An imitation of the sixth satire of the second book of Horace Hoc erat in Votis, &c. The first Part done in the Year 1714, By Dr. Swift. The latter Part now first added, And never before Printed |
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 | An imitation of the sixth satire of the second book of Horace |  |
3
THE SIXTH SATIRE OF THE SECOND BOOK of HORACE.
[_]
Lines 133–221 are generally attributed to Pope and may be accepted as his without hesitation. Lines 9–28 may be by Pope, but the attribution is uncertain. The remaining lines are attributed to Jonathan Swift.
[1]
Hoc
erat in votis; modus agri non ita magnus,
Hortus ubi, & tecto vicinus jugis aquæ fons,
Et paulum sylvæ super his foret: auctius atque
Hortus ubi, & tecto vicinus jugis aquæ fons,
Et paulum sylvæ super his foret: auctius atque
For life, six hundred pounds a year,
A handsome House to lodge a Friend,
A River at my garden's end,
A Terras-walk, and half a Rood
Of Land, set out to plant a Wood.
Well, now I have all this and more,
I ask not to increase my store;
But here a Grievance seems to lie,
All this is mine but till I die;
I can't but think 'twould sound more clever,
To me and to my Heirs for ever.
I ask not to increase my store;
But here a Grievance seems to lie,
All this is mine but till I die;
5
To me and to my Heirs for ever.
[4]
Si neque majorem feci ratione mala rem,
Nec sum facturus vitio culpave minorem;
Si veneror stultus nihil horum; “O si angulus ille
“Proximus accedat, qui nunc denormat agellum!
“O si urnam argenti fors quæ mihi monstret, ut illi,
“Thesauro invento qui mercenarius agrum
“Illum ipsum mercatus aravit, dives amico
ldquo;Hercule! si quod adest, gratum juvat; hac prece te oro
Pingue pecus domino facias,
Nec sum facturus vitio culpave minorem;
Si veneror stultus nihil horum; “O si angulus ille
“Proximus accedat, qui nunc denormat agellum!
“O si urnam argenti fors quæ mihi monstret, ut illi,
“Thesauro invento qui mercenarius agrum
“Illum ipsum mercatus aravit, dives amico
ldquo;Hercule! si quod adest, gratum juvat; hac prece te oro
Pingue pecus domino facias,
By any Trick, or any Fault;
And if I pray by Reason's rules,
And not like forty other Fools:
As thus, “Vouchsafe, Oh gracious Maker!
“To grant me this and t'other Acre:
“Or if it be thy Will and Pleasure
“Direct my Plow to find a Treasure:”
But only what my Station fits,
And to be kept in my right wits.
Preserve, Almighty Providence!
Just what you gave me, Competence:
And let me in these Shades compose
Something in Verse as true as Prose;
Remov'd fom all th'ambitious Scene,
Nor puff'd by Pride, nor sunk by Spleen.
In short, I'm perfectly content,
Let me but live on this side Trent;
Nor cross the Channel twice a year,
To spend six months with Statesmen here.
Let me but live on this side Trent;
Nor cross the Channel twice a year,
To spend six months with Statesmen here.
7
I must by means come to town,
'Tis for the Service of the Crown,
“Lewis, the Dean will be of use,
“Send for him up, take no excuse.
The toil, the danger of the Seas;
Great Ministers ne'er think of these;
Or let it cost five hundred pound,
No matter where the money's found;
It is but so much more in debt,
And that they ne'er consider'd yet.
'Tis for the Service of the Crown,
“Lewis, the Dean will be of use,
“Send for him up, take no excuse.
The toil, the danger of the Seas;
Great Ministers ne'er think of these;
Or let it cost five hundred pound,
No matter where the money's found;
It is but so much more in debt,
And that they ne'er consider'd yet.
“Good Mr. Dean go change your gown,
“Let my Lord know you're come to town.
I hurry me in haste away,
Not thinking it is Levee-day;
And find his Honour in a Pound,
Hemm'd by a triple Circle round,
Chequer'd with Ribbons blue and green;
How should I thrust my self between?
Some Wag observes me thus perplext,
And smiling, whispers to the next,
“I thought the D---n had been too proud,
“To justle here among a croud.”
