The Poems of John Byrom :: :: University of Virginia Library

So then, you think Acrisius really sold
His Daughter Danae, himself, for Gold;
When the whole Story of the Grecian King
Makes such a Bargain so absurd a Thing,
That neither Poetry nor Sense could make
The Poet guilty of the vile Mistake!

No, Sir; her Father, here, was rich enough;
Satire on him, for selling her, is Stuff.
Fear was his Motive to a vast Expense
Of Gates and Guards to keep her in a Fence;
But some dull Blockhead, happ'ning to transcribe
When half asleep, has made Him take the Bribe,
Which Jupiter and Venus, as the Bard
Had writ, made use of to corrupt the Guard.

504

All the Remarks on Avarice are just,
But 'twas the Keeper that betray'd his Trust.

Passage from Virgil which you here select us,
How Gold is “cogent of mortale pectus,”
And from Euripides, that “Gold can ope
Gates”—unattempted even by the Pope—
Show Money's Force on Subjects that are vicious;
But what has this to do with King Acrisius,
Who spar'd no Money to secure his Life,
Lost, if his Daughter once became a Wife?
He shut her up for fear of Death, and then
Sold her himself?—All Stuff! I say again.
Death was his dread; nor was it in the Pow'r
Of Love's Bewitchment, or of Money'd Show'r,
Of Venus, Jupiter, or all the Fry
Of Homer's Heav'n, to hire the Man to die.

Where is his Avarice, of any Kind,
Noted in all the Fables that you find,
Except in those of your inventing Fashion
That make him old, and Avarice his Passion,—

505

To hide the Blunder of Amanuenses,
Who, writing Words, full oft unwrit the Senses?
Fact that in Horace, in a World of Places,
Appears by irrecoverable Traces;
On which the Critics raise a learned Dust,
And, still adjusting, never can adjust;
Having but one of all the Roman Lyrics
To feed their Taste for slavish Panegyrics;
The more absurd the Manuscriptal Letter,
They paint from thence some fancied Beauty better;
Hunting for all the Colours, round about,
To make the Nonsense beautifully out;
Adorning richly, for the Poet's Sake,
Some poor hallucinating Scribe's Mistake.

Now, I would have a Short-hand Son of mine
Be less obsequious to the Classic Line,
Than, right or wrong, to yield his Approbation,
Because Homeric, or because Horatian;
Or not to see, when it is fairly hinted,
Either original Defect or printed.
Not that it matters Two-pence, in Regard
Of either Grecian or of Roman Bard,

506

If Schools were wise enough to introduce
Much better Books for Education's Use!
But since, by force of Custom or of Lash,
The Boys must wade thro' so much Traunt and Trash
To gain their Greek and Latin, they should learn
True Greek, at least, and Latin to discern;
Nor, for the sake of Custom, to admit
The Faults of Language, Metre, Sense, or Wit.
Because this blind Attachment by Command
To what their Masters do not understand,
Makes Reading servile, in the younger Flock,
Of riming Horace down to prosing Locke;
Knowledge is all mechanically known,
And no innate Idéas of their own.

But, while I'm riming to you what comes next,
I shall forget th' Acrisius of the Text.
Your Reasons, then, why this “Custodem pavidum”
Should not be chang'd to “Custodemque avidum,”
Turn upon Avarice. You think the Father,
Fond of the Bribe,—I think, the Keeper rather,
Who had no Fear from Danaë, the Wife
Who could receive the Gold and lose no Life,—
Must needs be he; and that, without the Change,
The Verse is unpoetically strange.

You make Acrisius to have been the Guard,
And to be “Pavidus.”—Extremely hard

507

To make out either! For what other Place
Shows that the King was Jailer in the Case?
And is not “Pavidus” a dictum gratis?
Was not his Danaë, “munita satis,”
“Safe kept enough?” If “pavidus” come after,
The “Dear Joy” Horace must provoke one's Laughter,
Plain common Sense suggesting, all the while:
“Not Fear, but fancied Safety gave the Smile.”
Safe as Acrisius thought himself to be,
The “Custos avidus” would take a Fee;
A golden shower, they knew, would break his Oath,
And Jupiter and Venus laugh'd at both.

II. A DIALOGUE.

““Sume Mæcenas Cyathos Amici
Sospitis centum.
—Lib. iii., Od. 8, vv. 13–14.

