Poems on Several Occasions With some Select Essays in Prose. In Two Volumes. By John Hughes; Adorn'd with Sculptures |
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AN Allusion to HORACE. BOOK I. ODE XXII. |
 | Poems on Several Occasions |  |
103
AN Allusion to HORACE. BOOK I. ODE XXII.
The Man that loves his King and Nation,
And shuns each vile Association,
That trusts his honest Deeds i'th' Light,
Nor meets in dark Cabals, by Night,
With Fools, who, after much Debate,
Get themselves hang'd, and save the State,
Needs not his Hall with Weapons store;
Nor dreads each Rapping at his Door;
Nor sculks, in fear of being known,
Or hides his Guilt in Parson's Gown;
Nor wants, to guard his gen'rous Heart,
The Poniard or the poison'd Dart;
And, but for Ornament and Pride,
A Sword of Lath might cross his Side.
And shuns each vile Association,
That trusts his honest Deeds i'th' Light,
Nor meets in dark Cabals, by Night,
With Fools, who, after much Debate,
Get themselves hang'd, and save the State,
Needs not his Hall with Weapons store;
Nor dreads each Rapping at his Door;
Nor sculks, in fear of being known,
Or hides his Guilt in Parson's Gown;
Nor wants, to guard his gen'rous Heart,
The Poniard or the poison'd Dart;
104
A Sword of Lath might cross his Side.
If o'er St. James's Park he stray,
He stops not, pausing in his way;
Nor pulls his Hat down o'er his Face,
Nor starts, looks back, and mends his Pace:
Or if he ramble to the Tower,
He knows no Crime, and dreads no Power,
But thence returning, free as Wind,
Smiles at the Bars he left behind.
Thus, as I loiter'd t'other Day,
Humming—O every Month was May—
And, thoughtless how my Time I squander'd,
From Whitehall, thro' the Cockpit wander'd,
A Messenger, with surly Eye,
View'd me quite round, and yet pass'd by.
He stops not, pausing in his way;
Nor pulls his Hat down o'er his Face,
Nor starts, looks back, and mends his Pace:
Or if he ramble to the Tower,
He knows no Crime, and dreads no Power,
But thence returning, free as Wind,
Smiles at the Bars he left behind.
Thus, as I loiter'd t'other Day,
Humming—O every Month was May—
And, thoughtless how my Time I squander'd,
From Whitehall, thro' the Cockpit wander'd,
A Messenger, with surly Eye,
View'd me quite round, and yet pass'd by.
105
No sharper Look or rougher Mien
In Scotish Highlands e'er were seen;
Nor Ale and Brandy ever bred
More pimpled Cheeks, or Nose more red;
And yet, with both Hands in my Breast,
Careless I walk'd, nor shunn'd the Beast.
In Scotish Highlands e'er were seen;
Nor Ale and Brandy ever bred
More pimpled Cheeks, or Nose more red;
And yet, with both Hands in my Breast,
Careless I walk'd, nor shunn'd the Beast.
Place me among a hundred Spies,
Let all the Room be Ears and Eyes;
Or search my Pocket-Books and Papers,
No Word or Line shall give me Vapours.
Send me to Whigs as true and hearty,
As ever pity'd poor M---ty;
Let T---d, S---d, be there,
Or R---n W---e in the Chair.
Or send me to a Club of Tories,
That damn and curse at Marlbro's Glories,
And drink—but sure none such there are!—
The Devil, the Pope, and Rebel Mar;
Yet still my Loyalty I'll boast,
King GEORGE shall ever be my Toast;
Unbrib'd his glorious Cause I'll own,
And fearless scorn each Traitor's Frown.
Let all the Room be Ears and Eyes;
Or search my Pocket-Books and Papers,
No Word or Line shall give me Vapours.
Send me to Whigs as true and hearty,
As ever pity'd poor M---ty;
106
Or R---n W---e in the Chair.
Or send me to a Club of Tories,
That damn and curse at Marlbro's Glories,
And drink—but sure none such there are!—
The Devil, the Pope, and Rebel Mar;
Yet still my Loyalty I'll boast,
King GEORGE shall ever be my Toast;
Unbrib'd his glorious Cause I'll own,
And fearless scorn each Traitor's Frown.
Integer vitæ, scelerisque purus,
Non eget Mauris jaculis neque arcu,
Nec venenatis gravidâ sagittis,
Fusce, pharetrâ:
Non eget Mauris jaculis neque arcu,
Nec venenatis gravidâ sagittis,
Fusce, pharetrâ:
Sive per Syrtes iter æstuosas,
Sive facturus per inhospitalem
Caucasum, vel quæ loca fabulosus
Lambit Hydaspes.
Sive facturus per inhospitalem
Caucasum, vel quæ loca fabulosus
Lambit Hydaspes.
Namque me sylvâ lupus in Sabinâ,
Dum meam canto Lalagen, & ultra
Terminum curis vagor expeditus,
Fugit inermem:
Dum meam canto Lalagen, & ultra
Terminum curis vagor expeditus,
Fugit inermem:
| Poems on Several Occasions | |