Another in a surly fit,
Tells me I have more Zeal than Wit,
“So eager to express your love,
“You ne'er consider whom you shove,
“But rudely press before a Duke.
I own, I'm pleas'd with this rebuke,
And take it kindly meant to show
What I desire the World should know.
“Let my Lord know you're come to town.
I hurry me in haste away,
Not thinking it is Levee-day;
And find his Honour in a Pound,
Hemm'd by a triple Circle round,
Chequer'd with Ribbons blue and green;
How should I thrust my self between?
Some Wag observes me thus perplext,
And smiling, whispers to the next,
“I thought the D---n had been too proud,
“To justle here among a croud.”
9
Tells me I have more Zeal than Wit,
“So eager to express your love,
“You ne'er consider whom you shove,
“But rudely press before a Duke.
I own, I'm pleas'd with this rebuke,
And take it kindly meant to show
What I desire the World should know.
I get a whisper, and withdraw;
When twenty Fools I never saw
Come with Petitions fairly penn'd,
Desiring I would stand their friend.
When twenty Fools I never saw
Come with Petitions fairly penn'd,
Desiring I would stand their friend.
This, humbly offers me his Case—
That, begs my int'rest for a Place—
A hundred other Men's affairs
Like Bees are humming in my ears.
“To morrow my Appeal comes on,
“Without your help the Cause is gone—
The Duke expects my Lord and you,
About some great Affair, at Two—
“Put my Lord Bolingbroke in mind,
“To get my Warrant quickly sign'd:
“Consider, 'tis my first request.—
Be satisfy'd, I'll do my best:—
Then presently he falls to teize,
“You may for certain, if you please;
“I doubt not, if his Lordship knew—
And Mr. Dean, one word from you—
That, begs my int'rest for a Place—
A hundred other Men's affairs
Like Bees are humming in my ears.
“To morrow my Appeal comes on,
“Without your help the Cause is gone—
The Duke expects my Lord and you,
About some great Affair, at Two—
“Put my Lord Bolingbroke in mind,
“To get my Warrant quickly sign'd:
11
Be satisfy'd, I'll do my best:—
Then presently he falls to teize,
“You may for certain, if you please;
“I doubt not, if his Lordship knew—
And Mr. Dean, one word from you—
[15]
Septimus octavo propior jam fugerit annus,
Ex quo Mæcenas me cœpit habere suorum
In numero, duntaxat ad hoc, quem tollere rheda
Vellet, iter faciens, & cui concredere nugas
Hoc genus; Hora quota est? Threx est Gallina Syro par?
Matutina parum cautos jam frigora mordent:
Et quæ rimosa bene deponuntur in aure.
Ex quo Mæcenas me cœpit habere suorum
In numero, duntaxat ad hoc, quem tollere rheda
Vellet, iter faciens, & cui concredere nugas
Hoc genus; Hora quota est? Threx est Gallina Syro par?
Matutina parum cautos jam frigora mordent:
Et quæ rimosa bene deponuntur in aure.
(October next it will be four)
Since Harley bid me first attend,
And chose me for an humble friend;
Wou'd take me in his Coach to chat,
And question me of this and that;
As, “What's o' clock?” And, “How's the Wind?”
“Who's Chariot's that we left behind?
Or gravely try to read the lines
Writ underneath the Country Signs;
Or, “Have you nothing new to-day
“From Pope, from Parnel, or from Gay?
Such tattle often entertains
My Lord and me as far as Stains,
As once a week we travel down
To Windsor, and again to Town,
13
Might be proclaim'd at Charing-Cross.
Yet some I know with envy swell,
Because they see me us'd so well:
“How think you of our Friend the Dean?
“I wonder what some people mean;
“My Lord and he are grown so great,
“Always together, tête à tête,
“What, they admire him for his jokes—
“See but the fortune of some Folks!
There flies about a strange report
Of some Express arriv'd at Court,
I'm stopp'd by all the fools I meet,
And catechis'd in ev'ry street.
“You, Mr. Dean, frequent the great;
“Inform us, will the Emp'ror treat?
“Or do the Prints and Papers lye?
Faith, Sir, you know as much as I.
