The Works of Horace In English Verse By several hands. Collected and Published By Mr. Duncombe. With Notes Historical and Critical |
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The Same EPISTLE Imitated.
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 | The Works of Horace In English Verse |  |
332
The Same EPISTLE Imitated.
[While you, my Friend, are ever doom'd to Town]
By a Friend in IRELAND.
To a Tutor at Trinity College, Dublin.
While you, my Friend, are ever doom'd to Town,
(A Province worse than thankless to the Gown)
Your constant Toil while stubborn Youth requires,
To prune its Wings, and check its early Fires,
To mark its Bent, its future Course to plan,
And point the dangerous Passage up to Man;
Kind Fortune gives to Me the flowery Mead,
The silent Hour, and Thought-creating Shade:
She gives the former Sages to review,
And, kinder still, she gives to love them too.
(A Province worse than thankless to the Gown)
Your constant Toil while stubborn Youth requires,
To prune its Wings, and check its early Fires,
To mark its Bent, its future Course to plan,
And point the dangerous Passage up to Man;
Kind Fortune gives to Me the flowery Mead,
The silent Hour, and Thought-creating Shade:
She gives the former Sages to review,
And, kinder still, she gives to love them too.
Here (to avoid the suffocating Heat,
When panting Cattle to the Woods retreat)
I quit the Fields, the Morning Ramble leave,
And take my Homer to a neighb'ring Cave;
That mighty Bard who still the Laurel wears,
Unchang'd, unblasted by two thousand Years;
Whose every Page, with heavenly Wisdom fraught,
Can show the wisest he may still be taught;
In which more true Instruction clearly shines,
Than Years can glean from all the School-Divines.
When panting Cattle to the Woods retreat)
I quit the Fields, the Morning Ramble leave,
And take my Homer to a neighb'ring Cave;
333
Unchang'd, unblasted by two thousand Years;
Whose every Page, with heavenly Wisdom fraught,
Can show the wisest he may still be taught;
In which more true Instruction clearly shines,
Than Years can glean from all the School-Divines.
Is there a Passion, Virtue, Vice, or Whim,
But what we find exemplify'd in him?
Experienc'd Age, in old Antenor's Form,
Shuns a rash War, and would divert the Storm.
In youthful Paris, mark how fatal prove
The headstrong Errors of misguided Love!
Entranc'd by Pleasure, and absorb'd by Joy,
‘Let Helen smile,’ he cries, ‘and perish Troy!’
But what we find exemplify'd in him?
Experienc'd Age, in old Antenor's Form,
Shuns a rash War, and would divert the Storm.
In youthful Paris, mark how fatal prove
The headstrong Errors of misguided Love!
Entranc'd by Pleasure, and absorb'd by Joy,
‘Let Helen smile,’ he cries, ‘and perish Troy!’
When Kings contend, obedient to the Call
Of frantic Honour, see their Subjects fall;
See Youth and Age in mix'd Confusion slain,
While Xanthus' Flood runs purple to the Main.
Fill'd with the Woes of War, our Thoughts pursue
Its various Rage through every Point of View;
We trace its Progress from its early Birth,
And mark its Ravage o'er the wasted Earth;
From Times remotest to our own advance,
Then curse th'ambitious Perfidy of France.
Of frantic Honour, see their Subjects fall;
See Youth and Age in mix'd Confusion slain,
While Xanthus' Flood runs purple to the Main.
Fill'd with the Woes of War, our Thoughts pursue
Its various Rage through every Point of View;
We trace its Progress from its early Birth,
And mark its Ravage o'er the wasted Earth;
From Times remotest to our own advance,
Then curse th'ambitious Perfidy of France.
334
Now turn your Eyes, and quit the dubious Fight
For Prudence, Patience, and a milder Sight:
Behold Laertes' Son! how, truly great,
He stands superior to the Frowns of Fate!
How, wrapt in virtuous Fortitude, he braves
Alluring Sirens, Circe, Winds and Waves:
Charm'd with a Soul thus resolute, we glow;
And almost wish for Ills, to bear them so.
For Prudence, Patience, and a milder Sight:
Behold Laertes' Son! how, truly great,
He stands superior to the Frowns of Fate!
How, wrapt in virtuous Fortitude, he braves
Alluring Sirens, Circe, Winds and Waves:
Charm'd with a Soul thus resolute, we glow;
And almost wish for Ills, to bear them so.
See next the Nurslings of Alcinoüs' Court,
Born but to laugh, to eat, to drink, and sport!
