without the least ostentation :
I sung flocks, tillage, heroes; Mantua gave
Me life, Brundusium death, Naples a grave.
A SHORT
ACCOUNT
OF HIS
PERSON, MANNERS, AND FORTUNE.
HE was of a very swarthy complexion, which might
proceed from the southern extraction of his father ;
tall and wide-shouldered, so that he may be thought
to have described himself under the character of
Mussus, whom he calls the best of poets
Medium nam plurima turbo,
~~ AKBwWMMVV nilllt I'llll lllllt III I </((
Hunc habet, atque humeris extantem suspidt altis
His sickliness, studies, and the troubles he met
with, turned his hair gray before the usual time.
He had a hesitation in his speech, as many other
great men; it being rarely found that a very fluent
elocution, and depth of judgment, meet in the
same person : his aspect and behaviour rustic and
ungraceful ; and this defect was not likely to be
rectified in the place where he first lived, nor af-
terwards, because the weakness of his stomach
324 THE LIFE OF VIRGIL.
would not permit him to use his exercises. He
was frequently troubled with the head-ach, and
spitting of blood ; spare of diet, and hardly drank
any wine. Bashful to a fault; and, when people
crowded to see him, he would slip into the next
shop, or by-passage, to avoid them. As this cha-
racter could not recommend him to the fair sex, he
seems to have as little consideration for them as
Euripides himself. There is hardly the character of
one good woman to be found in his poems : he uses
the word mulier but once in the whole " JEneis,"
then too by way of contempt, rendering literally a
piece of a verse out of Homer. In his " Pastorals,"
he is full of invectives against love : in the " Geor-
gics," he appropriates all the rage of it to the fe-
males. He makes Dido, who never deserved that
character, lustful and revengeful to the utmost de-
gree, so as to die devoting her lover to destruc-
tion ; so changeable, that the Destinies themselves
could not fix the time of her death ; but Iris, the
emblem of inconstancy, must determine it. Her
sister is something worse. * He is so far from pas-
sing such a compliment upon Helen, as the grave
old counsellor in Homer does, after nine years' war,
when, upon the sight of her, he breaks out into
this rapture, in the presence of king Priam :
None can the cause of these long wars despise ;
The cost bears no proportion to the prize :
Majestic charms in every feature shine;
Her air, her port, her accent, is divine.
However, let the fatal beauty go, &c.
Virgil is so far from this complaisant humour, that
* All this charge is greatly overstrained. The critic, in censu-
ring poor Dido and her sister, totally forgets their very reasonable
ground of provocation.
THE LIFE OF VIRGIL. 325
his hero falls into an unmanly and ill-timed deliber-
ation, whether he should not kill her in a church ; *
which directly contradicts what Deiphobus says of
her, yneid vi., in that place where every body tells
the truth. He transfers the dogged silence of
Ajax's ghost to that of Dido; though that be no
very natural character to an injured lover, or a
woman. He brings in the Trojan matrons setting
their own fleet on fire, and running afterwards,
like witches on their sabbat, into the woods. He
bestows indeed some ornaments on the character
of Camilla; but soon abates his favour, by calling
her aspera and horrenda virgo: he places her in
the front of the line for an ill omen of the battle,
as one of the ancients has observed. We may ob-
serve, on this occasion, it is an art peculiar to Vir-
gil, to intimate the event by some preceding acci-
dent. He hardly ever describes the rising of the
sun, but with some circumstance which fore-signi-
fies the fortune of the day. For instance, when
^Eneas leaves Africa and Queen Dido, he thus de-
scribes the fatal morning :
Tithoni croceum linquens Aurora cubile.
[And, for the remark, we stand indebted to the
curious pencil of Pollio.] The Mourning Fields
(^Eneid vi.) are crowded with ladies of a lost repu-
tation : hardly one man gets admittance ; and that
is Caeneus, for a very good reason. Latinus's queen
is turbulent and ungovernable, and at last hangs
herself: and the fair Lavinia is disobedient to the
oracle, and to the king, and looks a little flickering
* The critic should have considered, that Troy was not actual-
ly blazing when the old counsellor pronounced his panegyric upon
Helen's beautv.
326 THE LIFE OF VIRGIL.
after Turnus. I wonder at this the more, because
Livy represents her as an excellent person, and who
behaved herself with great wisdom in her regency
during the minority of her son ; so that the poet
has done her wrong, and it reflects on her posterity.
His goddesses make as ill a figure : Juno is always
in a rage, and the Fury of heaven ; Venus grows so
unreasonably confident, as to ask her husband to
forge arms for her bastard son, which were enough
to provoke one of a more phlegmatic temper than
Vulcan was. Notwithstanding all this raillery of
Virgil's, he was certainly of a very amorous dispo-
sition, and has described all that is most delicate in.
the passion of love : but he conquered his natural
inclination by the help of philosophy, and refined
it into friendship, to which he was extremely sen-
sible. The reader will admit of or reject the follow-
ing conjecture, with the free leave of the writer,
who will be equally pleased either way. Virgil had
too great an opinion of the influence of the heaven-
ly bodies : and, as an ancient writer says, he was
born under the sign of Virgo ; with which nativity
he much pleased himself, and would exemplify her
virtues in his life. Perhaps it was thence that he
took his name of Virgil ana Parthemas, which does
not necessarily signify base-born. Donatus and
Servius, very good grammarians, give a quite con-
trary sense of it. He seems to make allusion to
this original of his name in that passage,
Illo Virgiliwn me ttmpore dulcis alebat
Parthenope.
And this may serve to illustrate his compliment
to Ca?sar, in which he invites him into his own
constellation,
Where, in the void of heaven, a place is free.
Betwixt the Scorpion and the maid, for thee
THE LIFE OF VIRGIL. 37
thus placing him betwixt Justice and Power, and in
a neighbour mansion to his own ; for Virgil sup-
posed souls to ascend again to their proper and
congenial stars. Being therefore of this humour, it
is no wonder that he refused the embraces of the
beautiful Plotia, when his indiscreet friend almost
threw her into his arms.
But however he stood affected to- the ladies,
there is a dreadful accusation brought against him
for the most unnatural of all vices, which, by the
malignity of human nature, has found more credit
in latter times than it did near his own. This took
not its rise so much from the " Alexis," in which
pastoral there is not one immodest word, as from a
sort of ill-nature, that will not let any one be with-
out the imputation of some vice ; and principally
because he was so strict a follower of Socrates and
Plato. In order, therefore, to his vindication, I
shall take the matter a little higher.
The Cretans were anciently much addicted to
navigation, insomuch that it became a Greek pro-
verb, (though omitted, I think, by the industrious
Erasmus,) a Cretan that does not ktiozv the sea.
Their neighbourhood gave them occasion of fre-
quent commerce with the Phoenicians, that accur-
sed people, who infected the western world with
endless superstitions, and gross immoralities. From
them it is probable that the Cretans learned this
infamous passion, to which they were so much ad-
dicted, that Cicero remarks, in his book " J)e Rep."
that it was " a disgrace for a young gentleman to
be without lovers." Socrates, who was a great ad-
mirer of the Cretan constitutions, set his excellent
wit to find out some good cause and use of this
evil inclination, and therefore gives an account,
wherefore beauty is to be loved, in the following
passage; for I will not trouble the reader, weary
328 THE LIFE OF VIRGIL.
perhaps already, with a long Greek quotation.
" There is but one eternal, immutable, uniform
beauty ; in contemplation of which, our sovereign
happiness does consist : and therefore a true lover
considers beauty and proportion as so many steps
and degrees, by which he may ascend from the par-
ticular to the general, from all that is lovely of fea-
ture, or regular in proportion, or charming in
sound, to the general fountain of all perfection.
And if you are so much transported with the sight
of beautiful persons, as to wish neither to eat nor
drink, but pass your whole life in their conversa-
tion ; to what ecstasy would it raise you to behold
the original beauty, not filled up with flesh and
blood, or varnished with a fading mixture of co-
lours, and the rest of mortal trifles and fooleries,
but separate, unmixed, uniform, and divine," &c.
Thus far Socrates, in a strain much beyond the
" Socrate Chr&ien" of Mr Balzac : and thus that
admirable man loved his Phaeclon, his Charmides,
and Theastetus ; and thus Virgil loved his Alexan-
der and Cebes, under the feigned name of Alexis :
he received them illiterate, but returned them to
their masters, the one a good poet, and the other
an excellent grammarian. And, to prevent all pos-
sible misinterpretations, he warily inserted, into
the liveliest episode in the whole " JEne'is," these
words,
Nisus amore pio pueri
and, in the sixth, " Quique pli vates." He seems
fond of the words, casttis, pins, virgo, and the com-
pounds of it; and sometimes stretches the use of
that word further than one would think he reason-
ably should have done, as when he attributes it ta
Pasiphae herself.
THE LIFE OF VIRGIL.
Another vice he is taxed with, is avarice, be-
cause he died rich ; and so indeed he did, in com-
parison of modern wealth. His estate amounts to
near seventy-five thousand pounds of our money :
but Donatus does not take notice of this as a thing
extraordinary ; nor was it esteemed so great a mat-
ter, when the cash of a great part of the world lay
at Rome. Antony himself bestowed at once two
thousand acres of land, in one of the best provinces
of Italy, upon a ridiculous scribbler, who is named
by Cicero and Virgil. A late cardinal used to pur-
chase ill flattery at the expence of a hundred thou-
sand crowns a year. But, besides Virgil's other be-
nefactors, he was much in favour with Augustus,
whose bounty to him had no limits, but such as the
modesty of Virgil prescribed to it. Before he had
made his own fortune, he settled his estate upon
his parents and brothers; sent them yearly large
sums, so that they lived in great plenty and re-
spect; and, at his death, divided his estate betwixt
duty and gratitude, leaving one half to his relations,
and the other to Maecenas, to Tucca, and Varius,
and a considerable legacy to Augustus, who had in-
troduced a politic fashion of being in every body's
will ; which alone was a fair revenue for a prince.
Virgil shows his detestation of this vice, by placing
in the front of the damned those who did not re-
lieve their relations and friends; for the Romans
hardly ever extended their liberality further ; and
therefore I do not remember to have met, in all the
Latin poets, one character so noble as that short
one in Homer :
llanrct; ya ^
On the other hand, he gives a very advanced
place in Elysium to good patriots, &c. observing, in
THE LIFE OF VIRGIL.
all his poem, that rule so sacred among the Romans,
" That there should be no art allowed, which did
not tend to the improvement of the people in vir-
tue." And this was the principle too of our excel-
lent Mr Waller, who used to say, that he would
raze any line out of his poems, which did not imply
some motive to virtue : but he was unhappy in the
choice of the subject of his admirable vein in poetry.
The Countess of Carlisle was the Helen of her coun-
try. There is nothing in Pagan philosophy more
true, more just, and regular, than Virgil's ethics ;
and it is hardly possible to sit down to the serious
perusal of his works, but a man shall rise more dis-
posed to virtue and goodness, as well as most agree-
ably entertained ; the contrary to which disposi-
tion may happen sometimes upon the reading of
Ovid, of Martial, and several other second-rate
poets. But of the craft and tricking part of life,
with which Homer abounds, there is nothing to be
found in Virgil; and therefore Plato, who gives
the former so many good words, perfumes, crowns,
but at last complimentally banishes him his com-
monwealth, would have entreated Virgil to stay
with him, (if they had lived in the same age,) and
entrusted him with some important charge in his
government. Thus was his life as chaste as his
style ; and those who can critic his poetry, can ne-
ver find a blemish in his manners ; and one would
rather wish to have that purity of mind, which the
satirist himself attributes to him ; that friendly dis-
position, and evenness of temper, and patience,
which he was master of in so eminent a degree,
than to have the honour of being author of the
" -/Enei's," or even of the "Georgics" themselves.
Having therefore so little relish for the usual
amusements of the world, he prosecuted his studies
THE LIFE OF VIRGIL. 331
without any considerable interruption, during the
whole course of his life, which one may reasonably
conjecture to have been something longer than fifty-
two years ; and therefore it is no wonder that he
became the most general scholar that Rome ever
bred, unless some one should except Varro: Be-
sides the exact knowledge of rural affairs, he un-
derstood medicine, to which profession he was de-
signed by his parents. A curious florist; on which
subject one would wish he had writ, as he once in-
tended : so profound a naturalist, that he has solved
more phenomena of nature upon sound principles,
than Aristotle in his Physics : he studied geometry,
the most opposite of all sciences to a poetic genius,
and beauties of a lively imagination ; but this pro-
moted the order of his narrations, his propriety of
language, and clearness of expression, for which he
was justly called iht pillar of the Latin tongue. This
geometrical spirit was the cause, that, to fill up a
verse, he would not insert one superfluous word ;
and therefore deserves that character which a noble
and judicious writer hr.s given him, " That he ne-
ver says too little, nor too much." * Nor could any
one ever fill up the verses he left imperfect. There
is one supplied near the beginning of the First
Book. Virgil left the verse thus,
' 'Hie illius arma,
Hie currusfuit-
the rest is none of his.
He was so good a geographer, that he has not
only left us the finest description of Italy that ever
* " Essay on Poetry," by Sheffield, Marquis of Normanby, ori-
ginally Earl of Mulgrave, and afterwards Duke of Buckingham.
332 THE LIFE OF VIRGIL.
was, but, besides, was one of the few ancients who
knew the true system of the earth, its being inha-
bited round about, under the torrid zone, and near
the poles. Metrodorus, in his five books of the
" Zones/' justifies him from some exceptions made
against him by astronomers. His rhetoric was in
such general esteem, that lectures were read upon
it in the reign of Tiberius, and the subject of decla-
mations taken out of him. Pollio himself, and many
other ancients, commented him. His esteem dege-
nerated into a kind of superstition The known
story of Mr Cowley is an instance of it f. But the
sortes Virgiliance were condemned by St Austin,
and other casuists. Abienus, by an odd design, put
all Virgil and Livy into iambic verse ; and the pic-
* The Sortes Virgiliance were a sort of augury, drawn by dipping
at random into the volume, and applying the line to which chance
directed the finger, as an answer to the doubt propounded. Cow-
ley seems to have been a firm believer in this kind of sooth-saying.
When at Paris, and secretary to Lord Jermin, he writes to Bennet
his opinion concerning the probability of concluding a treaty with
the Scottish nation ; and adds, " And, to tell you the truth, which
I take to be an argument above all the rest, Virgil has told the
same thing to that purpose." There is a story, that Charles I.
and Lord Faulkland tried this sort of divination at Oxford con-
cerning the issue of the civil war, and that the former lighted up-
on this ominous response :
-Jacet ingens littore truncus,
AvuUumque humeris caput, et sine nomine truncus.
Lord Faulkland drew an answer equally prophetic of his fate.
These follies seem to have been founded upon the vulgar idea
still current at Naples, that Virgil was a magician. Gervas of
Tilbury was an early propagator of this scandal, which was cur-
rent during the middle ages, so that Naudaeus thinks it necessary
to apologize for Virgil, among other great men accused of necro-
mancy. These legends' formed the contents of a popular ro-
mance,
5
THE LIFE OF VIRGIL. 333
tures of those two were hung in the most honoura-
ble place of public libraries ; and the design of ta-
king them down, and destroying Virgil's works,
was looked upon as one of the most extravagant
amongst the many brutish phrenzies of Caligula.
PASTORALS.
to
THE RIGHT HONOURABLE
HUGH,
LORD CLIFFORD,
BARON OF CHUDLEIGH.*
MY LORD,
1 HAVE found it not more difficult to translate Vir-
gil, than to find such patrons as I desire for my
translation. For, though England is not wanting in
a learned nobility, yet such are my unhappy cir-
cumstances, that they have confined me to a nar-
row choice, f To the greater part I have not the
* This was the son of Lord Treasurer Clifford, a member of the
Cabal administration, to whom our author dedicated " Amboyna."
