Medulla Poetarum Romanorum Or, the Most Beautiful and Instructive Passages of the Roman Poets. Being a Collection, (Disposed under proper Heads,) Of such Descriptions, Allusions, Comparisons, Characters, and Sentiments, as may best serve to shew the Religion, Learning, Politicks, Arts, Customs, Opinions, Manners, and Circumstances of the Antients. With Translations of the same in English Verse. By Mr. Henry Baker |
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Fate.
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 | Medulla Poetarum Romanorum |  |
Fate.
See Chance. God. Foreknowledge. Providence.
—In vain, fair Daughter, you essayTo o'er-rule Destiny's unconquer'd Sway:
Your Doubts to banish, enter Fate's Abode:—
There you shall see the Records grav'd, in length,
On Ir'n and solid Brass, with mighty Strength:
Which Heav'n's and Earth's Concussion shall endure:
Mauger all Shocks, eternal, and secure:
There, on e'erlasting Adamant, design'd,
The various Fortunes of your Race you'll find.—
Can ever with Intreaties be subdu'd.—
Fix'd stands the Date of mortal Lives: the Space
Is short, and irretrievable to All.—
343
And poises in it's Scales the Fates of both:
One with Success is charg'd: and one descends
Loaded with Death.—
Mortals, your Minds of anxious Cares unload,
Nor fruitlesly the Woes of Life bewail:
Fate governs worldly Things: and fixt by Fate
Is all that haps thro' long revolving Years.
Our Death's fore-doom'd the Moment We are born,
And the last Hour depends upon the first.
Then, Wealth to some, and Kingdoms are decreed;
But Poverty to most: The Mind to Arts,
Or Manners, then is turn'd; to Vice, or Virtue.
Then too the Evil and the Good of Life
Is all predestin'd: for from it's Share of Evil
No Life's exempt: tho' more than what's fore-doom'd
None possibly can suffer.—Prayers nor Vows
Ill Fortune can suspend, nor Flight avoid:
But All must bear the Hardships Fate decrees.—
Besides, th' unnatural Civil Wars of Rome,
Are Proofs of Fate's inevitable Doom.
See Marius ride, with Cimbrian Lawrels crown'd,
Then in the Dungeon, stretch'd upon the Ground:
Now Slave, now Consul: Consul, Slave again:
His Curule Chair succeeded by a Chain.
Now a mean Ruin, on the Lybian Sands,
Despis'd he lies: and now the World commands:
Sudden, from the Minturnian Pools he rose,
And scatter'd Vengeance on his haughty Foes.
Changes thus strange, and much for Chance too great,
Are not th' Effects of Fortune, but of Fate.—
Are Proofs of Fate's inevitable Doom.
See Marius ride, with Cimbrian Lawrels crown'd,
Then in the Dungeon, stretch'd upon the Ground:
Now Slave, now Consul: Consul, Slave again:
His Curule Chair succeeded by a Chain.
Now a mean Ruin, on the Lybian Sands,
Despis'd he lies: and now the World commands:
Sudden, from the Minturnian Pools he rose,
And scatter'd Vengeance on his haughty Foes.
Changes thus strange, and much for Chance too great,
Are not th' Effects of Fortune, but of Fate.—
Who, Pompey, could (that saw thy conq'ring Fleet
Regain the Seas, and Kings beneath thy Feet,
Proud Pontus yield, fierce Tyrants make thy Train,
And suppliant Monarchs beg thy Leave to reign;
That saw victorious Lawrels crown thy Head,
And conquer'd Worlds in thy three Triumphs led:
And all that Glory which thy Sword had won
Fixt, and supported by as great a Son,)
Have thought that Thou, upon a foreign Sand,
Should'st steal a Burial from a common Hand:
That shatter'd Planks, the Seas dishonest Spoil,
Should hiss beneath thy Trunk, and be thy Pile?
That Thou, the mighty Thou, should'st want an Urn?
What Power, but Fate, could work so strange a Turn?
Regain the Seas, and Kings beneath thy Feet,
Proud Pontus yield, fierce Tyrants make thy Train,
And suppliant Monarchs beg thy Leave to reign;
That saw victorious Lawrels crown thy Head,
And conquer'd Worlds in thy three Triumphs led:
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Fixt, and supported by as great a Son,)
Have thought that Thou, upon a foreign Sand,
Should'st steal a Burial from a common Hand:
That shatter'd Planks, the Seas dishonest Spoil,
Should hiss beneath thy Trunk, and be thy Pile?
That Thou, the mighty Thou, should'st want an Urn?
What Power, but Fate, could work so strange a Turn?