Take Mæcenas, a hundred cups with thy friend who is now in safety.”

508

I

What! must Mæcenas, when he sups
With Horace, drink a Hundred Cups?
A Hundred Cups Mæcenas drink!
Where must he put them all, d'ye think?
Pray, have the Critics all so blunder'd,
That none of 'em correct this “Hundred?”

II

“Not that I know has any one
“Had any Scruple thereupon;
“And for what Reason, pray, should you?
“The Reading, to be sure, is true;
“‘A hundred Cups:’ that is to say:
“‘Mæcenas! come, and drink away!’”

III

If that was all the Poet meant,
It is express'd without the “Cent.”
“Sume, Mæcenas, Cyathos”
Does it full well without the Dose,—
The monst'rous Dose in Cup or Can,
That suits with neither Bard nor Man!

509

IV

“Nay, why so monst'rous? Is it told
“How much the ‘Cyathus’ would hold?
“You think perhaps it was a Mug,
“As round as any Johnian Jug.
“They drank all Night; if small the Glass,
“Would ‘Centum’ mount to such a Mass?”

V

Small as you will, if 'twas a Bumper,
“Centum” for One would be a Thumper.
Its Bulk Horatian Terms define:
“Vates attonitus” with nine;
“Gratia” forbidding more than three.
They were no Thimbles, you may see.

VI

“Not in that Ode; in this they might
“Intend a more diminish'd Plight;
“And, then, Mæcenas and the Bard
“That Night, I warrant ye, drank hard;

510

“‘Perfer in Lucem,’ Horace cries;
“To what a Pitch might Numbers rise!”

VII

A desperate long Night, my Friend,
Before their hundred Cups could end!
Nor does the Verse invite, throughout,
Mæcenas to a drunken Bout:
“Perfer in Lucem” comes in View
With “procul omnis clamor” too.

VIII

“Was it no Bout, because no Noise
“Should interrupt their Midnight Joys?
“Horace, you read, with annual Tap,
“Notes his escape from dire Mishap:
“Must he, and Friends conven'd, be sober,
“Because 'twas March, and not October?

IX

“Sober or drunk” is not the Case,
But Word and Meaning to replace,
Both here demolish'd. Did they, pray,
Do nothing else but drink away?
For Friends conven'd had Horace got
No Entertainment but to sot?

511

X

“Yes, to be sure; he might rehearse
“Some new or entertaining Verse;
“Might touch the Lyre, invoke the Muse,
“Or twenty Things that he might choose.
“No doubt but he would mix along
“With Cup and Talk the joyous Song.”

XI

Doubtless, he would; and that's the Word,
For which a “Centum” so absurd
Has been inserted, by Mistake
Of his Transcribers, scarce awake;
Which all the Critics when they keep,
Are, quoad hoc, quite fast asleep;

XII

For that's the Word!—“What Word d'ye mean?
“For Song does ‘Centum’ intervene?
“Song would be—O, I take your Hint:
“‘Cantum,’ not ‘Centum,’ you would print,
“‘Sospitis Cantum,’—but the Clause
“Can have no Sense with such a Pause.”

XIII

Pause then at “Sospitis,” nor strike
The three Cæsuras all alike;

512

One Cup of Helicon but quaff,
The Point is plain as a Pikestaff:
“The Wine, the Song, the Lustre's Light,”—
The Verse, the Pause, the Sense is right.

XIV

“Stay, let me read the Sapphic out
“Both Ways, and then resolve the Doubt:
“Sume Mæcenas cyathos Amici
Sospitis centum, et vigiles Lucernas
Perfer in Lucem; procul omnis esto
Clamor et Ira!”
“Sume Mæcenas cyathos Amici
Sospitis; Cantum, et vigiles Lucernas
Perfer in Lucem; procul omnis esto
Clamor et Ira!”
“Well, I confess, now I have read,
“The Thing is right that you have said;
“One Vowel rectified, how plain
“Does Horace's Intent remain!”

III. [Ye Poets, and Critics, and Men of the Schools]

“Nonumque prematur in Annum.
—De Art. Poët. v. 388.

And let it be suppressed till the ninth year.”