See Vol. V. p. 5. Hugh, Lord Clifford, died in 1730.
f Dryden alludes to his religion and politics. I presume, Hugh,
Lord Clifford, was a Catholic, like his father, and entertained the
hereditary attachment to the line of Stuart; thus fnlling within
the narrow choice to which Dryden was limited.
VOL. XI 1 1. Y
338 DEDICATION
honour to be known; and to some of them I can-
not show at present, by any public act, that grate-
ful respect which I shall ever bear them in my
heart. Yet I have no reason to complain of for-
tune, since, in the midst of that abundance, I could
not possibly have chosen better, than the worthy
son of so illustrious a father. He was the patron
of my manhood, when I flourished in the opinion
of the world ; though with small advantage to my
fortune, till he awakened the remembrance of my
royal master. He was that Pollio, or that Varus, *
who introduced me to Augustus : and, though
he soon dismissed himself from state affairs, yet, in
the short time of his administration, he shone so
powerfully upon me, that, like the heat of a Russian
summer, he ripened the fruits of poetry in a cold
climate, and gave me wherewithal to subsist, at
least, in the long winter which succeeded. What
I now offer to your lordship, is the wretched re-
mainder of a sickly age, worn out with study, and
oppressed by fortune; without other support than
the constancy and patience of a Christian. You,
my lord, are yet in the flower of your youth, and
may live to enjoy the benefits of the peace which
is promised Europe : I can only hear of that bles-
sing; for years, and, above all things, want of
health, have shut me out from sharing in the hap-
piness. The poets, who condemn their Tantalus to
hell, had added to his torments, if they had placed
him in Elysium, which is the proper emblem of my
condition. The fruit and the water may reach my
lips, but cannot enter; and, if they could, yet I
want a palate as well as a digestion. But it is some
* The well-known patrons of Virgil. It is disputed, which had
the honour to present him to the emperor.
OF THE PASTORALS. 339
kind of pleasure to me, to please those whom I re-
spect ; and I am not altogether out of hope, that
these Pastorals of Virgil may give your lordship
some delight, though made English by one who
scarce remembers that passion which inspired my
author when he wrote them. These were his first
essay in poetry, if the " Ceiris"* was not his : and it
was more excusable in him to describe love when
he was young, than for me to translate him when I
am old. He died at the age of fifty -two ; and I be-
gan this work in my great climacteric. But, ha-
ving perhaps a better constitution than my author,
I have wronged him less, considering my circum-
stances, than those who have attempted him be-
fore, either in our own, or any modern language.
And, though this version is not void of errors, yet
it comforts me, that the faults of others are not
worth finding. Mine are neither gross nor fre-
quent in those Eclogues, wherein my master has
raised himself above that humble style in which
pastoral delights, and which, I must confess, is pro-
per to the education and converse of shepherds : for
he found the strength of his genius betimes, and
was, even in his youth, preluding to his "Georgics"
and his "^Ene'is." He could not forbear to try his
wings, though his pinions were not hardened to
maintain a long laborious flight ; yet sometimes
they bore him to a pitch as lofty as ever he was
able to reach afterwards. But, when he was admo-
nished by his subject to descend, he came down
gently, circling in the air, and singing, to the
ground; like a lark, melodious in her mounting,
and continuing her song till she alights, still prepa-
ring for a higher flight at her next sally, and tuning
One of the Juvenilia, or early poems, ascribed to Virgil.
340 DEDICATION
her voice to better music. The fourth, the sixth,
and the eighth Pastorals, are clear evidences of this
truth. In the three first, he contains himself with-
in his bounds : but, addressing to Pollio, his great
patron, and himself no vulgar poet, he no longer
could restrain the freedom of his spirit, but began
to assert his native character, which is sublimity
putting himself under the conduct of the same Cumae-
an Sibyl, whom afterwards he gave for a guide to his
jEneas. It is true, he was sensible of his own boldness ;
and we know it by the paulo majora, which begins
his fourth Eclogue. He remembered, like young
Manlius, that he was forbidden to engage ; but what
avails an express command to a youthful courage,
which presages victory in the attempt ? * Encou-
raged with success, he proceeds farther in the sixth,
and invades the province of philosophy. And,
notwithstanding that Phoebus had forewarned him
of singing wars, as he there confesses, yet he pre-
sumed, that the search of nature was as free to him
as to Lucretius, who, at his age, explained it accord-
ing to the principles of Epicurus. In his eighth
Eclogue, he has innovated nothing ; the former,
part of it being the complaint and despair of a for-
saken lover ; the latter, a charm of an enchantress,
to renew a lost affection. But the complaint per-
haps contains some topics which are above the con-
dition of his persons ; and our author seems to have
made his herdsmen somewhat too learned for their
profession : the charms are also of the same nature;
but both were copied from Theocritus, and had re-
ceived the applause of former ages in their original.
* Manlius, contrary to the general orders of his father, Manlius
Torquatus, eiiyagi <! and slew the general nf the Latins: his lather
caused his head to be struck off for disobedience.
OP THE PASTORALS.
There is a kind of rusticity in all those pompous
verses ; somewhat of a holiday shepherd strutting
in his country buskins. The like may be observed
both in the " Pollio" and the " Silenus," where the
similitudes are drawn from the woods and meadows.
They seem to me to represent our poet betwixt a
farmer and a courtier, when he left Mantua for
Rome, and drest himself in his best habit to appear
before his patron, somewhat too fine for the place
from whence he came, and yet retaining part of its
simplicity. In the ninth Pastoral, he collects some
beautiful passages, which were scattered in Theocri-
tus, which he could not insert into any of his former
Eclogues, and yet was unwilling they should be
lost. In all the rest, he is equal to his Sicilian mas-
ter, and observes, like him, a just decorum both of
the subject and the persons ; as particularly in the
third Pastoral, where one of his shepherds describes
a bowl ; or mazer, curiously carved :
In media duo signa : Conon, et quis fuit alter t
Descripsit radio, totum qui gentibus orbem ?
He remembers only the name of Conon, and forgets
the other on set purpose. Whether he means Anax-
imander, or Eudoxus, I dispute not; but he was
certainly forgotten, to show his country swain was
no great scholar.
After all, I must confess, that the boorish dialect
of Theocritus has a secret charm in it, which the
Roman language cannot imitate, though Virgil has
drawn it down as low as possibly he could ; as in
the cujum pecus, and some other words, for which
he was so unjustly blamed by the bad critics of his
age, who could not see the beauties of that merum
rus, which the poet described in those expressions.
But Theocritus may justly be preferred as the ori-
ginal, without injury to Virgil, who modestly con-
342 DEDICATION
tents himself with the second place, and glories
only in being the first who transplanted pastoral
into his own country, and brought it there to bear
as happily as the cherry-trees which Lucullus brought
from Pontus.
Our own nation has produced a third poet in this
kind, not inferior to the two former : for the "Shep-
herd's Kalendar*' of Spenser is not to be matched in
any modern language, not even by Tasso's " Aminta,"
which infinitely transcends Guarini's " Pastor Fi-
do," as having more of nature in it, and being almost
wholly clear from the wretched affectation of learn-
ing. 1 will say nothingof the "Piscatory Eclogues,"
because no modern Latin can bear criticism. * It
is no wonder, that, rolling down, through so ma-
ny barbarous ages, from the spring of Virgil, it
bears along with it the filth and ordures of the Goths
and Vandals. Neither will I mention Monsieur
Fontenelle, the living glory of the French. It is
enough for him to have excelled his master Lucian,
without attempting to compare our miserable age
with that of Virgil, or Theocritus. Let me only
add, for his reputation,
Si Pergama dextrd
Defendi possint, etiam hdc defensa fuissent.
But Spenser, being master of our northern dia-
* The author alludes to tiie Piscatoria "of Sannazarius. They
were published, with sortie other pieces of modern Latin poe-
try, by Atterbury, Bishop of Rochester, in l684. I do not pre-
tend to judge of the purity of the style of Sannazarius, but
surely the poetry is often beautiful. I doubt if Dryden was ac-
quainted with the poems of Phineas Fletcher, whom honest Isaac
Walton calls, " an excellent divine, and an excellent angler, and
the author of excellent Piscatory Eclogues." They contain many
passages fully equal to Spenser.
OF THE PASTORALS. 343
lect, and skilled in Chaucer's English, has so exactly
imitated the Doric of Theocritus, that his love is a
perfect image of that passion which God infused
into both sexes, before it was corrupted with the
knowledge of arts, and the ceremonies of what we
call good manners.
My lord, I know to whom I dedicate ; and could
not have been induced, by any motive, to put this
part of Virgil, or any other, into unlearned hands.
You have read him with pleasure, and, I dare say, with
admiration, in the Latin, of which you are a mas-
ter. You have added to your natural endowments,
which, without flattery, are eminent, the super-
structures of study, and the knowledge of good au-
thors. Courage, probity, and humanity, are inhe-
rent in you. These virtues haveKever been habitual
to the ancient house of Cumberland, from whence
you are descended, and of which our chronicles
make so honourable mention in the long wars be-
twixt the rival families of York and Lancaster.
Your forefathers have asserted the party which they
chose till death, and died for its defence in the
fields of battle. You have, besides, the fresh re-
membrance of your noble father, from whom you
never can degenerate :
- Nee 'imbellem feroces
Progenerant aquilve columbam.
It being- almost morally impossible for you to be
other than you are by kind, I need neither praise
nor incite your virtue. You are acquainted with
the Roman history, and know, without my infor-
mation, that patronage and clientship always des-
cended from the fathers to the sons, and that the
same plebeian houses had recourse to the same pa-
trician line which had formerly protected them,
and followed their principles and fortunes to the
344 DEDICATION, &C.
last. So that I am your lordship's by descent, and
part of your inheritance. And the natural inclina-
tion which I have to serve you, adds to your pater-
nal right ; for I was wholly yours from the first mo-
ment when I had the happiness and honour of be-
ing known to you. Be pleased therefore to accept
the rudiments of Vh'gil's poetry, coarsely transla-
ted, I confess, but which yet retain some beauties
of the author, which neither the barbarity of our
language, nor my unskilfulness, could so much
sully, but that they appear sometimes in the dim
mirror which I hold before you. The subject is
not unsuitable to your youth, which allows you yet
to love, and is proper to your present scene of life.
Rural recreations abroad, and books at home, are
the innocent pleasures of a man who is early wise,
and gives Fortune no more hold of him, than of
necessity he must. It is good, on some occasions,
to think beforehand as little as we can ; to enjoy
as much of the present as will not endanger our
futurity ; and to provide ourselves of the virtuoso's
saddle, which will be sure to amble, when the
world is upon the hardest trot. What I humbly
offer to your lordship, is of this nature. I wish it
pleasant, and am sure it is innocent. May you
ever continue your esteem for Virgil, and not lessen
it for the faults of his translator; who is, with all
manner of respect and sense of gratitude,
My Lord,
Your Lordship's
Most humble and
Most obedient servant,
JOHN DRYDEN.
PREFACE
TO THE
WITH
A SHORT DEFENCE
OF
VIRGIL,
AGAINST SOME OF THE REFLECTIONS OF
MONSIEUR FONTENELLE.
BY WILLIAM WALSH, Esa.
As the writings of greatest antiquity are in verse,
so, of all sorts of poetry, pastorals seem the most
ancient ; being formed upon the model of the first
innocence and simplicity, which the moderns, bet-
ter to dispense thernselves from imitating, have
wisely thought fit to treat as fabulous, and imprac-
ticable. And yet they, by obeying the unsophisti-
cated dictates of nature, enjoyed the most valuable
blessings of life; a vigorous health of body, with a
constant serenity and freedom of mind ; \\ hilst we,
with all our fanciful refinements, can scarcely pass
an autumn without some access of a fever, or a
whole day, not ruffled by some unquiet passion.
He was not then looked upon as a very old man,
4
346 PREFACE TO THE PASTORALS.
who reached to a greater number of years, than iu
these times an ancient family can reasonably pre-
tend to ; and we know the names of several, who
saw and practised the world for a longer space of
time, than we can read the account of in any one
entire body of history. Jn short, they invented the
most useful arts, pasturage, tillage, geometry, wri-
ting, music, astronomy, &c. whilst the moderns,
like extravagant heirs made rich by their industry,
ungratefully deride the good old gentleman who left
them the estate. It is not therefore to be wonder-
.ed at, that pastorals are fallen into disesteem, to-
gether with that fashion of life, upon which they
were grounded. And methinks I see the reader
already uneasy at this part of Virgil, counting the
pages, and posting to the " ^Eneis :" so delightful an
entertainment is the very relation of public mischief
and slaughter now become to mankind. And yet
Virgil passed a much different judgment on his
own works : he valued most this part, and his
" Georgics," and depended upon them for his reputa-
tion with posterity ; but censures himself in one of
his letters to Augustus, for meddling with heroics,
the invention of a degenerating age. This is the
reason that the rules of pastoral are so little known,
or studied. Aristotle, Horace, and the Essay of
Poetry, take no notice of it ; and Monsieur Boileau,
one of the most accurate of the moderns, because
he never loses the ancients out of his sight, be-
stows scarce half a page on it.
It is the design therefore of the few following
pages, to clear this sort of writing from vulgar pre-
judices ; to vindicate our author from some unjust
imputations ; to look into some of the rules of this
sort of poetry, and enquire what sort of versifica-
tion is most proper for it ; in which point we are
so much inferior to the ancients, that this consi-
1
PREFACE TO THE PASTORALS. 347
deration alone were enough to make some writers
think as they ought, that is meanly, of their own
performances.
As all sorts of poetry consist in imitation, pas-
toral is the imitation of a Shepherd, considered under
that character. It is requisite therefore to be a lit-
tle informed of the condition and qualification of
these shepherds.
One of the ancients has observed truly, but sati-
rically enough, that, " Mankind is the measure of
every thing." And thus, by a gradual improvement
of this mistake, we come to make our own age and
country the rule and standard of others, and our-
selves at last the measure of them all. We figure
the ancient countrymen like our own, leading a
painful life in poverty and con-tempt, without wit,
or courage, or education. But men had quite dif-
ferent notions of these things, for the first four
thousand years of the world. Health and strength
were then in more esteem than the refinements of
pleasure ; and it was accounted a great deal more
honourable to till the ground, or keep a flock of
sheep, than to dissolve in wantonness and effemi-
nating sloth. * Hunting has now an idea of qua-
lity joined to it, and is become the most important
business in the life of a gentleman ; anciently it was
quite other ways, f Mr Fleury has severely remark-
* There is a great deal of cant in this ; there was just the same
distinction in manners and knowledge between the clowns of Man-
tua and the courtiers of Augustus, as there is between persons of
the same rank in modern times.
f Hunting was as much an exercise of the Roman youths as of
our own ; and this might be easily proved from Virgil, were it not
a well known fact. It was the sport with which Dido entertained
the Trojans ; and the wish of Ascanius upon the occasion, was
worthy of a Frank, or any other German.
348 PREFACE TO THE PASTORALS.
ed, that this extravagant passion for hunting is a
strong proof of our Gothic extraction, and shews
an affinity of humour with the savage Americans.
The barbarous Franks and other Germans, (having
neither corn nor wine of their own growth,) when
they passed the Rhine, and possessed themselves of
countries better cultivated, left the tillage of the
land to the old proprietors ; and afterwards conti-
nued to hazard their lives as freely for their diver-
sion, as they had done before for their necessary
subsistence. The English gave this usage the sa-
cred stamp of fashion ; and from hence it is that
most of our terms of hunting are French. * 1 he
reader will, I hope, give me his pardon for my free-
dom on this subject, since an ill accident, occa-
sioned by hunting, has kept England in pain, these,
several months together, for one of the best and
greatest peers f which she has bred for some ages;
no less illustrious for civil virtues and learning,
than his ancestors were for all their victories in
France.
