Eve's tempter thus the rabbins have express'd, The whisper, that, to greatness still too near, A. But why insult the poor, affront the great? Sporus at court, or Japhet in a jail: A laureling scribbler, or a hireling peer, gai his prince's ear, or lose his own. Yet soft by nature, more a dupe than wit, Full ten years slander'd, did he once reply? Of gentle blood (part shed in honour's cause, And better got than Bestia's from the throne. The good man walk'd innoxious through his age His life, though long, to sickness pass'd unknown O grant me thus to live, and thus to die! To rock the cradle of reposing age, With lenient arts extend a mother's breath, A. Whether that blessing be denied or given, SATIRES AND EPISTLES OF HORACE, IMITATED. ADVERTISEMENT. The occasion of publishing these Imitations was the clamour raised on some of my Epistles. An answer from Horace was both more full, and of more dignity, than any I could have made in my own person: and the example of much greater freedom in so eminent a divine as Dr. Donne, seemed a proof with what indignation and contempt a Christian may treat vice or folly, in ever so low or ever so high a station. Both these authors were acceptable to the princes and ministers under whom they lived. The satires of Dr. Donne I versified at the desire of the earl of Oxford, while he was lord treasurer, and of the duke of Ehrewsbury, who had been secretary of state; neither of whom looked upon a satire on vicious courts as ary reflection on those they served in. And, indeed there is not in the world a greater error, than that which fools are so apt to fall into, and knaves with good reason to encourage, the mistaking a satirist for a libeller; whereas to a true satirist nothing is so odions as a libeller, for the same reason as to a man truly virtuous nothing is so hateful as a hypocrite. Uni æquus virtuti atque ejus amicis. Whoever expects a paraphrase of IIorace, or a faithful copy of his genius, or manner of writing, in these imitations, will be much disappointed. Our author uses the Roman poet for little more than his canvass and if the old design or colouring chance to suit his purpose, it is well; if not, he employs his own, without scruple or ceremony. Hence it is, hë is so frequently serious where Horace is in jest, and at ease where Horace is disturbed. In a word, he regulates his movements no further on his original, than was necessary for his concurrence in promoting their common plan of reformation of manners. Had it been his purpose merely to paraphrase an ancient satirist, he had hardly made choice of Horace : with whom, as a poet, he held little in common, besides a comprehensive knowledge of life and manners, and a certain curious felicity of expression, which consists in using the simplest language with dignity and the most ornamented with ease. For the rest, his harmony and strength of numbers, his force and splendour of colouring, his gravity and sublimity of sentiment, would have rather led him to another mo del. Nor was his temper less unlike that of Horace than his talents. What florace would only smile at. Mr. Pope would treat with the grave severity of Persus; and what Mr. Pope would strike with the caustic lightning of Juvenal, ilorace would content him self' in turning into ridicule. -- it be asked, then, why he took any body at all te tinitate, he has informed us in his advertisement. To which we may add, that this sort of imitations, which are of the nature of parodies, adds reflected grace and splendour on original wit. Besides, he deemed i more modest to give the name of imitations to his sa tire, than, like Despreaux, to give the naine of satires A imitations. BOOK II-SATIRE I. TO MR FORTESCUE. P THERE are (1 scarce can think it, but am told) You'll give me, like a friend, both sage and free, F. I'd write no more. P. Not write? but then I think, And for my soul I cannot sleep a wink. nod in company, I wake at night, Fools rush into my head, and so I write. F. You could not do a worse thing for your life. Why, if the night seems tedious-take a wife: Or rather truly, if your point be rest, Hartshorn, or something that shall close your eyes. P. What, like sir Richard! rumbling, rough, and fierce With arms,and George and Brunswick crowd the verse |