 | The Works of Mr. Henry Needler |  |
11
MARTIAL. Book I. Epigram LVI. Paraphras'd.
To FRONTO.
Since, Noble Fronto, you to know desire,
How high the Wishes of your Friend aspire,
The Sum of all his Pray'rs and Wishes, He
Will give you here in short; for few they be.
This first he asks, that He, secure from Harm,
May own and cultivate some little Farm,
Where, in soft Quiet and inglorious Rest,
He with an humble Fortune may be blest.
Can any one prefer a slavish State,
And daily tend the Levees of the Great,
Who with his Dog and Gun may freely rove
About his fertile Fields and happy Grove;
And there the little feather'd Thieves destroy,
That cull his Cherries, and his Corn annoy;
And, Home return'd, appease with Game he brings
The wholesome Hunger that from Labour springs:
Or, when the tepid Vernal Gales invite
The finny Tenants of the Brook to bite,
In noted Haunts his baited Fish-hooks lay,
And with his trembling Rod pull out the skipping Prey:
Or with delicious Honey Mead prepare
The Gods to their own Nectar might prefer;
Feed on such Cates, as his own Fields afford,
And with fresh unbought Dainties crown his Board?
How high the Wishes of your Friend aspire,
The Sum of all his Pray'rs and Wishes, He
Will give you here in short; for few they be.
This first he asks, that He, secure from Harm,
May own and cultivate some little Farm,
Where, in soft Quiet and inglorious Rest,
He with an humble Fortune may be blest.
Can any one prefer a slavish State,
And daily tend the Levees of the Great,
Who with his Dog and Gun may freely rove
About his fertile Fields and happy Grove;
And there the little feather'd Thieves destroy,
That cull his Cherries, and his Corn annoy;
And, Home return'd, appease with Game he brings
The wholesome Hunger that from Labour springs:
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The finny Tenants of the Brook to bite,
In noted Haunts his baited Fish-hooks lay,
And with his trembling Rod pull out the skipping Prey:
Or with delicious Honey Mead prepare
The Gods to their own Nectar might prefer;
Feed on such Cates, as his own Fields afford,
And with fresh unbought Dainties crown his Board?
The Man, who hates me most, ye Gods! I swear,
I wish, no greater Curse than this to bear,
That he may likewise hate this kind of Life,
And spend his Days, in Hurry, Noise and Strife.
I wish, no greater Curse than this to bear,
That he may likewise hate this kind of Life,
And spend his Days, in Hurry, Noise and Strife.
| The Works of Mr. Henry Needler | |