But there are some prints still left of the ancient
esteem for husbandry, and their plain fashion of
life, in many of our surnames, and in the escut-
cheons of the most ancient families, even those of
the greatest kings, the roses, the lilies, the thistle,
&c. It is generally known, that one of the princi-
F * This is indistinctly expressed ; but if the critic means to say,
that the terms of hunting were put into French as the most
fashionable language, he is mistaken. The hunting phrases still
in use, are handed down to us from the Anglo-Norman barons,
in whose time French was the only language spoken among those
who were entitled to participate in an amusement to which the
nobility claimed an exclusive privilege.
<f The Duke ot Shrewsbury.
PREFACE TO THE PASTORALS. 349
pal causes of the deposing of Mahomet the Fourth,
was, that he would not allot part of the day to some
manual labour, according to the law of Mahomet,
and ancient practice of his predecessors. He that
reflects on this, will he the less surprised to find
that Charlemagne, eight hundred years ago, order-
ed his children to be instructed in some profession ;
and. eight hundred years yet higher, that Augustus
wore no clothes but such as were made by the
hands of the empress and her daughters ; and
Olympias did the same for Alexander the Great.
Nor will he wonder, that the Romans, in great exi-
gency, sent for their dictator from the plough,
whose whole estate was but of four acres ; too lit-
tle a spot now for the orchard, or kitchen-garden, of
a private gentleman. It is commonly known, that
the founders of three the most renowned monar-
chies in the world were shepherds ; and the subject
of husbandry has been adorned by the writings and
labour of more than twenty kings. It ought not
therefore to be matter of surprise to a modern wri-
ter, that kings, the shepherds of the people in Ho-
mer, laid down their first rudiments in tending their
mute subjects ; nor that the wealth of Ulysses con-
sisted in flocks and herds, the intendants over which
were then in equal esteem with officers of state in
latler times. And therefore Eumseus is called Sc
vtpopCoc in Homer ; not so much because Homer was
a lover of a country life, to which he rather seems
averse, but by reason of the dignity and greatness
of his trust, and because he was the son of a king,
stolen away, and sold by the Phoenician pirates;
which the ingenious Mr Cowley seems not to have
taken notice of. Nor will it seem strange, that the
master of the horse to king Latinus, in the ninth
^Eneid, was found in the homely employment of
350 PREFACE TO THE PASTORALS.
cleaving blocks, when news of the first skirmish
betwixt the Trojans and Latins was brought to him.
Being therefore of such quality, they cannot be
supposed so very ignorant and unpolished : the
learning and good-breeding of the world was then
in the hands of such people. He who was chosen
by the consent of all parties to arbitrate so delicate
an affair as, which was the fairest of the three celebra-
ted beauties of heaven he who had the address to
debauch away Helen from her husband, her native
country, and from a crown understood what the
French call by the too soft name of galanferie ; he
had accomplishments enough, how ill use soever he
made of them. It seems, therefore, that M. Fon-
tenelle had not duly considered the matter, when
he reflected so severely upon Virgil, as if he had
not observed the laws of decency in his Pastorals,
4n making shepherds speak to things beside their
character, and above their capacity. He stands
amazed, that shepherds should thunder out, as he
expresses himself, the formation of the w r orld, and
that too according to the system of Fpicurus. " In
truth," says he, page 176, " I cannot tell what to
make of this whole piece, (the sixth Pastoral ) I can
neither comprehend the design of the author, nor
the connection of the parts. First come the ideas
of philosophy, and presently after those incoherent
fables, &c." To expose him yet more, he subjoins,
" It is Silenus himself who makes all this absurd
discourse. Virgil says indeed, that he had drank
too much the day before ; perhaps the debauch
hung in his head when he composed this poem," &c.
Thus far M. Fontenelle, who, to the disgrace of
reason, as himself ingenuously owns, first built his
house, and then studied architecture ; 1 mean, first
composed his Eclogues, and then studied the rules.
In answer to this, we may observe, first, that this
PREFACE TO THE PASTORALS. 351
very pastoral which he singles out to triumph over,
was recited by a famous player on the Roman thea-
tre, with marvellous applause ; insomuch that Ci-
cero, who had heard part of it only, ordered the
whole to be rehearsed, and, struck with admiration
of it, conferred then upon Virgil the glorious title of
Magnus spes altera Romce.
Nor is it old Donatus only who relates this ; we
have the same account from another very credible
and ancient author ; so that here we have the
judgment of Cicero, and the people of Rome, to
confront the single opinion of this adventurous cri-
tic. A man ought to be well assured of his own
abilities, before he attacks an author of established
reputation. If Mr Fontenelle had perused the frag-
ments of the Phoenician antiquity, traced the pro-
gress of learning through the ancient Greek wri-
ters, or so much as consulted his learned country-
man Huetius, he would have found, (which falls out
unluckily for him,) that a Chaldaean shepherd dis-
covered to the Egyptians and Greeks the creation
of the world. And what subject more fit for such a
pastoral, than that great affair which was first no-
tified to the world by one of that profession ? N T or
does it appear, (what he takes for granted,) that Viiv
gil describes the original of the world according to
the hypothesis of Epicurus. He was too well seen
in antiquity to commit such a gross mistake; there
is not the least mention of chance in that whole
passage, nor of the clinamen principiorum, so pecu-
liar to Epicurus's hypothesis. Virgil had not only
more piety, but was of too nice a judgment to in-
troduce a god denying the power and providence of
the Deity, and singing a hymn to the atoms and
blind chance. On the contrary, his description
352 PREFACE TO THE PASTORALS.
agrees very well with that of Moses ; and the elo-
quent commentator Dacier, who is so confident
that Horace had perused the sacred history, might
with greater reason have affirmed the same thing of
Virgil ; for, besides that famous passage in the sixth
^tjei'd, (by which this may be illustrated,) where the
word principle is used in the front of both by Moses
and Virgil, and the seas are first mentioned, and
the spiritus intus alit, which might not improbably,
as M. Dacier would suggest, allude to the " Spirit
moving upon the face of the waters ;" but, omitting
this parallel place, the successive formation of the
world is evidently described in these words,
Rerum paulatim sumere formas :
And it is hardly possible to render more literally
that verse of Moses, " Let the waters be gathered
into one place, and let the dry land appear" than in
this of Virgil,
Jam durctre salum, et discludere Nerea panto.
After this, the formation of the sun is described,
(exactly in the Mosaical order,) and, next, the pro-
duction of the first living creatures, and that too in
a small number, (still in the same method,)
Rara per ignotos errent animalia mantes.
And here the foresaid author would probably re-
mark, that Virgil keeps more exactly to the Mosaic
system, than an ingenious writer, who will by no
means allow mountains to be coeval with the world.
Thus much will make it probable at least, that Vir-
gil had Moses in his thoughts rather than Epicurus,
when he composed this poem. But it is further
remarkable, that this passage was taken from a song
PREFACE TO THE PASTORALS. 353
attributed to Apollo, who himself, too, unluckily
had been a shepherd ; and he took it from another
yet more ancient, composed by the first inventor
of music, and at that time a shepherd too ; and this
is one of the noblest fragments of Greek antiquity.
And, because I cannot suppose the ingenious M.
Fontenelle one of their number, who pretend to
censure the Greeks, without being able to dis-
tinguish Greek from Ephesian characters, I shall
here set down the lines from which Virgil took this
passage, though none of the commentators have
observed it :
, &C.
Thus Linus too began his poem, as appears by a
fragment of it preserved by Diogenes Laertius ; and
the like may be instanced in Musseus himself; so
that our poet here, with great judgment, as always,
follows the ancient custom of beginning their more
solemn songs with the creation, and does it too
most properly under the person of a shepherd.
And thus the first and best employment of poetry
was, to compose hymns in honour of the great Cre-
ator of the universe.
Few words will suffice to answer his other objec-
tions. He demands why those several transforma-
tions are mentioned in that poem : And is not fa-
ble then the life and soul of poetry ? Can himself
assign a more proper subject of pastoral than the
Saturnia regna, the age and scene of this kind of
poetry? What theme more fit for the song of a god,
or to imprint religious awe, than the omnipotent
power of transforming the species of creatures at
their pleasure ? Their families lived in groves, near
VOL. XIIT. z
354 PREFACE TO THE PASTORALS.
the clear springs ; and what better warning could be
given to the hopeful young shepherds, than that
they should not gaze too much into the liquid dan-
gerous looking-glass, for fear of being stolen by the
water-nymphs, that is, falling and being drowned,
as Hylas was r Pasiphae's monstrous passion for a
bull is certainly a subject enough fitted for bucolics.
Can M. Fontenelle tax Silenus for fetching too far
the transformation of the sisters of Phaeton into
trees, when perhaps they sat at that very time under
the hospitable shade of those alders and poplars
or the metamorphosis of Philomela into that ravish-
ing bird, which makes the sweetest music of the
groves ? If he had looked into the ancient Greek
writers, or so much as consulted honest Servius,
he would have discovered, that, under the allegory
of this drunkenness of Silenus, the refinement and
exaltation of men's minds by philosophy was in-
tended. But, if the author of these reflections
can take such flights in his wine, it is almost pity
that drunkenness should be a sin, or that he should
ever want good store of burgundy and champaign.
But indeed he seems not to have ever drank out of
Silenus's tankard, when he composed either his
Critique or Pastorals.
His censure on the fourth seems worse grounded
than the other. It is entitled, in some ancient ma-
nusciipts, the " History of the Renovation of the
World.' 1 He complains, that he " cannot understand
what is meant by those many figurative expres-
sions :" but, if he had consulted the younger Vos-
sius's dissertation on this Pastoral, or read the ex-
cellent oration of the emperor Constantine, made
French by a good pen of their own, he would have
found there the plain interpretation of all those fi-
gurative expressions; and, withal, very strong proofs
PREFACE TO THE PASTORALS* 355
of the truth of the Christian religion; such as con-
verted heathens, as Valerianus, and others. And,
upon account of this piece, the most learned of all
the Latin fathers calls Virgil a Christian, even be-
fore Christianity. . Cicero takes notice of it in his
books of Divination ; and Virgil probably had put
it in verse a considerable time before the edition
of his Pastorals. Nor does he appropriate it to
Pollio, or his son, but coinplimentally dates it from
his consulship ; and therefore some one, who had
not so kind thoughts of M. Fontenelle as I, would
be inclined to think him as bad a Catholic as critic
in this place.
But, in respect to some books he has wrote
since, I pass by a great part of this, and shall
only touch briefly some of the rules of this sort
of poem.
The first is, that an air of piety, upon all occa~
sions, should be maintained in the whole poem.
This appears in all the ancient Greek writers, as
Homer, Hesiod, Aratus, &c. And Virgil is so ex-
act in the observation of it, not only in this work,
but in his 'vEne'is" too, that a celebrated French
writer taxes him for permitting ./Eneas to do no-
thing without the assistance of some god. But by
this it appears, at least, that M. St Evremont is no
J an sen i st.
M. Fontenelle seems a little defective in this
point : he brings in a pair of shepherdesses disput-
ing very warmly, whether Victoria be a goddess or
a woman. Her great condescension and compas-
sion, her affability and goodness, (none of the
meanest attributes of the divinity,) pass for convin-
cing arguments, that she could not possibly be a
goddess.
356 PREFACE TO THE PASTORALS.
Les Deesses, toujours JUres et meprisantes,
Ne rassureroient point les bergeres tremblantes
Par d'obligeans discours, des souris gracieux.
Mais tu I'as ru : cctte auguste persoTme,
2ui vient de paroitre en ces lieux,
Prend soin de rassurer nu moment qu'elle etonne ;
Sa bonte descendant sans peinejusqii d nous.
In short, she has too many divine perfections to be
a deity, and therefore she is a mortal ; which was
the thing to be proved. It is directly contrary to
the practice of all ancient poets, as well as to the
rules of decency and religion, to make such odious
preferences. I am much surprised, therefore, that
he should use such an argument as this :
Cloris, as-tu vu des deesses
Avoir un air si facile et si doux ?
Was not Aurora, and Venus, and Luna, and I know
not how many more of the heathen deities, too easy
of access to Tithonus, to Anchises, and to Endy-
mion ? Is there any thing more sparkish and better-
humoured than Venus's accosting her son in the
deserts of Libya? or than the behaviour of Pallas
to Diomedes, one of the most perfect and admira-
ble pieces of all the Iliads ; where she condescends
to radii him so agreeably ; and, notwithstanding her
severe virtue, and all the ensigns of majesty with
whicn she so terribly adorns herself, condescends to
ride with him in his chariot? But the Odysseys
are full of greater instances of condescension than
this.
This brings to mind that famous passage of Lu-
can, in which he prefers Cato to all the gods at once :
Victrix causa diis placuit, sed victa Catoni
PREFACE TO THE PASTORALS. 357
which Breboeuf has rendered so flatly, and which
may be thus paraphrased :
Heaven meanly with the conqueror did comply ;
But Cato, rather than submit, would die. *
It is an unpardonable presumption in any sort of
religion, to compliment their princes at the expence
of their deities.
But, letting that pass, this whole Eclogue is but a
long paraphrase of a trite verse in Virgil, and Ho-
mer;
Nee rox hominem sonat : Dca eerie !
So true is that remark of the admirable Earl of
Roscommon, if applied to the Romans, rather, I
fear, than to the English, since his own death :
-one sterling line,
Drawn to French wire, would through whole pages shine.
Another rule is, that the characters should repre-
sent that ancient innocence, and unpractised plain-
ness, which was then in the world. P. Rapin has
gathered many instances of this out of Theocritus
and Virgil : and the reader can do it as well as him-
^j *
self. But M. Fontenelle transgressed this rule,
when he hid himself in the thicket to listen to the
* Most readers will be of opinion, that Walsh has rendered this
celebrated passage not only flatly, but erroneously. His transla-
tion seems to infer, that the gods were in danger of dying, had they
not meanly complied with the conqueror. At any rate, the real com-
pliment to Cato, which consists in weighing his sense of justice
against that of the gods themselves, totally evaporates. Perhaps
the following lines may express Lucan's meaning, though without
the concise force of the original :
The victor was the care of partial Heaven,
But to the conquered cause was Cato's suffrage given.
358 PREFACE TO THE PASTORALS.
private discourse of the two shepherdesses. This
is not only ill breeding at Versailles ; the Arcadian
shepherdesses themselves would have set their dogs
upon one for such an unpardonable piece of rude-
ness.
A third rule is, that there should be some ordon-
nance, some design, or little plot, which may de-
serve the title of a pastoral scene. This is every-
where observed by Virgil, and particularly remark-
able in the first Eclogue, the standard of all pasto-
rals. A beautiful landscape presents itself to your
view , a shepherd, with his flock around him, resting
securely under a spreading beech, which furnished
the first food to our ancestors ; another in a quite
different situation of mind and circumstances ; the
sun setting ; the hospitality of the more fortunate
shepherd, &c. And here M. Fontenelle seems not
a little wanting.
A fourth rule, and of great importance in this de-
licate sort of writing, is, that there be choice diver-
sity of subjects ; that the Eclogue, like a beautiful
prospect, should charm by its variety. Virgil is ad-
mirable in this point, and far surpasses Theocritus,
as he do.es every-where, when judgment and con-
trivance have the principal part. The subject of
the first Pastoral is hinted above.