513

I

Ye Poets, and Critics, and Men of the Schools,
Who talk about Horace and Horace's Rules,
Ye learned Admirers, how comes it, I wonder,
That none of you touch a most tangible Blunder?
I speak not to servile and sturdy Logicians,
Who will, right or wrong, follow printed Editions;
But you that are Judges, come, rub up your Eyes,
And unshackle your Wits,—and I'll show where it lies!

II

Amongst other Rules which your Horace has writ
To make his young Piso for Poetry fit,
He tells him, that Verses should not be pursued
When the Muse (or Minerva) was not in the Mood;
That, whate'er he should wish, “he should let it descend
To the Ears of his Father, his Master, his Friend,
And let it lie by him,”—now prick up your Ears!—
“Nonumque prematur in Annum,”—“nine years.”

III

“Nine Years,” I repeat; for the Sound is enough,
With the Help of plain Sense, to discover the Stuff.
If the Rule had been new, what a Figure would “nine”
Have made with your Piso's, ye Masters of mine?

514

Must a Youth of quick Parts, for his Verse's Perfection,
Let it lie for “nine Years” in the House of Correction?
Nine Years if his Verses must lie in the Leaven,
Take the young Rogue himself, and transport him for seven!

IV

To make this a Maxim that Horace infuses,
Must provoke all the Laughter of all the nine Muses.
How the Wits of old Rome, in a Case so facetious,
Would have jok'd upon Horace, and Piso, and Metius,
If they all could not make a poetical Line
Ripe enough to be read, till the Year had struck nine!
Had the Boy been possest of nine Lives, like a Cat,
Yet surely he'd ne'er have submitted to that!

V

“Vah!” says an old Critic, “Indefinite Number
To denote many Years”—(which is just the same Lumber);

515

Quotes a Length of Quintilian for Time to retouch;
But wisely stops short at his blaming too much.
“Some took many Years”; he can instance, in fine,
“Isocrates ten, Poet Cinna just nine;”—
Rare Instance of taking, which, had he been cool,
Th' old Critic had seen, never could be a Rule.

VI

“Indeed,” says a young one, “nine Years, I confess,
Is a desperate While for a Youth to suppress.
I can hardly think Horace would make it a Point;
The Word, to be sure, must be out of its Joint;
Lie by with a ‘Nonum’!—Had I been his Piso,
I'd have told little Fatty, mine never should lie so.
Had he said for nine Months, I should think them enow.
This Reading is false, Sir; pray, tell us the True!”

VII

Why, you are not far off it, if present Conjecture
May furnish the Place with a probable Lecture;
For by Copies, I doubt, either printed or written,
The Hundreds of Editors all have been bitten.
Nine Months you allow?—“Yes.”—Well, let us, for fear

516

Of affronting Quintilian, e'en make it a Year:
Give the Critics their “numque,” but as to their “no”—
You have one in plain English more fit to bestow.

VIII

I take the Correction: “unumque prematur”
“Let it lie for one Twelvemonth.”—“Ay, that may hold Water;
And Time enough too for consulting about
Master Piso's Performance, before it came out!
What! Would Horace insist, that a Sketch of a Boy
Should take as much Time, as the taking of Troy?
They that bind out the young one, say, when the old Fellow
Took any Time like it, to make a Thing mellow.

IX

Tho' correct in his Trifles”!—Young Man, you say right,
And to them that will see, it is plain at first Sight;
But Critics that will not, they hunt all around
For something of sameness, in Sense or in Sound;
It is all one to them so attach'd to the Letter,
That to make better Sense makes it never the better.
Nay, the more Sense in Readings, the less they will own 'em;
You must leave to these Sages their mumpsimus “Nonum.”

X

“Do you think,” they cry out, “that with so little Wit
Such a World of great Critics on Horace have writ?
That the Poets themselves, were the Blunder so plain,
In a Point of their Art too, would let it remain?”
For you are to consider, these critical Chaps
Do not like to be snubb'd; you may venture, perhaps,
An Amendment, where they can see somewhat amiss;
But may raise their ill Blood, if you circulate this.

517

XI

“It will circulate, this, Sir, as sure as their Blood,
Or, if not, it will stand, as in Horace it stood.
They may wrangle and jangle, unwilling to see;
But the Thing is as clear as a Whistle to me.
This “Nonum” of theirs no Defence will admit,
Except that a Blot is no Blot, till it's hit;
And now you have hit it, if “Nonum” content 'em,
So would, if the Verse had so had it, “Nongentum.”