E'en Cæsar sprung from Heav'n, and now a Star,
Tho' midst the Dangers of the Civil War
Secure he stood—
Yet crown'd with Peace, in all his mighty State,
He fell, a Victim to o'er-ruling Fate:
Not mere Suspicions, but clear Proofs were brought,
He knew what Cassius spoke, and Brutus thought:
How far advanc'd, how far they meant to go,
And saw the Minute of the fatal Blow:
Yet dark Oblivion did his Reason blot,
He all his Warnings, and Himself forgot:
And in the Senate, while his Right Hand held
The faithful Paper which the Plot reveal'd,
To prove that Fate does all the World controul,
He fell, and with his Blood effac'd the Scroll.—
Tho' midst the Dangers of the Civil War
Secure he stood—
Yet crown'd with Peace, in all his mighty State,
He fell, a Victim to o'er-ruling Fate:
Not mere Suspicions, but clear Proofs were brought,
He knew what Cassius spoke, and Brutus thought:
How far advanc'd, how far they meant to go,
And saw the Minute of the fatal Blow:
Yet dark Oblivion did his Reason blot,
He all his Warnings, and Himself forgot:
And in the Senate, while his Right Hand held
The faithful Paper which the Plot reveal'd,
To prove that Fate does all the World controul,
He fell, and with his Blood effac'd the Scroll.—
—If Fate does so ordain,
A slight Disease destroys, while greater spare,
Good Methods fail, and Men are lost by Care:
Some, temperate Diet with Diseases fills,
And Poison's innocent, when Physick kills.—
A slight Disease destroys, while greater spare,
Good Methods fail, and Men are lost by Care:
Some, temperate Diet with Diseases fills,
And Poison's innocent, when Physick kills.—
Successless Virtue sinks, while Vice prevails:
And Folly wins the Prize, when Prudence fails.
He argues ill, that from the Fortune draws,
The Goodness, or the Badness, of a Cause:
Success on Merit does not always wait;
Both Good and Bad are found amongst the Great.
But some Almighty Pow'r's impetuous Force
Marks out the Way, and still directs the Course:
The Years that we must run; the Length, the Pace,
And all the various Turnings of the Race.—
And Folly wins the Prize, when Prudence fails.
He argues ill, that from the Fortune draws,
The Goodness, or the Badness, of a Cause:
Success on Merit does not always wait;
Both Good and Bad are found amongst the Great.
But some Almighty Pow'r's impetuous Force
Marks out the Way, and still directs the Course:
The Years that we must run; the Length, the Pace,
And all the various Turnings of the Race.—
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Besides, were not Events by Fate enroll'd,
How can their certain Order be foretold?
How can the Prophets sing of future Doom,
And, in the present, read the Age to come.—
How can their certain Order be foretold?
How can the Prophets sing of future Doom,
And, in the present, read the Age to come.—
Nor does this Reasoning Wickedness defend,
Or rob fair Virtue of it's happy End.
Who ever lik'd the more a pois'nous Weed,
Because 'tis bred from necessary Seed?
Or who loves Corn the less, who hates the Vine,
Because produc'd by Nature, not Design?
Thus virtuous Minds deserve the greater Love,
Since doom'd to act what Heaven must approve:
And we should hate those most whom Fate has sent
Crimes to commit, and suffer Punishment:
For Crimes, from whatsoever Cause they flow,
Are still the same:—since that they're Crimes We know.—
When You, ye Gods! are pleas'd to plague Mankind,
Or rob fair Virtue of it's happy End.
Who ever lik'd the more a pois'nous Weed,
Because 'tis bred from necessary Seed?
Or who loves Corn the less, who hates the Vine,
Because produc'd by Nature, not Design?
Thus virtuous Minds deserve the greater Love,
Since doom'd to act what Heaven must approve:
And we should hate those most whom Fate has sent
Crimes to commit, and suffer Punishment:
For Crimes, from whatsoever Cause they flow,
Are still the same:—since that they're Crimes We know.—
Our own rash Hands are to the Task assign'd:
By You ordain'd the Tools of Fate to be,
We blindly act the Mischiefs You decree:
We call the Battle, We the Sword prepare,
And on ourselves draw on the dreadful War.—
Sore sigh'd the anxious Chief, who well could read
Some dire Delusion by the Gods decreed:
He saw the Fates malignantly inclin'd,
To thwart his Purpose, and perplex his Mind.—
The Fates embrace his Knees, with Hands that twine
The Lot of all Things, human, and divine:
And from the Threads on their eternal Reel,
Whate'er shall hap thro' endless Ages deal.—
| Medulla Poetarum Romanorum | |