The Second contains the love of Corydon for
Alexis, and the seasonable reproach he gives him-
self, that he left his vines half pruned, (which, ac-
cording to the Roman rituals, derived a curse upon
the fruit that grew upon it,) whilst he pursued an
object undeserving his passion.
The Third, a sharp contention of two shepherds
for the prize of poetry.
'] he i oui th contains the discourse of a shepherd
comforting himself) in a declining age, that a better
was ensumsr.
PREFACE TO THE PASTORALS. 359
The Fifth, a lamentation for a dead friend, the
first draught of which is probably more ancient than
any of the pastorals now extant ; his brother being
at first intended ; but he afterwards makes his court
to Augustus, by turning it into an apotheosis of Ju-
lius Caesar.
The Sixth is the Silenus.
The Seventh, another poetical dispute, first com-
posed at Mantua.
The Eighth is the description of a despairing lover,
and a magical charm.
He sets the Ninth after all these, very modest-
ly, because it was particular to himself; and here
lie would have ended that work, if Gallus had
not prevailed upon him to add one more in his
favour.
Thus curious was Virgil in diversifying his sub-
jects. But M. Fontenelle is a great deal too uni-
form : begin where you please, the subject is still
the same. We find it true what he says of him-
self,
Toujours, toujours de I'amour.
He seems to take pastorals and love- verses for
the same thing. Has human nature no other pas-
sion ? Does not fear, ambition, avarice, pride, a ca-
priccio of honour, and laziness itself, often triumph
over love ? But this passion does all, not only in
pastorals, but in modern tragedies too. A hero can
no more fight, or be sick, or die, than he can be
born, without a woman. But dramatics have been
composed in compliance to the humour of the age,
and the prevailing inclination of the great, whose
example has a more powerful influence, not only in
the little court behind the scenes, but on the great
theatre of the world. However, this inundation of
love-verses is not so much an effect of their amo-
560 PREFACE TO THE PASTORALS.
rousness, as of immoderate self-love ; this being
the only sort of poetry, in which the writer can, not
only without censure, but even with commendation,
talk of himself. There is generally more of the
passion of Narcissus, than concern for Chloris and
Corinna, in this whole affair. Be pleased to look
into almost any of those writers, and you shall meet
everywhere that eternal Moi, which the admirable
Pascal so judiciously condemns. Homer can never
be enough admired for this one so particular quali-
ty, that he never speaks of himself, either in the
Iliad or the Odysseys : and, if Horace had never
told us his genealogy, but left it to the writer of his
life, perhaps he had not been a loser by it. This
consideration might induce those great critics, Va-
rius and Tucca, to raze out the four first verses of
the " JEnei's," in great measure, for the sake of that
unlucky Hie ego. But extraordinary geniuses have
a sort of prerogative, which may dispense them
from laws, binding to subject wits. However, the
ladies have the less reason to be pleased with
those addresses, of which the poet takes the greater
share to himself. Thus the beau presses into
their dressing-room ; but it is not so much to
adore their fair eyes, as to adjust his own steen-
kirk and peruke, and set his countenance in their
glass.
A fifth rule (which one may hope will not be
contested) is, that the writer should show in his
compositions some competent skill of the subject
matter, that which makes the character of persons
introduced. In this, as in all other points of learn-
ing, decency, and oeconomy of a poem, Virgil much
excels his master Theocritus. The poet is better
skilled in husbandry than those that get their bread
by it. He describes the nature, the diseases, the
PREFACE TO THE PASTORALS. 36l
remedies, the proper places, and seasons, of feed-
ing, of watering their flocks ; the furniture, diet,
the lodging and pastimes, of his shepherds. But the
persons brought in by M. Fontenelle are shepherds
in masquerade, and handle their sheep-hook as auk-
ward ly as they do their oaten reed. They saunter
about with their chers moutons ; but they relate as
little to the business in hand, as the painter's dog,
or a Dutch ship, does to the history designed. One
would suspect some of them, that, instead of lead-
ing out their sheep into the plains of Mont-Brison
and Marcilli, to the flowery banks of Lignon, or the
Charante, they are driving directly a la bouckerie,
to make money of them. I hope hereafter M.
Fontenelle will chuse his servants better.
A sixth rule is, that, as the style ought to be na-
tural, clear, and elegant, it should have some pecu-
liar relish of the ancient fashion of writing. Para-
bles in those times were frequently used, as they
are still by the eastern nations ; philosophical ques-
tions, senigmas, &c. ; and of this we find instances in
the sacred writings, in Homer, contemporary with
king David, in Herodotus, in the Greek tragedians.
This piece of antiquity is imitated by Virgil with
great judgment and discretion. He has proposed
one riddle, which has never yet been solved by any
of his commentators. Though he knew the rules
of rhetoric as well as Cicero himself, he conceals
that skill in his Pastorals, and keeps close to the
character of antiquity. Nor ought the connections
and transitions to be very strict and regular ; this
would give the Pastorals an air of novelty ; and of
this neglect of exact connections, we have instances
in the writings of the ancient Chineses, of the Jews
and Greeks, in Pindar, and other writers of dithy-
rambics, in the choruses of JEschylus, Sophocles,
and Euripides. If M. Fontenelle and Ruaeus had
36*2 PREFACE TO THE PASTORALS.
considered this, the one would have spared his
critique of the sixth, and the other, his reflections
upon the ninth Pastoral. The over-scrupulous care of
connections makes the modern compositions often-
times tedious and flat: and hy the omission of them
it comes to pass, that the Pensfesof the incompara-
ble M. Pascal, and perhaps of M. Bruyere, are two
of the most entertaining books which the modern
French can boast of. Virgil, in this point, was not
only faithful to the character of antiquity, but co-
pies after Nature herself. Thus a meadow, where
the beauties of the spring are profusely blended to-
gether, makes a more delightful prospect, than a cu-
rious parterre of" sorted flowers in our gardens :
and we are much more transported with the beauty
of the heavens, and admiration of their Creator, in
a clear night, when we behold stars of all magni-
tudes promiscuously moving together, than if those
glorious lights were ranked in their several orders,
or reduced into the finest geometrical figures.
Another rule omitted by P. Rapin, as some of his
are by me, (for 1 do not design an entire treatise in
this preface,) is, that not only the sentences should
be short and smart, (upon which account he justly
blames the Italian and French, as too talkative,)
but that the whole piece should be so too. Virgil
transgressed this rule in his first Pastorals, (I mean
those which he composed at Mantua,) but rectified
the fault in his riper years. This appears by the
Culex, which is as long as five of his Pastorals put
together The greater part of those he finished
have less than a hundred verses ; and but two of
them exceed that number. But the " Silenus," which
he seems to have designed for his master-piece, in
which he introduces a god singing, and he, too, full
of inspiration, (which is intended by that ebriety,
PREFACE TO THE PASTORALS. 36$
which M. Fontenelle so unreasonably ridicules,)
though it go through so vast a field of matter, and
comprises the mythology of near two thousand
years, consists but of fifty lines ; so that its brevity
is no less admirable, than the subject matter, the
noble fashion of handling it, and the deity speaking.
Virgil keeps up his characters in this respect too,
with the strictest decency : for poetry and pastime
was not the business of men's lives in those days,
but only their seasonable recreation after necessary
labours. And therefore the length of some of the
modern Italian and English compositions is against
the rules of this kind of poesy.
I shall add something very briefly, touching the
versification of Pastorals, though it be a mortifying
consideration to the moderns. Heroic verse, as it
is commonly called, was used by the Greeks in this
sort of poem, as very ancient and natural ; lyrics,
iambics, c. being invented afterwards : but there
is so great a difference in the numbers of which it
may be compounded, that it may pass rather for a
genus, than species, of verse. Whosoever shall
compare the numbers of the three following verses,
will quickly be sensible of the truth of this ob-
servation :
Tit y re, tu patulce recubans sub tegmine fagi
the first of the Georgics,
Quidfaciat Icctas segetes, quo sidere terram
and of the jEnei's,
Arma, virumque cano, Trojce qui primus ab oris. '
The sound of the verses is almost as different as
the subjects. But the Greek writers of Pastoral
364 PREFACE TO THE PASTORALS.
usually limited themselves to the example of the
first; which Virgil found so exceedingly difficult,
lhat he quitted it, and left the honour of that part
to Theocritus. It is indeed probable, that what we
improperly call rhyme, is the most ancient sort of
poetry ; and learned men have given good argu-
ments for it ; and therefore a French historian com-
mits a gross mistake, when he attributes that inven-
tion to a king of Gaul, as an English gentleman
does, when he makes a Roman emperor the in-
ventor of it. But the Greeks, who understood ful-
ly the force and power of numbers, soon grew weary
of this childish sort of verse, as the younger Vossius
justly calls it; and therefore those rhyming hexame-
ters, which Plutarch observes in Homer himself,
seem to be the remains of a barbarous age. Virgil
had them in such abhorrence, that he would rather
make a false syntax, than what we call a rhyme.
Such a verse as this,
Vir, precor, \ixor\,frater succurre sorori,
was passable in Ovid ; but the nicer ears in Augus-
tus's court could not pardon Virgil for
At regina pyrd ....
so that the principal ornament of modern poetry was
accounted deformity by the Latins and Greeks. It
was they who invented the different terminations of
words, those happy compositions, those short mo-
nosyllables, those transpositions for the elegance of
the sound and sense, which are wanting so much
in modern languages. The French sometimes crowd
together ten or twelve monosyllables into one dis-
jointed verse. They may understand the nature of,
but cannot imitate, those wonderful spondees of
Pythagoras, by which he could suddenly pacify a
PREFACE TO THE PASTORALS. 365
man that was in a violent transport of anger; nor
those swift numbers of the priests of Cybele, which
had the force to enrage the most sedate and
phlegmatic tempers. Nor can any modern put into
his own language the energy of that single poem of
Catullus,
Sper alta vectus Atys, &c.
Latin is but a corrupt dialect of Greek; and the
French, Spanish, and Italian, a corruption of Latin;
and therefore a man might as well go about to per-
suade me that vinegar is a nobler liquor than wine,
as that the modern compositions can be as graceful
and harmonious as the Latin itself. The Greek
tongue very naturally falls into iambics, and there-
fore the diligent reader may find six or seven-and-
twenty of them in those accurate orations of Iso-
crates. The Latin as naturally falls into heroic;
and therefore the beginning of Livy's History is half
a hexameter, and that of Tacitus an entire one.
The Roman historian *, describing the glorious ef-
fort of a colonel to break through a brigade of the
enemy's, just after the defeat at Cannae, falls, un-
knowingly, into a verse not unworthy Virgil him-
self '
Hcec ubi dicta dedit, stringit gladium, cuneoque
Facto, per medios &c.
Ours and the French can at best but fall into
blank verse, which is a fault in prose. The mis-
fortune indeed is common to us both ; but we de-
serve more compassion, because w r e are not vain of
Livy.
366 PREFACE TO THE PASTORALS.
our barbarities. As age brings men back into tbe
state and infirmities of childhood, upon the fall of
their empire, the Romans doted into rhyme, as ap-
pears sufficiently by the hymns of the Latin church ;
and yet a great deal of the French poetry does
hardly deserve that poor title. I shall give an in-
stance out of a poem which had the good luck to
gain the prize in \6$5 ; for the subject deserved a
nobler pen :
Tons hs jours ce grand roy, des outres roys I' exemplc,
S'oiare un noureau chemin aufaite de ton temple, &c.
The judicious Malherbe exploded this sort of
verse near eighty years ago. Nor can I forbear
wondering at that passage of a famous academician,
in which he, most compassionately, excuses the an-
cients for their not being so exact in their compo-
sitions as the modern French, because they wanted
a dictionary, of which the French are at last happily
provided. If Demosthenes and Cicero had been
so lucky as to have had a dictionary, and such a
patron as cardinal Richelieu, perhaps they might
have aspired to the honour of Balzac's legacy of
ten pounds, Le prLv de V eloquence.
On the contrary, I dare assert, that there are
hardly ten lines in either of those great orators, or
even in the catalogue of Homer's ships, which are
not more harmonious, more truly rhythmical, than
most of the French or English sonnets ; and there-
fore they lose, at least, one half of their native
beauty by translation.
I cannot but add one remark on this occasion,
that the French verse is oftentimes not so much as
rhyme, in the lowest sense ; for the childish repeti-
PREFACE TO THE PASTORALS. 567
tion of the same note cannot be called music. Such
instances are infinite, as in the forecitecl poem :
epris tropliee cache
mepris Orphee cherche.
M. Boileau himself has a great deal of this
ftovoToviai., not by his own neglect, but purely by
the faultiness and poverty of the French tongue.
M. Fontenelle at last goes into the excessive para-
doxes of M. Perrault, and boasts of the vast number
of their excellent songs, preferring them to the Greek
and Latin. But an ancient writer, of as good credit,
has assured us, that seven lives would hardly suffice
to read over the Greek odes ; but a few weeks
would be sufficient, if a man were so very idle as to
read over all the French. In the mean time, I
should be very glad to see a catalogue of but fifty
of theirs with
Exact propriety of word and thought. *
Notwithstanding all the high encomiums and mu-
tual gratulations which they give one another,
(for I am far from censuring the whole of that il-
lustrious society, to which the learned world is
much obliged,) after all those golden dreams at the
Louvre, that their pieces will be as much valued,
ten or twelve ages hence, as the ancient Greek or
Roman, I can no more get it into my head that
they will last so long, than I could believe the
learned Dr H k [of the Royal Society,] if he
should pretend to show me a butterfly, that had
Jived a thousand winters.
Essay of Poetry.
36*8 PREFACE TO THE PASTORALS.
When M. Fontenelle wrote his Eclogues, he was
so far from equalling Virgil, or Theocritus, that he
had some pains to take before he could understand
in what the principal beauty and graces of their
writings do consist.
Cum mortals non nisi larva luctantur.
369
PASTORAL I.
OR,
TITYRUS AND MELIBCEUS.
ARGUMENT.
The occasion of the First Pastoral was this : When Augustus had
settled himself in the Roman empire, that he might reward his
"veteran troops for their past service, he distributed among them
all the lands that lay about Cremona and Mantua ; turning out
the right owners for hating sided with his enemies. Virgil was
a sufferer among the rest, who afterwards recovered his estate by
Maecenas's intercession ; and, as an instance of his gratitude,
composed the following Pastoral, where he sets out his own good
fortune in the person ofTityrus, and the calamities of his Man-
tuan neighbours in the character of Melibwus.
MELIBCEUS.
JDENEATH the shade which beechen boughs diffuse,
You, Tityrus, entertain your sylvan muse.
Round the wide world in banishment we roam,
Forced from our pleasing fields and native home ;
AYhile, stretched at ease, you sing your happy loves,
And Amaryllis fills the shady groves.
VOL. XT i r. C A
370 PASTORAL 1.
TITYRUS.
These blessings, friend, a deity bestowed ;
For never can I deem him less than God.
The tender firstlings of my woolly breed
Shall on- his holy altar often bleed.
He gave my kine to graze the flowery plain,
And to my pipe renewed the rural strain.
MEL1B(US.
I envy not your fortune, but admire,
That, while the raging sword and wasteful fire
Destroy the wretched neighbourhood around,
No hostile arms approach your happy ground.
Far different is my fate ; my feeble goats
With pains I drive from their forsaken cotes :
And this, you see, I scarcely drag along,
Who, yeaning, on the rocks has left her young,
The hope and promise of my failing fold.
My loss, by dire portents, the gods foretold ;
For, had I not been blind, I might have seen :
Yon riven oak, the fairest of the green,
And the hoarse raven, on the blasted bough,
By croaking from the left, presaged the coming blow.
But tell me, Tityrus, what heavenly power
Preserved your fortunes in that fatal hour ?
TITYRUS.