“Ah Doctor, how you love to jest?
“'Tis now no secret—I protest
'Tis one to me—“Then tells us, pray,
“When are the Troops to have their pay?
And, tho' I solemnly declare
I know no more than my Lord Mayor,
They stand amaz'd, and think me grown
The closest mortal ever known.
Because they see me us'd so well:
“How think you of our Friend the Dean?
“I wonder what some people mean;
“My Lord and he are grown so great,
“Always together, tête à tête,
“What, they admire him for his jokes—
“See but the fortune of some Folks!
[17]
Frigidus a Rostris manat per compita rumor:
Quicunque obvius est, me consulit; O bone (nam te
Scire, Deos quoniam propius contingis, oportet)
Num quid de Dacis audîsti? Nil equidem: Ut tu
Semper eris derisor! At omnes Dii exagitent me,
Si quicquam. Quid? militibus promissa Triquetra
Prædia Cæsar, an est Itala tellure daturus?
Jurantem me scire nihil mirantur ut unum
Scilicet egregii mortalem altique silentî.
Quicunque obvius est, me consulit; O bone (nam te
Scire, Deos quoniam propius contingis, oportet)
Num quid de Dacis audîsti? Nil equidem: Ut tu
Semper eris derisor! At omnes Dii exagitent me,
Si quicquam. Quid? militibus promissa Triquetra
Prædia Cæsar, an est Itala tellure daturus?
Jurantem me scire nihil mirantur ut unum
Scilicet egregii mortalem altique silentî.
Of some Express arriv'd at Court,
I'm stopp'd by all the fools I meet,
And catechis'd in ev'ry street.
“You, Mr. Dean, frequent the great;
“Inform us, will the Emp'ror treat?
“Or do the Prints and Papers lye?
Faith, Sir, you know as much as I.
“Ah Doctor, how you love to jest?
“'Tis now no secret—I protest
'Tis one to me—“Then tells us, pray,
“When are the Troops to have their pay?
15
I know no more than my Lord Mayor,
They stand amaz'd, and think me grown
The closest mortal ever known.
Thus in a sea of folly toss'd,
My choicest Hours of life are lost;
Yet always wishing to retreat,
Oh, could I see my Country Seat!
There leaning near a gentle Brook,
Sleep, or peruse some ancient Book,
And there in sweet oblivion drown
Those Cares that haunt the Court and Town.
My choicest Hours of life are lost;
Yet always wishing to retreat,
Oh, could I see my Country Seat!
There leaning near a gentle Brook,
Sleep, or peruse some ancient Book,
And there in sweet oblivion drown
Those Cares that haunt the Court and Town.
O charming Noons! and Nights divine!
Or when I sup, or when I dine,
My Friends above, my Folks below,
Chatting and laughing all-a-row,
The Beans and Bacon set before 'em,
The Grace-cup serv'd with all decorum:
Each willing to be pleas'd, and please,
And even the very Dogs at ease!
Here no man prates of idle things,
How this or that Italian sings,
A Neighbour's Madness, or his Spouse's,
Or what's in either of the Houses:
But something much more our concern,
And quite a scandal not to learn:
Which is the happier, or the wiser,
A man of Merit, or a Miser?
Whether we ought to chuse our Friends,
For their own Worth, or our own Ends?
What good, or better, we may call,
And what, the very best of all?
Or when I sup, or when I dine,
My Friends above, my Folks below,
Chatting and laughing all-a-row,
The Beans and Bacon set before 'em,
The Grace-cup serv'd with all decorum:
Each willing to be pleas'd, and please,
And even the very Dogs at ease!
Here no man prates of idle things,
How this or that Italian sings,
17
Or what's in either of the Houses:
But something much more our concern,
And quite a scandal not to learn:
Which is the happier, or the wiser,
A man of Merit, or a Miser?
Whether we ought to chuse our Friends,
For their own Worth, or our own Ends?
What good, or better, we may call,
And what, the very best of all?
Our Friend Dan Prior told (you know)
A Tale extreamly à propos:
Name a Town Life, and in a trice,
He had a Story of two Mice.
A Tale extreamly à propos:
Name a Town Life, and in a trice,
He had a Story of two Mice.
