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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Boasting.
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 | Medulla Poetarum Romanorum |  |
Boasting.
See Pride.
For tho' some talk they less should fear to die,Than live with a Disease, or Infamy:
That they know well the Soul consists in Blood,
And our Philosophy can do no good:
Observe, they talk thus, rather out of Love
To empty Praise, than, what they say, approve.
For these same Men, to Chains, or Banishment,
Condemn'd; to Gallies, or to Prisons sent:
Tho' infamous by horrid Crimes they're grown,
Yet still endure, and patiently live on.
Nay more, where-e'er these boasting Wretches come,
They sacrifice black Sheep on ev'ry Tomb,
To please the Manes: and of all the Rout,
When Cares and Dangers press, grow most devout.—
But I am nobly born:—'tis true: go boast
Thy Pedigree, the Thing thou valu'st most:
Besides I am a Beau:—that too I grant:—
She that cry's Herbs has less Impertinence,
And, in her Calling, more of common Sense.—
Thy Pedigree, the Thing thou valu'st most:
Besides I am a Beau:—that too I grant:—
She that cry's Herbs has less Impertinence,
And, in her Calling, more of common Sense.—
My Work is finish'd, which nor dreads the Rage
Of Tempests, Fire, or War, or wasting Age:
Come, soon or late, Death's undetermin'd Day,
This mortal Being only can decay:
My nobler Part, my Fame, shall reach the Skies,
And to late Times with blooming Honours rise:
Whate'er th' unbounded Roman Pow'r obeys,
All Climes and Nations shall recal my Praise:
If 'tis allow'd to Poets to divine
One half of round Eternity is mine.—
Of Tempests, Fire, or War, or wasting Age:
Come, soon or late, Death's undetermin'd Day,
This mortal Being only can decay:
My nobler Part, my Fame, shall reach the Skies,
And to late Times with blooming Honours rise:
Whate'er th' unbounded Roman Pow'r obeys,
All Climes and Nations shall recal my Praise:
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One half of round Eternity is mine.—
A Monument, more durable than Brass,
And whose Magnificence does far surpass
Egypt's proud Pyramids, I've rais'd:—In vain
The northern Blast, the southern Show'rs of Rain,
Ages, and Time shall strive to pull it down again.
All of me shall not die: my Works shall save
The Noblest Portion from the greedy Grave:
I still shall flourish in the Rolls of Fame,
Still shall Posterity revere my Name;
Till the High-Priest and silent Maid no more
Ascend the Capitol, and Jove adore.—
And whose Magnificence does far surpass
Egypt's proud Pyramids, I've rais'd:—In vain
The northern Blast, the southern Show'rs of Rain,
Ages, and Time shall strive to pull it down again.
All of me shall not die: my Works shall save
The Noblest Portion from the greedy Grave:
I still shall flourish in the Rolls of Fame,
Still shall Posterity revere my Name;
Till the High-Priest and silent Maid no more
Ascend the Capitol, and Jove adore.—
| Medulla Poetarum Romanorum | |