Fool that I was, I thought imperial Rome "1
Like Mantua, where on market-days we come, >
And thither drive our tender lambs from home, j
So kids and whelps their sires and dams express,
And so the great I measured by the less.
But country towns, compared with her, appear
Like shrubs, when lofty cypresses are near.
PASTORAL I. 371
MELIEOIUS.
What great occasion called you hence to Rome ?
TJTYRUS.
Freedom, which came at length, though slow to come.
Nor did my search of liberty begin,
Till my black hairs were changed upon my chin ;
Nor Amaryllis would vouchsafe a look,
Till Galatea's meaner bonds I broke.
Till then a helpless, hopeless, homely swain,
I sought not freedom, nor aspired to gain :
Though many a victim from my folds was bought,
And many a cheese to country markets brought,
Yet all the little that I got, I spent,
And still returned as empty as I went.
MELIBCEUS.
We stood amazed to see your mistress mourn,
Unknowing that she pined for your return ;
We wondered why she kept her fruit so long,
For whom so late the ungathered apples hung.
But now the wonder ceases, since I see
She kept them only, Tityrus, for thee ;
For thee the bubbling springs appeared to mourn,
And whispering pines made vows for thy return.
TITYRUS.
What should I do ? While here I was enchained,
No glimpse of godlike liberty remained ;
Nor could I hope, in any place but there,
To find a god so present to my prayer.
There first the youth of heavenly birth I viewed,*
For whom our monthly victims are renewed.
* Virgil means Octavius Caesar, heir to Julius, who perhaps
1
372 PASTORAL 1.
He beard my vows, and graciously decreed
My grounds to be restored, my former flocks to feed.
MELIBCEUS.
O fortunate old man ! wbose farm remains -\
For you sufficient and requites your pains ;
Thougb rushes overspread the neighbouring plains. )
Though here the marshy groundsapproach your fields,
And there the soil a stony harvest yields.
Your teeming ewes shall no strange meadows try,
Nor fear a rot from tainted company.
Behold ! yon bordering fence of sallow trees
Is fraught with flowers, the flowers are fraught with
bees;
The busy bees, with a soft murmuring strain,
Invite to gentle sleep the labouring swain.
While, from the neighbouring rock, with rural songs.
The pruner's voice the pleasing dream prolongs,
Stock- doves and turtles tell their amorous pain,
And, from the lofty elms, of love complain.
TITYRUS.
The inhabitants of seas and skies shall change,
And fish on shore, and stags in air, shall range,
The banished Parthian dwell on Arar's brink,
And the blue German shall the Tigris drink,
Ere F, forsaking gratitude and truth,
Forget the figure of that godlike youth.
MELIECEUS.
Cut we must beg our bread in climes unknown,
Beneath tne scorching or the freezing zone ;
had not arrived to his twentieth year, when Virgil saw him first.
Vide his Lite. Of heavenly birth, or heavenly blood, because the
Julian family was derived from liilus, son to ^Eneas, and grand-
son to Venus.
PASTORAL I. 373
And some to far Oaxis shall be sold,
Or try the Libyan heat, or Scythian cold;
The rest among the JBritons be confined,
A race of men from all the world disjoined.
O ! must the wretched exiles ever mourn,
Nor, after length of rolling years, return ?
Are we condemned by fate's unjust decree,
No more our houses and our homes to see ?
Or shall we mount again the rural throne,
And rule the country kingdoms, once our own?
Did we for these barbarians plant and sow ?
On these, on these, our happy fields bestow?
Good heaven ! what dire effects from civil discord
flow!
Now let me graff my pears, and prune the vine ;
The fruit is theirs, the labour only mine.
Farewell, my pastures, my paternal stock,
My fruitful fields, and my more fruitful flock !
No more, my goats, shall I behold you climb
The steepy cliffs, or crop the flowery thyme !
No more, extended in the grot below,
Shall see you browzing on the mountain's brow
The prickly shrubs ; and after on the bare,
Lean down the deep abyss, and hang in air.
No more my sheep shall sip the morning dew ; "j
No more my song shall please the rural crew :
Adieu, my tuneful pipe ! and all the world, adieu ! J
TJTYRUS.
This night, at least, with me forget your care ;
Chesnuts, and curds and cream, shall be your fare :
The carpet-ground shall be with leaves oerspread,
And boughs shall weave a covering for your head.
For see yon sunny hill the shade extends,
And curling smoke from cottages ascends.
374
OR,
ALEXIS.
ARGUMENT.
The commentators can by no means agree on the person of Alexis,
but are all of opinion that some beautiful youth is meant by him, to
whom Virgil here makes love, in Corydons language and simplicity.
His way of courtship is wholly pastoral : he complains of the boy's
coyness; recommends himself for his beauty and skill in piping;
invites the youth into the country, inhere he promises him the diver-
sions of the place, with a suitable present of nuts and apples. But
when he finds nothing will prevail, he resolves to quit his trouble-
some amour, and betake himself again to his former business.
^
YOUNG Corydon, the unhappy shepherd swain,
The fair Alexis loved, but loved in vain ;
And underneath the beechen shade, alone,
Thus to the woods and mountains made his moan :
Is this, unkind Alexis, my reward ?
And must I die unpitied, and unheard ?
Now the green lizard in the grove is laid,
The sheep enjoy the coolness of the shade,
PASTORAL II. 375
And Thestylis wild thyme and garlic beats
For harvest hinds, o'erspent with toil and heats ;
While in the scorching sun I trace in vain
Thy flying footsteps o'er the burning plain.
The creaking locusts with my voice conspire,
They fried with heat, and I with fierce desire.
How much more easy was it to sustain
Proud Amaryllis, and her haughty reign,
The scorns of young Menalcas, once my care,
Though he was black, and thou art heavenly fair.
Trust not too much to that enchanting face ;
Beauty's a charm, but soon the charm will pass.
White lilies lie neglected on the plain,
While dusky hyacinths for use remain.
My passion is thy scorn ; nor wilt thou know
What wealth I have, what gifts I can bestow ;
What stores my dairies and my folds contain
A thousand lambs, that wander on the plain ;
New milk, that all the winter never fails,
And all the summer overflows the pails.
Amphion sung not sweeter to his herd,
When summoned stones the Theban turrets reared.
Nor am I so deformed ; for late I stood
Upon the margin of the briny flood :
The winds were still ; and, if the glass be true,
With Daphnis I may vie, though judged by you.
O leave the noisy town ! O come and see
Our country cots, and live content with me !
*/
To wound the flying deer, and from their cotes
With me to drive a-field the browzing goats ;
To pipe and sing, and, in our country strain,
To copy, or perhaps contend with Pan.
Pan taught to join with wax unequal reeds ;
Pan loves the shepherds, and their flocks he feeds.
Nor scorn the pipe : Amyntas, to be taught,
With all his kisses would my skill have bought.
376 PASTORAL II.
Of seven smooth joints a mellow pipe I have,
Which with his dying breath Damoetas gave,
And said, " This, Coryclon, I leave to thee ;
For only thou deserv'st it after me."
His eyes Amyntas durst not upward lift ;
For much he grudged the praise, but more the gift.
Besides, two kids, that in the valley strayed,
I found by chance, and to my fold conveyed :
They drain two bagging udders every day ;
And these shall be companions of thy play ;
Both fleck'd with white, the true Arcadian strain,
Which Thestylis had often begged in vain :
And she shall have them, if again she sues,
Since you the giver and the gift refuse.
Come to my longing arms, my lovely care !
And take the presents which the nymphs prepare.
White lilies in full canisters they bring,
With all the glories of the purple spring.
The daughters of the flood have searched the mead
For violets pale, and cropp'd the poppy's head,
The short narcissus * and fair daffodil,
Fancies to please the sight, and cassia sweet to smell ;
And set soft hyacinths with iron blue,
To shade marsh marigolds of shining hue;
Some bound in order, others loosely strowed,
To dress thy bower, and trim thy new abode.
Myself will search our planted grounds at home,
For downy peaches and the glossy plum ;
And thrash the chesnuts in the neighbouring grove,
Such as my Amaryllis used to love.
The laurel and the myrtle sweets agree,
And both in nosegays shall be bound for thee.
Ah, Corydon ! ah, poor unhappy swain !
Alexis will thy homely gifts disdain:
That is, of short continuance.
PASTORAL II. 377
Nor, should'st thou offer all thy little store,
Will rich lolas yield, but offer more.
What have I done, to name that wealthy swain ?
So powerful are his presents, mine so mean !
The boar, amidst my crystal streams, I bring;
And southern winds to blast my flowery spring.
Ah, cruel creature ! whom dost thou despise ?
The gods, to live in woods, have left the skies ;
And godlike Paris, in the Ida?an grove,
To Priam's wealth preferred (Enone's love.
In cities, which she built, let Pallas reign ;
Towers are for gods, but forests for the swain.
The greedy lioness the wolf pursues,
The wolf the kid, the wanton kid the browze ;
Alexis, thou art chased by Corydon :
All follow several games, and each his own.
See, from afar, the fields no longer smoke ;
The sweating steers, unharnessed from the yoke,
Bring, as in triumph, back the crooked plough ;
The shadows lengthen as the sun goes low ;
Cool breezes now the raging heats remove :
Ah, cruel heaven, that made no cure for love !
I wish for balmy sleep, but wish in vain ;
Love bas no bounds in pleasure, or in pain.
What frenzy, shepherd, has thy soul possessed ?
Thy vineyard lies half pruned, and half undressed.
Quench, Corydon, thy long unanswered fire !
Mind what the common wants of life require ;
On willow twigs employ thy weaving care,
And find an easier love, though not so fair.
378
PASTORAL III.
OR.
PALJEMON.
\
MENALCAS, DAMOETAS, PALyEMON.
ARGUMENT.
Damoctas and Menalcas, after some smart strokes of country raillery,
resolve to try who has the most skill at song ; and accordingly make
their neighbour, Palcemon, judge of their peiforrnances ; who, after a
full hearing of both parties, declares himself unfit for the decision
of so weighty a controversy, and leaves the victory undetermined.
MENALCAS.
Ho, swain ! what shepherd owns those ragged sheep ?
DAM(ETAS.
JEgon's they are : he gave them me to keep.
MENALCAS.
Unhappy sheep, of an unhappy swain ! "}
While he Nesra courts, hut courts in vain,
And fears that I the damsel shall obtain. 1
PASTORAL III. 379
Thou, varlet, dost thy master's gains devour ;
Thou milk'st his ewes, and often twice an hour ;
Of grass and fodder thou defraud'st the dams,
And of their mothers' dugs the starving lambs.
DAMOZTAS.
Good words, young catamite, at least to men.
We know who did your business, how, and when ;
And in what chapel too you played your prize,
And what the goats observed with leering eyes :
The nymphs were kind, and laughed ; and there
your safety lies.
MENALCAS.
Yes, when I cropt the hedges of the leys,
Cut Micon's tender vines, and stole the stays !
DAMQETAS.
Or rather, when, beneath yon ancient oak,
The bow of Daphnis, and the shafts, you broke,
When the fair boy received the gift of right ;
And, but for mischief, you had died for spite.
MENALCAS.
What nonsense would the fool, thy master, prate,
When thou, his knave, canst talk at such a rate !
Did I not see you, rascal, did I not,
When you lay snug to snap young Damon's goat?
His mongrel barked ; I ran to his relief,
And cried, " There, there he goes ! stop, stop the
thief!"
Discovered, and defeated of your prey,
You skulked behind the fence, and sneaked away.
DAMQ-.TAS.
An honest man may freely take his own :
The goat was mine, by singing fairly won.
380 PASTORAL III.
A solemn match was made ; he lost the prize. 1
Ask Damon, ask, if he the debt denies.
I think he dares not ; if he does, he lies. j
MENALCAS.
Thou sing with him ? thou booby ! Never pipe
Was so profaned to touch that blubbered lip.
Dunce at the best ! in streets but scarce allowed
To tickle, on thy straw, the stupid crowd.
DAMGZTAS.
To bring it to the trial, will you dare
Our pipes, our skill, our voices, to compare ?
My b rinded heifer to the stake I lay ;
Two thriving calves she suckles twice a day,
And twice besides her beestings never tail
To store the dairy with a brimming pail.
Now back your singing with an equal stake.
MENALCAS.
That should be seen, if I had one to make.
You know too well, I feed my father's flock;
W^hat can I wager from the common stock ?
A stepdame too I have, a cursed she,
Who rules my hen-peck'd sire, and orders me.
Both number twice a day the milky dams ;
And once she takes the tale of all the lambs.
But, since you will be mad, and since you may]
Suspect my courage, if I should not lay.
The pawn I proffer shall be full as good :
Two bowls I have, well turned, of beechen wood;
Botli by divine Alcimedon were made ;
To neither of them yet the lip is laid.
The lids are ivy ; grapes in clusters lurk
Beneath the carving of the curious work.
Two figures on the sides embossed appear "^
Conon, and what's his name who made the sphere, >
And shewed the seasons of the sliding year, j
PASTORAL nr. 381
Instructed in his trade the labouring swain,
And when to reap, and when to sow the grain ?
DAMOZTAS.
And I have two, to match your pair, at home ;
The wood the same ; from the same hand they come,
(The kimbo handles seem with bear's foot carved,)
And never yet to table have been served ;
Where Orpheus on his lyre laments his love,
With beasts encompassed, and a dancing grove.
But these, nor all the proffers you can make,
Are worth the heifer which I set to stake.
MENALCAS.
No more delays, vain boaster, but begin !
I prophesy before-hand, I shall win.
Palaemon shall be judge how ill you rhyme t
I'll teach you how to brag another time.
DAMtETAS.
Rhymer, come on ! and do the worst you can ;
I fear not you, nor yet a better man.
With silence, neighbour, and attention, wait ;
For 'tis a business of a high debate.
PALvEMON.
Sing then ; the shade affords a proper place,
The trees are clothed with leaves, the fields with grass,
The blossoms blow, the birds on bushes sing,
And Nature has accomplished all the spring.
The challenge to Damoetas shall belong ;
Menalcas shall sustain his under-song;
Each in his turn your tuneful numbers bring.
By turns the tuneful Muses love to sing.
DAMCETAS.
From the great father of the gods above
My Muse begins; for all is full of Jove :
PASTORAL III.
To Jove the care of heaven and earth belongs ;
My flocks he blesses, and he loves my songs.
MENALCAS.
Me Phoebus loves ; for he my Muse inspires,
And in her songs t^e warmth he gave requires,
lor him, the god of shepherds and their sheep,*
My blushing hyacinths and my bays I keep.
DAMCETAS.
My Phyllis me with pelted apples plies ; "^
Then tripping to the woods the wanton hies,
And wishes to be seen before she flies. j
MENALCAS.
But fair Amyntas comes unasked to me, ")
And offers love, and sits upon my knee.
Not Delia to my dogs is known so well as he. 3
DAMCETAS.
To the dear mistress of my love-sick mind,
Her swain a pretty present has designed :
I saw two stock-doves billing, and ere long
Will take the nest, and hers shall be the young.
MENALCAS.
Ten ruddy wildings in the wood I found,
And stood on tip-toes, reaching from the ground :
I sent Amyntas all my present store ;
And will, to-morrow, send as many more.
* Phoebus, not Pan, is here called the god of shepherds. The
poet alludes to the same story which he touches in the beginning
of the Second Georgic, where he calls Phoebus the Amphrysian
shepherd, because he fed the sheep and oxen of Admetus, with
whom he was in love, on the hill Amphrysus.
PASTORAL III. 383
DAMOZTAS.
The lovely maid lay panting in my arms,
And all she said and did was full of charms.
Winds ! on your wings to heaven her accents bear ;
Such words as heaven alone is fit to hear.
MENALCAS.