[24]
Olim
Rusticus urbanum murem mus paupere fertur
Accepisse cavo, veterem vetus hospes amicum;
Asper, & attentus quæsitis, ut tamen arctum
Solveret hospitiis animum: quid multa? neque ille
Sepositi ciceris, nec longæ invidit avenæ:
Aridum & ore ferens acinum, semesaque lardi
Frusta dedit, cupiens varia fastidia cœna
Vincere tangentis male singula dente superbo:
Cum pater ipse domus palea porrectus in horna
Esset ador loliumque, dapis meliora relinquens.
Tandem urbanus ad hunc, Quid te juvat, inquit, amice,
Prærupti nemoris patientem vivere dorso?
Vis tu homines urbemque feris præponere sylvis?
Carpe viam (mihi crede) comes, terrestria quando
Mortales animus vivunt sortita, neque ulla est
Aut magno aut parvo leti fuga: quo bone circa,
Dum licet, in rebus jucundis vive beatus:
Vive memor quam sis ævi brevis. Hæc ubi dicta
Agrestem pepulere, domo levis exsilit: inde
Ambo propositum peragunt iter, urbis aventes
Mœnia nocturni subrepere: jamque tenebat
Nox medium cœli spatium, cum ponit uterque
In locuplete domo vestigia; rubro ubi cocco
Tincta super lectos canderet vestis eburnos,
Multaque de magna superessent fercula cœna,
Quæ procul extructis inerant hesterna canistris.
Ergo ubi purpurea porrectum in veste locavit
Agrestem, veluti succinctus cursitat hospes,
Continuatque dapes; nec non vernaliter ipsis
Fungitur officiis, prælambens omne quod assert.
Ille cubans gaudet mutata sorte, bonisque
Rebus agit lætum convivam; cum subito ingens
Valvarum strepitus lectis excussit utrumque;
Currere per totum pavidi conclave, magisque
Exanimes trepidare, simul domus alta Molossis
Personuit canibus. Tum rusticus, Haud mihi vita
Est opus hac, ait, & valeas: me sylva cavusque
Tutus ab insidiis tenui solabitur ervo.
Rusticus urbanum murem mus paupere fertur
Accepisse cavo, veterem vetus hospes amicum;
Asper, & attentus quæsitis, ut tamen arctum
Solveret hospitiis animum: quid multa? neque ille
Sepositi ciceris, nec longæ invidit avenæ:
Aridum & ore ferens acinum, semesaque lardi
Frusta dedit, cupiens varia fastidia cœna
Vincere tangentis male singula dente superbo:
Cum pater ipse domus palea porrectus in horna
Esset ador loliumque, dapis meliora relinquens.
Tandem urbanus ad hunc, Quid te juvat, inquit, amice,
Prærupti nemoris patientem vivere dorso?
Vis tu homines urbemque feris præponere sylvis?
Carpe viam (mihi crede) comes, terrestria quando
Mortales animus vivunt sortita, neque ulla est
Aut magno aut parvo leti fuga: quo bone circa,
Dum licet, in rebus jucundis vive beatus:
Vive memor quam sis ævi brevis. Hæc ubi dicta
Agrestem pepulere, domo levis exsilit: inde
Ambo propositum peragunt iter, urbis aventes
Mœnia nocturni subrepere: jamque tenebat
Nox medium cœli spatium, cum ponit uterque
In locuplete domo vestigia; rubro ubi cocco
Tincta super lectos canderet vestis eburnos,
Multaque de magna superessent fercula cœna,
Quæ procul extructis inerant hesterna canistris.
Ergo ubi purpurea porrectum in veste locavit
Agrestem, veluti succinctus cursitat hospes,
Continuatque dapes; nec non vernaliter ipsis
Fungitur officiis, prælambens omne quod assert.
Ille cubans gaudet mutata sorte, bonisque
Rebus agit lætum convivam; cum subito ingens
Valvarum strepitus lectis excussit utrumque;
Currere per totum pavidi conclave, magisque
Exanimes trepidare, simul domus alta Molossis
Personuit canibus. Tum rusticus, Haud mihi vita
Est opus hac, ait, & valeas: me sylva cavusque
Tutus ab insidiis tenui solabitur ervo.