Like airy Flies, which, gathering in a Swarm,
Devour those Sweets, they never help'd to form:
Then say, does nothing in the Picture strike?—
The general Satire suits us all alike;
As useless, sensual, indolent as they,
We trifle Time insensibly away.
Born but to laugh, to eat, to drink, and sport!
Like airy Flies, which, gathering in a Swarm,
Devour those Sweets, they never help'd to form:
Then say, does nothing in the Picture strike?—
The general Satire suits us all alike;
As useless, sensual, indolent as they,
We trifle Time insensibly away.
Strange! with what Fear, what trembling Haste we fly,
To set a Limb, or heal an injur'd Eye,
And yet the Passions wound the nobler Part,
Taint the dull Soul, and petrify the Heart:
Though numerous Evils waste the sickly Mind,
No Care's apply'd, no Remedy design'd.
The few Resolves, which may perhaps be wrought
In some kind lucid Interval of Thought,
Sink the next Moment unperceiv'd away,
Lost in the various Bustling of the Day.
The World commands; the World we all attend;
And trust Futurity the rest to mend.
O dangerous Error! can our manly Prime
For ever last? and are we Lords of Time?
Can we command his Motion to be slack,
Or on the Dial turn the Shadow back?
Compute this Period; see what Length of Days,
What Ages bear such negligent Delays!
A just Allowance for our Childhood give;
Allow for Dotage, when we scarcely live;
For Sleep allow, for Sickness, and for Pain;
Then count our Days, and say how few remain!
How soon this melancholy Truth appears,
The longest Date is scarcely twenty Years!
To set a Limb, or heal an injur'd Eye,
And yet the Passions wound the nobler Part,
Taint the dull Soul, and petrify the Heart:
Though numerous Evils waste the sickly Mind,
No Care's apply'd, no Remedy design'd.
335
In some kind lucid Interval of Thought,
Sink the next Moment unperceiv'd away,
Lost in the various Bustling of the Day.
The World commands; the World we all attend;
And trust Futurity the rest to mend.
O dangerous Error! can our manly Prime
For ever last? and are we Lords of Time?
Can we command his Motion to be slack,
Or on the Dial turn the Shadow back?
Compute this Period; see what Length of Days,
What Ages bear such negligent Delays!
A just Allowance for our Childhood give;
Allow for Dotage, when we scarcely live;
For Sleep allow, for Sickness, and for Pain;
Then count our Days, and say how few remain!
How soon this melancholy Truth appears,
The longest Date is scarcely twenty Years!
And yet this Man, this Creature of a Day,
This Bubble, rising just to burst away,
Vast as the wide-spread Ocean in Desires,
Still discontented, more and more requires;
Possess'd of one, his ever-labouring Breast
Is rack'd as strongly by some new Request.
This Bubble, rising just to burst away,
Vast as the wide-spread Ocean in Desires,
Still discontented, more and more requires;
Possess'd of one, his ever-labouring Breast
Is rack'd as strongly by some new Request.
336
How soft the Picture! what an easy Fate!
Would Heaven indulge us with a small Estate.
We scarce have gain'd it, when a farther View
Allures the Eye, and charms us to pursue;
Or larger Heaps, or public Trust we claim,
Or Phantom-pleasures from the Voice of Fame:
Grant these possess'd, and even add to these
Wealth, Freedom, Quiet, any thing you please;
A Wife we covet yet, insatiate still,
And force kind Heaven to curse against its Will.
Would Heaven indulge us with a small Estate.
We scarce have gain'd it, when a farther View
Allures the Eye, and charms us to pursue;
Or larger Heaps, or public Trust we claim,
Or Phantom-pleasures from the Voice of Fame:
Grant these possess'd, and even add to these
Wealth, Freedom, Quiet, any thing you please;
A Wife we covet yet, insatiate still,
And force kind Heaven to curse against its Will.
Shall then ev'n cumbrous Fortune, O my Friend!
Add Pound to Pound, nor ever learn to end?
Shall Heaps on Heaps demand some new Supply,
As over-drinking only makes us dry?
Ask Philip's Son, if Fate would grant his Boon,
What could he crave? He sighs, and shows the Moon.
Add Pound to Pound, nor ever learn to end?
Shall Heaps on Heaps demand some new Supply,
As over-drinking only makes us dry?
Ask Philip's Son, if Fate would grant his Boon,
What could he crave? He sighs, and shows the Moon.