Ah ! what avails it me, my love's delight,
To call you mine, when absent from my sight ?
I hold the nets, while you pursue the prey,
And must not share the dangers of the day.
DAMO2TAS.
I keep my birth-day ; send my Phyllis home ;
At shearing- time, lolas, you may come.
MENALCAS.
With Phyllis I am more in grace than you ; -\
Her sorrow did my parting steps pursue :
" Adieu, my dear !" she said, " a long adieu !" 5
DAMCETAS.
The nightly wolf is baneful to the fold,
Storms to the wheat, to buds. the bitter cold ;
But, from my frowning fair, more ills I find,
Than from the wolves, and storms, and winter- wind.
MENALCAS.
The kids with pleasure browze the bushy plain ;
The showers are grateful to the swelling grain ;
To teeming ewes the sallow's tender tree ; -
But, more than all the world, my love to me.
DAM4ETAS.
Pollio my rural verse vouchsafes to read :
A heifer, Muses, for your patron breed.
PASTORAL in.
MENALCAS.
My Pollio writes himself: a bull be bred,
With spurning heels, and with a butting head.
DAMCETAS.
Who Pollio loves, and who his Muse admires,
Let Pollio's fortune crown his full desires.
Let myrrh instead of thorn his fences fill,
And showers of honey from his oaks distil.
MENALCAS.
Who hates not living Bavius, let him be
(Dead Ma^vius !) damn'd to love thy works and thee !
The same ill taste of sense would serve to join
Dog-foxes in the yoke, and shear the swine.
DAMCETAS.
Ye boys, who pluck the flowers, and spoil the spring,
Beware the secret snake that shoots a sting.
MENALCAS.
Graze not too near the banks, my jolly sheep ;
The ground is false, the running streams are deep :
See, they have caught the father of the flock,
Who dries his fleece upon the neighbouring rock.
DAMCETAS.
From rivers drive the kids, and sling your hook ;
Anon I'll wash them in the shallow brook.
MENALCAS.
To fold, my flock ! when milk is dried with heat,
In vain the milkmaid tugs an empty teat.
DAMCETAS.
How lank my bulls from plenteous pasture come !
But love, that drains the herdj destroys the groom.
PASTORAL III. 385
MENALCAS.
My flocks are free from love, yet look so thin,
Their bones are barely covered with their skin.
What magic has bewitched the woolly dams,
And what ill eyes beheld the tender lambs ?
DAMOSTAS.
Say, where the round of heaven, which all contains,
To three short ells on earth our sight restrains :
Tell that, and rise a Phoebus for thy pains.
MENALCAS.
Nay, tell me first, in what new region springs
A flower, that bears inscribed the names of kings ;
And thou shalt gain a present as divine
As Phoebus' self; for Phyllis shall be thine,
So nice a difference in your singing lies,
That both have won, or both deserved the prize.
Rest equal happy both ; and all who prove
The bitter sweets, and pleasing pains, of love.
Now dam the ditches, and the floods restrain ;
Their moisture has already drenched the plain.
VOL. xiu. 2 B
386
OR.
POLLIO.
ARGUMENT.
The Poet celebrates the birth-day of Saloninus, the son of Pollio, born
in the consulship of his father, after the taking of Salonce, a city in
Dalruatia. Many of the verses are translated from one of the
Sibyls, who prophesied of our Saviour's birth.
Muse, begin a loftier strain !
Though lowly shrubs, and trees that shade the plain.
Delight not all ; Sicilian Muse, prepare
To make the vocal woods deserve a consul's care.
The last great age, foretold by sacred rhymes,
Renews its finished course : Saturnian times
Roll round again ; and mighty years, begun
From their first orb, in radiant circles run.
The base degenerate iron offspring ends ;
A golden progeny from heaven descends.
O chaste Lucina ! speed the mother's pains ;
And haste the glorious birth ! thy own Apollo reigns f.
PASTORAL IV. 38?
The lovely boy, with his auspicious face, Y
Shall Pollio's consulship and triumph grace ; f
Majestic months set out with him to their appointed {
race. 3
The father banished virtue shall restore,
And crimes shall threat the guilty world no more.
The son shall lead the life of gods, and be
By gods and heroes seen, and gods and heroes see.
The jarring nations he in peace shall bind,
And with paternal virtues rule mankind.
Unbidden earth shall wreathing ivy bring$ Y
And fragrant herbs, (the promises of spring,) >
As her first offerings to her infant king. )
The goats with strutting dugs shall homeward speed,
And lowing herds secure from lions feed.
His cradle shall with rising flowers be crowned :
The serpent's brood shall die ; the sacred ground
Shall weeds and poisonous plants refuse to bear;
Each common bush shall Syrian roses wear.
But when heroic verse his youth shall raise,
And form it to hereditary praise,
Unlaboured harvests shall the fields adorn,
And clustered grapes shall blush on every thorn ;
The knotted oaks shall showers of honey weep;
And through the matted grass the liquid gold shall
creep.
Yet, of old fraud some footsteps shall remain ;
The merchant still shall plough the deep for gain,
Great cities shall with walls be compassed round,
And sharpened shares shall vex the fruitful ground ;
Another Tiphys shall new seas explore ;
Another Argo land the chiefs upon the Iberian shore ;
Another Helen other wars create,
And great Achilles urge the Trojan fate.
But when to ripened manhood he shall grow,
The greedy sailor shall the seas forego ;
388 PASTORAL IV.
No keel shall cut the waves for foreign ware,
For every soil shall every product bear.
The labouring hind his oxen shall disjoin ;
No plough shall hurt the glebe, no pruning-hook {
the vine;
Nor wool shall in dissembled colours shine ;
But the luxurious father of the fold,
With native purple, and unborrowed gold,
Beneath his pompous fleece shall proudly sweat;
And under Tyrian robes the lamb shall bleat.
The Fates, when they this happy web have spun,
Shall bless the sacred clue, and bid it smoothly run.
Mature in years, to ready honours move,
O of celestial seed ! O foster-son of Jove !
See, labouring Nature calls thee to sustain
The nodding frame of heaven, and earth, and main \
See to their base restored, earth, seas, and air ;
And joyful ages, from behind, in crowding ranks
appear.
To sing thy praise, would heaven my breath prolong,
Infusing spirits worthy such a song,
Not Thracian Orpheus should transcend my lays,
Nor Linus crowned with never-fading bays ;
Though each his heavenly parent should inspire ;
The Muse instruct the voice, and Phoebus tune the
lyre.
Should Pan contend in verse, and thou my theme,
Arcadian judges should their god condemn.
Begin, auspicious boy ! to cast about
Thy infant eyes, and, with a smile, thy mother single
out.*
* In Latin thus,
Incipe, parve puer, risu cognoscere matrem, &c.
I have tianslated the passage to this sense that the infant,
smiling on his mother, singles her out from the rest of the com-
PASTORAL IV. 38$
Thy mother well deserves that short delight,
The nauseous qualms of ten long months and tra-
vail to requite.
pany about him. Erythraus, Bembus, and Joseph Scaliger, ar
.of this opinion. Yet they and I may be mistaken ; for, immedi-
ately after, we find these words, cui non risere parentes, which im-
ply another sense, as if the parents smiled on the new-born infant;
and that the babe on whom they vouchsafed not to smile, was
born to ill fortune : for they tell a story, that, when Vulcan, the
only son of Jupiter and Juno, came into the world, he was so hard-
favoured, that both his parents frowned on him, and Jupiter threw
him out of heaven : he fell on the island Lemnos, and was iame
ever afterwards. The last line of the Pastoral seems to justify
this sense :
Nee Deus hunc mensa, Dea nee dignata cubili est.
For, though he married Venus, yet his mother Juno was not pre-
sent at the nuptials to bless them ; as appears by his wife's incon-
tinence. They say also, that he was banished from the banquets
of the gods. If so, that punishment could be of no long continu-
ance; for Homer makes him present at their feasts, and compo-
sing a quarrel betwixt his parents, with a bowl of nectar. The
matter is of no great consequence ; and therefore I adhere to my
translation, for these two reasons : first, Virgil has his following
Jine,
Matri longa decem tulerunt fa&tidia manes,
as if the infant's smiling on his mother was a reward to her for
bearing him ten months in her body, four weeks longer than the
usual time. Secondly, Catullus is cited by Joseph Scaliger, as fa-
vouring this opinion, in his Epithalamium, of Manlius Torquatus :
Torquatus, volo, parvolus,
Matris e gremio SIHE
Porrigens teneras mamts,
Dulce ridcat ad patrem, &c.
What if I should steer betwixt the two extremes, and conclude,
that the infant, who was to be happy, must not only smile on his
parents, but also they on him ? For Scaliger notes, that the infants
who smiled not at their birth, were observed to be ayeAoKTrs^ or
390 PASTORAL IV.
Then smile ! the frowning infant's doom is read ;
No god shall crown the board, nor goddess bless the
bed.
sullen, (as I have translated it,) during all their life ; and Servius,
and almost all the modern commentators, affirm, that no child was
thought fortunate, on whom his parents smiled not at his birth. I
observe, farther, that the ancients thought the infant, who came
into the world at the end of the tenth month, was born to some
extraordinary fortune, good or bad. Such was the birth of the
late prince of Conde's father, of whom his mother was not brought
to bed, till almost eleven months were expired after his father's
death ; yet the college of physicians at Paris Concluded he was
lawfully begotten. My ingenious friend, Anthony Henley, Esq.
desired me to make a note on this passage of Virgil ; adding, (what
I had not read,) that the Jews have been so superstitious, as to ob-
serve not only the first look or action of an infant, but also the
first word which the parent, or any of the assistants, spoke after the
birth ; and from thence they gave a name to the child, alluding
to it,
391
PASTORAL V
OR,
DAPHNIS.
ARGUMENT.
Mopstts and Menalcas, two very expert shepherds at a song, begin
one by consent to the memory of Daphnis, who is supposed by the
best critics to represent Julius Ccesar. Mopsus laments his death ;
Menalcas proclaims his divinity ; the whole eclogue consisting of
an elegy and an apotheosis.
MENALAS.
SINCE on the downs our flocks together feed,
And since my voice can match your tuneful reed,
Why sit we not beneath the grateful shade,
Which hazles, intermixed with elms, have made ?
MOPSUS.
Whether you please that sylvan scene to take,
Where whistling winds uncertain shadows make ;
Or will you to the cooler cave succeed,
Whose mouth the curling vines have overspread ?
PASTORAL V.
MENALCAS.
Your merit and your years command the choice ;
Amyntas only rivals you in voice.
MOPSUS.
What will not that presuming shepherd dare,
Who thinks his voice with Phoebus may compare P
MENALCAS.
Begin you first ; if either Alcon's praise,
Or dying Phyllis, have inspired your lays ;
If her you mourn, or Codrus you commend,
Begin, and Tityrus your flock shall tend.
MOPSUS.
Or shall I rather the sad verse repeat,
Which on the beeches bark I lately writ ?
I writ, and sung betwixt. Now bring the swain,
Whose voice you boast, and let him try the strain.
MENALCAS.
Such as the shrub to the tall olive shows,
Or the pale swallow to the blushing rose ;
Such is his voice, if I can judge aright,
Compared to thine, in sweetness and in height.
MOPSUS.
No more, but sit and hear the promised lay ;
The gloomy grotto makes a doubtful day.
The nymphs about the breathless body wait
Of Daphnis, and lament his cruel fate.
The trees and floods were witness to their tears ;
At length the rumour reached his mother's ears.
The wretched parent, with a pious haste,
Came running, and his lifeless limbs embraced.
PASTORAL V. 393
She sighed, she sobbed ; and, furious with despair, ~}
She rent her garments, and she tore her hair,
Accusing all the gods, and every star. }
The swains forgot their sheep, nor near the brink
Of running waters brought their herds to drink.
The thirsty cattle, of themselves, abstained
From water, and their grassy fare disdained.
The death of Daphnis woods and hills deplore ; ~v
They cast the sound to Libya's desert shore ;
The Libyan lions hear, and hearing roar. )
Fierce tigers Daphnis taught the yoke to bear,
And first with curling ivy dressed the spear.
Daphnis did rites to Bacchus first ordain,
And holy revels for his reeling train.
As vines the trees, as grapes the vines adorn,
As bulls the herds, and fields the yellow corn ;
So bright a splendour, so divine a grace,
The glorious Daphnis cast on his illustrious race.
When envious Fate the godlike Daphnis took,
Our guardian gods the fields and plains forsook ;
Pales no longer swelled the teeming grain,
Nor Phoebus fed his oxen on the plain ;
No fruitful crop the sickly fields return,
But oats and darnel choke the rising corn ;
And where the vales with violets once were crowned,
Now knotty burrs and thorns disgrace the ground.
Come, shepherds, come, and strow with leaves the
plain ;
Such funeral rites your Daphnis did ordain.
With cypress-boughs the crystal fountains hide,
And softly let the running waters glide.
A lasting monument to Daphnis raise,
With this inscription to record his praise :
" Daphnis, the fields' delight, the shepherds' love,
Renowned on earth, and deified above;
Whose flock excelled the fairest on the plains,
But less than he himself surpassed the swains,"
394 PASTORAL V.
MENALCAS.
O heavenly poet ! such thy verse appears,
So sweet, so charming to my ravished ears,
As to the weary swain, with cares opprest,
Beneath the sylvan shade, refreshing rest ;
As to the feverish traveller, when first
He finds a crystal stream to quench his thirst.
In singing, as in piping, you excel ;
And scarce your master could perform so well,
O fortunate young man ! at least your lays
Are next to his, and claim the second praise.
Such as they are, my rural songs I join,
To raise our Daphnis to the powers divine ;
For Daphnis was so good, to love whate'er was mine.
MOPSUS.
How is my soul with such a promise raised !
For both the boy was worthy to be praised,
And Stimicon has often made me long
To hear, like him, so soft, so sweet a song.
MENALCAS.
Daphnis, the guest of heaven, with wondering eyes,
Views, in the milky way, the starry skies,
And far beneath him, from the shining sphere,
Beholds the moving clouds, and rolling year.
For this with cheerful cries the \yoods resound,
The purple spring arrays the various ground,
The nymphs and shepherds dance, and Pan
self is crowned.
The wolf no longer prowls for nightly spoils,
Nor birds the springes fear, nor stags the toils ;
For Daphnis reigns above, and deals from thence
His mother's milder beams, and peaceful influence.
The mountain-tops unshorn, the rocks, rejoice ;
The lowly shrubs partake of human voice.
i
ind, -.
I, f
. him-f
PASTORAL V. 395
Assenting Nature, with a gracious nod,
Proclaims him, and salutes the new-admitted god.
Be still propitious, ever good to thine !
Behold ! four hallowed altars we design ;
And two to thee, and two to Phoebus rise ;
On both is offered annual sacrifice.
The holy priests, at each returning year,
Two bowls of milk, and two of oil, shall bear;
And I myself the guests with friendly bowls will cheer.
Two goblets will I crown with sparkling wine, "l
The generous vintage of the Chian vine :
These will I pour to thee, and make the nectar thine. 3
In winter shall the genial feast be made
Before the fire ; by summer, in the shade.
Damoetas shall perform the rites divine,
And Lyctian Jigon in the song shall join.
Alphesibceus, tripping, shall advance,
And mimic Satyrs in his antic dance.
When to the nymphs our annual rites we pay,
And when our fields with victims we survey ;
While savage boars delight in shady woods,
And finny fish inhabit in the floods ;
While bees on thyme, and locusts feed on dew
Thy grateful swains these honours shall renew.
Such honours as we pay to powers divine,
To Bacchus and to Ceres, shall be thine.
Such annual honours shall be given ; and thou
Shalt hear, and shalt condemn thy suppliants to their
vow.
