Of these the most approv'd is he, who sent
Oftenest to prison, and to banishment,

Stands forth the veriest knave; he who foretold

The death of Galba,-to his rival sold.

Yes, trust him, trust him! he can never fail,
Who long has rotted in a loathsome jail;
Who arms yet livid from his chains can show,
And a back welk'd with many a beadle's blow.

No conjuror must for fame, or profit hope,
Who has not narrowly escap'd the rope;
Begg'd hard for exile, and, by special grace,
Obtain'd confinement in some desert place.

VER. 829. he who foretold, &c.] This was Ptolemy, who accompanied Otho into Spain, and there predicted that he would survive Nero. "From his success in this instance," says Tacitus, "he took courage, and ventured to predict his elevation to the empire. Otho believed it," or rather affected to believe it, "and from that moment determined to work the destruction of Galba." In the dreadful scenes which followed, Ptolemy was a principal actor.

I have no intention, even if I had room, to give the history of astrology. Suffice it to say, that its professors were alternately banished and recalled, persecuted and cherished, as the events they predicted were prosperous, or adverse, to the fortunate candidates for power. That they were the occasion of frequent commotion among this ambitious, and credulous people, cannot be doubted; and, indeed, Tacitus says of them with equal truth and spirit, genus hominum potentibus infidum, &c. "They were a pestilent race of impostors, ever ready to poison the heart of princes, and stimulate ambition to its ruin: a set of perfidious men proscribed by law, and yet in defiance of law, tolerated in the heart of the city." Hist. 1. 22.

To him thy Tanaquil applies, in doubt
How long her hectic mother may hold out,
But first, how long her husband; next inquires,
When she shall follow to their funeral pyres
Her sisters, and her uncles: last, if fate
Will kindly lengthen out the adulterer's date
Beyond her own;-content, if he but live,
And sure that heaven has nothing more to give.
Yet she may still be suffer'd; for what woes
The low'ring aspect of old Saturn shows;
Or in what sign bright Venus ought to rise,
To shed her mildest influence from the skies;
Or what forefated month to gain is given,
And what to loss, (the mysteries of heaven!)
She knows not, nor pretends to know: but flee
The dame, whose Manual of Astrology
Still dangles at her side, smooth as chafed gum,
And fretted by her everlasting thumb.

Yes, flee her, flee! profound in mystic lore,
She now consults astrologers no more,

VER. 839. To him thy Tanaquil, &c.] So he calls the future spouse of Posthumus. Tanaquil was the wife of Tarquinius Priscus, " a notable house-wife," Holyday says-and (what was more to our author's purpose) if we believe Val. Maximus, a marvellous adept in the art of divination.

But is herself consulted: if her mate

Prepare to seek, or quit, the parent state,
She will not follow; she has look'd above,
And certain stars forbid her to remove.
If she incline to take the air, she'll look
For the fit hour and minute, in the book;
If her eye itch, most patiently endure,
Nor, till her scheme be raised, apply the cure;
Nay, languishing in bed will touch no meat,
Till Petosyris bid her rise and eat.

The curse is universal! high and low
Are mad alike the future hour to know.
The rich provide a Babylonian seer,
Skill'd in the mysteries of either sphere;

Prepare to seek, &c.] This folly appears to have struck its roots inconceivably deep. Near three centuries after Juvenal's time, we find Amm. Marcellinus characterizing the Romans by it, and almost in the words of our author. Multi apud eos negantes esse superas potestates in cælo, nec in publico prodeunt, nec prandent, nec lavari arbitrantur se cautius posse, antequam ephemeride scrupolosè sciscitata didicerint ubi sit signum Mercurii, &c. (Lib. xxvIII. cap. iv). Here we have Pope's-" godless regent trembling at a star." Such are the monstrous inconsistencies of atheism!

VER. 868. Till Petosyris, &c.] Petosyris was a celebrated astrologer. He seems, like our learned Moore, to have allotted particular diseases, and particular stages of life, to the government of particular planets. "Taurus? that's sides and heart. No, sir; it is legs and thighs." See the profound disquisitions of Sir Toby Belch on the subject.

Or gray-headed priest, kept by the state,
To watch the lightning, and to expiate.
"The middle sort, who have not much to spare,"
Flock to the Circus' well-known haunts, and there
Seek out some common quack, at whose command
They lift the forehead, and make bare the hand;
While the sly letcher in the table pries,
And clasps it wantonly, with gloating eyes.
The poor apply to humbler cheats, who crawl,
A filthy group! along the Circus wall,

Or the dry ditch: she who no trinkets wears,
(Sad proof of penury!) to the tow'rs repairs,

VER. 874. To watch the lightning, &c.] The Romans had many superstitious notions respecting lightning. It would be a waste of time to enter into them, but, by way of explaining the text, it may be necessary to observe, that whenever a place was struck, a priest was always called in to expiate it. This was done by collecting every thing that had been scorched, and burying it on the spot, with due solemnity. A two-year old sheep was then sacrificed, and the ground slightly railed in—after which, all was supposed to be well.

VER. 883. Or the dry ditch: &c.] This ditch, or moat, was for the reception of water, when the emperors thought fit to indulge the people with a naumachia, or sea-fight; it ran along a considerable part of the Circus wall. The towers, and dolphins' pillars mentioned in the original, were also a part of the Circus: the first were for the accommodation of the better order of spectators during the chariot-races; the second, I believe, were purely ornamental; they stood at the two extremities, and had their name from the dolphins which crowned their capitals. This is but a jejune account; it is the fullest, however, my limits will admit; those who wish for more detailed information, may consult such treatises as have been expressly written on the subject; of which there is no want.

And anxiously inquires, which she shall chuse,
The tapster, or old-clothes man; which refuse.

Yet these the pangs of child-birth undergo, And all the yearnings of a mother know; These, urg'd by want, assume the nurse's care, And learn to breed the children which they bear. Those shun both toil and danger; for, though sped, The wealthy dame is seldom brought to bed: Such is the power of drugs, such the curs'd skill They boast, to cause miscarriages at will! Weep'st thou? O, fool! the blest invention hail, And give the potion, if the gossips fail;

The hemistich which follows that which I have just quoted—“ she who no trinkets wears," quæ nullis longum ostendit cervicibus aurum, has somewhat embarrassed me. Perhaps (for I can think of no more probable meaning,) the poet might intend to point out the general extravagance of the Roman women, in thus characterising the extremity of indigence amongst them, by the want of a gold necklace.

Ferrarius takes these inquisitive wenches for courtezans. He did not see that they came to consult the wizard about marrying. Vossius has a note on this passage, of such consummate arrogance, and absurdity, that a short extract from it may not be unentertaining:

"Quæ nudis longum ostendit cervicibus annum."

Annum reposuimus pro aurum, uti vulgo inepte legitur, et ineptius etiamnum a viris doctis exponitur. Longum nempe annum vocat, quem longum, et tædiosum faciat frigus; banc emendationem nostram confirmant sequentia, ubi muliercula ista quærit num rectius factura sit, si, caupone relicto, nubat negotiatori sagario, qui nempe frigus arceat. Not. ad Catull.