THE

FIRST EPISTLE

OF
OF THE

FIRST BOOK

O F

HORACE.

EPISTOLA I.

RIMA dicte mihi, fumma dicende camena,

Spectatum fatis, et donatum jam rude, quaeris,

PRIMA

Maecenas, iterum antiquo me includere ludo.

Non eadem eft aetas, non mens. Veianius, armis

Herculis ad poftem fixis, latet abditus agro;

Ne populum extrema toties exoret arena.

Eft mihi purgatam crebro qui perfonet aurem ;

Solve fenefcentem mature fanus equum, ne

Peccet ad extremum ridendus, et ilia ducat.

NOTES.

VER. 3. Sabbath of my days ?] i. e. The 49th year, the age of the Author.

с

с

VER. 8. Hang their old Trophies o'er the Garden gates,] An occafional ftroke of Satire on ill-placed ornaments. He has more openly ridiculed them in his Epifle on Tafte.

EPISTLE I

To L. BOLINGBROKE.

ST. JOHN, whofe love indulg'd my labours paft, my prefent, and bound my laft!

b

Why will you break the Sabbath of my days?
Now fick alike of Envy and of Praise.
Public too long, ah let me hide my Age! -
See Modest Cibber now has left the Stage:
Our Gen'rals now, retir'd to their Eftates,
Hang their old Trophies o'er the Garden gates,
In Life's cool Ev'ning fatiate of Applause,

Nor fond of bleeding, ev'n in BRUNSWICK's caufe.

e

f A Voice there is, that whispers in my ear, II ('Tis Reason's voice, which fometimes one can hear) "Friend Pope! be prudent, let your Muse take

"breath,

"And never gallop Pegafus to death;

NOTES.

"Load fome vain Church with old theatric ftate,
"Turn Arcs of Triumph to a garden gate.

VER. 10. ev'n in Brunswick's caufe.] In the former Editions it was, Britain's caufe. But the terms are fynony

mous,

h

Nunc itaque et versus, et caetera ludicra pono:

Quid i verum atque decens, curo et rogo, et omnis in

hoc fum:

* Condo, et compono, quae mox depromere poffim. Ac ne forte roges, quo me duce, quo Lare tuter: Nullius addictus jurare in verba magiftri,

Quo me cunque rapit tempeftas, deferor hofpes.

Nunc agilis fio, et merfor " civilibus undis,
Virtutis verae cuftos, ° rigidufque fatelles:

Nunc in* Aristippi P furtim praecepta relabor,
Et mihi res, non me rebus, fubjungere conor.

a Ut nox longa, quibus mentitur amica; diesque
* Omnis Aristippum decuit color, et status, et res. P.

NOTES.

VER. 16. You limp, like Blackmore on a Lord Mayor's borse.] The fame of this heavy Poet, however problematical elsewhere, was univerfally received in the City of London. His verfification is here exactly described: stiff,

15

"Left ftiff, and ftately, void of fire or force,
"You limp, like Blackmore on a Lord Mayor's
"horse."

i

Farewell then Verfe, and Love, and ev'ry Toy,
The Rhymes and Rattles of the Man or Boy;
What right, what true, what fit we justly call,
Let this be all my care-for this is All:
To lay this harvest up, and hoard with hafte
What ev'ry day will want, and most, the last.
But afk not, to what 1 Doctors I apply?
Sworn to no Mafter, of no Sect am I:

k

1

As drives the TM storm, at any door I knoçk:

25

And house with Montagne now, or now with Locke.
Sometimes a " Patriot, active in debate,

n

Mix with the World, and battle for the State,
Free as young Lyttelton, her Cause pursue,
Still true to Virtue, and as warm as true:
Sometimes with Ariftippus, or St. Paul,
Indulge my candor, and grow all to all;
Back to my P native Moderation flide,
And win my way by yielding to the tide.

Long, as to him who works for debt, the day, 35
Long as the Night to her whofe Love's away,

20

30

NOTES.

and not ftrong; ftately and yet dull, like the fober and flow-paced Animal generally employed to mount the Lord Mayor and therefore here humourously opposed to Pegafus. P.

* G

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