MOPSUS,
What present, worth thy verse, can Mopsus find ?
Not the soft whispers of the southern wind,
That play through trembling trees, delight me more ;
Nor murmuring billows on the sounding shore ;
Nor winding streams, that through the valley glide,
the scarce-covered pebbles gently chide.
5
396 PASTORAL V.
MENALCAS.
Receive you first this tuneful pipe, the same
That played my Cory don's unhappy flame ;
The same that sung Neaera's conquering eyes,
And, had the judge been just, had won the prize.
MOPSUS.
Accept from me this sheep-hook in exchange ;
The handle brass, the knobs in equal range.
Antigenes, with kisses, often tried
To beg this present, in his beauty's pride,
When youth and love are hard to be denied.
But what I could refuse to his request,
Is yours unasked, for you deserve it best.
PASTORAL VL
OR,
SILENUS.
ARGUMENT.
Tivo young shepherds, Chromis and Mnasylus, having been often pro-
mised a song by Silenus, chance to catch him asleep in this Pastoral ^
rvhere they bind him hand and foot, and then claim his promise.
Silenus, finding they would be put off no longer, begins his song, in
lohich he describes the formation of the universe, and the original of
animals, according to the Epicurean philosophy; and then runs
through the most surprising transformations which have happened
in Nature since her birth. This Pastoral was designed as a compli-
ment to Syron the Epicurean, who instructed Virgil and Varus in
the principles of that philosophy. Silenus acts as tutor, Chromis and
Mnasylus as the two pupils, f
1 FIRST transferred to Rome Sicilian strains;
Nor blushed the Doric Muse to dwell on Mautuan
plains.
But when I tried her tender voice, too young,
And fighting kings and bloody battles sung,
t My Lord Roscommon's notes on this Pastoral are equal to
his excellent translation of it ; and thither I refer the reader.
The Eighth and Tenth Pastorals are already translated, to all
manner of advantage, by my excellent friend Mr Stafford. So
ifc the episode of Camilla, in the Eleventh
398 PASTORAL VI.
Apollo checked my pride, and bade me feed
My fattening flocks, nor dare beyond the reed.
Admonished thus, while every pen prepares
To write thy praises, Varus, and thy wars,
My pastoral Muse her humble tribute brings,
And yet not wholly uninspired she sings ;
For all who read, and, reading, not disdain
These rural poems, and their lowly strain,
The name of Varus oft inscribed shall see "\
In every grove, and every vocal tree,
And all the sylvan reign shall sing of thee : 3
Thy name, to Phoebus aryd the Muses known, -^
Shall in the front of every page be shown ;
For he, who sings thy praise, secures his own. J
Proceed, my Muse ! Two Satyrs, on the ground,
Stretched at his ease, their sire Silenus found.
Dozed with his fumes, and heavy with his load, ^
They found him snoring in his dark abode,
And seized with youthful arms the drunken god. 3
His rosy wreath was dropt not long before,
Borne by the tide of wine, and floating on the floor.
His empty can, with ears half worn away,
Was hung on high, to boast the triumph of the day.
Invaded thus, for want of better bands,
His garland they unstring, and bind his hands ;
For, by the fraud ful god deluded long,
They now resolve to have their promised song.
./Egle came in, to make their party good
The fairest Nais of the neighbouring flood
And, while he stares around with stupid eyes,
His brows with berries, and his temples, dyes.
He finds the fraud, and, with a smile, demands,
On what design the boys had bound his hands.
" Loose me,'' he cried, " 'twas impudence to. find
A sleeping god ; 'tis sacrilege to bind.
To you the promised poem I will pay ;
The nymph shall be rewarded in her way."
PASTORAL VI. 399
Jrle raised his voice ; and soon a numerous throng
Of tripping Satyrs crowded to the song ;
And sylvan Fauns, and savage beasts, advanced ;
And nodding forests to the numbers danced.
Not by Haemonian hills the Thracian bard, V
Nor awful Phoebus was on Pindus heard
With deeper silence, or with more regard. j
He sung the secret seeds of Nature's frame ;
How seas, and earth, and air, and active flame,
Fell through the mighty void, and, in their fall,
Were blindly gathered in this goodly ball.
The tender soil then, stiffening by degrees,
Shut from the bounded earth the bounding seas.
Then earth and ocean various forms disclose,
And a new sun to the new world arose ;
And mists, condensed to clouds, obscure the sky ;
And clouds, dissolved, the thirsty ground supply.
The rising trees the lofty mountains grace ; ^
The lofty mountains feed the savage race, >
Yet few, and strangers, in the unpeopled place. )
From thence the birth of man the song pursued,
And how the world was lost, and how renewed;
The reign of Saturn, and the golden age ;
Prometheus' theft, and Jove's avenging rage ;
The cries of Argonauts for Hylas drowned,
With whose repeated name the shores resound ;
Then mourns the madness of the Cretan queen,
Happy for her if herds had never been.
What fury, wretched woman, seized thy breast?
The maids of Argos, (though, with rage possessed,
Their imitated lowings filled the grove,)
Yet shunned the guilt of thy preposterous love,
Nor sought the youthful husband of the herd, "\
Though labouring yokes on their own necks they/
feared, s
And felt for budding horns on their smooth fore-v
heads reared.
400 PASTORAL VI.
Ah, wretched queen ! you range the pathless wood.
While on a flowery bank he chews the cud,
Or sleeps in shades, or through the forest roves,
And roars with anguish for his absent loves.
" Ye nymphs, with toils his forest-walk surround,
And trace his wandering footsteps on the ground.
But, ah ! perhaps my passion he disdains,
And courts the milky mothers of the plains.
We search the ungrateful fugitive abroad,
While they at home sustain his happy load."
te sung the lover's fraud ; the longing maid,
ith golden fruit, like all the sex, betrayed.;
ic sisters mourning for their brother's loss ;
Their bodies hid in barks, and furred with moss;
How each a rising alder now appears,
And o'er the Po distils her gummy tears :
Then sung, how Callus, by a Muse's hand,
Was led and welcomed to the sacred strand;
The senate rising to salute their guest ;
And Linus thus their gratitude expressed: -
" Receive this present, by the Muses made,
The pipe on which the Ascrasan pastor played ;
With which of old he charmed the savage train,
And called the mountain-ashes to the plain.
Sing thou, on this, thy Phoebus ; and the wood
Where once his fane of Parian marble stood :
On this his ancient oracles rehearse,
And with new numbers grace the god of verse."
Why should I sing the double Scylla's fate ?
The first by love transformed, the last by hate
A beauteous maid above ; but magic arts
With barking dogs deformed her nether parts :
What vengeance on the passing fleet she poured,
The master frighted, and the mates devoured.
Then ravished Philomel the song exprest;
The crime revealed ; the sisters' cruel feast ;
PASTORAL VI. 401
And how in fields the lapwing Tereus reigns,
The warbling nightingale in woods complains;
While Procne makes on chimney-tops her moan,
And hovers o'er the palace once her own.
Whatever songs besides the Delphian god
Had taught the laurels, and the Spartan flood,
Silenus sung : the vales his voice rebound,
And carry to the skies the sacred sound.
And now the setting sun had warned the swain
To call his counted cattle from the plain :
Yet still the unwearied sire pursues the tuneful |
strain,
Till, unperceived. the heavens with stars were hung,
And sudden night surprised the yet unfinished song.
VOL. xin. 2 c'
402
PASTORAL VII.
OR,
MELIBCEUS.
ARGUMENT.
Melibaeus here gives tts the relation of a sharp poetical contest between
Thyrsis and Cory don, at which he himself and Dap/mis were present ;
who both declared for Corydon.
BENEATH a holm, repaired two jolly swains,
(Their sheep and goats together grazed the plains,)
Both young Arcadians, both alike inspired
To sing, and answer as the song required.
Daphnis, as umpire, took the middle seat,
And fortune thither led my weary feet ;
For, while I fenced my myrtles from the cold,
The father of my flock had wandered from the fold.
Of Daphnis I inquired : he, smiling, said,
" Dismiss your fear ;" and pointed where he fed :
" And, if no greater cares disturb your mind,
Sit here with us, in covert of the wind.
PASTORAL VII. 403
Your lowing heifers, of their own accord,
At watering time will seek the neighbouring ford.
Here wanton Mincius winds along the meads,
And shades his happy banks with bending reeds.
And see, from yon old oak that mates the skies,
How black the clouds of swarming bees arise."
What should I do ? nor was Alcippe nigh,
Nor absent Phyllis could my care supply,
To house, and feed by hand my weaning lambs,
And drain the strutting udders of their dams.
Great was the strife betwixt the singing swains ;
And I preferred my pleasure to my gains.
Alternate rhyme the ready champions chose:
These Corydon rehearsed, and Thyrsis those.
CORYDOX.
Ye Muses, ever fair, and ever young,
Assist my numbers, and inspire my song.
With all my Codrus, O ! inspire my breast;
For Codrus, after Phoebus, sings the best.
Or, if my wishes have presumed too high,
And stretched their bounds beyond mortality,
The praise of artful numbers I resign,
And hang my pipe upon the sacred pine*
THYRSIS.
Arcadian swains, your youthful poet crown
With ivy-wreaths ; though surly Codrus frown :
Or, if he blast my Muse with envious praise,
Then fence my brows with amulets of bays,
Lest his ill arts, or his malicious tongue,
Should poison, or bewitch my growing song.
CORYDON.
These branches of a stag, this tusky boar
(The first essay of arms untried before)
404 PASTORAL VII.
Young Micon offers, Delia, to thy shrine :
But, speed his hunting with thy power divine ;
Thy statue then of Parian stone shall stand;
Thy legs in buskins with a purple band.
THYRSIS.
This bowl of milk, these cakes, (our country fare,)}
For thee, Priapus, yearly we prepare,
Because a little garden is thy care ; 3
But, if the falling lambs increase my fold,
Thy marble statue shall be turned to gold.
CORY DON.
Fair Galatea, with thy silver feet,
O, whiter than the swan, and more than Hybla sweet !
Tall as a poplar, taper as the bole !
Come, charm thy shepherd, and restore my soul !
Come, when my lated sheep at night return,
And crown the silent hours, and stop the rosy mom !
THYRSIS.
May I become as abject in thy sight,
As sea- weed on the shore, and black as night ;
Hough as a bur ; deformed like him who chaws
Sardinian herbage to contract his jaws';
Such and so monstrous let thy swain appear,
If one day's absence looks not like a year.
Hence from the field, for shame ! the flock deserves
No better feeding while the shepherd starves.
CORYDON.
Ye mossy springs, inviting easy sleep,
Ye trees, whose leafy shades those mossy fountains
keep,
Defend my flock ! The summer heats are near,
And blossoms on the swelling vines appear.
PASTORAL VII. 40$
THYRSIS.
With heapy fires our cheerful hearth is crowned ;
And firs for torches in the woods abound :
We fear not more the winds, and wintry cold,
Than streams the banks, or wolves the bleating fold.
CORYDON.
Our woods, with juniper and chesnuts crowned,
With falling fruits and berries paint the ground ;
And lavish Nature laughs, and straws her stores
around :
But, if Alexis from our mountains fly,
Even running rivers leav r e their channels dry.
THYRSIS.
Parched are the plains, and frying is the field,
Nor withering vines their juicy vintage yield:
But, if returning Phyllis bless the plain,
The grass revives, the woods are green again,
And Jove descends in showers of kindly rain.
CORYDON.
The poplar is by great Alcides worn ;
The orows of Phoebus his own bays adorn ;
The branching vine the jolly Bacchus loves ;
The Cyprian queen delights in myrtle groves ;
With hazle Phyllis crowns her flowing hair ;
And, while she loves' that common wreath to wear,
Nor bays, nor myrtle boughs, with hazle shall
compare.
THYRSIS.
The towering ash is fairest in the woods ;
In gardens pines, and poplars by the floods :
But, if my Lycidas will ease my pains,
And often visit our forsaken plains,
406 PASTORAL VII.
To him the towering ash shall yield in woods,
In gardens pines, and poplars by the floods.
MELIBOEUS.
These rhymes I did to memory commend,
When vanquished Thyrsis did in vain contend ;
Since when, 'tis Corydon among the swains :
Young Corydon without a rival reigns.
407
PASTORAL VIII.*
OR,
PHARMACEUTRIA.
ARGUMENT.
This Pastoral contains the Songs of Damon and Alphesibaeus. The
first of them bewails the loss of his mistress, and repines at the suc-
cess of his rival Mopsus. The other repeats the charms of some en-
chantress, who endeavoured, by her spells and magic, to make Daph-
nis in love with her.
1 HE mournful muse of two despairing swains,
The love rejected, and the lovers' pains ;
To which trie savage lynxes listening stood,
The rivers stood on heaps, and stopped the running
flood;
* This Eighth Pastoral is copied by our author from two Bu-
colics of Theocritus. Spenser has followed both Virgil and Theo-
critus in the charms which he employs for curing Britomartis of
her love. But he had also our poet's Ceiris in his eye ; for there
not only the enchantments are to be found, but also the very
pame of Britomartis. DRYDBN.
408 PASTORAL VIII.
The hungry herd the needful food refuse
Of two despairing swains, I sing the mournful muse.
Great Pollio ! thou, for whom thy Rome prepares
The ready triumph of thy finished wars,
Whether Timavus or the Illyrian coast,
Whatever land or sea, thy presence boast;
Is there an hour in fate reserved for me,
To sing thy deeds in numbers worthy thee?
In numbers like to thine, could I rehearse
Thy lofty tragic scenes, thy laboured verse,
The world another Sophocles in thee,
Another Homer should behold in me.
Amidst thy laurels let this ivy twine :
Thine was my earliest muse ; my latest shall be thine.
Scarce from the world the shades of night withdrew,
Scarce were the flocks refres.hed with morning dew,
When Damon, stretched beneath an olive shade,
And, wildly staring upwards, thus inveighed
Against the conscious gods, and cursed the cruel maid :
" Star of the morning, why dost thou delay?
Come. Lucifer, drive on the lagging day,
While I my Nisa's perjured faith deplore,
Witness, ye powers, by whom she falsely swore !
The gods, alas ! are witnesses in vain ;
Yet shall my dying breath to heaven complain.
Begin with me, my flute, the sweet Msenalian strain.
" The pines of Ma3nalus, the vocal grove,
Are ever full of verse, and full of love :
They hear the hinds, they hear their god complain,
Who suffered not the reeds to rise in vain.
Begin with me, my flute, the sweet Masnalian strain.
" Mopsus triumphs; he weds the willing fair.
When such is Nisa's choice, what lover can despair?
Now .unrFons join with mares; another age
Shall see the hound and hind their thirst assuage,
ucaru.
lin. >
rain, j
PASTORAL vnr. 409
Promiscuous at the spring. Prepare the lights,
AJopsus ! and perform the bridal rites.
Scatter thy nuts among the scrambling boys:
Thine is the night, and thine the nuptial joys.
For thee the sun declines : O happy swain !
Begin with me, my flute, the sweet Menaiian strain.
u O Nisa ! justly to thy choice condemned !
Whom habt thou taken, whom hast thou contemned?
For him, thou ha&t refused my browzing herd,
Scorned my thick eye brows, and my shaggy beard.
Unhappy Damon sighs and sings in vain,
While Nisa thinks no god regards a lover's pain.
Begin with me, my flute, the sweet Masnalian strain.
" I viewed thee first, (how fatal was the view !)
And led thee where the ruddy wildings grew,
High on the planted hedge, and wet with morning
dew.
Then scarce the bending branches I could win;
The callow down began to clothe my chin.
1 saw ; I perished ; yet indulged my pain.
Begin with me, my flute, the sweet Maenalian strain.