XII

You'll say, “this is painting of Characters”;—true;
But really, good Sirs, I have met with these two:—
The first, in all Comments quite down to the Delphin,
A Man, if he likes it, may look at himself in;
The last, if you like, and, along with the Youth,
Prefer to “Nonumque” poetical Truth,
Then blot out the Blunder, now here it is hinted,
And by all future Printers “Unumque” be printed!

IV. [By “Campus,” and by “Areæ,” my Friends]

“Nunc et Campus et Areæ,
Lenesque sub noctem susurri
Compositâ repetantur horâ.
—Lib. i. Od. 9, vv. 18–20.

Now let both the Campus Martius, and the open squares, and soft whispers be resorted to again, at the hour of assignation.”

518

I

By “Campus,” and by “Areæ,” my Friends,
The Question is, what Horace here intends?
For such Expression with the current Style
Of this whole Ode is hard to reconcile;
Nay, notwithstanding critical Pretence,
Or I mistake, or it can have no Sense.

II

The Ode, you find, proceeding to relate
A Winter's Frost in its severest State,
Calls out for Fire, and Wine, and Loves, and Dance,
And all that Horace rambles to enhance;
But how can this fair-Weather Phrase belong
To such a wintry, saturnalian Song?

III

A learned Frenchman quotes these very Lines
As really difficult; and thus refines:
“We use these Words,” says Monsieur Sanadon,

519

“For nightly Meetings, hors de la Maison;
“But 'tis ridiculous, in Frost and Snow
“Of keenest Kind, that Horace should do so.”

IV

Right, Monsieur, right; such incoherent Stuff
Is here, no Doubt, ridiculous enough.
The Campus Martius, and its active Scenes,
Which Commentators say th' Expression means,
Have here no Place; nor can they be akin
To Scenes not laid without Doors, but within.

V

“‘Nunc’ must refer,” proceeds the French Remark,
“To ‘Donec—Puer,’ Age of Taliarque;
“Not to the Frost, for which the Bard, before,
“Design'd the two first Strophes, and no more;
“As Commentators rightly should have taught,
“Or inattentive Readers else are caught.”

VI

Now “inattentive” Critics too, I say,
Are caught, sometimes, in their dogmatic Way.
United here, we must divide, forsooth,
The Time of Winter from the Time of Youth,
When all Expressions of Horatian Growth
Do, in this Ode, 'tis plain, refer to both!

520

VII

Youthful th' Amusements, and for frosty Week;
From drinking, dancing, down to hide and seek;
But “Campus” comes, and “Areæ,” between,
By a Mistake too big for any Screen;
And how nonsensically join'd with Lispers,
“By Assignation met,” of “nightly Whispers”!

VIII

Strange, how Interpreters retail the Farce,
That “Campus” here should mean “the Field of Mars”!
When in their Task they must have just read o'er
Contrast to this, the very Ode before;
Where ev'ry manly Exercise disclos'd
To Love's Effeminacy stands oppos'd.

IX

In this, no thought of any Field on Earth,
But warm Fire-side and Roman Winter's Mirth;
No thought of any but domestic “Ring,”
Where all Decembrian Customs took their Swing,
And where—but come, that Matter we'll suppress;
There should be something for Cantábs to guess!

X

I'll ask anon, from what has now been said,
If Emendation pops into your Head;

521

Or if you'll teach me how to comprehend
That all is right, and Nothing here to mend.—
Come, sharpen up your Latin Wits a bit;
What are they good for else, these Odes that Horace writ?

V. [This Phrase of “Riches built on high”]

“Cedes coëmptis saltibus, et domo;
Villâque, flavus quam Tiberis lavit,
Cedes; et exstructis in altum
Divitiis potietur heres.
—Lib. ii. Od. 3, vv. 17–20.

You shall leave your purchased lawns, and your house; you shall retire from the villa, which is washed by the yellow Tiber; and an heir shall enjoy your riches high piled up.”

I

This Phrase of “Riches built on high”
Has something in it, at first Sight,
Which, if the Latin Language try,
Must needs appear not to be right.

522

Produce an Instance, where before
'Twas ever us'd,—I'll say no more!

