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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Prayers.
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 | Medulla Poetarum Romanorum |  |
Prayers.
See Wishes.
Of all our Vows, the first and chief Request,Of each, is to be richer than the rest:
And yet no Doubts the poor Man's Draught controul;
He dreads no Poyson in his homely Bowl.
Then fear the deadly Drug, when Gems divine
Enchase the Cup, and sparkle in the Wine.—
O, Grant me Length of Life, and Years good Store
Heap on my Head, Great Jove! I ask no more.
Thus, with a bold Assurance dost Thou pray,
Tho' pale, for fear the God should say Thee nay.
And yet what Ills continually a-wait
Helpless old Age, that miserable State!—
To thy good Genius pour the sparkling Wine,
And pray:—thy Pray'rs will stand the Test of Heav'n;
Nor need'st Thou take the Gods aside to hear 'em.
But many of the Great in Silence burn
Their costly Incense: for 'tis not convenient,
That ev'ry one should from the Temple bring,
The Pray'r he whispers, to the public Ear.—
And pray:—thy Pray'rs will stand the Test of Heav'n;
Nor need'st Thou take the Gods aside to hear 'em.
But many of the Great in Silence burn
Their costly Incense: for 'tis not convenient,
That ev'ry one should from the Temple bring,
The Pray'r he whispers, to the public Ear.—
Grant me Good-nature, give me Fame, Great Jove!
And make me honest:—thus, the Knave aloud
Cries out, for to be heard:—but to himself
Inly he mutters;—O, would'st Thou but deign
To take away my wealthy Unkle's Life!
Or else,—O Hercules! would'st Thou vouchsafe
To guide my Rake upon the chinking Sound
Of some vast Treasure!—Or,—Behold the Wretch,
My Ward, how scabby and unsound he is;
Could I but tip him off, th' Estate were mine.
Or,—This is happy Nereus's third Wife:
Oh could I be so lucky!—Thus thou pray'st:
And, wickedly devout, at early Dawn,
Thrice dost Thou plunge Thyself in Tyber's Stream,
To purge away the Night's Impurities.
And make me honest:—thus, the Knave aloud
Cries out, for to be heard:—but to himself
Inly he mutters;—O, would'st Thou but deign
To take away my wealthy Unkle's Life!
Or else,—O Hercules! would'st Thou vouchsafe
To guide my Rake upon the chinking Sound
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My Ward, how scabby and unsound he is;
Could I but tip him off, th' Estate were mine.
Or,—This is happy Nereus's third Wife:
Oh could I be so lucky!—Thus thou pray'st:
And, wickedly devout, at early Dawn,
Thrice dost Thou plunge Thyself in Tyber's Stream,
To purge away the Night's Impurities.
But, prithee tell me, ('tis a small Request,)
What Thou believ'st of Jove?—Is he, dost think,
To be preferr'd to Man?—To Man! What Man?—
Why Staius let's suppose; for he's the worst.—
Now art thou doubtful whether of the two,
Staius, or Jove, would prove the trustier Guardian,
Or make the better Judge?—
What Thou believ'st of Jove?—Is he, dost think,
To be preferr'd to Man?—To Man! What Man?—
Why Staius let's suppose; for he's the worst.—
Now art thou doubtful whether of the two,
Staius, or Jove, would prove the trustier Guardian,
Or make the better Judge?—
But come, let's try:—unfold to Staius strait
What to Jove's Ear thou boldly didst impart;
Staius will cry, O righteous Jupiter!
Canst thou bear this!—And will not Jove himself,
Dost think, exclaim, and rise to just Revenge?
What to Jove's Ear thou boldly didst impart;
Staius will cry, O righteous Jupiter!
Canst thou bear this!—And will not Jove himself,
Dost think, exclaim, and rise to just Revenge?
Because his Thunder splits some ancient Oak,
And is not darted at thy House and Thee:
Nor ly'st thou dead, sad Object! in the Grove,
Struck down, amidst thy Sacrifice, ev'n whilst
The pious Priest performs the sacred Rites:
Therefore thou fanciest Jove thy Crime forgives,
And tamely lets thee take him by the Beard.
And is not darted at thy House and Thee:
Nor ly'st thou dead, sad Object! in the Grove,
Struck down, amidst thy Sacrifice, ev'n whilst
The pious Priest performs the sacred Rites:
Therefore thou fanciest Jove thy Crime forgives,
And tamely lets thee take him by the Beard.
But by what Gifts dost Thou pretend to bribe
The Gods, to heat thy wicked Pray'rs, unpunish'd?
Can thy fat Off'rings their just Wrath appease?—
The Gods, to heat thy wicked Pray'rs, unpunish'd?
Can thy fat Off'rings their just Wrath appease?—
Staius was a most corrupt and wicked Judge: He likewise poisoned his Brother and his Brother's Wife.
To Health of Body, and Content of Mind.
Pray for a Soul that dares grim Death defy,
And count it Nature's Priviledge to die:
Serene, and manly, hardned to sustain
The Load of Life, and exercis'd in Pain:
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That all Things weighs, and nothing can admire:
That dares prefer the Toils of Hercules,
To Dalliance, Banquets, and ignoble Ease.—
| Medulla Poetarum Romanorum | |