Under the mask of some fictitious name,
He'd sneer, lampoon, or vilify your fame:
Yet while you think he gives his malice vent,
'Tis the mere jaundic'd spleen of discontent!
EPIGRAM 84. BOOK IV.
ESTO NEVOLE SOLICITUS.
Written in the year 1803.
WHAT various characters in thee we trace;
How great the contrast in, and out of place!
In pow'r, to thy superiors never bending;
To thy inferiors now how condescending!
E'en to thy Sov'reign, while at council, proud;
Obsequious now at court amidst the crowd:
Since meekness springs from mortify'd ambition,
For GOD's sake live and die in Opposition!
Rubiginosis cuncta dentibus rodit.
Hominem malignum forsan esse tu credas:
Ego esse miserum credo, cui placet nemo.
EPIG. 84. LIB. IV.
SECURO nihil est te, Nævole, pejus, eodem
Solicito nihil est, Navole, te melius.
Securus nullos resalutas, despicis omnes.
Nec quisquam liber, nec tibi gratus homo est:
Solicitus donas, dominum regemque salutas,
Invitas. Esto, Nævole, solicitus.
WERE not sev'n books, my Muse, an ample store,
Why with an eighth book then augment it more?
'Tis time your sportive playfulness to spare,
And be contented with the wreaths
you wear.
See! in my works, recorded as they stand,
Your inspirations pass from hand to hand:
And when to one great ruin time shall doom
'The full-throng'd palace, and the silent tomb,
I shall be read, and with my numbers greet
Full many a stranger in his native seat.
With faded cheek, and pale dejected mien,
Hair all uncomb'd, and shift not over clean,
(Sad emblem of poor poets, when distrest!)
My fruitless wish THALIA thus represt:
QUINQUE satis fuerant, vel sex, septemque libelli,
Et nimium: quid adhuc ludere, Musa, juvat?
Sit pudor, et finis, jam plus nihil addere nobis
Fama potest: teritur noster ubique liber.
Et cum rupta situ Messalæ saxa jacebunt,
Altaque cum Licini marmora pulvis erunt:
Me tamen ora legent, et secum plurimus hospes
Ad patrias sedes carmina nostra feret.
Finieram, cum sic respondit nona sororum,
Ungrateful as you are, no more refuse "To twine another chaplet for the Muse; "But court the lively trifles I inspire,
"And spurn the tragic and heroic lyre;
"Whose strains old pedagogues, with pompous noise, "Drum in the ears of their reluctant boys.
"Let musty authors at those labours toil,
"Who, thin and wan, out-watch the midnight oil: "In your keen page, where Attic wit is free, "Rome shall, as in a glass, her children see; "Whose vary'd manners, in proportion due, "And, true to life, shall be pourtray'd by you.
Cui coma, et unguento sordida vestis erat.
Tune potes dulces, ingrata, relinquere nugas?
Dic mihi, quid melius desidiosus ages?
An juvat ad tragicos soccum transferre cothurnos,
Aspera vel paribus bella tonare modis,
Prælegat ut tumidus rauca te voce magister,
Oderit et grandis virgo bonusque puer?
Scribant ista graves nimium, nimiumque severi,
Quos media miseros nocte lucerna videt.
At tu Romano lepidos sale tinge libellos:
Agnoscat mores vita, legatque suos.
Light though thy reed may sound along the plain, "'Tis clearer than the trumpet's epic strain."
LUPERCUS, when I like a fish have been drinking, And very near under the table am sinking;
You bring me some deeds, tho' too tipsy to read 'em, (For, you tell me, I promis'd to ZENAS his freedom) Which you press me to scal, with intreaties most fervent,
Since ZENAS, you say, was my father's own servant. Come to-morrow, LUPERCUS, and come ere I dine; For nothing to-day will I seal, but the wine.
Angusta cantare licet videaris avena,
Dum tua multorum vincat avena tubas.
EPIG. 89. LIB. IX.
SEPTEM post calices Opimiani
Denso cum jaceam triente blæsus,
Affers nescio quas mihi tabellas,
Et dicis, Modo liberum esse jussi :
Zenas servulus est mihi paternus:
Signa. Cras melius, Luperce, fiet.
Nunc signat meus annulus lagenam.
*The Romans used to seal the flagon of wine, if not emptied, to prevent their slaves drinking it.
EPIGRAM 4. BOOK XI.
NOT only Rome and Italy admire
My numbers, which the sacred Nine inspire;
But, warm'd by them, the rough centurions glow,
In arms upon the Rhine, mid frost and snow:
E'en the rude Britons read my tuneful verse;
But what avails it with an empty purse?
Happy those Bards who flourish'd in the times,
When sterling pounds were paid for sterling rhimes!
How would my muse have spread AUGUSTUS' name,
And God-like conquests, with the trump of Fame;
Had fate his life been able to prolong,
And his MECENAS patroniz'd my song.
NON urbana mea tantum Pimpleide gaudent
Otia, nec vacuis auribus ista damus:
Sed meus in Geticis ad Martia signa pruinis
A rigido teritur centurione liber.
Dicitur et nostros cantare Britannia versus.
Quid prodest? Nescit sacculus ista meus.
At quam victuras poteramus pangere chartas,
Quantaque Pieria prælia flare tuba !
Cum pia reddiderint Augustum numina terris,
Et Mæcenatem si mihi Roma daret!
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