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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Secrets.
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 | Medulla Poetarum Romanorum |  |
Secrets.
O
Corydon, art Thou so dull to think,
A Great Man's Vices e'er can be conceal'd?
Suppose his Servants hush; yet ev'n his Beasts,
His Dog, his Columns, and his Walls will tell.
Bar fast the Windows, ev'ry Crevice stop,
Shut the Doors close, and take the Lights away:
Be Silence all around, no Mortal near:
Yet whate'er Crime at Midnight he commits,
His Butler knows before the rising Day:
And quickly shall he hear his Steward and Cook,
With snarling Scoffs, enlarging on the Tale.
For Servants never scruple to revenge
Their Master's angry Words, or hasty Blows,
By charging on them ev'ry Crime they can.
Nor shalt Thou fail to find upon the Road,
Some drunken Rogue to plague thee with his Jokes,
And din thy Faults, and Follies, in thy Ears.
A Great Man's Vices e'er can be conceal'd?
Suppose his Servants hush; yet ev'n his Beasts,
His Dog, his Columns, and his Walls will tell.
Bar fast the Windows, ev'ry Crevice stop,
Shut the Doors close, and take the Lights away:
Be Silence all around, no Mortal near:
Yet whate'er Crime at Midnight he commits,
His Butler knows before the rising Day:
And quickly shall he hear his Steward and Cook,
With snarling Scoffs, enlarging on the Tale.
For Servants never scruple to revenge
Their Master's angry Words, or hasty Blows,
By charging on them ev'ry Crime they can.
Nor shalt Thou fail to find upon the Road,
337
And din thy Faults, and Follies, in thy Ears.
A virtuous Life on all Accounts is best,
And amongst Others, that Thou may'st despise
The Tongues of Servants: for the greatest Harm
Those Rascals can commit, is with their Tongues.
Yet more a Wretch than they, is that poor Slave,
Who stands in Awe of those he feeds and pays.—
Yes, trust me, ev'ry Mouth of human Mold,
And amongst Others, that Thou may'st despise
The Tongues of Servants: for the greatest Harm
Those Rascals can commit, is with their Tongues.
Yet more a Wretch than they, is that poor Slave,
Who stands in Awe of those he feeds and pays.—
Can Fire, much sooner than a Secret hold:
For whatsoe'er in Whispers you confide,
Strait flies abroad, exulting, far and wide.
While such Additions the proud Wonder swell,
As burthen even Fame herself to tell.—
| Medulla Poetarum Romanorum | |