A Country Mouse, right hospitable,
Receiv'd a Town Mouse at his Board,
Just as a Farmer might a Lord.
A frugal Mouse upon the whole,
Yet lov'd his Friend, and had a Soul;
Knew what was handsome, and wou'd do't,
On just occasion, coute qui coute.
19
Pudding, that might have pleas'd a Dean;
Cheese, such as men in Suffolk make,
But wish'd it Stilton for his sake;
Yet to his Guest tho' no way sparing,
He eat himself the Rind and paring.
Our Courtier scarce could touch a bit,
But show'd his Breeding, and his Wit,
He did his best to seem to eat,
And cry'd, “I vow you're mighty neat.”
But Lord, my Friend, this savage Scene!
For God's sake, come, and live with Men:
Consider, Mice, like Men, must die,
Both small and great, both you and I:
Then spend your life in Joy and Sport,
(This doctrine, Friend, I learnt at Court.)
The veriest Hermit in the Nation
May yield, God knows, to strong Temptation.
Away they come, thro' thick and thin,
To a tall house near Lincoln's-Inn:
('Twas on the night of a Debate,
When all their Lordships had sate late.)
May yield, God knows, to strong Temptation.
Away they come, thro' thick and thin,
To a tall house near Lincoln's-Inn:
('Twas on the night of a Debate,
When all their Lordships had sate late.)
21
Behold the place, where if a Poet
Shin'd in Description, he might show it,
Tell how the Moon-beam trembling falls
And tips with silver all the walls:
Palladian walls, Venetian doors,
Grotesco roofs, and Stucco floors.
But let it (in a word) be said,
The Moon was up, and Men a-bed,
The Napkins white, the Carpet red:
The Guests withdrawn had left the Treat,
And down the Mice sate, tête à tête.
Shin'd in Description, he might show it,
Tell how the Moon-beam trembling falls
And tips with silver all the walls:
Palladian walls, Venetian doors,
Grotesco roofs, and Stucco floors.
But let it (in a word) be said,
The Moon was up, and Men a-bed,
The Napkins white, the Carpet red:
The Guests withdrawn had left the Treat,
And down the Mice sate, tête à tête.
Our Courtier walks from dish to dish,
Tastes for his Friend of Fowl and Fish;
Tells all their names, lays down the law,
“Que ça est bon! Ah gouter ça!
“That Jelly's rich, this Malmsey healing,
“Pray dip your Whiskers and your Tail in.”
Was ever such a happy Swain?
He stuffs and swills, and stuffs again.
“I'm quite asham'd—'tis mighty rude
“To eat so much—but all's so good.
“I have a thousand thanks to give—
“My Lord alone knows how to live.”
Tastes for his Friend of Fowl and Fish;
Tells all their names, lays down the law,
“Que ça est bon! Ah gouter ça!
“That Jelly's rich, this Malmsey healing,
“Pray dip your Whiskers and your Tail in.”
Was ever such a happy Swain?
He stuffs and swills, and stuffs again.
“I'm quite asham'd—'tis mighty rude
“To eat so much—but all's so good.
23
“My Lord alone knows how to live.”
No sooner said, but from the Hall
Rush Chaplain, Butler, Dogs and all:
“A Rat, a Rat! clap to the door—
The Cat comes bouncing on the floor.
O for the Heart of Homer's Mice,
Or Gods to save them, in a trice!
(It was by Providence, they think,
For your damn'd Stucco has no chink)
“An't please your Honour, quoth the Peasant,
“This same Dessert is not so pleasant:
“Give me again my hollow Tree!
“A Crust of Bread, and Liberty.
Rush Chaplain, Butler, Dogs and all:
“A Rat, a Rat! clap to the door—
The Cat comes bouncing on the floor.
O for the Heart of Homer's Mice,
Or Gods to save them, in a trice!
(It was by Providence, they think,
For your damn'd Stucco has no chink)
“An't please your Honour, quoth the Peasant,
“This same Dessert is not so pleasant:
“Give me again my hollow Tree!
“A Crust of Bread, and Liberty.
| An imitation of the sixth satire of the second book of Horace | |