II

Talk not of “Riches pil'd on Heaps,”
To justify the Latin Phrase;
For if you take such critic Leaps,
You jump into Dog-Latin Days;
And I shall answer to that Trick:
“In meâ mente non est sic.”

III

That “Lands” were here the Poet's Thought,
And “House along the River's Side,”
And “lofty Villa,” built or bought,
Is much too plain to be denied.
These “high-extructed Spires” he writ
That mortal Dellius must quit.

IV

“Well, Sir, supposing this the Case,
“And ‘Structures’ what the Poet meant:
“How will you fill the faulty Place
“With Phrase that suited his Intent;
“Meaning and Metre both arrange,
“And small, if possible, the Change?”

523

V

Smaller and better, to be sure,
Into their Place Amendments fall;
What first occurs will here secure
Meaning and Meter, Change and all.
May it not be that for “Divitiis”
Th' Original had “Æ-dificiis?”

VI

If you object that sep'rate “Æ”
Makes in one Word an odd Division,
Horace, I answer to that Plea,
Has more than once the like Elision.
In short, upon Correction's Plan,
Give us a better, if you can.

VI. [This Passage, Sirs, may put ye, one would think]

“Non est meum, si mugiat Africis
Malus procellis, ad miseras preces
Decurrere, et votis pacisci,
Ne Cypriæ Tyriæque merces
Addant avaro divitias mari.
Tum me biremis præsidio scaphæ
Tutum per Ægæos tumultus
Aura feret geminusque Pollux.
—Lib. iii. Od. 29, vv. 57–64.

524

It is no part of my concern, if the mast be cracked by African storms, to descend to piteous entreaties, and by my vows to make an agreement that my Cyprian and Tyrian wares shall not augment the treasures of the greedy ocean. Then, under the safe-guard of a two-oared skiff, the breeze and the twin-brother Pollux will waft me safely through the Ægean tempests.”

I

This Passage, Sirs, may put ye, one would think,
In mind of him, who, in a furious Storm
Told that the Vessel certainly would sink,
Made a Reply in the Horatian Form:
“Why, let it sink then, if it will!” quoth he;
“I'm but a Passenger,—what is't to me?”

II

So, “non est meum,” Horace here cries out,
To purchase Calm with wretched Vows and Pray'rs;
“Let them who freight the Ship be thus devout,—
I'm not concern'd in any of its Wares!”
May not one ask, if common-Sense will read,
Was ever Jest and Earnest more agreed?

525

III

Nay but you see the Reason, 'tis replied,
Why he rejects the Bargaining of Pray'r:
His little Skiff will stem the raging Tide
With double Pollux, and with gentler Air.
“This is his Moral,” say his Under-pullers:
“The Poor and Innocent are safe in Scullers.”

IV

Why, so they may be, if they coast along,
And shun the Winds that make “a Mast to moan!”
But here, according to the critic Throng,
Horace was in the Ship, tho' not his own.
Suppose a Sculler just contriv'd for him,
When the Ship sunk, would his “Biremis” swim?

V

Can you by any construing Pretence,—
If you suppose, as Commentators do,
Him in the Ship,—make tolerable Sense
Of his surviving all the sinking Crew?
With Winds so boist'rous, by what cunning Twist
Can his clear Stars and gentle Air resist?

VI

“The Gifts of Fortune Horace had resign'd,
“And poor and honest his just fancied Case:
“Nothing to do had he with ‘stormy Wind,’
“Nor in ‘Ægæan Seas’ to seek a Place.

526

“How is it likely then, that he should mean
“To paint himself in such an awkward Scene?”

VII

Why, but “Tum me biremis” must suppose,
By “then” escaping, that he sure was in't;
And “feret,” too, that comes into the close
In all the Books that we have here in Print.—
Both Words are wrong, tho', notwithstanding that;
“Tum” should be “Cum,” and “feret” be “ferat.”

VIII

The Sense, or Moral, if you please, is this:
“Henceforth be Probity, tho' poor, my Lot!
“The Love of Riches is but an Abyss
“Of dangerous Cares, that now concern me not.
“Caught in its Storms, let Avarice implore;
“I thank my Stars, I'm rowing safe to Shore.”