" I know thee, Love !, in deserts thou wert bred,
And at the dugs of savage tigers fed ;
Alien of birth, usurper of the plains !
Begin with me, my flute, the sweet Msenalian strains.
" Relentless Love the cruel mother led
The blood of her unhappy babes to shed :
Love lent the sword ; the mother struck the blow;
Inhuman she ; but more inhuman thou :
Alien of birth, usurper of the plains !
Begin with me, my flute, the sweet Maenalian strains.
" Old doting Nature, change thy course anew,
And let the trembling lamb the wolf pursue ;
Let oaks now glitter with Hesperian fruit,
And purple dattbdils from alder shoot ;
Fat amber let the tamarisk distil,
And hooting owls contend with swans in skill;
410 PASTORAL VIII.
Hoarse Tityrus strive with Orpheus in the woods-,
And challenge famed Arion on the floods.
Or, oh i let Nature cease, and Chaos reign !
Begin with me, my flute, the sweet Maenalian strain.
" Let earth be sea ; and let the whelming tide
The lifeless limbs of luckless Damon hide :
Farewell, ye secret woods, and shady groves,
Haunts of my youth, and conscious of my loves !
From yon high cliff I plunge into the main ; "J
Take the last present of thy dying swain; f
And cease, my silent flute, the sweet Maenalian f
strain." j
Now take your turns, ye Muses, to rehearse
His friend's complaints, and mighty magic verse :
" Bring running water ; bind those altars round
With fillets, and with vervain strow the ground :
Make fat with frankincense the sacred fires,
To re-inflame my Daphnis with desires.
'Tis done : we want but verse. Restore, my charms,
My lingering Daphnis to my longing arms.
" Pale Phoebe, drawn by verse, from heaven des-
cends ;
And Circe changed with charms Ulysses' friends.
Verse breaks the ground, and penetrates the brake,
And in the winding cavern splits the snake :
Verse fires the frozen veins. Restore, my charms,
My lingering Daphnis to my longing arms.
" Around his waxen image first I wind
Three woollen fillets, of three colours joined ;
Thrice bind about his thrice-devoted head,
Which round the sacred altar thrice is led.
Unequal numbers please the gods. My charms,
Restore my Daphnis to my longing arms.
" Knit with three knots the fillets ; knit them strait ;
Then say, ' These knots to love I consecrate.'
Haste, Amaryllis, haste ! Restore, my charms,
My lovely Daphnis to my longing arms.
PASTORAL VIII. 411
" As fire this figure hardens, made of clay,
And this of wax with fire consumes away ;
Such let the soul of cruel Daphnis be
Hard to the rest of women, soft to me.
Crumble the sacred mole of salt and corn :
Next in the fire the bays with brimstone burn ;
And, while it crackles in the sulphur, say,
' This I for Daphnis burn; thus Daphnis burn away I
This laurel is his fate.' Restore, my charms,
My lovely Daphnis to my longing arms.
" As when the raging heifer, through the grove,
Stung with desire, pursues her wandering love;
Faint at the last, she seeks the weedy pools,
To quench her thirst, and on the rushes rolls,
Careless of night, unmindful to return ;
Such fruitless fires perfidious Daphnis burn,
While I so scorn his love ! Restore, my charms,
My lingering Daphnis to my longing arms.
" These garments once were his, and left to me,
The pledges of his promised loyalty,
Which underneath my threshold I bestow :
These pawns, O sacred earth ! to me my Daphnis owe.
As these were his, so mine is he. My charms,
Restore their lingering lord to my deluded arms.
" These poisonous plants, for magic use designed,
(The noblest and the best of all the baneful kind,)
Old Moeris brought me from the Pontic strand,
And culled the mischief of a bounteous land.
Smeared with these powerful juices, on the plain,
He howls a wolf among the hungry train;
And oft the mighty necromancer boasts,
With these, to call from tombs the stalking ghosts,
And from the roots to tear the standing corn,
Which, whirled aloft, to distant fields is borne:
.Such is the strength of spells. Restore, my charms,
lingering Daphnis to my longing arms.
413 PASTORAL VIII.
" Bear out these ashes \ cast them in the brook ;
Cast backwards o'er your head; nor turn your look :
Since neither gods nor godlike verse can move,
Break out, ye smothered fires, and kindle smothered
love.
Exert your utmost power, my lingering charms;
And force my Daphnis to my longing arms.
" See while my last endeavours I delay,
The walking ashes rise, and round our altars play !
Run to the threshold, Amaryllis hark !
Our Hylax opens, and begins to bark.
Good heaven ! may lovers what they wish believe?
Or dream their wishes, and those dreams deceive?
No more ! my Daphnis comes ! no more, my charms !
He comes, he runs, he leaps, to my desiring arms."
413
PASTORAL IX.*
OR,
LYCIDAS AND MCERIS.
ARGUMENT.
When Virgil, by the favour of Augustus, had recovered his patrimony
near Mantua, and went in hope to take possession, he was in dan-
ger to be slain by Arius the centurion, to whom those lands were as-
signed by the TZmperor, in reward of his service against Brutus and
Cassius. This Pastoral therefore is filled with complaints of his
hard usage ; and the persons introduced are the bailiff of Virgil,
Maeris, and his friend Lycidas.
LYCIDAS.
Ho, Mceris ! whither on thy way so fast?
This leads to town.
MCERIS.
O Lycidas ! at last
The time is come, I never thought to see,
(Strange revolution for my farm and me !)
* In the Ninth. Pastoral, Virgil has made a collection of ma-
ny scattering passages, which he had translated from Theocritus ;
and here he has bound them into a nosegay. DKYPEN.
414 PASTORAL IX.
When the grim captain in a surly tone
Cries out, " Pack up, ye rascals, and be gone."
Kicked out, we set the best face on't we could ; )
And these two kids, t'appease his angry mood, >
I bear, of which the Furies give him good ! 3
LYCIDAS.
Your country friends were told another tale,
That, from the sloping mountain to the vale,
And doddered oak, and all the banks along,
Menalcas saved his fortune with a song.
MOZRIS.
Such was the news, indeed; but songs and rhymes
Prevail as much in these hard iron times,
As would a plump of trembling fowl, that rise
Against an eagle sousing from the skies.
And, had not Phoebus warned me, by the croak
Of an old raven from a hollow oak,
To shun debate, Menalcas had been slain,
And Moeris not survived him, to complain.
LYCIDAS.
Now heaven defend ! could barbarous rage induce
The brutal son of Mars t'insult the sacred Muse ?
Who then should sing the nymphs ? or who rehearse
The waters gliding in a smoother verse ?
Or Amaryllis praise that heavenly lay,
That shortened, as we went, our tedious way,
" O Tityrus, tend my herd, and see them fed;
To morning pastures, evening waters, led ;
And 'ware the Libyan ridgil's butting head."
MOZRIS.
Or what unfinished he to Varus read :
" Thy name, O Varus, (if the kinder powers
Preserve our plains, and shield the Mantuan towers,
PASTORAL IX. 415
Obnoxious by Cremona's neighbouring crime,)
The wings of swans, and stronger-pinioned rhyme,
Shall raise aloft, and soaring bear above
The immortal gift of gratitude to Jove."
LYCIDAS.
Sing on, sing on ; for I can ne'er be cloyed.
So may thy swarms the baleful yew avoid ;
So may thy cows their burdened bags distend,
And trees to goats their willing branches bend.
Mean as I am, yet have the Muses made
Me free, a member of the tuneful trade :
At least the shepherds seem to like my lays ;
But I discern their flattery from their praise :
I nor to China's ears, nor Varus,' dare aspire,
But gabble, like a goose, amidst the swan-like choir.
MCERIS.
'Tis what I have been conning in my mind ;
Nor are they verses of a vulgar kind.
" Come, Galatea ! come ! the seas forsake !
What pleasures can the tides with their hoarse mur-
murs make?
See, on the shore inhabits purple spring,
Where nightingales their love-sick ditty sing :
See, meads with purling streams, with flowers the-
ground,
The grottoes cool, with shady poplars crowned,
And creeping vines on arbours weaved around.
Come then, and leave the waves' tumultuous roar ;
Let the wild surges vainly beat the shore."
LYCIDAS.
Or that sweet song I heard with such delight ;
The same you sung alone one starry night.
The tune I still retain, but not the words.
they
M
416 TASTORAL IX.
MOLRIS.
" Why, Daphnis, dost thou search in old records,
To know the seasons when the stars arise ?
See, Caesar's lamp is lighted in the skies,
The star, whose rays the blushing grapes adorn,
And swell the kindly ripening ears of corn.
Under this influence, graft the tender shoot ;
Thy children's children shall enjoy the fruit."
The rest I have forgot; for cares and time
Change all things, and untune my soul to rhyme.
I could have once sung down a summer's sun ;
But now the chime of poetry is done :
My voice grows hoarse ; I feel the notes decay,
As if the wolves had seen me first to-day.
But these, and more than I to mind can bring,
Menalcas has not yet forgot to sing.
LYCIDAS.
Thy faint excuses but inflame me more :
And riow the waves roll silent to the shore ;
Husht winds the topmost branches scarcely bend,
As if thy tuneful song they did attend :
Already we have half our way overcome ;
Far off I can discern Bianor's tomb.
Here, where the labourer's hands have formed a bower
Of wreathing trees, in singing waste an hour.
Rest here thy weary limbs ; thy kids lay down :
We've day before us yet to reach the town ;
Or if, ere night, the gathering clouds we fear,
A song will help the beating storm to bear.
And, that thou may'st not be too late abroad,
Sing, and I'll ease thy shoulders of thy load.
MCERIS.
Cease to request me; let us mind our way:
Another song requires another day.
When good Menalcas comes, if he rejoice,
And find a friend at court, I'll find a voice.
417
PASTORAL X,
OR,
GALLUS.
ARGUMENT.
Gallus, a great patron of Virgil, and an excellent poet, was very
deeply in love with one Cytheris, whom he calls Lycoris, and who
had forsaken him for the company of a soldier. The poet there-
fore supposes his friend Gallus retired, in his height of melan-
choly, into the solitudes of Arcadia, (the celebrated scene of pas-
torals,) where he represents him in a very languishing condition,
with all the rural deities about him.) pitying his hard usage, and
condoling his misfortune*
1 HY sacred succour, Arethusa, bring,
To crown my labour, ('tis the last I sing,)
Which proud Lycoris may with pity view: "V
The Muse is mournful, though the numbers few. >
Refuse me not a verse, to grief and Gallus due. j
So may thy silver streams beneath the tide,
Unmixed with briny seas, securely glide.
VOL. xnr, 2i>
418 PASTORAL X.
Sing then my Gallus, and his hopeless vows ;
Sing, while my cattle crop the tender browze.
The vocal grove shall answer to the sound,
And echo, from the vales, the tuneful voice rebound.
What lawns or woods with-held you from his aid, }
Ye nymphs, when Gallus was to love betrayed, >
To love, unpitied by the cruel maid? j
Not steepy Pindus could retard your course,
Nor cleft Parnassus, nor the Aonian source :
Nothing, that owns the Muses, could suspend
Your aid to Gallus : Gallus is their friend.
For him the lofty laurel stands in tears,
And hung with humid pearls the lowly shrub ap-
pears.
Maenalian pines the godlike swain bemoan, ^
When, spread beneath a rock, he sighed alone ;
And cold Lycaeus wept from eveiy dropping stone. 3
The sheep surround their shepherd, as he lies :
Blush not, sweet poet, nor the name despise.
Along the streams, his flock Adonis fed ;
And yet the queen of beauty blest his bed.
The swains and tardy neat-herds came, and last
JMenalcas, wet with beating winter mast.
Wondering, they asked from whence arose thy flame.
Yet more amazed, thy own Apollo came.
Flushed were his cheeks, and glowing were his eyes :
" Is she thy care? is she thy care?" he cries.
" Thy false Lycoris flies thy love and thee,
And, for thy rival, tempts the raging sea,
The forms of horrid war, and heaven's inclemency
Silvanus came : his brows a country crown
Of fennel, and of nodding lilies, drown.
Great Pan arrived ; and we beheld him too,
His cheeks and temples of vermilion hue.
11 Why, Gallus, this immoderate grief?" he cried
" Think'st thou that love with tears is satisfied ?
,1
PASTORAL X. 419
The meads are sooner drunk with morning dews,
The bees with flowery shrubs, the goats with browze."
Unmoved, and with dejected eyes, he mourned :
He paused, and then these broken words returned :
' 'Tis past; and pity gives me no relief:
But you, Arcadian swains, shall sing my grief,
And on your hills my last complaints renew :
So sad a song is only worthy you-. ,
How light would lie the turf upon my breast,
If you my sufferings in your songs exprest !
Ah ! that your birth and business had been mine
To pen the sheep, and press the swelling vine !
Had Phyllis or Amyntas caused my pain,
Or any nymph or shepherd on the plain,
(Though Phyllis brown, though black Amyntas were,
Are violets not sweet, because not fair?)
Beneath the sallows and the shady vine,
My loves had mixed their pliant limbs with mine :
Phyllis with myrtle wreaths had crowned my hair,
And soft Amyntas sung away my care.
Come, see what pleasures in our plains abound ;
The woods, the fountains, and the flowery ground.
As you are beauteous, were you half so true,
Here could I live, and love, and die with only you.
Now I to fighting fields am sent afar,
And strive in winter camps with toils of war;
While you, (alas, that I should find it so !)
To shun my sight, your native soil forego,
And climb the frozen Alps, and tread the eternal (
snow.
Ye frosts and snows, her tender body spare !
Those are not limbs for icicles to tear.
For me, the wilds and deserts are my choice;
The Muses, once my care; my once harmonious
voice.
There will I sing, forsaken, and alone :
The rocks and hollow caves shall echo to my moan.
420 PASTORAL X.
The rind of every plant her name shall know ;
And, as the rind extends, the love shall grow.
Then on Arcadian mountains will I chase
(Mixed with the woodland nymphs) the savage race ;
Nor cold shall hinder me, with horns and hounds
To thrid the thickets, or to leap the mounds.
And now methinks o'er steepy rocks I go,
And rush through sounding woods, and bend the
Parthian bow ;
As if with sports my sufferings I could ease,
Or by my pains the god of love appease.
My frenzy changes ; I delight no more
On mountain tops to chase the tusky boar :
No game but hopeless love my thoughts pursue :
Once more, ye nymphs, and songs, and sounding
woods, adieu !
Love alters not for us his hard decrees,
Not though beneath the Thracian clime we freeze,
Or Italy's indulgent heaven forego,
And in mid-winter tread Sithonian snow ;
Or, when the barks of elms are scorched, we keep
On Meroe's burning plains the Libyan sheep.
In hell, and earth, and seas, and heaven above,
Love conquers all ; and we must yield to Love."
My Muses, here your sacred raptures end :
The verse was what I owed my suffering friend.
This while I sung, my sorrows I deceived,
And bending osiers into baskets weaved.
The song, because inspired by you, shall shine ;
And Gallus will approve, because 'tis mine
Gallus, fo> whom my holy flames renew,
Each hour, and every moment rise in view ;
As alders, in the spring, their boles extend,
And heave so fiercely, that the bark they rend.
Now let us rise ; for hoarseness oft invades
The singer's voice, who sings beneath the shades.
5
PASTORAL X. 421
From juniper unwholesome dews distil, ^
That blast the sooty corn, the withering herbage/
kill. >
Away, my goats,, away ! for you have browzedyourV
fill. '
*
END OF THE THIRTEENTH VOLUME,
Edinburgh,
Printed by James Ballantyne & Co,
UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY, LOS ANGELES
COLLEGE LIBRARY
This book is due on the last date stamped below.
Oct-9 6)
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