We own, indeed, that Prudence may produce
From Gold, well-manag'd, an extensive Use;
We own, that large Convenience it affords,
The best of Servants, though the worst of Lords.
Some haughty Fair-one does thy Soul adore?
Dispatch this Advocate, and sigh no more.
The first of Beauties, when that boldly bids,
Submits, and worn-out H---n succeeds.
Hast thou a Genius, which neglected lies?
Gold makes the World that slighted Genius prize.
It gives thee all the wisest may desire,
Food, Cloaths, the Town, or Leisure to retire:
And, greater still, it gives the generous Mind,
To Worth in Want the Pleasure to be kind.
From Gold, well-manag'd, an extensive Use;
We own, that large Convenience it affords,
The best of Servants, though the worst of Lords.
Some haughty Fair-one does thy Soul adore?
Dispatch this Advocate, and sigh no more.
337
Submits, and worn-out H---n succeeds.
Hast thou a Genius, which neglected lies?
Gold makes the World that slighted Genius prize.
It gives thee all the wisest may desire,
Food, Cloaths, the Town, or Leisure to retire:
And, greater still, it gives the generous Mind,
To Worth in Want the Pleasure to be kind.
This we allow, but 'tis as justly true,
The Taste, the Relish must be first in you.
Nor think, that Riches infinite can please
The tortur'd Slave, who Fears and Hopes obeys:
To him the Gems which either India brings,
As useless prove, as dull and idle things;
As in Change-Alley Tales of Love appear,
Or Handel's Music to a Lapland Ear.
The Taste, the Relish must be first in you.
Nor think, that Riches infinite can please
The tortur'd Slave, who Fears and Hopes obeys:
To him the Gems which either India brings,
As useless prove, as dull and idle things;
As in Change-Alley Tales of Love appear,
Or Handel's Music to a Lapland Ear.
Would'st thou taste Fortune then? with studious Care
Watch o'er each Passion, and thy Mind prepare.
For Gold, where Passions uncorrected rule,
Confirms the Villain, or augments the Fool.
In tainted Casks though richest Wines you pour,
They lose their Richness, and are chang'd to sour.
See the pale Miser, who intensely pries
On untouch'd Bags with ever-wakeful Eyes,
Nor dares to use the Wealth his Labour won,
Create the very Want he means to shun.
Watch o'er each Passion, and thy Mind prepare.
For Gold, where Passions uncorrected rule,
Confirms the Villain, or augments the Fool.
In tainted Casks though richest Wines you pour,
They lose their Richness, and are chang'd to sour.
338
On untouch'd Bags with ever-wakeful Eyes,
Nor dares to use the Wealth his Labour won,
Create the very Want he means to shun.
From boisterous Rage preserve your Temper free,
Convinc'd 'tis Madness in a less Degree.
Convinc'd 'tis Madness in a less Degree.
But chief from Envy, as the sharpest Ill,
Which Art can find, or Man be doom'd to feel.
Strange Torment! say, by what unguarded Ways
Steals in this watchful Enemy to Ease?
Does mutual Hate the mutual Passion move?
Or springs it rather from a selfish Love?
From Hate we thus conclude it cannot rise;
Reduce the Envy'd, and our Envy dies.
Then sure of Frenzies 'tis the last, the worst,
Through mean Self-love to make ourselves accurst.
Which Art can find, or Man be doom'd to feel.
Strange Torment! say, by what unguarded Ways
Steals in this watchful Enemy to Ease?
Does mutual Hate the mutual Passion move?
Or springs it rather from a selfish Love?
From Hate we thus conclude it cannot rise;
Reduce the Envy'd, and our Envy dies.
Then sure of Frenzies 'tis the last, the worst,
Through mean Self-love to make ourselves accurst.
For Me, or near or distant be my End,
I stand resolv'd industriously to mend;
Resolv'd, with all the Efforts in my Power,
To snatch at Time, and husband every Hour.
Pleas'd with the Thought, on Sure's mæandring Flood
I muse; or wander to the devious Wood;
Nor mean for Loiterers in the Race to stay,
Nor envy those who bravely lead the Way.
I stand resolv'd industriously to mend;
Resolv'd, with all the Efforts in my Power,
To snatch at Time, and husband every Hour.
Pleas'd with the Thought, on Sure's mæandring Flood
I muse; or wander to the devious Wood;
Nor mean for Loiterers in the Race to stay,
Nor envy those who bravely lead the Way.
1756.
| The Works of Horace In English Verse | |