VII. [Whene'er this Horace comes into one's Hand]

“Ludit herboso pecus omne campo
Cum tibi Nonæ redeunt Decembres;
Festus in pratis vacat otioso
Cum bove pagus;
Inter audaces lupus errat agnos;
Spargit agrestes tibi silva frondes;
Gaudet invisam pepulisse fossor
Ter pede terram.
—Lib. iii. Od. 18, vv. 9–16.

527

All the cattle play upon the grassy plain, when the Nones of December to thee return; the festive village is at leisure in the meadows with the idle ox; the wolf wanders among the dauntless lambs; for thee the wood scatters small leaves; the digger rejoices to have beaten the hated ground in a triple dance.”

I

Whene'er this Horace comes into one's Hand,
One meets with Words full hard to understand.
If one consult the Critics thereupon,
Some Places have a Note, some others none;
And, when they take interpretating Pains,
Sometimes the Difficulty still remains.

II

To you that see, good Friends, where I am blind,
Let me propose a Case of either Kind:
Premising first,—for both relate to Weather,—
That Winter and December come together;
The Romans, too, as far as I remember,
Have join'd together Winter and December.

III

In Book the Third of Horace, Ode Eighteen,
“Ad Faunum,” these two Sapphics here are seen:
“Ludit HERBOSO pecus omne campo,

528

Cum tibi Nonæ redeunt Decembres;
Festus in Pratis vacat otioso
Cum bove Pagus.
Inter audaces lupus errat Agnos;
Spargit agrestes tibi Silva Frondes;
Gaudet invisam pepulisse fossor
Ter pede terram.”
Now, in December, if we reason close,
Are Fields poetically call'd “herbose?”
Is that the Month, tho' Faunus kept the Fold,
For “daring Lambs” to frisk about so bold?

IV

“Leaves,” I would add too; but the learn'd Dacier
Has made this Point elaborately clear,
As one that artful Horace interweaves:
“The Trees in Italy then shed their Leaves;
“And this the Poet's Artifice profound:
“The Trees themselves for Faunus strew'd the Ground.”

V

It is, we'll say, a fine Horatian Flight;
But is the Herbage,—are the Lambs, so right?
Is there in all the Ode a single Thing
That makes the Winter differ from the Spring?
Nones of December are indeed hibernal,
But all the rest is absolutely vernal.

VI

“Lenis incedis per APRICA rura”—
Does this begin like Winter?—But quid plura?

529

Read how it all begins, goes on, or ends:
Nothing but “Nones” is winterly, my Friends;
Neither in human nor in brutal Creatures
One Trace observ'd of Winter's stormy Features.

VII

May not there be, then, tho' the Critic make
No Hesitation at it, a Mistake?
The Digger's Dancing, too, has somewhat spissy:
“Gaudet INVISAM terram pepulisse.”
“He in Revenge” (say Comments) “beats the Soil,
Hated,” because it gave him so much Toil.

VIII

As oft the Diggers, whom we chance to meet,
Turn up the Ground, and press it with their Feet,
Horace himself, perhaps we may admit,
“Inversam terram,” not “INVISAM” writ.
But this at Present our Demand postpones:—
Pray, solve the Doubt on these “Decembrian Nones”!

VIII. [Horace, “an Infant” (here he interweaves]

“Ut tuto ab atris corpore viperis
Dormirem et Ursis.
—Lib. iii. Od. 4, vv. 17–18.

How I could sleep with my body secured from black vipers and bears.”

530

I

Horace, “an Infant” (here he interweaves
In rambling Ode, where no Design coheres),
“By fabled Stock-Doves cover'd up with Leaves,
“Kept safe from black skinn'd Vipers, and from Bears;”—
But, passing by the incoherent Ode,
I ask the Critics where the “Bears” abode?

II

The Leaves indeed, that Stock-Doves could convey,
Would be but poor Defence against the Snakes,
And sleeping Boy be still an easy Prey
To black Pervaders of the thorny Brakes;
The Bears, I doubt too, would have smelt him out,
If there had been such Creatures thereabout!

III

The Snakes were black; the Bears, I guess, were white,
(Or what the Vulgar commonly call Bulls)
Bears had there been; another Word is right
That has escap'd the criticising Skulls,
Who suffer Bears as quietly to pass,
As if the Bard had been of Lapland Class.

