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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Greatness.
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 | Medulla Poetarum Romanorum |  |
Greatness.
See Ambition. King.
Would'st Thou to Honours and Preferments climb?Be bold in Mischief, dare some mighty Crime,
Which Dungeons, Death, or Banishment deserves:
For Virtue is but dryly prais'd, and starves.
Great Men, to great Crimes, owe their Plate emboss'd,
Their Palaces, their Furniture of Cost,
And high Commands;—a sneaking Sin is lost.—
What had he done, had he beheld, on high
Our Prætor seated, in mock Majesty:
His Chariot rolling o'er the dusty Place,
While with dumb Pride, and a set formal Face,
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With Jove's embroider'd Coat upon his Back?
A Suit of Hangings had not more oppress'd
His Shoulders, than that long laborious Vest.
A heavy Gewgaw, (call'd a Crown,) that spread
About his Temples, drown'd his narrow Head,
And would have crush'd it with the massy Freight,
But that a sweating Slave sustain'd the Weight:
A Slave in the same Chariot seen to ride,
To mortify the mighty Madman's Pride.
Add now th' Imperial Eagle rais'd on high,
With golden Beak, the Mark of Majesty:
Trumpets before, and on the Left and Right,
A Cavalcade of Nobles, all in white:
In their own Nature false and flatt'ring Tribes,
But made his Friends, by Places and by Bribes.—
If golden Sconces hang not on the Walls,
To light the costly Suppers, and the Balls:
If the proud Palace shines not with the State
Of burnish'd Bowls, and of reflected Plate:
If well-tun'd Harps, nor the more pleasing Sound
Of Voices, from the vaulted Roofs rebound:
Yet, on the Grass, beneath a Poplar Shade,
By the cool Stream, our careless Limbs are laid:
With cheaper Pleasures innocently bless'd,
When the warm Spring with gawdy Flow'rs is dress'd.
To light the costly Suppers, and the Balls:
If the proud Palace shines not with the State
Of burnish'd Bowls, and of reflected Plate:
If well-tun'd Harps, nor the more pleasing Sound
Of Voices, from the vaulted Roofs rebound:
Yet, on the Grass, beneath a Poplar Shade,
By the cool Stream, our careless Limbs are laid:
With cheaper Pleasures innocently bless'd,
When the warm Spring with gawdy Flow'rs is dress'd.
Nor will the raging Fever's Fire abate,
With golden Canopies and Beds of State:
But the poor Patient will as soon be sound,
On the hard Mattress, or the Mother-Ground.
With golden Canopies and Beds of State:
But the poor Patient will as soon be sound,
On the hard Mattress, or the Mother-Ground.
Then, since our Bodies are not eas'd the more
By Birth, or Pow'r, or Fortune's wealthy Store,
'Tis plain these useless Toys of ev'ry kind
As little can relieve the lab'ring Mind:
Unless we could suppose the dreadful Sight
Of marshall'd Legions moving to the Fight,
Could, with their Sound and terrible Array,
Expel our Fears, and drive the Thoughts of Death away.
By Birth, or Pow'r, or Fortune's wealthy Store,
'Tis plain these useless Toys of ev'ry kind
As little can relieve the lab'ring Mind:
Unless we could suppose the dreadful Sight
Of marshall'd Legions moving to the Fight,
Could, with their Sound and terrible Array,
Expel our Fears, and drive the Thoughts of Death away.
But, since the Supposition vain appears;
Since clinging Cares, and Trains of inbred Fears,
Are not with Sounds to be affrighted thence,
But in the midst of Pomp pursue the Prince:
Not aw'd by Arms, but in the Presence bold,
Without Respect to Purple, or to Gold:
Why should not we these Pageantries despise,
Whose Worth but in our want of Reason lies?—
Since clinging Cares, and Trains of inbred Fears,
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But in the midst of Pomp pursue the Prince:
Not aw'd by Arms, but in the Presence bold,
Without Respect to Purple, or to Gold:
Why should not we these Pageantries despise,
Whose Worth but in our want of Reason lies?—
Oh! were the Minds of Courtiers seen;
What Cares tempestuous rage within,
And scourge their Souls! the Brutian Sea
Toss'd by wild Storms more calm than They.
What Cares tempestuous rage within,
And scourge their Souls! the Brutian Sea
Toss'd by wild Storms more calm than They.
Let Others, insolent, and great,
Enjoy the treach'rous Smiles of Fate:
To Courts, Ah! never let me roam!
Blest with Content, and Peace at Home.
May my small Bark in Safety Sail,
Ne'er tempted by a prosp'rous Gale,
Roving to leave the Sight of Shore,
And dang'rous, distant Deeps explore.—
Let him who would be Good from Courts retire.—
Enjoy the treach'rous Smiles of Fate:
To Courts, Ah! never let me roam!
Blest with Content, and Peace at Home.
May my small Bark in Safety Sail,
Ne'er tempted by a prosp'rous Gale,
Roving to leave the Sight of Shore,
And dang'rous, distant Deeps explore.—
On level Ground whoever haps to fall,
(Tho' that's a Thing which rarely haps at all,)
The Hurt so gentle, and so slight the Pain,
No sooner is he down than up again:
But when Elpenor from the Turret fell,
His Soul went weeping to the Gates of Hell.—
(Tho' that's a Thing which rarely haps at all,)
The Hurt so gentle, and so slight the Pain,
No sooner is he down than up again:
But when Elpenor from the Turret fell,
His Soul went weeping to the Gates of Hell.—
| Medulla Poetarum Romanorum | |