531

IV

A Word, where Sense and Sound do so agree,
That I shall spare to speak in its Defence,
And leave Absurdity, so plain to see,
With due Correction, to your own good Sense.
'Tis this in short in these Horatian Verses:
For “Bears” read “Goats”: pro “Ursis,” lege “Hyrcis!”

IX. [This is one Ode, and much the best of two]

“Romæ, principis urbium,
Dignatur soboles inter amabiles
Vates ponere me choros.
—Lib. iv. Od. 3, vv. 13–15

The children (inhabitants) of Rome, the queen of cities, deign to place me among the amiable band of poets.”

I

This is one Ode, and much the best of two,
Fam'd above all for Scaliger's Ado.
“I rather would have writ so good a Thing
“Than reign,” quoth he, “an Aragonian King.”

532

Had he been King, and Master of the Vote,
I doubt, the Monarch would have chang'd his Note,
And, loading Verses with an huge Renown,
Would still have kept his Aragonian Crown.

II

This Ode, howe'er, tho' short of such a Rout,
He show'd some Judgment when he singled out.
Compar'd with others, one is at a Stand
To think how those should come from the same Hand.
For, if they did, 'tis marvellous enough,
That such a Muse with such a Breath should puff,—
That such a delicate harmonious Muse
Should catch the Clouds, or sink into the Stews.

III

But Fame has sold them to us in a Lot,
And all is Horace, whether his, or not.
For his, or whose you will, then, let them pass;
What signifies it who the Author was?

533

“Dunghill of Ennius,” as we are told
By ancient Proverb, “might afford some Gold;”
And that's the Case of what this Horace sung:
Some Grains of Gold with Tinsel mix'd, and Dung.

IV

We'll say this Ode, allowing for the Age
That Horace writ in, was a golden Page,—
The Words well chosen, easy, free, and pat,
The Lyric Claim so manag'd,—and all that;—
What I would note is, that no Critic yet,
Of them, I mean, whose Notes my Eyes have met,
Has seen a Blemish in this finish'd Piece,
Outdone, they say, by neither Rome nor Greece.

V

Yet there is one, which it is somewhat strange,
That none of 'em should see a Cause to change,
But let a great Indelicacy stand,
As if it came from Horace's own Hand:
To “vatum choros” join'd “Amabiles,”
When, what he meant was “lovely soboles.”
Meo periculo, Sirs, alter this:
If Taste be in you, read “amabilis.”

534

VI

If ye refuse, I have no more to say;
Keep to flat Print, and read it your own Way;
Let Fear to change a Vowel's Rote dispense
With jingling sound, and unpoliter Sense!
I don't expect that Critics, with their Skill,
Will take the Hint,—but all true Poets will.
Be it a Test, at Present, who has got
The nicer Taste of liquid Verse, who not!

541

[_]

Latin verse has been omitted.

XIII. [The whole Design of this Horatian Strain]

“------Thure placaris et hornâ
Fruge Lares avidâque porcâ.
—Lib. iii. Od. 23, vv. 3–4.

And thou shalt have appeased the household Gods, by an offering of frankincense, and fruits of this year's growth, and a greedy swine.”

543

THE FOREGOING CRITICISM, IN ENGLISH VERSE.

[_]

Latin verse has been omitted.

I

The whole Design of this Horatian Strain
Is so exceeding obvious and plain,
That one would wonder how correcting Eyes
Could overlook a Blot of such a Size
As “avidâque Porcâ,” when the Line,
So read, quite ruins Horace's Design.

II

He, as the Verse begins, and as it ends,
This Point to rustic Phydile commends:
That Innocence to Gifts the Gods prefer,
And frugal Off'rings would suffice from her;
That want of Victims was in her no Fault;
She might present Fruit, Incense, Cake, and Salt.

III

With what Connexion could he add to these
A “greedy Swine” in order to appease
Those very Deities, whom Ode is meant
To paint with cheap and bloodless Gifts content,
From pious Hands receiv'd, tho' e'er so small?
But “avidâque Porcâ” spoils it all.

IV

What Moral meant, if they requir'd, in fine,
From rustic Phidyle, a great fat Swine?
Why little Gods and little Matters nam'd,
If such a Sacrifice as this was claim'd?
“Porcâ” is wrong, Sirs, whether we regard
The Gods, the Countrywoman, or the Bard.

544

V

What must be done in such a Case as this?
One must amend, tho' one should do't amiss.
I'll tell you the Correction, frank and free,
That upon reading first occurr'd to me,
And seem'd to suit the Bard's Intention better,
With small Mutation of the printed Letter.

VI

Tho' “avidâque Porcâ” runs along
With Verb, and Case, and Measure of the Song,
Yet, if the Poet is to be renown'd
For something more than mere Italian Sound,—
For Life and Sense, as well as Shell and Carcass,
Read: “Fruge Lares, avidasque Parcas.”

XIV. [Have ye no Scruple, Sirs, when ye rehearse]

“Vile potabis modicis Sabinum
Cantharis.
—Lib. i. Od. 20, vv. 1–2.

Thou shalt drink weak Sabine wine in little cups.”

545

I

Have ye no Scruple, Sirs, when ye rehearse
This hissing Kind of an Horatian Verse?
To me, I own, at Sight of triple “is,”
Suspicion said that something was amiss;
And, when one reads the triple Sapphic thro',
'Tis plain that what Suspicion said was true.

II

Critics, as Custom goes, if one shall bring
The plainest Reason for the plainest Thing,
Will stick to Horace, as he sticks to Print,
And say, sometimes, that there is Nothing in't.—
Or, here, Mistake perhaps, may be my Lot;
Now, tell me, Neighbours, if 'tis so or not?

III

This Ode, or (since apparently Mishap
Has lost the true Beginning of it) Scrap,
Informs Mæcenas that poor Sabine Wine
Shall be his Drink, in Horace's Design,—
Wine which the Poet had incask'd, the Day
That People shouted for the Knight away.

546

IV

This is the first Thing that it says. The next,
Without one Word of intervening Text,
Says, he shall drink (and in poetic Shape
Wine is describ'd) the very richest Grape:
“My Cups Falernian Vintage, Formian Hill,”
(Is all that follows after) “never fill.”

V

These, and these only, in the printed Code,
Are the two Periods of this pygmy Ode;
And how they stand in Contradiction flat,
Whoe'er can construe Latin must see that!
The Critics saw it, but forsook their Sight,
And set their Wits at work, to make it right.

VI

How they have done it, such as have a Mind
To know their Fetches, if they look, may find,
And smile thereat. One Ounce, that but coheres,
Of Mother Wit, is worth a Pound of theirs;
Who having, by their Dint of Learning, seen
That Moon is Cheese, soon prove it to be green.

VII

'Twill be enough to give ye just a Taste,
From Delphin here, of criticising Haste:
“Mæcenas, setting on some Journey out,
“Sent Horace word, before he took his Rout,—

547

“As Cruquius, Lubin, Codex too pretend,—
“That he would sup with his assured Friend.

VIII

“Horace writes back—and this, it seems, the Ode:—
“‘'Tis mighty kind to take me in your Road;
“But you must be content with slender Fare,
“Such as my poor Tenuity can spare:
“Vile potabis,—Sabine wine the best—
“As learnedly Theod. Marcil. has guess'd.’”

IX

So far, so good.—But why should Horace, slap,
Say: “You shall drink the Wines of richest Tap?”
“That is,” quoth Margin of the Delphin Tome,
“‘Domi potabis’—‘you shall drink at Home;’
‘Hæc vina quidem bibes apud te,’
Says Note; ‘non ita vero apud me.’”

X

“Certè,” it adds, “as Pliny understood,
“The Knight's own Wine was exquisitely good;”—
Good, to be sure, tho' Pliny had been dumb;
But how does all that has been said o'ercome
The Contradiction?—Why, with this Assistance:
'Tis plain they supp'd together—at a Distance!

548

XI

One easy Hint, without such awkward Stirs,
Dissolves at once the Difficulty, Sirs:
Let Horace drink himself of his own Vinum:
“Vile POTABO modicis Sabinum
“Cantharis, and Mæcenas do so too;—
“Tu bibes Cæcubum;” and all is true.

XII

No verbal Hissing spoils poetic Grace,
Nor Contradiction stares ye in the Face;
But Verse-Intention, without further Tours:
“I'll drink my Wine, Mæcenas, and you yours.”
Should not all Judges of Horatian Letter
Or take this Reading, or propose a better?